Antarron
When I open my eyes for the first time after being activated, there are two people standing before me. The man is my creator, Dr. Stefanopoulos. The teenage girl is his daughter, Calliope. I know all this from the information already programmed into my mind. She grins in amazement as her father speaks.
"He's operational."
"I am," I agree. "Greetings, doctor."
"Oh, wow," she murmurs, impressed. She gives me a small wave. "Hi. I'm Calliope… though most people call me Callie."
"I know who you are, Calliope," I assure her. "Your father provided me with that information."
"He's your father too," she points out. "I guess that makes you my brother, in a way."
"Perhaps it does." I smile at her. I was made to do a job, I know, but it's always nice to feel that you belong among the people around you, purpose aside.
Dr. Stefanopoulos looks happy to see us getting along. "You can visit your 'brother' at the museum anytime, when you're here. It should be a good experience for you," he tells her. "In fact, since you're already so fond of him, why don't you name him?"
Calliope considers for a moment. "Antarron." She smiles at me. "How about that?" I nod in acceptance.
"That sounds good," her father agrees. He turns to me. "We just need to run a few performance tests, before I take you to the museum to begin your duties."
"I'm ready."
Some of the testing is done in the lab, then we move outside for the rest. We need the field next to the house for me to showcase the full range of my mobility. Dr. Stefanopoulos looks pleased with the results. Calliope is even more excited. While my short-range teleportation ability amazed her, she seems far more thrilled to watch me gallop swiftly through the grass.
"I've always loved horses," she explains to me. "I take riding lessons—when I'm with my mom, I mean. Not here." She smiles at me. "I guess that's why centaurs are my favorite myth."
"Is that why your father – our father – designed me to look like one?" I guess. She nods. I consider for a moment. "You enjoy riding, Calliope?"
"Oh, yes!"
"Climb on," I offer. "Let's see if I can't match your flesh-and-blood horses." She grins excitedly as she vaults onto my back. I've just made her day.
By the next day, I'm at the museum, doing the tasks I was created for. It's a moderately sized place full of historical artifacts from right here in Greece, and I serve as both security guard and general caretaker. Dr. Stefanopoulos, in addition to being a robotics engineer, is a local history buff and mythology enthusiast, and has had plenty of dealings with the museum's people. That's how he came to create me for them. I see him often.
Calliope spends at least half her time living with her mother, but when she's with our father, she also visits me here quite a bit. I'm always happy to show her around the museum. She's interested in the place, although she once admitted to me that she never particularly was before I worked here. It's rather flattering, really.
Of course, 'tour guide' isn't an intended part of my function, but for my human sister, I'm happy to do it. It's not as if I'm not qualified. I know the museum, and its contents, quite well. I do look after them, after all. Besides, she wouldn't want it to be anybody else. We both know she's really here to visit me. I appreciate it: I tend to miss her when she's not around. Our father is a kind man, but he isn't as good a talker.
One day, I learn of a large tournament for robots. It's sponsored by an eccentric billionaire, to be held in one month, and will consist of robots from all over the world competing to outperform each other. There will be a substantial cash prize for the winner—or technically, for his creator.
The museum could use that money. It's frequently short on funding. I believe that's not uncommon for most museums, in fact, except for the really big, famous ones, of course. I wonder if I could actually win such a contest.
It's possible. I don't know what I would be up against, but I know my own strengths. My armor will stand up against most energy-based or bladed assaults, though powerful blunt force might be a problem. I'm faster than most, since I have twice as many legs, and I have that integrated short-range teleporter. It's meant to allow me to move around the museum despite being too large for most of the doorways, but might also be very useful in a contest, and I know it's a very rare ability. Most teleport functions are long-range, and not nearly so fine-tuned.
Also, I have my Flash: basically a concentrated EMP burst. It should stun an opposing robot, and will certainly fry lesser machines instantly. It was intended for use against thieves and other intruders to the museum, as even human thieves would be relying on some kind of equipment. I've never actually had to use it before now.
Dr. Stefanopoulos is briefly uncertain when I suggest entering the tournament. "Yes, the museum could use the money, but do you really think you can win something like this? You aren't really built for fighting. I don't know…"
"Please, doctor. You created me to look after the museum. This is for the museum's sake."
"What did the director say? Is he interested in entering you in this?"
"He didn't object. However, the rules call for the contestants' masters to enter them. That usually means their creators." I gaze at him. "By rights, it should be you."
"Well, you don't really work for me, you know…" He trails off. After a moment, he smiles. "I suppose it's an honor you still regard me that way. Very well." He turns more serious. "Now this contest: it doesn't require the contestants to fight to the death, as I understand?"
"The fights are to be for dominance. Nothing was said of having to destroy each other. So," I shrug, "what do we have to lose?"
Calliope is excited when she learns of this. She convinces her parents to let her come join her father a month earlier than normal, just so she can accompany us to the tournament and watch me compete. I'm happy to have her there.
Dr. Stefanopoulos warns that my Flash may not be enough. Many of my opponents will probably be shielded against such things. He equips me with an additional weapon for the contest. It's nearly a standard plasma blaster, but he's designed the blast to fragment on contact with most barriers, turning into a scatter of shots. I think it's a system he's been working on for the last few months, on his own time.
The three of us travel to where the tournament is being held. As standard naming is preferred, for simplicity's sake, Dr. Stefanopoulos enters me under the name "Centaur Man". It's accurate and to the point, I guess. I think conforming to the standard annoys him a bit, though. There's a space underneath where you're meant to fill in a title of sorts, basically a description of the robot's specialty. He leaves it blank.
"Do you mind that they don't want to use your real name?" Calliope whispers to me.
"No. I have no problem with a stage name," I tell her. "Actually, I should worry more if it bothers you. You named me, after all."
She considers for a moment. "Actually, I don't mind, really," she decides. "It's kind of like we're the only ones who know your secret identity." She smiles at me. I smile back.
For the next couple of weeks, the tournament is held. The early rounds of the contest consist of various feats of strength, speed, etc. Mr. X, the sponsor, awards us points based on our performance, and those with the highest overall point totals will remain in the running. Other than speed, we're being scored in offensive and defensive power, so it's clear that the later stages of this contest will come down to combat.
I'm not surprised that my highest scores are in the speed category. I'm at least among the faster runners, and while teleporting isn't allowed in a straight race, it's perfectly acceptable in a more complicated task where speed is a factor. When negotiating the obstacle course, for example, I am able to easily win by mostly teleporting from checkpoint to checkpoint. Second place goes to a robot named Plant Man, thanks to his nearly unmatched agility and jumping ability, and third to a contestant called Wind Man, because he can fly, though not with great speed. Mr. X says that in a contest of varied abilities, all abilities are fair game.
Those of us with the highest scores at the end of the first week advance to the next phase. This involves a number of combat exhibitions against dueling drones. Finally, those who give the best performances go on to fight each other. Dr. Stefanopoulos was right: most of my opponents are shielded, so my Flash hurts them little. I mostly rely on the plasma blaster. I use the teleporter very sparingly, at least so far. I haven't yet needed it to win, and I don't want the others to start thinking about the best way to counter it. I intend to cut loose with it in the finals, when the opponents will be the strongest.
Of course, Dr. Stefanopoulos and Calliope have been right there in the front rows, cheering for me the whole time. I think I perform the better for their presence, especially now, in actual combat. When I defeat my latest opponent, securing my position in the finals, Calliope jumps up and shrieks in jubilation. I turn and wave at her.
That evening, they talk to me for the last time before the finals start tomorrow morning. Dr. Stefanopoulos is allowed to check me for damage and make any necessary repairs right now, but after that, Mr. X wants to spend the night looking over us himself before the final event.
"Eight of you left. What do you suppose he has planned for tomorrow? It's almost surely another battle," Calliope muses, "but what sort? Do you think it'll be more one on one, or a big battle royale? A lot of people are expecting that."
"I don't know any more than you do."
"Well, whatever it is, you should be ready," Dr. Stefanopoulos announces. "You're looking good." He pauses for a moment, then speaks wonderingly, as if it just really sank in. "You might actually win this."
"Of course, he'll win," Calliope says confidently. "Antarron can win anything they throw at him." She grins at me.
I smile back. "I intend to win," I assure her.
Dr. Stefanopoulos nods. "For the museum."
"Yes… and for you." I look at him seriously. "My victory will also be testament to your skill, doctor. After all, I am your creation."
We gaze at each other for a moment, until Calliope speaks again. "Yeah. The creation I rode around the field that first day. Now you'll be the hot shot champion of the world."
"We'll share a victory ride together after I win the tournament," I promise her.
"All right!"
"Hmm. I suppose you'll have to win now," Dr. Stefanopoulos murmurs.
"I can win," I say confidently. "But even if I don't, Calliope, we'll ride anyway."
After they go, the other finalists and I move from the contestants' quarters to a lab in Mr. X's own place, so he can inspect us. After a cursory visual inspection and double-check of stats from the contest, he asks us to power down so he can do basic diagnostics on our systems. I doubt it's really necessary, since Dr. Stefanopoulos was just looking over me himself, but it is Mr. X's contest. From the looks on some of the others' faces, they also think this is redundant, but nobody argues. We all power down.
When I awaken, everything has changed.
I know that my purpose now is to serve my new master. Mr. X. Dr. Wily, for that is who he truly is. For now, however, he, and we, use the alias he has chosen. We eight are the forefront of his army now, and are to be his weapons in the conquest of this world. Nothing else matters anymore.
We accompany him to the arena, where will reveal to all what is about to happen. I see those two, Dr. Stefanopoulos and Calliope, sitting where they always do, in the front row, but it doesn't make any difference now. The girl looks troubled when I don't respond to her wave. Then they, and all the other humans in the audience, react in shock and consternation when our master makes his announcement. When he has finished, we depart.
From his mansion, he deploys us to scatter through the city and surrounding areas, leading portions of his robot army to sieze control of various areas. Most of the targets are industrial, but not all. For instance, the seaside towers are a major residential area that we take control of. While Wind Man stakes out the upper levels of the towers, I oversee the conquest at the base. Most of the human inhabitants flee from our approach, but there are a good number that don't make it out. I order them confined inside.
Eventually, two humans actually make their way into the occupied area. It's those two again, Dr. Stefanopoulos and Calliope. I order the robots under my command to take them into custody. When they see me, the doctor and the girl start pleading. "Antarron, stop! It's us!" I initially ignore this. I heard many outcries from the humans I rounded up.
As my subordinates start to drag her away, the girl tries to struggle forward, toward me. "It's me, Antarron. It's Calliope! Don't you remember who I am?"
"I remember perfectly who you are," I respond to the direct question.
"Then how can you do this? We're family!"
"I serve my master, Mr. X, now. I no longer serve you," I remind them.
"Antarron!"
"I am Centaur Man." I motion for them to be taken and put with the others. The girl continues to cry and protest. The doctor murmurs to her, telling her it's no use, but she keeps it up until they're out of sight, at least. None of my other captives made that much noise. Still, I suppose it's to be expected. Those two had a personal stake that the others did not. However, that history is part of my old existance, and is no longer relevant.
Eventually, a messenger comes from Dr. Wily, warning that our greatest enemy, Mega Man, has been deployed against us. It is only a matter of time before he comes here. I'm advised to find somewhere defensible and make ready. The messenger also gives me a circuit plate, siezed from the enemy, that I am to guard and prevent Mega Man from reclaiming, if possible. It's marked with the letter T. I don't know what that means, but I have my orders. I hang onto it.
I find a sturdy room, with only one way in or out, in which to make my stand when my enemy arrives. Opposite from the door is a small glass window, through which I can keep an eye on the base of the tower where the prisoners are confined. I see the girl looking out through a window from there, staring tearfully in my direction. Her father, the doctor, appears next to her and puts his arm around her shoulder, trying to lead her away. She apparently refuses to move.
Robots patrol the building, and there is no sign that anyone is trying to escape. That's good. More robots patrol the rest of the area, watching for any trouble—or any intruders. For a time, all is well. Then my patrols' signals start going offline, one after another, coming from the direction of the water. Clearly, Mega Man has arrived.
I wait, and follow his progress by the loss of signals. He makes his way down to the foundations, cutting through the forcefield-protected generator array under the water, before starting to climb up into the actual towers. He doesn't climb too high, before finding his way to me.
When he enters the room, I reveal myself, and we fight. I open fire. He responds, not with a normal blaster, but with a force-propelled ball and chain. I recognize that weapon. It belonged to Knight Man, one of the other finalists. Mega Man copied it, and now he attacks me with the one thing my armor is most vulnerable to: a blunt force-based assault. Clever.
I fight back with all I have. My Flash doesn't seem to truly hurt him, but it does stun him briefly, long enough to shoot. I try to keep him off balance by teleporting from one side of the room to the other.
However, it's not enough. He evades or shakes off my attacks, and that mace smashes into me, again and again. Finally, I go down under the assault, armor shattered, body broken. I feel my systems about to go offline.
As I glance up one last time, my gaze goes over Mega Man's shoulder and falls on the window. Across the way, I see the girl, still staring out, still watching, tears still staining her face. I am Dr. Wily's minion. The girl is no longer a priority. Her tears don't mean anything to me.
However, in that final moment, as my vision fails, I find myself wishing that they did.