Authoress' Notes: Just a little one-shot/warm up over an interesting concept I thought up. Also, keep in mind this fic is based mostly on my own personal headcanons, as opposed to whatever may or may not've happened in regards to SSE or Smash in general. I know that R.O.B.'s supposed to be "the last of his kind" (not that you would know that without having to look it up, 'cuz the story sure as snot didn't tell you), but I always incorporated it differently. If you've read "WGO" or "HSSS", you'd already know this, though.
Also, Mega Man may or may not be slightly OOC here. Oops.
Does Not Compute
R.O.B. putted through Smash Mansion, rolling towards the foyer of the grandiose house. He had no plans, only duties. No goals, merely protocols. His batteries needed changing and there were fights that had to be fought... But that was it. No one needed him and he didn't need them.
He didn't have friends, he didn't have enemies; only acquaintances. And this was all he really required. The other Smashers didn't see him as a close formality. He was never involved in their shenanigans, never got into any obnoxious fights, and always followed the rules.
But because of this, he also never knew how it felt to feel excitement, surprise, or closeness as a result of another one's actions. R.O.B. knew what emotions were: he'd experienced things like joy, sorrow, fear, anger. Unfortunately, he couldn't seem to express himself as much as he would've liked. His bioengineering was very basic and crude. His main function was that of a toy.
Being the only robotic Smasher never gave R.O.B. much leeway for engaging conversations. He had nothing in common with any Smasher outside his mass-produced brethren. To them, R.O.B. was somebody. He was a leader, a brother, a friend. He remembered them fondly. After thwarting Tabuu's plans, R.O.B. plead with Master Hand to house what few R.O.B.s remained. They weren't as intelligent or as gifted in battle, but he was sure they could find a use for them.
And they did. As household servants.
R.O.B. admittedly wasn't too keen on this idea, but it was better than letting them rust in the outside world. No longer under Tabuu's power, they gained free will, but had little knowledge of how to use or understand it. So they became slaves once more. It was sad, really.
Unfortunately, they'd all been retired for this tournament, due to them being unable to learn simple procedures and their tendency to lock up while performing the most basic tasks. The seemingly infinite and more stable Mii Fighters had replaced them, taking over their duties as housekeepers and servants, among other things. Where the other R.O.B.s went, R.O.B. didn't know, and honestly, he was afraid to ask. ...Did he even want to know?
But at least he was here again, back in Smash and the throes of battle. He honestly never would've thought the idea of him being a Smasher was long-term. It was nice to be needed and wanted after so long of not having a purpose. Smash Brothers was truly a place where dreams came true.
His next fight was scheduled to begin in a few minutes. It'd be a one-on-one match with Little Mac, Coin Battle, Mario Galaxy. His opponent hadn't arrived yet, leaving him waiting outside the Stage Select room. Once the boxer arrived, they'd step in, register themselves as present, and the battle would begin.
In the meantime, he scanned his surroundings, watching random Smashers go about their day as usual. Lucina and Shulk hung over the upstairs banister talking about swordplay as a nearby Mewtwo used Poké Balls in demonstrating the art of telepathy to Ness and Lucas. In the living room a few doors down, Bowser and Wario guffawed at the TV, only for Falco to come in and complain that what they were watching was stupid. He then proceeded to change the channel to a sci-fi show, causing a fight break out.
To R.O.B., this was all a waste of time and energy. There was so much more they could all be doing, not off gallivanting and making a mockery of themselves. No fights to attend didn't mean they couldn't be productive in some other way. For him, there was always work to be done and tasks that needed completing. Perhaps that was a critical way of thinking, but that's how he'd been programmed and couldn't deviate form it.
His auditory systems alerted him to the presence of another Smasher entering the room. He expected more baseless nonsense, only to see he was wrong in his assumptions.
Mega Man walked in from a hallway, just in time to dodge a thrown couch, courtesy of Bowser in the ongoing battle over the TV remote. It wasn't the weirdest thing to've been chucked at him, so he brushed it off and continued on his way.
While R.O.B. wasn't designed to have a preference or attraction to anything or anyone, he always felt a sense of brotherhood from DLN-001. That's what he preferred to call him, as opposed to 'Mega Man' or even 'Rock'. He was the only Smasher to refer to him as such. Any other name was a simple moniker and nothing more.
Mega Man stopped and leaned against a nearby wall, as if waiting for something. Seeing R.O.B., he waved.
"Oh! Hi, R.O.B., didn't see you there. How's it going?"
R.O.B. whirred, his head doing a 360. "ALL SYSTEMS ARE RUNNING AT 100% CAPACITY."
"Oh..." Mega Man rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. He wasn't used to conversing on such an... elementary level. "Well... uh, good for you?"
Again, R.O.B. gyrated. "HOW IS YOUR DAILY REGIMEN PROGRESSING? IS IT SUFFICIENT?"
"It's... going well."
"PERSONAL DAILY REGIMEN HAS HALTED MOMENTARILY," responded R.O.B. "CURRENTLY AWAITING BATTLE WITH NEWCOMER LITTLE MAC. BATTLE WILL BE APPROXIMATELY FOUR MINUTES IN LENGTH."
"That's... too bad?"
Mega Man grimaced. He always forgot how painful it was trying to talk to R.O.B. like this. It was glaringly obvious he'd been created with very little programming and functionality at his disposal. His AI was prehistoric compared to his, and the guy ran on batteries. Batteries. It was like a teenager trying to converse with an out-of-touch grandparent.
It wasn't because Mega Man didn't like being around other robots; he just wanted to be around others who acted more like him. He'd gone from living in a world populated by his own kind to being in an establishment where they were few and far between. In a sense, he felt alienated. He was still a machine and adapted as he could in different scenarios.
Being a Smasher made him realize how much he'd assess and taken on the characteristics of others outside of battling. If he hung around aggressive people, he would adopt their rowdy tendencies. If he stayed with relaxed types, he would mimic their gentle behavior. In a crowd, he mostly did what everyone else did so he could be part of something. There was nothing wrong with that, right?
He glanced around at the other Smashers coming in and out of the room. So many different personalities and backgrounds. So much color and variety to who they where and what made them whole. He was inclined to say, in his own special way, R.O.B. was just as unique as the rest of them... So why did he feel so distanced from him?
R.O.B. said nothing, his sensors indicating disgust within DLN-001's mainframe. It made him feel... ostracized. It was similar to how everyone else treated him. This feeling wasn't anything new, but DLN-001 was just as much as a robot as he was, yet he treated him like an object. ...Like he was inferior.
Mega Man didn't look like he wanted to continue this conversation any further, choosing to loiter about. His eyes scanned the room, confirming to R.O.B. he was, indeed, waiting for someone. In the meantime, R.O.B. decided to peg him some more.
"...DLN-001, DO YOU SOMETIMES PONDER THE RELIABILITY OF YOUR INITIAL PROGRAMMING?"
Mega Man winced, that name coming completely out of left field. "Please don't call me that."
"IS THAT NOT YOUR PROPER IDENTIFICATION CODE?"
"Yeah, well... It's not my name."
"DOES YOUR CREATOR REFER TO YOU WITH THIS TITLE? DID HE NOT DESIGN YOU WITH IT EMBEDDED IN YOUR DATABASE?"
"...Dr. Light's not my creator, he's my dad." His response sounded flat and irritable, as if correcting him.
"YOU REFER TO THIS DOCTOR LIGHT AS YOUR FATHER AND NOT CREATOR? ISN'T SUCH A THING SCIENTIFICALLY IMPOSSIBLE?"
"No, because I'm not just a robot, all right?"
His answer was more curt than he intended, Mega Man softening up as he began to sense R.O.B. emoting. Without even meaning to, he read signs of regret though his wireless data and binary coding.
From that response, R.O.B. concluded DLN-001 found that being a robot was a burden. To remedy this, he relied on his humanoid structure as a guise, maybe even as an excuse, to not associate himself with his own kind. This puzzled R.O.B. to no end. Had DLN-001 been designed to act like that? Or was it an unexpected error?
"IF YOU ARE NOT SIMPLY A MACHINE, THEN WHAT DOES YOUR PROGRAMMING INSIST YOU ARE?"
"I... am a machine," The look on Mega Man's face made it seem like that was hard to say, "but I'm more than that."
"HOW IS THAT PLAUSIBLE? IT'S IN YOUR CODE TO ACT AND THINK AS AN AUTOMATON, AS I AM. THERE'S NOTHING MORE YOU COULD BE."
"Well, I'm not like you..." He looked away, like he was ashamed. "We're completely different."
"ARE YOU SPEAKING ON A PURELY AESTHETIC LEVEL? DO YOU FEEL YOU ARE SUPERIOR TO ME BECAUSE OF YOUR APPEARANCE AND ATTRIBUTES?"
"..."
Something told R.O.B. even DLN-001 was at a lost for a response to that.
Reluctantly, R.O.B. reached out a mechanical arm to touch DLN-001's face, making him recoil. His skin, while synthetic, was as smooth and warm as a human's. His artificial eyes were always illuminated and more akin to a computer screen, but were as bright and realistic as could be. His expressions were vibrant and told endless stories from just one flex. In a way, R.O.B. envied him. To be able to look and perceive things the way humans expected from one of their own must've been nice.
He supposed he couldn't blame him for feeling this way. DLN-001's primary function was to help people. He was meant to look lifelike in order to fit this purpose more comfortably. Meanwhile, R.O.B. was designed to be a promotional piece of equipment. Outward cosmetics meant nothing to him. It'd be ludicrous if the two had their professions switched.
"Hey, kid."
Mega Man perked up at the sound of a new voice coming from behind R.O.B., grinning ear-to-ear. R.O.B. rotated his head around to see an armor-clad woman walk into the room, helmet off and under her right arm. Immediately, Mega Man darted over to her, excitement rivaling that of a puppy.
"Hey, Samus!" he greeted.
"Hey, Rock." She messed up his helmet, revealing some of his wild, brown hair. "Ready to go?"
"Uh-huh!" He straightened his helmet, beaming. "What're we gonna do today, huh?"
"I'm gonna teach you," She put her helmet on, "how to deliver several types of finishing moves on various opponents and the fastest way to escape any yourself should you ever get caught in one."
Mega Man pouted. "That sounds boring. Can't we just skip to the shooting and blasting stuff instead?"
Instead of answering, Samus shot an energy blast at him, knocking him off-balance. Before Mega Man could even comprehend what happened, the bounty hunter dashed forward and clotheslined him, seizing his neck and performing a forward flip as his body went limp in her grasp like a rag doll. Slamming him face-first to the floor, Samus released her hold and dug a foot into his helmet, holding him in place as she aimed her arm cannon at his head.
"...That was called a Lethal Strike, and you could've easily avoided it if you knew how to."
"Not fair!" whined Mega Man as he came to his senses. "I wasn't ready!"
"Expect the unexpected, kid. Remember that, and maybe you'd learn something. I could blow your brains out right now, if I wanted to."
"Joke's on you, I don't have any brains," he taunted. "I have a memory bank that processes—"
He stopped once he noticed R.O.B. was still in their midst, suddenly modest about his phrasing.
"I mean... Y-yeah, Samus," he quietly finished, looking down. "You, uh... You got me good..."
"Whatever." Samus released her hold on him and walked off. "Now, hurry up and let's go. We're burning daylight."
"Yes, ma'am..."
Mega Man stood and dusted himself off, straightening his helmet. He tried not to falter, practically feeling R.O.B.'s optics burn a hole through him from behind.
"Listen, R.O.B., I... I gotta go." He spoke as if in a trance, still not facing the other robot. "It's been nice talking to you... I guess."
He said that last part so flippantly, as if even he himself wasn't sure if that was the right word he wanted to use.
"IT'S BEEN A PLEASURABLE EXPERIENCE COMMUNICATING WITH YOU AS WELL... MEGA MAN."
Mega Man stalled at the sudden change in his dialogue, his preferred title finally spoken. After a moment, he turned to face him with a sad smile.
"01010100 01101000 01100001 01101110 01101011 01110011," he droned.
R.O.B. was stagnant as Mega Man sprinted off to catch up with Samus, the two idly chatting as they exited the room together. No sooner had he left, Little Mac jogged up.
"Sorry I'm late!" he laughed, rubbing his head sheepishly. "Ryu and I got a little carried away with Sandbag in the Training Room and I guess I lost track of time. You ready?"
R.O.B. snapped to attention and whirred. "AFFIRMATIVE. I WILL DO ALL I IN MY POWER TO EMERGE THE VICTOR."
The boxer smirked. "Not if I have anything to say about it!"
Punching his gloves together in excitement, Little Mac charged inside the Stage Select room as R.O.B. followed behind. Just before he entered the room, he looked down the way where Mega Man had gone and processed their interaction. While they were both mechanical beings, they'd been crafted by different hands with different parts and different goals in mind. In the end, both of them only wanted one thing; to belong.
Perhaps he and DLN-001 weren't so different after all.
Authoress' Notes: So, uh, there's that, I guess.