Author's note: Steam Punk AU. Eventual US*UK. Various pairings will also be included.
Last Legend
Ch 1: The Arrival
Arthur Kirkland had to admit that life outside his hometown was extremely different. The little town in England Arthur had lived in was mostly hills and trees with a few buildings scattered about the only road the "town" seemed to have. Being as small as it was, it hardly had any communication with the outside world and therefore forgotten by those that didn't live there, save for the few newspapers that told of the rest of the world's advancements. It was nice to know the town was remembered only for the sake of money for the papers.
Arthur was the second youngest of four boys, him being barely in his twenties. He could not honestly say he had even a remote liking of his brothers. His older siblings were loud, obnoxious, crude jerks that took quite a bit of joy in Arthur's emotional and physical pain. The Brit couldn't count how many times he had gotten into drunken brawls with the two over something childish. The youngest sibling hadn't fared as well in terms of a healthy relationship with Arthur either, constantly picking on him and telling him that he would have to bow to his almighty awesome in the near future. At least he was partially tolerable though.
It seemed the only thing keeping Arthur from completely breaking down was his job. He had run something of an antique repair shop, fixing things from old phones to music boxes. He did have quite a talent for it, if he did say so himself. Since he had acquired quite a talent for tedious work with his nimble fingers, he had received a respectable amount of funds and reputation. However, even a hobby gets old when there's not any advancement. With a sufficient amount of money, a suitcase with his personal belongings, and the earliest plane ticket on his persons, Arthur was the first person to leave his hometown in upwards of twenty-five years.
Arthur had read that large cities like New York, London, and Paris all over the world had become even more dependent on technology. There had been progression in all sorts of things! What he had not read about was how positively breathtaking it all was, even if he hadn't yet made it out of the airport. He had landed in the New York Port of Air Travel, Terminal Three at approximately 12:32 PM. The first thing Arthur noticed was how loud it was. Everybody was chatting amongst themselves, on phones, or even yelling at each other in some video game tournament that was being held. The buzz of electronics and the loud sound effects of games and television shows boomed through speakers placed everywhere throughout the whopping ten stories of the building, with Arthur on the third floor. Every couple of floors led to a landing bad for different forms of air travel including planes, blimps, sky ship, hot air balloon, and even jetpacks for those that used the airport for trips across the city for work. You name it, they had it.
The Brit pushed past a crown of people gathered around a screen that was showing a popular cartoon involving robots transforming into cars and planes eating something that vaguely looked like hotdogs smothered in chili, cheese, and other random toppings that shouldn't go together ever. He finally reached the other side of the platform and leaned against the railing. The building itself was cylindrical with walls made of almost nothing but glass windows. Each floor had a giant circular hole in the middle clear up to the domed ceiling, making the building look like a donut if one looked at it from the sky. The only thing that kept people from falling off was a white railing running the perimeter of the hole.
Arthur stumbled backwards when a huge stream of water shot up out of the skylight in the ceiling. A few women in brightly colored, skin tight body suits, funny glasses, and go-go boots gave the Brit amused looks before returning to their previous activities. Arthur blinked his green eyes before following the jet of water with his eyes down to the bottommost floor where his eyes met a magnificent fountain adorned with an enormous brass model of the Earth, complete with continents. Upon further inspection, Arthur noticed there were tiny models of different forms of air transportation revolved around the earth. An even closer look revealed they did so without the use of strings or wires! Huge, decorative-and possibly structural-pillars ran the entire height of the airport. There were seven in total, all spaced out evenly minus the spot needed for the two story glass door across from where Arthur was standing.
Although the airport was spectacular all on its own, the people were another sight to see. There were people from all over the world. That much was obvious seeming as how most were dressed in the attire of their native land. For those that didn't wear that kind of clothing, they all wore something in its own category. There were more people dressed in brightly colored body suits and Arthur could only guess it was some kind of space fad that had gone around. There were a lot of girls with bleach blond hair and bad spray on tans, men in business suits, people in costumes from popular TV shows, and some people wore a mix of engineer attire and mechanical items. Not everyone walking around was human though.
A little over ten years ago, it had become known that the Japanese government had made the first prototype humanoid robot with artificial intelligence. AI had become all the need all over the world and countries raced to make a better version of it, especially Russia and America. In a matter of months, the American government released plans for a better AI robot along with their first prototype. The plans went off without a hitch and soon robots were being mass produced. Most robots had been used for manual labor and household duties without pay at first, but people calling themselves metallic humanoid activists wanted the bots to be able to live their own lives. There was speculation that each bot was different in its own way and that it should be allowed to do whatever it pleased. The United Nations gathered and for a painstaking amount of time tried to figure out if the AI really did make each robot different. After three years, it was decided that robots would have almost as much freedom as humans, but the number of robots had been restricted based on the countries' population. Robots also had a restriction on their age. They could not live any longer than two-hundred years from their production date.
Among the throng of people, robots mingled around. Apparently there were people who were in the middle of being a robot and being a human. A cyborg and a robot near the railing of the fourth floor were comparing their arms, the human transforming his from looking like a fleshy human arm into a drill. In fact, a few cyborgs didn't look like they had any kind of mechanical parts until they transformed. Not only had technology thrived, but it seemed medical science had caught up and intermingled with mech. Arthur vaguely remembered that cyborgs called their equipment autohack since most of their items dealt with computers. A tap on Arthur's shoulder pulled him out of his observations. Arthur turned to see a copper colored robot with a thin build and appendages that seemed to be made of jointed pipe.
"Excuse me sir, are you Arthur Kirkland?" the robot asked seriously. Arthur nodded slowly. "I am a Cybernetic Handcrafted Android Responsible for Logical Exploration and Shipment." The robot stared at Arthur. His eyes reminded the Brit of bicycle reflectors lit up from behind by bulbs only much more intimidating.
"Uh-what?" Arthur asked. The Android said his name was…Cyber-Arthur couldn't even attempt to remember it. The robot let out an exasperated sigh.
"You may call me Charles then. Come on now." The android turned and walked a few steps, motioning for Arthur to follow him.
"So, how did you know who I am?" Arthur asked, curious as to why the robot was leading him through the crowd of people.
"Databases. When you purchased your ticket, your profile was sent through cyberspace. Since you did not have any way of actually leaving the airport, I was assigned to make sure you get to where you needed to go." Charles explained. Arthur furrowed his thick eyebrows.
"What kinds of things did it tell you then?" Charles rolled his eyes and led Arthur to a vacant table in a nearby pizzeria.
"Since you are so keen on asking questions and you don't seem to be in a rush for anything, let's sit." Charles said. Arthur took a seat, surprised a robot could have so much of an attitude. "Your name is Arthur Kirkland. You are 23 years old and you came to America from a town in England that nobody even cares about. You have 3 brothers, blond hair, green eyes, and eyebrows that can only be described as caterpillars. You have a slight frame, but your strength is nothing to scoff it." Charles smirked, or that's what it looked like he was doing.
"Well, anyone would know that about me. You pretty much told me my appearance." Arthur said, touching is eyebrows. Charles rolled his eyes.
"It's not like the world was kept up with your personal bio. You didn't exactly do much through the internet. You've pretty much just existed save for the few times your bio was updated. What would you expect? Someone to keep tabs on you?"
"No." Arthur said sheepishly. Charles stood up and beckoned for Arthur to follow him again. The Brit followed Charles towards a flight of stairs that moved towards the floor below. Arthur followed Charles onto the escalator and they waited for their descent to be made.
"So where do you plan on going?" Charles asked.
"Uh-well, I was hoping to work in repair or something like that. Small scale repair that is…"
"There's not much of a demand for that kind of thing. Most everything is large scale, like holograms and other things like that."
"I figured as much…" Arthur sighed.
"You worked in an antique shop, right?" Charles asked. Arthur nodded. "If you're willing to go a long distance, I think there's a need for carbon daters at a lab in Texas. They work with a lot of little things from way back when. They usually fix the stuff and study how all that old technology worked."
"Texas is kind of…"
"Far? A little under two-thousand miles. You should be able to get there in about a day if we drive." Charles offered. Arthur thought it over. It sounded like it would be what he was looking for. The Brit nodded brightly.
"Is…everywhere as big as this?" the blond stepped off of the escalator behind Charles.
"No. A lot of places are underdeveloped. They still have a lot of the technology but they don't have huge skyscrapers everywhere." Charles explained, leading Arthur to another escalator. It was amazing Arthur hadn't lost Charles in the crowd yet. There were so many people!
Finally the pair made it outside. Charles led Arthur to a parking lot to the left of the airport. The building reflected so much sun that the Brit had to look in the opposite direction to avoid going blind. Arthur guessed the parking lot was filled with service cars so people could get where they had to go.
"Ello ello ello!" Charles started to talk to another bot at a service window. It was a big robot and looked as if it wasn't designed to do anything else but sit there. It reminded Arthur of a really fat bus driver that nobody wanted to ride with. Bernie, as Charles had called it, glared at the slimmer bot before handing over some keys. "Well then. Shall we go?" Arthur nodded and Charles led him into the lot. They passed cars of all sorts. There were muscle cars, little cars, limousines, Bentleys, Jeeps, vans, etc. Charles stopped at a blue Mustang convertible with t-top. He tapped the hood lightly.
"What is that?"
"This, my friend, is what we'll be arriving in." he said brightly. Arthur stared at it.
"Isn't it a little…ostentatious?" Charles' face fell.
"Of course it isn't. Would you rather arrive in a jet pack?" Arthur shook his head. "Well, alright then. Get your British ass in the car before I make you walk to Texas."
"I don't think I've ever met a person with as much of an attitude as you, Charles." Arthur grumbled as he slid into the passenger seat.
"It's in my personality chip. I can't help it, nor do I want to." Charles sighed, throwing Arthur's suitcase into the back seat and sliding into the driver's seat.
"Robots have personality chips?"
"Artificial Intelligence, my dear Arthur. As great as I am without a personality, I was bound to have one. Eventually even I would learn how to react to something, albeit slower than humans. Personality chips made it easier. It also made robots more approachable by humans. That's also why I have facial features." Charles paused. "Humans are funny creatures, you know. They get really uncomfortable around new and unknown things, even if they are the ones that created it. It's strange how if something looks different or acts different, it can pose as a threat." Charles started up the car.
"Can you blame them? Humans are scared of each other after all." Arthur asked. Charles thought about it for a long time. He pulled the car out of its space and started to drive. Arthur guessed he didn't plan on answering the question so he took to staring out the window at the city. It was silent for about thirty minutes, which seemed a little off. Charles seemed like such a chatty robot.
"No." Charles said suddenly.
"Hmm?" Arthur hummed, not turning to look at the driver.
"I don't blame humans for being scared of AI. It is pretty intimidating." Charles said simply. Arthur smiled and closed his eyes. At least he could catch a bit of sleep on a day long car ride.
He was having a wonderful dream. A few faeries had invited him to a tea party where he had a heated political debate with a pink unicorn and a brownie. He also had to give the faeries a stern talking to about the pranks they had begun to pull on the Brit. They had given him floppy rabbit ears and a little fluffy tail. The faeries tried to assure him that it was quite adorable and fitting on him and Arthur didn't have the heart to argue any longer. They spent the rest of the tea party sipping tea and eating crumpets.
"Arthur~ It's time to wake up~!" Arthur groaned and turned away from the voice. Charles frowned. If Arthur wasn't going to wake up, then the robot was just going to have to use force. With that said, Charles pressed down on the horn. Arthur quickly sprang up at the loud ear-splitting blast of the horn.
"WHAT?" Arthur screamed. He subconsciously pulled his hands to his head to check for ears and glanced at his rear end to make sure he was tail-free. Which he was.
"Good morning, Love. Glad to see you've joined the world of the living." Charles said. Arthur glared at him. "It seems we've broken down."
"You're a robot. Can't you fix it?" Wrong thing to say.
"I will have to know that I am a Cybernetic Handcrafted Android Responsible for Logical Exploration and Shipment!" Charles exploded, "I am not a Synthetic Technician Engineered for Fastening and Accurate Nailing! In simpler terms, I am not programmed, nor am I equipped, to fix a car! All I am programmed to do is drive!" Charles pulled himself out of the car and slammed the door. Arthur followed suit.
"Well, what do you want me to do?" Arthur asked angrily. Charles spun around.
"How about you walk into that there service station?" Charles pointed at the building they conveniently broke down in front of.
"And you can't because…?"
"Why, it's not in my programming." Charles said sweetly, "I plan on staying with the car. I don't trust you with it so get help, okay?" Arthur threw his arms up in defeat.
"Fine! I'll be right back!"
He had expected the garage to be some dirty room smelling of exhaust and iron. He expected there to be a few mechanics slaving over car engines that refused to start back up or replacing flat tires. There would probably be oil stains and paper scattered about a concrete floor and tires stacked in the corner. He expected to see an engineer sitting at the front desk that probably had one too many hamburgers from the burger joint down the road. Apparently garages had changed since the last time Arthur had entered one.
A little bell rang when Arthur opened the door.
"Gimme a minute!" a voice yelled from somewhere in the back. "Just take a seat! I'll be out in a minute so don't go anywhere!" There was a loud crashing sound followed by a string of curses Arthur recognized as German. The Brit took a seat on a couch in what he assumed was the waiting area, not giving the crashing so much as a second thought. The garage itself was pretty big, with a high ceiling and open space. There was an entire was entire wall of tools and gadgets ranging from drill bits to semi-automatic hand guns. There was an entire shelf of just duct tape, organized by thickness, color, and durability. There were four work tables with projects in progress on them. There was a metal arm on one table, and the other three had frameworks for other things. Papers, blueprints, pencils, and models scattered about the entire area. A few kites lay on a table in the corner and a motorcycle sat next to them.
BAM!
A loud sound erupted from behind a door to the right side of the back wall of the building. Arthur stood up quickly. Suddenly, the door flew open and a frazzled looking blond quickly stumbled out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him and scrambling for cover under a table. Arthur gave him a curious look; confused as to why the boy was so panic-stricken. A large explosion behind the door made it balloon outwards before flying off its hinges. It was comical really how it managed to stay on that tiny bit of width to keep in upright as it crashed through one of the project tables and into the wall just feet from where Arthur had been standing.
"C'mon, Gilbert! I didn't even do anything to it!" the blond whined, readjusting his glasses. He glanced at the broken table. "Aw man! I was gonna work on that today!"
"Fuck you! You pretty much broke it! Who the hell makes tools that look like other tools?" Gilbert yelled in a thick German accent, his red eyes blazing as he stepped into the work space. One look at him told Arthur he was albino. The same look told him that Gilbert was completely human, if the grenade launching machine gun that replaced his right arm was any indication.
"Well obviously I do!" the blond said, "Besides! You have your own tools! Don't use mine!"
"You know what, Al? I swear to god I'm going to wipe that god damn smirk right off that pretty little face of yours!" the albino yelled, stomping over to the other boy's table of safety. He yanked the boy up by the collar of his tank top. Al seemed to be unaffected by it and continued to give the German a very smug grin.
"I'd like to see you try, Gil. You're all talk and you don't have anything to back it up." Gilbert shoved his menacing arm in Al's face.
"Does this really look like something I can't back it up with?"
"Since I know you broke it, then yes. I'd have to say you can't back it up." The blond said. Arthur noted how one single strand seemed to stick up. How odd…
"It seemed to do just fine when I blasted that door off its damn hinges!"
"Which you're fixing by the way." The two continued to glare at each other, red rivaling blue in the ultimate staring contest. The intensity of it just seemed like they were trying to kill each other with looks alone.
"Excuse me?" Arthur asked. Both boys halted their glaring and turned their heads towards the Brit. The white-haired boy dropped the blond and stalked towards Arthur. He didn't actually acknowledge him, he just grabbed the door, which had left an imprint in the plaster, and walked back to the room he had entered in. The blond straightened his clothes, smoothed his hair, and pushed his glasses back up his nose before he moseyed on over to the front desk. He promptly leaned on it and put on a huge grin.
"Heya. The name's Alfred. How can I help ya?"
