It's ya boi, Midnight Prince here and I am sorry. School started and I'm a senior. Enough with the BS. Let's do this.
Summary: Spring Man just recently learned that his father was Max Brass and tries to reach out to him, only to find that his family tree goes deeper than he ever wanted.
1 Month Earlier –
Spring Man was coming back to his apartment after a particularly rough match against his ever increasing rival, Springtron. He looked in his mailbox and saw a green package, among other things.
'That robot is going to be the death of me. I can't beat him! Even Master Mummy beat him! The sponsors are on my ass for my losing streak and here he comes to ruin my career! He even has the audacity to call himself 'Springtron', copying my name and likeness! I want to fight whoever made that pile of scrap!'
"What's this?" He said aloud.
'It's some kind of package. I don't know any companies that ship in green packages.'
He carried the package and the rest of his mail upstairs to his apartment.
Opening the door, he was greeted by the cold nothingness of an apartment longing for company. He only sleeps and eats here, moving a lot for ARMS competitions.
Taking his jacket off and throwing himself on an inflatable bed, he ripped through his mail before facing the package.
He opened it reluctantly. It contained a letter and 2 pictures.
'To my dearest Spring Man, I regret to inform you that your life is a lie. I'm sure you know that you're adopted. I know who your biological father is. But before I tell you that, you need to know that he gave you up on purpose. He didn't want you and he wanted another person to be his son.'
Understandably, Spring Man was angry, but kept reading the letter.
'Your father is Max Brass. Hope that was a good enough secret for you.
Until next time.
T.C.'
He froze. Unable to stand anymore he collapsed on his bed and started weeping. Max Brass, the best ARMS fighter to date, the highest wall he had to leap over, was his father.
'No. He can't be. He didn't even recognize me when we fought before. 'He gave you up on purpose'. I don't believe it.
Spring Man sat up and looked at the pictures included with the letter. The first, a picture of himself as a baby, in the ARMS of a younger, youthful Max Brass. It was the first time he had seen Max without his mask. The belts on replacing his natural arms were wound together to better resemble real, human arms. Except they were brown.
Spring Man saw himself with regular, caucasian arms. He couldn't remember the last time his arms weren't a light shade of blue.
He picked up the other picture. It was of Max Brass again, letting baby Spring Man use his ARMS as a trampoline.
Spring man sighed and wondered why Max Brass would give him up, when he looked so happy in the two pictures.
He didn't eat that night. He spent hours studying the two pictures before falling asleep.
The next morning at exactly 6:00 AM, his alarm went off.
Only having 5 hours of sleep, Spring Man was not happy. He felt something onhis arm and peeled it off. It was the two pictures, having gained creases where his arm covered them. He groaned and began his morning training.
100 pushups with his mask on, stretching them as far as they could go.
'38, 39, 40, 41-'
His phone rang. He took his mask off and cringed at how fast his ARMS were reverting back to regular arms.
"Yes?"
"Spring Man, baby! It's great to hear of ya this early in the morning. I called to tell you that you have an early match with Max Brass. Are you up for it?" his agent croned.
Normally, this would be a firm yes, but in light of recent events, Spring Man was unsure that a fight between them was appropriate.
He murmured an apology and declined.
"What was that?"
"I said that I don't want to do it."
"He asked for you personally. Said he wanted to test your resilience. He was there yesterday, you know."
Spring Man blanked.
"Listen kid, if you're not up to getting training from the best ARMS fighter, then I don't know what to tell ya."
"I'll do it." Spring Man said, meekly.
"What?!"
"I said that I'll do it!"
"That's more like it, kid! Your match is at 10:00 AM."
Looking at his clock, it said 6:47.
"I have a few hours."
"Yeah, but this is the King we're talking about!"
"Yeah, I guess you're right."
"He said meet him at the ARMS league official gym, Room 1. Don't be late."
And with that, his agent hung up the phone.
Dying down from the uplifting speech given from his agent, the smile on his face soon transformed into a scowl.
'I bet he wants to tell me that I'm worthless, less than trash, lower than the gum on his shoe.'
'No, he is the champ, and he greeted me kindly when we fought for the first time.'
Spring Man fought with himself while he made his favorite breakfast, cereal pizza. It would take some time, yes but it would make forget about the problem he would have facing Max Brass.
2 hours later –
Spring Man was happily gulping down his pizza, in whole slices when an alarm on his phone went off. It flashed 9:30 in bright red, accompanied with an ear-splitting scream. He stopped the alarm, grabbed his mask and jacket, and ran out the door; but not without the last few slices of his pizza. He didn't want the marshmallow fluff the get hard when he came back.
Hopping in his car, Spring Man drove silently to the gym.
The company, guaranteeing all of the ARMS fighters identities would be safe, gave him a jacket, filled to the brim with his sponsors' logos. He groaned and put it on. One of these days, he would have to get around to buying his own hoodies. But they were so comfortable.
Being famous wasn't without its plights. The shade of blue on his arms instantly gave him away to any onlooker. If he wore anything that wasn't long sleeved, he'd be swarmed by huge masses of people. Some of them were observant enough to notice his hands, so he started wearing gloves. This was killing in the summer.
Strolling up to the gym, Spring Man got a sinking feeling in his gut. He swallowed his fear, put the hood up, grabbed his mask and walked into the gym.
"Good morning, Spring Man." The receptionist greeted.
"Hey Martha." He droned. And tried to walk past her.
"Hey, I'm older than you! Don't call me that in front of customers! It's highly unprofessional."
"Sorry Ms. Walker, but I'm not in the mood."
"Cheer up! Max Brass is here to show you the ropes."
She quieted her voice.
"Listen, Springtron is the least of your problems, you can always beat him. This day is about you. I heard he called for you personally. Don't embarrass yourself, okay?"
"I won't."
And with that, Spring Man strolled into Training Room 1, where his opponent stood in the center of the ring, waiting for him.
"Spring Man! You're right on time!" Max Brass said, excitedly.
"Yeah, I guess I am."
Unable to look Max Brass in the face, Spring Man took his jacket off and put his mask on. He jumped in the ring, looking perplexed.
Max Brass was taken back.
"What wrong, my boy?"
"Nothing."
Not believing him, but hoping that this training session would keep his mind off of it, Max Brass sighed to himself.
He cleared his throat.
"Ok. On my mark-"
"Do you recognize anyone when you see me?!" Spring Man screamed.
"Eh, no?"
'Just as I thought. He really did abandon me'
"Fine."
"Okay… you want to get started or not."
Spring Man sighed aloud.
"Let's go."
Without saying another word, Spring Man let lunged himself at Max Brass.
Alright. I think this is enough for this first chapter. Please review. I like reading your comments.
-Mr. Midnight Prince