A/N: Aha, what am I even doing in here? This isn't robots. Someone show me the exit, please?
Well, truthfully this wasn't supposed to make it to "paper", being more of a fun idea I was just kicking around. It kinda has a plot, but not really any purpose, so... Oh well. Poor Chroma became a sort of mix between Perceptor and Simon (pre-Ice King Ice King), and I'm not sure how that happened.
I... don't really know if I'll write anything more for this category. Really, I'm pretty much all robots in here. I kinda have something in mind involving a Nightmare, but I'm still not sure if I want to write it.
As this is a one-shot, I'd like to thank in advance everyone that reads, reviews, and favorites.
There was a grey man standing in the middle of the sidewalk.
Jack wouldn't have noticed him if it weren't for the fact that it was getting close to Christmas, and the town and its citizens were decked out in bright and festive colors. Sure, there were a few browns or blacks in there, but overall the effect was rather cheery. He had always enjoyed how the traditional reds and greens looked against his white snow, and thus tried to make sure it snowed at least once near Christmas. This fellow, however, almost blended into the snow entirely, and as Jack crept closer he realized just how odd a man this was.
He wasn't just dressed in grey; he was grey. From his pale grey hair to dark grey eyes (including what would be 'whites' on anyone else) to absurdly long grey plaid scarf, the man was just...grey. He had a long paintbrush in one hand, and appeared to be trying to cover a crack in a window with air. Or, at least that's what it looked like. He was brushing over the crack and there was no paint on the brush, at least. The frost spirit shook his head, leaning against the window and tapping his staff on the ground absently.
"Oh, buddy, I don't know what you've got going on up there, but you might want to get off the street before nightfall," he said conversationally, not really caring if the other could hear him or not. He had talked to himself for three hundred years, and one more day wouldn't make a difference. The man, predictably, did not respond, continuing to paint at the crack.
"What are you even doing? Shouldn't you be at home, spending time with your family? C'mon, it's going to get dark soon, and I don't mean to brag, but it tends to snow a lot at night." Jack smiled, already imagining the impressive flurries tonight's snowstorm would bring. Nothing was going to get done tomorrow, that was for sure. Maybe he'd knock out the power for a few blocks as well. So entranced by his own plans, he didn't notice that the grey man had moved until he found himself staring up into a pair of dark eyes. He flinched, then stuck his tongue out at the guy childishly. It wasn't as if he could see-
"Would you move, please? You're in my way."
Jack blinked. Then blinked again. He looked around, trying to see who the grey man was talking to. But the people on the street continued to walk past the both of them, like they didn't exist. The grey man was still waiting, foot tapping impatiently.
"You... are you talking to me?"
The grey man huffed, and Jack noticed that no steam came out of his mouth. "Of course I'm taking to you. You don't see anyone else blocking my way, do you? Now come on, the light is fading fast and I need to be done with this."
Slowly, almost disbelievingly, Jack scooted to the side. The grey man immediately begin his air painting on another crack that the frost spirit had been covering up, humming tunelessly under his breath. Jack stared at him.
"You can see me." It wasn't a question. The grey man shrugged one of his shoulders.
"Of course I can see you. You're made for light, aren't you?" He blinked and looked over at the frost spirit with his curiously dark eyes, brow wrinkling in confusion. "Am I not supposed to see you?"
"Well... I don't think so," Jack said, leaning on his staff and trying to wrap his head around what was happening. "I mean, only Guardians and other spirits can see me." And children, but that wasn't quite true yet, so he didn't say it.
"And there's your answer!" The grey man gave his brush a flourish, finishing whatever it was he had been doing, before he whirled around to face Jack. "If I can see you, then I am obviously a Guardian and or a spirit of some kind." He squinted at the boy for a moment, then fished out a pair of glasses with small, perfectly round lenses. The lenses were, predictably, grey. "Sorry. I'm dreadfully nearsighted. Couldn't see the end of my nose if it wasn't attached to my face. I am Chroma."
The frost spirit looked down at the grey man's offered hand, then cautiously extended one of his own to shake it. "Jack Frost?"
"A pleasure to meet you, young Jack." Chroma shook his hand, then fished around in the pocket of his overcoat and retrieved a silvery pocket watch. "Ah, it's getting late. Would you you mind walking with me?"
Jack shrugged, hiking his staff onto his shoulder and falling into step beside the man. "So, which are you, then? A Guardian or a spirit?" Really, he hadn't yet met either that hadn't chased him off or yelled some kind of insult. Well, besides the Sandman, but Sandy was special. Most Guardians and spirits hoarded their appointed tasks, acting like everything else was nowhere near as important. Even Jack had had his moments, when he had summoned icy winds and heavy sleet to chase off the last of Autumn and let Winter have its time.
"Oh. Well... hmm." The grey man put a hand to his chin, stepping around a gaggle of shoppers. Jack merely leapt over them, the wind giving him a little extra boost. "I suppose that I am a Thing."
"A ...Thing?"
"Indeed. A Thing." Chroma smiled warmly at him, and Jack wasn't quite sure what to think. His confusion must have been pretty obvious, because the grey man let out a little chuckle. "Perhaps if I showed you, hmm?"
They were in the town's central square. A large, lavishly decorated Christmas tree dominated the street, its wide spreading branches already lit by thousands of tiny lights. Near the tree was a little area set aside for children to have their pictures taken with "Santa", though the man in the fake beard and his helpers had long since left. A fine dusting of snow decorated the red carpet and golden chair, and the grey man stepped over the little velvet rope easily.
"What would you call a man who is not a Guardian, for he has no one to guard, but not a spirit, as he has nothing to bring to the world, and no one will believe in him as he is already reality?" And so saying, he leapt onto the carpet with both feet, and turned red.
From his hair, to his coat, to his plaid scarf of many shades, he was completely and undeniably red. Even his skin had taken on a somewhat russet hue, making him look far more human than he had in grey. Only his eyes remained the same, still curiously dark behind ruby spectacles. "Why, you would call that man a Thing!"
Jack watched him, amazed as he hopped up onto the narrow arm of the chair. He took on its golden hues, then placed one foot on the red cushion and was split right down the middle. He grinned at the frost spirit, jumping off of the chair and becoming a grey man once again as he stepped down into the snow. "As you can see, I take on the color of whatever I happen to be standing on. That's what 'chroma' means, by the way. Color." He resumed walking, and Jack trotted to catch back up.
"So, wait. Why haven't I seen you before?" There were a lot of weird spirits out there, but he was pretty sure he'd remember a man who changed colors like a chameleon. Chroma let out a small chuckle.
"Ah, I'm not that fond of winter. Too cold, too grey. Oh, there are colors in it of course, little sparkles that catch in the clearest ice and snow. But true color?" He shrugged. "By the time you have hopped onto the North wind and begun your annual travels, I'm usually in warmer climates. I just missed the train this time."
"The... what? What train?"
Chroma laughed, a loud sound that echoed in the streets. Most of the people had gone indoors as the light dimmed further and the temperature dropped. The streetlights had begun to come on, bathing the small grey snow drifts in circles of yellow light. The grey man stopped in the center of one particularly deserted street, checking his pocket watch and humming tunelessly again. Jack watched him, confused, staff hiked up on one shoulder. Apparently they were waiting on something.
Whatever he was expecting, it was not a very close, very loud train whistle.
The frost spirit yelled, staff instantly in his hands as a particularly strong gust of wind blew him into the air. He realize just how ridiculous it must have looked about the time he heard the grey man laugh again, and he slowly descended, head tucked down defensively. Thusly protected from ridicule, he didn't quite notice how a golden steam engine, complete with coal car and several passenger cars, appeared in the street, and was forced to wonder how something that large had appeared with so little noise. A man, or what looked like a man, stepped out of one of the cars, leaning on the railing and flashing the grey man a grin.
"You're late. Never known you to miss the train before. We were almost starting to get worried about you." Chroma chuckled, nodding to the conductor.
"Ah, I must have done something very bad then, to stir the worries of mighty Mercury." The conductor shook his head, stepping back and allowing the grey -now golden- man to step onto the train. The look he gave Jack was far more suspicious, and he stepped forward to block the frost spirit's path, should he choose to also board the train. Not that Jack had been considering it, but having a choice taken away before he even got the chance to use it hurt a little.
"Sorry kid. Can't board if you don't have a ticket." So the conductor said, but his eyes, partially hidden under a cap decorated by golden wings, stayed hard. Jack stared right back at him, unwilling to show any form of weakness.
"Oh come on, Mercury, the lad doesn't want a ride," Chroma interrupted, one golden hand landing on the conductor's shoulder. "He has work to do, and so do you and I! Or do you want to keep Sol waiting, and be blessed by his complaining for the next fortnight?"
The conductor grumbled, but finally relented and stepped back into the train. Chroma gave Jack a little wave, then retreated as well. The train whistled shrilly, a great plume of steam rising up out of it. Then, with a great chugging, it began to move forward, pushing the last dredges of snow on the street out of its way. Jack immediately called the wind, riding alongside the train as it picked up speed. Through the windows in the passenger cars he could see Chroma, and Mercury, and half a dozen other colorful spirits.
Then the train went up, following a track made of light and sound. The frost spirit laughed, touching the tracks behind the train with his staff and marvelling at how he was icing light. The train was far faster in the air than it had been on the ground and rivaling even the fastest winds. Jack perched on a nearby building and watched it disappear into the distance, the golden rails behind it slowly disappearing like the tail of a comet.