Mitsuko wasn't quite sure what happened after that-she knew, however,
that she spent the remainder of the night wandering, traveling in circles
to ensure that she did not wander too far. She still had a duty to Krishna,
to at least attempt to earn the cash sum required to free him by competing
in the RBT. She supposed she circled around Sakhmet City for the entire
night, not knowing where to go-she certainly couldn't go back to Phil's
place. Although she knew that her emotional detachment hadn't bothered her
in the past, now it struck her hard on the insides. There was a conflict
waging between two separate sides within her, blazing on day and night-and
Mitsuko could only stand on the sidelines, helpless to decide her fate.
When the first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon, Mitsuko felt a sense of relief wash over her. Now, she felt she could land, instinctively heading towards Phil's residence. As soon as she realized what she was doing, though, she jerked to a stop in the air, nearly plummeting to the ground with the sudden engagement of her breaks. Automatically, she refired her boosters, finding herself hovering above Phil's place. Although she wanted to move so feverishly, she found herself paralyzed above the house, only able to stare downwards. Was he inside? Had he gone back to his house after she had left?
'No. Turn around, Mitsuko. You have to get to Dr. Sloth's house to register with him for the RBT.'
She turned away from the house, swallowing hard as she moved away from it. It felt as if a hook had been connected to her insides and the end had been attached to Phil's house, trying to drag her back. She resisted the urge to turn around and go back, to check if Phil was there. Pushing herself forward, she found herself at Dr. Sloth's house after a few agonizing minutes, having gone slower than usual subconsciously, landing with a bit of relief, inviting herself in. (Locks, as Mitsuko had learned, were hardly ever used, despite the high crime rate in the city.)
"Doctor?" she called through the house. She didn't expect a reply immediately, at least not until she had gotten deeper into the house-it was difficult for Dr. Sloth to hear anyone entering while he was in the laboratory, for the doors were of a rare, heavy material. Yet there was still movement in the house which caught Mitsuko's eye, her head shooting towards the area which had moved. She found herself looking at the couch, and as her eyes adjusted to the dimness of being inside, she soon found herself wanting to leave.
Phil had blended in quite well with the tan-gold color of the couch, almost a perfect camouflage for his skin color. Without his usual blue-and- gold shawl on, which was being washed for it had been stained by the oil Mitsuko had been leaking earlier, she hadn't noticed him until he had moved. If she had had her heat vision on, perhaps it would've been different, but now she found herself stuck, unable to move from the place she stood. Though she had an urge to flee, she found her legs seemingly nailed to the ground, not allowing her to move.
Phil gave a yawn, stretching, apparently just waking up. He caught sight of her a few seconds later and did a double-take, though seemed apathetic the second time he looked back. Standing up, he greeted her a solemn good morning with a smile, though Mitsuko could barely determine whether it was authentic or fake. Hopping off of the couch, Phil wandered to the kitchen, Mitsuko timidly following after him.
"Good morning," she replied after a moment's time, Phil already beginning to cook some kind of mushy gruel above a fire in the rather primitive kitchen.
"Mmm," was his answer, stirring the mixture in the small bowl, not looking at Mitsuko. An awkward silence grew between the two of them, Phil keeping his back towards Mitsuko. His mood seemed to be cheery, but he wasn't talking, a good indication that it was all an act. Mitsuko cleared her throat, realizing that she would have to take the situation into her own hands.
"Look. . .Phil, about last night-"
"There's no need to mention it," said Phil with a shrug, his voice light. He stirred the gruel a bit, and then spoke again. "I just. . .forget sometimes. Y'know, that you're. . .not like me. History's bound to repeat itself anyway." Seeming to determine that the gruel was done cooking, he lifted the pot and grabbed a bowl, pouring a portion into it. "You want some?" he asked, looking up to Mitsuko. She turned her eyes away from his and shook her head, staring hard at the ground.
"No, I'm fine."
"It's not an issue, Suko," cut in Phil dismissively, sitting down at the table, picking up a spoon and waving it in the air. "Dr. Sloth's in the lab. You can go get him and register at any time-registration should be open by now."
"Oh. Of course," said Mitsuko with a firm nod. She turned around and began walking out of the kitchen, only to pause and turn back. "Phil. . ." she started, her words dragging out, seeming to be stuck in her throat. Phil raised an eyebrow, placing a spoonful of the gruel into his mouth.
"What's up? Spit it out," he said, giving her an encouraging smile.
"It's just. . .thank you."
" 'Thank you?' What exactly have I done to merit such a grace from the great Mitsuko?" asked Phil with a wink. He was acting normally, but it gave Mitsuko an uneasiness-there was something off about his happiness.
"Thank you. . .for saving me when RARE was destroyed. That's all," she said, still finding herself incapable to admit what she had felt last night. She nodded shortly, as if having to reassure herself. "Yes. Thank you."
"Anything for you, Suko," he said, giving her a salute with two available fingers. He turned his attention back to his food, and Mitsuko pulled herself away from the kitchen door, heading into the lab. She entered without knocking, finding all of the lights on, Dr. Sloth working in the corner. The Battle Faerie was still laid out on the metal table, not bothering to struggle anymore, merely shooting glares at them.
"Can't she magick her way out of those or something?" asked Mitsuko, regarding the Battle Faerie, speaking to Dr. Sloth.
"No. Miss Battle Faerie here is into physical weaponry, as well as hand-to-hand combat-the only magic she knows is summoning water. Isn't that right, Miss Battle Faerie?" asked Dr. Sloth, twisting his head around to look at the Battle Faerie, grinning. She snarled, not dignifying his question with a respond. Dr. Sloth turned back to his work, pouring some chemicals from a flask into a test tube. "I assume you're here to collect me and sign up for the RBT?"
"Yes, sir."
"Alright, then. Time's a wasting, and this experiment holds little interest for me anyway," he said, beginning to clean up, putting the test tube into a test tube holder, pouring the contents of the flask into a larger container. Wheeling over to the sink, he began to wash out the flask. "Can't seem to make anything interesting these days, ever since I swore off of experiments on Neopets," he admitted, scrubbing the inside of the flask thoroughly with a rag. When it was cleaned, he put it aside, proceeding to wash his hands. "The papers are over on that table," he said, motioning towards a metal table right next to her. "I've filled them out, except for your model number. I'm almost afraid to ask, but do you remember your model number now?"
"No."
"Alright then, we'll just make one up. They only look to make sure it's completely filled out anyway," said Dr. Sloth with a shrug, wheeling towards Mitsuko, producing a pen from his pocket. He scribbled down a number in the blank space, pulling away the pen and blowing on the wet ink. "From here on in, your model number is 1748. Got it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Okay, then." He picked up the paper and folded it neatly, placing it in his pocket. "Let's go."
They exited the house, bidding a farewell to Phil, who did not respond. Mitsuko took station behind Dr. Sloth's wheelchair, gripping the handles and pushing him forwards, the doctor folding his arms into his lap. The two approached the center of Sakhmet City silently, already able to see the long, winding line for registrations. As they joined the end of the line, many coming behind them, Mitsuko found herself beginning to speak.
"Dr. Sloth."
"Frank is fine. Titles are arbitrary in this world."
"Frank, then. Is Phil prone to mood swings?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Last night, he seemed furious that I even suggest joining the RBT. But now.he just seems.uncaring."
"No, his mood on the matter hasn't changed. It's understandable."
"What do you mean?"
"Phil is. . .well, Phil is the type of person that doesn't exactly wear their heart on their sleeves. . .at least for too long. Maybe once in a while when he gets really angry. . .but those occasions are so rare. You saw one of them last night. Phil would rather let the world see him as always amiable-almost perfect in a strange sense. Masks his feelings. Of course, all things sentient do that. . .Phil just seems to be unusually adapted to it. It's difficult to tell when he's actually upset."
"He wouldn't tell me why he hated the RBT so much. . .beyond the fact that he disliked seeing robots being smashed. There's something more that he's not telling me."
"Perceptive. But that's his story to tell, not mine. He'll tell you in due time, if he finds the need. I'll just say this-you're not the first sentient robot that Phil's ever met," replied Dr. Sloth. The two fell into silence again, being absorbed into the bustle around them, all individual voices merging into one constant hum of noise. The line moved rapidly enough, some applications being rejected, others accepted. A few apparently 'famous' robots' creators were surrounded by flocks of Neopets, trying to ask tips on how to build a robot like theirs. Before long, Mitsuko found herself rolling Dr. Sloth's wheelchair before the small stand, covered in a large blanket of Elephante skins to block those at the table from the brutal torture of the midday sun.
There were three that sat at the table: the one in the middle was the jaded queen faerie Fyora, looking older than her eternal youth should've allowed. Sweat ran down her delicate forehead, and she seemed to barely keep cool, the second in the makeshift tent a water faerie that constantly misted the exhausted faerie. Standing over the side of the queen faerie was a dark blue Blumaroo, larger than any organic Blumaroo Mitsuko had ever seen. Her eyes were a burning red, and instead of standing on its tail, she, instead, preferred to stand on her feet like a human would.
"Garoo?" Dr. Sloth exclaimed, fixing his glasses as if to check his vision. The Blumaroo stared down at the doctor quizzically, and then seemed to recognize him, a smile spreading across her face.
"Doctor! I thought you were dead!" The Blumaroo's voice was deep, almost like that of a man's, but still carried a sense of femininity.
"I guess that's a popular opinion of myself."
"I don't remember you being in a wheelchair."
"I traded the function for my legs for another life. I think it was one of the wisest decisions I've made thus far. But it's no time for a reunion," amended Dr. Sloth, clearing his throat. "I am here to enter my. . .custom robot into this tournament." He placed the papers on the table, sliding them across to Fyora, who glanced at them apathetically, her face seeming to be stuck in a tired expression. Her eyes seemed to regain life, however, as she read the name on the top of the papers, almost having not noticed who was in front of her.
"You!" she shouted, once again alive and youthful, yet steaming with rage. "You. . .you. . .monster!" she cried, seething with rage. "It's your fault that all this has happened! Yours! Destroy him and his blasted robot!"
"Fyora, my queen!" cried the water faerie, grabbing her queen by the arm. "He is nothing more than a cripple now. Leave him be. . .the other robots will make short work of this custom of his."
"I'm glad to see that you enjoy thinking out loud," said Dr. Sloth mildly. Fyora seemed to smoke for a minute, glaring down at Dr. Sloth with daggers of hatred. Slowly, she sat down in her chair hard, her eyes narrowed into mere slits. The elderliness did not seem to return-the anger seemed to almost be beneficial for her system.
Garoo took the papers from Fyora's clutching hands, reading over the form. "It seems to all check out, ma'am," she said politely, regarding to Fyora. Fyora looked up at Garoo, glared, and then looked back at the forms which Garoo had cautiously placed in front of her. She read down the information sheet, and then nodded stiffly, a sadistic smile spreading across her face. Picking up the pen, she began to scribble in something on the bottom, handing it to Garoo.
"Yes. Approved. Send it to be processed," said Fyora, not looking at Garoo while she spoke to her, but rather straight at Dr. Sloth. Mitsuko shifted her weight uncomfortably, keeping silent. There seemed to be something below the surface that she didn't quite understand at the time being. "Do you have a messenger robot?" asked Fyora, staring hard at Dr. Sloth. He began to answer no, but Mitsuko cut in for the first time.
"Yes." Opening up her chest cavity, she pulled out the Buzz messenger that had formerly been Krishna's, flipping on the switch to turn it on. It gave a little cheery greeting, bouncing into the air and doing a little dance as well as playing a metallic-sounding tune. Mitsuko hit it on the head, causing it to fall silent. She pointed towards Fyora, and the Buzz followed her direction, floating over to Fyora.
"We will send a message with this robot informing you when to awaken. You tardy arrivals always give us a hard time," growled Fyora, seeming a bit distracted by the miniature Buzz in the air that seemed to content its simple mind by prancing around heads. "Annoying little thing," she muttered bitterly, swatting at it in the air as if it were an irritating fly. "I never enjoyed machines much. . ."
"Ironic that you lead the RBT," commented Dr. Sloth, rolling his eyes.
"I don't lead the RBT-I think you know very well who does," smirked Fyora. "Now, depart, kindly. WE have a whole line to deal with."
"Good-bye, Miss Fyora. Good-bye, my commander," said Dr. Sloth shortly. Mitsuko turned Dr. Sloth's wheelchair around before things could get ugly between the doctor and the faerie queen, Fyora looking about to explode with pent-up rage, the poor water faerie doing all that she could to calm the nerves of her queen.
Heading back towards Dr. Sloth's house, having to wrack up a bit more energy to get the wheels through the sand, Mitsuko found herself speaking again. It was unlike her to speak so frequently, but around the doctor she felt her tongue suddenly loosen, as if she had no control over herself anymore.
"Who was that Blumaroo?"
"A former commander of mine-name's Garoo. Everybody was convinced that she was a male; I guess she was comfortable with that, because she never told anybody otherwise," Dr. Sloth answered, shrugging. "Some people would just rather be seen in a different way than they really are. . .although I have to admit, Garoo was rather masculine anyway."
Mitsuko didn't say anything after that, continuing to wheel Dr. Sloth home, staring at the indents in the sand, knowing instinctively the way home. It was beginning to become dark already, the long having taken so long, although it had seemed so short in Mitsuko's mind. The sun sank red below the horizon, Dr. Sloth seeming to relax more into his wheelchair, leaning his head backwards and looking up at the sky, changing colors before his eyes. He took off his glasses and wiped them on the hem of his shirt, placing them back on the end of his nose.
"I must say, Mitsuko. . .I too am worried about your survival in the RBT. Dr. Krishna is a good man, yes. . .I would try to save him as well. But. . .I would've suggested a less sentient robot. . ."
"I will be fine, doctor."
"Perhaps. But your competition is nowhere as easy as the Battle Faerie-and can't be taken down with tranquilizer guns."
"You're beginning to sound like Phil, doctor. I thought you were going to help me."
"Oh, I still am. I'm not one to drop out of something I've started. Still.maybe Phil wanted you to stay out because he cared for your safety? Because he was afraid of losing-" Dr. Sloth's mouth suddenly shut, the doctor straightening up in the wheelchair, as if uncomfortable.
"Losing what?"
"Never mind, I've spoken too much," consoled Dr. Sloth, shaking his head. "Just be careful."
"No worries."
As they arrived at Dr. Sloth's house, he announced that he would be retiring early to his dormitories-he claimed that he needed extra sleep in order to be a sponsor for a competing robot in the RBT. Phil had apparently remained at the dwelling the entire day, as Mitsuko found him tidying up the kitchen after a meal. Upon Mitsuko's arrival, a smile cracked across his face, somewhat sad, the two of them standing alone in the kitchen. "How was it?"
"Nothing happened, if that's what you're asking. The competition hasn't started yet."
"Of course not," said Phil, dipping his hands into a bucket of water to wash them off. Reaching for a towel, he wiped off his hands and his face. "You're a late arrival, but you'll still make it in, being you're a custom. Just hope that they don't place you with the massive wave of lesser robots against all the heavyweights-there's only eight left standing after that battle, and not a single one of those lesser robots put into the large horde has ever survived past that round."
"It doesn't matter what happens to me. As long as I can say that I've tried to help Dr. Krishna, I will be satisfied to be reduced to scrap metal," stated Mitsuko, her words valiant. Inside, however, a cowardliness crept into her stomach-she pushed it aside immediately. She had no time to be afraid.
Phil blinked, looking at her with some kind of admiration, mixed with a bit of regret, molding his usual smile into a sorrowful one. "Well.good luck, I guess," he said, sighing, offering her the best smile he could muster. Placing the towel back on the proper rack, he shook off any excess water and began heading for the door. "I've gotta get back to my place.make sure I haven't had any thefts. Fat chance that'd happen," he snorted, crossing the living room to the door, Mitsuko following after him slightly, though stopped in the middle of the living room.
"Phil?" Mitsuko called after him just as he was about to take off into the sky, tying his shawl around his throat. Phil stopped, turning around to look at Mitsuko.
"Hmmm? There something the matter?" asked Phil, cocking his head. In the dying light, he looked faintly handsome, though perhaps Mitsuko wasn't the best judge of looks.
". . .Will you come tomorrow? To see me fight?"
A pause grew between the two, seeming to grip at Mitsuko's artificial lungs, threatening to halt her breathing. Phil's face displayed a war waging within, but one side was obviously winning over the other. His head gradually began to shake a no, the hand around Mitsuko's lungs seeming to grip into a fist, crushing her heart alongside her lungs, Phil's words the nail in her coffin. ". . .No. I'm sorry. . .I'm busy tomorrow."
Without saying so much as good-bye, he leapt into the air, taking off into the pallet of colors known as the sky, laced with threatening storm clouds. Mitsuko raced to the door, hoping to stop him, but unable to get there in time-as soon as she was at the door, all she could do was look up at the silhouette of Phil hanging in the sky, looping once around Dr. Sloth's house and then flying away sharply, leaving her alone in the doorway.
When the first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon, Mitsuko felt a sense of relief wash over her. Now, she felt she could land, instinctively heading towards Phil's residence. As soon as she realized what she was doing, though, she jerked to a stop in the air, nearly plummeting to the ground with the sudden engagement of her breaks. Automatically, she refired her boosters, finding herself hovering above Phil's place. Although she wanted to move so feverishly, she found herself paralyzed above the house, only able to stare downwards. Was he inside? Had he gone back to his house after she had left?
'No. Turn around, Mitsuko. You have to get to Dr. Sloth's house to register with him for the RBT.'
She turned away from the house, swallowing hard as she moved away from it. It felt as if a hook had been connected to her insides and the end had been attached to Phil's house, trying to drag her back. She resisted the urge to turn around and go back, to check if Phil was there. Pushing herself forward, she found herself at Dr. Sloth's house after a few agonizing minutes, having gone slower than usual subconsciously, landing with a bit of relief, inviting herself in. (Locks, as Mitsuko had learned, were hardly ever used, despite the high crime rate in the city.)
"Doctor?" she called through the house. She didn't expect a reply immediately, at least not until she had gotten deeper into the house-it was difficult for Dr. Sloth to hear anyone entering while he was in the laboratory, for the doors were of a rare, heavy material. Yet there was still movement in the house which caught Mitsuko's eye, her head shooting towards the area which had moved. She found herself looking at the couch, and as her eyes adjusted to the dimness of being inside, she soon found herself wanting to leave.
Phil had blended in quite well with the tan-gold color of the couch, almost a perfect camouflage for his skin color. Without his usual blue-and- gold shawl on, which was being washed for it had been stained by the oil Mitsuko had been leaking earlier, she hadn't noticed him until he had moved. If she had had her heat vision on, perhaps it would've been different, but now she found herself stuck, unable to move from the place she stood. Though she had an urge to flee, she found her legs seemingly nailed to the ground, not allowing her to move.
Phil gave a yawn, stretching, apparently just waking up. He caught sight of her a few seconds later and did a double-take, though seemed apathetic the second time he looked back. Standing up, he greeted her a solemn good morning with a smile, though Mitsuko could barely determine whether it was authentic or fake. Hopping off of the couch, Phil wandered to the kitchen, Mitsuko timidly following after him.
"Good morning," she replied after a moment's time, Phil already beginning to cook some kind of mushy gruel above a fire in the rather primitive kitchen.
"Mmm," was his answer, stirring the mixture in the small bowl, not looking at Mitsuko. An awkward silence grew between the two of them, Phil keeping his back towards Mitsuko. His mood seemed to be cheery, but he wasn't talking, a good indication that it was all an act. Mitsuko cleared her throat, realizing that she would have to take the situation into her own hands.
"Look. . .Phil, about last night-"
"There's no need to mention it," said Phil with a shrug, his voice light. He stirred the gruel a bit, and then spoke again. "I just. . .forget sometimes. Y'know, that you're. . .not like me. History's bound to repeat itself anyway." Seeming to determine that the gruel was done cooking, he lifted the pot and grabbed a bowl, pouring a portion into it. "You want some?" he asked, looking up to Mitsuko. She turned her eyes away from his and shook her head, staring hard at the ground.
"No, I'm fine."
"It's not an issue, Suko," cut in Phil dismissively, sitting down at the table, picking up a spoon and waving it in the air. "Dr. Sloth's in the lab. You can go get him and register at any time-registration should be open by now."
"Oh. Of course," said Mitsuko with a firm nod. She turned around and began walking out of the kitchen, only to pause and turn back. "Phil. . ." she started, her words dragging out, seeming to be stuck in her throat. Phil raised an eyebrow, placing a spoonful of the gruel into his mouth.
"What's up? Spit it out," he said, giving her an encouraging smile.
"It's just. . .thank you."
" 'Thank you?' What exactly have I done to merit such a grace from the great Mitsuko?" asked Phil with a wink. He was acting normally, but it gave Mitsuko an uneasiness-there was something off about his happiness.
"Thank you. . .for saving me when RARE was destroyed. That's all," she said, still finding herself incapable to admit what she had felt last night. She nodded shortly, as if having to reassure herself. "Yes. Thank you."
"Anything for you, Suko," he said, giving her a salute with two available fingers. He turned his attention back to his food, and Mitsuko pulled herself away from the kitchen door, heading into the lab. She entered without knocking, finding all of the lights on, Dr. Sloth working in the corner. The Battle Faerie was still laid out on the metal table, not bothering to struggle anymore, merely shooting glares at them.
"Can't she magick her way out of those or something?" asked Mitsuko, regarding the Battle Faerie, speaking to Dr. Sloth.
"No. Miss Battle Faerie here is into physical weaponry, as well as hand-to-hand combat-the only magic she knows is summoning water. Isn't that right, Miss Battle Faerie?" asked Dr. Sloth, twisting his head around to look at the Battle Faerie, grinning. She snarled, not dignifying his question with a respond. Dr. Sloth turned back to his work, pouring some chemicals from a flask into a test tube. "I assume you're here to collect me and sign up for the RBT?"
"Yes, sir."
"Alright, then. Time's a wasting, and this experiment holds little interest for me anyway," he said, beginning to clean up, putting the test tube into a test tube holder, pouring the contents of the flask into a larger container. Wheeling over to the sink, he began to wash out the flask. "Can't seem to make anything interesting these days, ever since I swore off of experiments on Neopets," he admitted, scrubbing the inside of the flask thoroughly with a rag. When it was cleaned, he put it aside, proceeding to wash his hands. "The papers are over on that table," he said, motioning towards a metal table right next to her. "I've filled them out, except for your model number. I'm almost afraid to ask, but do you remember your model number now?"
"No."
"Alright then, we'll just make one up. They only look to make sure it's completely filled out anyway," said Dr. Sloth with a shrug, wheeling towards Mitsuko, producing a pen from his pocket. He scribbled down a number in the blank space, pulling away the pen and blowing on the wet ink. "From here on in, your model number is 1748. Got it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Okay, then." He picked up the paper and folded it neatly, placing it in his pocket. "Let's go."
They exited the house, bidding a farewell to Phil, who did not respond. Mitsuko took station behind Dr. Sloth's wheelchair, gripping the handles and pushing him forwards, the doctor folding his arms into his lap. The two approached the center of Sakhmet City silently, already able to see the long, winding line for registrations. As they joined the end of the line, many coming behind them, Mitsuko found herself beginning to speak.
"Dr. Sloth."
"Frank is fine. Titles are arbitrary in this world."
"Frank, then. Is Phil prone to mood swings?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Last night, he seemed furious that I even suggest joining the RBT. But now.he just seems.uncaring."
"No, his mood on the matter hasn't changed. It's understandable."
"What do you mean?"
"Phil is. . .well, Phil is the type of person that doesn't exactly wear their heart on their sleeves. . .at least for too long. Maybe once in a while when he gets really angry. . .but those occasions are so rare. You saw one of them last night. Phil would rather let the world see him as always amiable-almost perfect in a strange sense. Masks his feelings. Of course, all things sentient do that. . .Phil just seems to be unusually adapted to it. It's difficult to tell when he's actually upset."
"He wouldn't tell me why he hated the RBT so much. . .beyond the fact that he disliked seeing robots being smashed. There's something more that he's not telling me."
"Perceptive. But that's his story to tell, not mine. He'll tell you in due time, if he finds the need. I'll just say this-you're not the first sentient robot that Phil's ever met," replied Dr. Sloth. The two fell into silence again, being absorbed into the bustle around them, all individual voices merging into one constant hum of noise. The line moved rapidly enough, some applications being rejected, others accepted. A few apparently 'famous' robots' creators were surrounded by flocks of Neopets, trying to ask tips on how to build a robot like theirs. Before long, Mitsuko found herself rolling Dr. Sloth's wheelchair before the small stand, covered in a large blanket of Elephante skins to block those at the table from the brutal torture of the midday sun.
There were three that sat at the table: the one in the middle was the jaded queen faerie Fyora, looking older than her eternal youth should've allowed. Sweat ran down her delicate forehead, and she seemed to barely keep cool, the second in the makeshift tent a water faerie that constantly misted the exhausted faerie. Standing over the side of the queen faerie was a dark blue Blumaroo, larger than any organic Blumaroo Mitsuko had ever seen. Her eyes were a burning red, and instead of standing on its tail, she, instead, preferred to stand on her feet like a human would.
"Garoo?" Dr. Sloth exclaimed, fixing his glasses as if to check his vision. The Blumaroo stared down at the doctor quizzically, and then seemed to recognize him, a smile spreading across her face.
"Doctor! I thought you were dead!" The Blumaroo's voice was deep, almost like that of a man's, but still carried a sense of femininity.
"I guess that's a popular opinion of myself."
"I don't remember you being in a wheelchair."
"I traded the function for my legs for another life. I think it was one of the wisest decisions I've made thus far. But it's no time for a reunion," amended Dr. Sloth, clearing his throat. "I am here to enter my. . .custom robot into this tournament." He placed the papers on the table, sliding them across to Fyora, who glanced at them apathetically, her face seeming to be stuck in a tired expression. Her eyes seemed to regain life, however, as she read the name on the top of the papers, almost having not noticed who was in front of her.
"You!" she shouted, once again alive and youthful, yet steaming with rage. "You. . .you. . .monster!" she cried, seething with rage. "It's your fault that all this has happened! Yours! Destroy him and his blasted robot!"
"Fyora, my queen!" cried the water faerie, grabbing her queen by the arm. "He is nothing more than a cripple now. Leave him be. . .the other robots will make short work of this custom of his."
"I'm glad to see that you enjoy thinking out loud," said Dr. Sloth mildly. Fyora seemed to smoke for a minute, glaring down at Dr. Sloth with daggers of hatred. Slowly, she sat down in her chair hard, her eyes narrowed into mere slits. The elderliness did not seem to return-the anger seemed to almost be beneficial for her system.
Garoo took the papers from Fyora's clutching hands, reading over the form. "It seems to all check out, ma'am," she said politely, regarding to Fyora. Fyora looked up at Garoo, glared, and then looked back at the forms which Garoo had cautiously placed in front of her. She read down the information sheet, and then nodded stiffly, a sadistic smile spreading across her face. Picking up the pen, she began to scribble in something on the bottom, handing it to Garoo.
"Yes. Approved. Send it to be processed," said Fyora, not looking at Garoo while she spoke to her, but rather straight at Dr. Sloth. Mitsuko shifted her weight uncomfortably, keeping silent. There seemed to be something below the surface that she didn't quite understand at the time being. "Do you have a messenger robot?" asked Fyora, staring hard at Dr. Sloth. He began to answer no, but Mitsuko cut in for the first time.
"Yes." Opening up her chest cavity, she pulled out the Buzz messenger that had formerly been Krishna's, flipping on the switch to turn it on. It gave a little cheery greeting, bouncing into the air and doing a little dance as well as playing a metallic-sounding tune. Mitsuko hit it on the head, causing it to fall silent. She pointed towards Fyora, and the Buzz followed her direction, floating over to Fyora.
"We will send a message with this robot informing you when to awaken. You tardy arrivals always give us a hard time," growled Fyora, seeming a bit distracted by the miniature Buzz in the air that seemed to content its simple mind by prancing around heads. "Annoying little thing," she muttered bitterly, swatting at it in the air as if it were an irritating fly. "I never enjoyed machines much. . ."
"Ironic that you lead the RBT," commented Dr. Sloth, rolling his eyes.
"I don't lead the RBT-I think you know very well who does," smirked Fyora. "Now, depart, kindly. WE have a whole line to deal with."
"Good-bye, Miss Fyora. Good-bye, my commander," said Dr. Sloth shortly. Mitsuko turned Dr. Sloth's wheelchair around before things could get ugly between the doctor and the faerie queen, Fyora looking about to explode with pent-up rage, the poor water faerie doing all that she could to calm the nerves of her queen.
Heading back towards Dr. Sloth's house, having to wrack up a bit more energy to get the wheels through the sand, Mitsuko found herself speaking again. It was unlike her to speak so frequently, but around the doctor she felt her tongue suddenly loosen, as if she had no control over herself anymore.
"Who was that Blumaroo?"
"A former commander of mine-name's Garoo. Everybody was convinced that she was a male; I guess she was comfortable with that, because she never told anybody otherwise," Dr. Sloth answered, shrugging. "Some people would just rather be seen in a different way than they really are. . .although I have to admit, Garoo was rather masculine anyway."
Mitsuko didn't say anything after that, continuing to wheel Dr. Sloth home, staring at the indents in the sand, knowing instinctively the way home. It was beginning to become dark already, the long having taken so long, although it had seemed so short in Mitsuko's mind. The sun sank red below the horizon, Dr. Sloth seeming to relax more into his wheelchair, leaning his head backwards and looking up at the sky, changing colors before his eyes. He took off his glasses and wiped them on the hem of his shirt, placing them back on the end of his nose.
"I must say, Mitsuko. . .I too am worried about your survival in the RBT. Dr. Krishna is a good man, yes. . .I would try to save him as well. But. . .I would've suggested a less sentient robot. . ."
"I will be fine, doctor."
"Perhaps. But your competition is nowhere as easy as the Battle Faerie-and can't be taken down with tranquilizer guns."
"You're beginning to sound like Phil, doctor. I thought you were going to help me."
"Oh, I still am. I'm not one to drop out of something I've started. Still.maybe Phil wanted you to stay out because he cared for your safety? Because he was afraid of losing-" Dr. Sloth's mouth suddenly shut, the doctor straightening up in the wheelchair, as if uncomfortable.
"Losing what?"
"Never mind, I've spoken too much," consoled Dr. Sloth, shaking his head. "Just be careful."
"No worries."
As they arrived at Dr. Sloth's house, he announced that he would be retiring early to his dormitories-he claimed that he needed extra sleep in order to be a sponsor for a competing robot in the RBT. Phil had apparently remained at the dwelling the entire day, as Mitsuko found him tidying up the kitchen after a meal. Upon Mitsuko's arrival, a smile cracked across his face, somewhat sad, the two of them standing alone in the kitchen. "How was it?"
"Nothing happened, if that's what you're asking. The competition hasn't started yet."
"Of course not," said Phil, dipping his hands into a bucket of water to wash them off. Reaching for a towel, he wiped off his hands and his face. "You're a late arrival, but you'll still make it in, being you're a custom. Just hope that they don't place you with the massive wave of lesser robots against all the heavyweights-there's only eight left standing after that battle, and not a single one of those lesser robots put into the large horde has ever survived past that round."
"It doesn't matter what happens to me. As long as I can say that I've tried to help Dr. Krishna, I will be satisfied to be reduced to scrap metal," stated Mitsuko, her words valiant. Inside, however, a cowardliness crept into her stomach-she pushed it aside immediately. She had no time to be afraid.
Phil blinked, looking at her with some kind of admiration, mixed with a bit of regret, molding his usual smile into a sorrowful one. "Well.good luck, I guess," he said, sighing, offering her the best smile he could muster. Placing the towel back on the proper rack, he shook off any excess water and began heading for the door. "I've gotta get back to my place.make sure I haven't had any thefts. Fat chance that'd happen," he snorted, crossing the living room to the door, Mitsuko following after him slightly, though stopped in the middle of the living room.
"Phil?" Mitsuko called after him just as he was about to take off into the sky, tying his shawl around his throat. Phil stopped, turning around to look at Mitsuko.
"Hmmm? There something the matter?" asked Phil, cocking his head. In the dying light, he looked faintly handsome, though perhaps Mitsuko wasn't the best judge of looks.
". . .Will you come tomorrow? To see me fight?"
A pause grew between the two, seeming to grip at Mitsuko's artificial lungs, threatening to halt her breathing. Phil's face displayed a war waging within, but one side was obviously winning over the other. His head gradually began to shake a no, the hand around Mitsuko's lungs seeming to grip into a fist, crushing her heart alongside her lungs, Phil's words the nail in her coffin. ". . .No. I'm sorry. . .I'm busy tomorrow."
Without saying so much as good-bye, he leapt into the air, taking off into the pallet of colors known as the sky, laced with threatening storm clouds. Mitsuko raced to the door, hoping to stop him, but unable to get there in time-as soon as she was at the door, all she could do was look up at the silhouette of Phil hanging in the sky, looping once around Dr. Sloth's house and then flying away sharply, leaving her alone in the doorway.