Zelgadis sighed. His outdated but accurate sensors had checked the area three times over and there was still no player that could possibly challenge his abilities. And he was beginning to draw stares. He was nude, no different from everyone else, save one citizen over in a game-booth, and of no abnormal stature; well muscled but not bulky, neither short nor tall. But his chrome skin was a marked difference from even the other machines. No matter that he was at least ten times the age of most, and had the experience to go with it. No matter that he had managed to become self-willed on his own, with equipment that was ridiculously outdated by the first of the known self-willed robots. No matter that he was among the top hundred gamesmen of the planet. No matter.
He had shown his experience, and received better equipment as far as a brain went, but by then he was owned by a citizen that wanted him kept as an 'antique.' So he was kept with the same equipment, though it was made of new parts by now, after the old was long worn away. But in all his years, not a single person had ever been glad he existed solely for himself, as a person. He didn't blame them; who could see past the chrome skin, metal hair, mechanical muscles unrestrained by more recent programming, and eyes that constantly spun with activity concealed in newer models. Not that he would be any different looking normal; he knew too much, had lived for too long. It frightened people to speak to someone who remembered the second settlers to Proton, over three hundred years ago.
In his self-absorbed brooding, he didn't notice the amulet-bedecked redhead sneaking up behind him; well, until she poked him anyway.
"Herm, tougher than I thought." She said with a small smile, obviously hoping to get a rise out of him, an attempt to put him off balance. Not going to work.
"Yes?" he asked curtly, turning around to face her. He took a good look at her, trying to match face and form to one of those in his database. Nothing. Odd. He attempted to deduce who she was from her appearance; the amulets, red hair, and red eyes triggered something, but his logic circuits didn't quite connect: they hadn't been connecting, actually, since just before she poked him. Nothing was physically wrong, no mistakes in the program, so what? She would be considered below average height, only appearing fourteen to a casual observer, but from her bearing and 'feel' of maturity, he guessed her somewhere between twenty and twenty-five. In the public eye, she would be considered midway through pretty, not having much mass in certain areas. The amount of amulets she wore couldn't have been paid for by the tenure of three serfs, so she must be a very favored serf or… what? Again, his logic circuits failed to fire. What was going on?
His mechanical logic failing, he let all the text-overlays and analysis windows disappear, and looked at her as another human would. Nearly all his circuits stopped firing for a moment, the equivalent of a human heart skipping a beat. The only ones that he consciously knew to be still running were thought and emotion; they said one thing in unison, barely defined in words by thought, but completed by the rush of emotion: she's beautiful. The public eye was blind, calling her midway through pretty.
The spell was broken when she turned around, breaking eye contact. He realized how they'd been staring at one another when his body reactivated itself; five minutes. The girl had turned attempting to hide a blush; not very effective, since the blush climbed right onto her back and down, almost onto her perfect… Zelgadis brought that train of thought to a screeching halt.
"Umm… yes? What… what was it you wanted?" Zelgadis managed to stutter out finally.
"Well," she said, having quickly composed herself while he was still trying at it, "You look like you want a game, and you're the only gamesman here that's on my level."
"Odd, you're not on any of the ladders." He replies suspiciously.
"Neither are you, Zelgadis Greywers." She returns.
"Well, if you know my name, then you must've planned this. I think that you think you can match me. What is your name?" he asks, still suspicious.
"Well, A: I don't think I can match you, I know I can, and B: my name is Lina." The name triggers alarm bells in his brain, but still no insight to her identity.
"I don't know… I'm in the top hundred amongst gamesmen, and I would hate to crush anyone's dreams…" Lina begins laughing at that, hands on her knees to keep from falling over. He gives her a puzzled frown.
"Top hundred?" she starts amusedly after her laughing fit finishes, "You're top twenty-five, easy, and top ten, I wouldn't doubt. I wouldn't doubt it if you could match grids with Blue himself."
"Well if your gross overestimation of my abilities, combined with your confidence in placing yourself on my perceived level along with Blue… it's not all boast; this will at least be interesting. Shall we then?" he holds out one chrome arm, deformity forgotten for the moment as she takes it, both following the arcane courtesies as they enter the game-booth.
Author's note: As with previous stories, it might be a little OOC, but again I have magic to blame it on. What magic, you say? Sore wa Himitsu Desu!