(Preshow) Preshow Facility

[Proto Man]

The small red fist caught Gilgamesh by surprise, but the impact was enough to throw him against the wall of hallway.

Rage spread across the king’s visage as he glared down at the helmeted face of the machine. “Why you little bucket of scrap!” The gilded warrior lunged, his hands reaching out for the neck of the smaller prime.

Proto Man braced himself as his back hit the wall. He grabbed at the wrists before they found his throat and squeezed. “There are no kings in the Omniverse, only tyrants and dreamers.” A foot swung forward and caught the machine square in the chest, knocking him a few inches off the ground. In quick response, the barrel of a buster cannon flared to life—its simmering ordinance rapidly building to a crescendo.

Horror spread across Mickey’s already tense features. “Blues, stop!”

A look to his companion stalled Proto Man long enough for Syntech security to flood the scene and smothered the two warring primes. “He has no right to lord himself over any of us,” Proto Man barked as the workers pressed him into the wall. “He’s just angry he had to summon more stooges to do his dirty work.”

“You’re talking about people,” Mickey replied.

“If you agree with him, you can go serve the Empire,” Proto Man replied. “They have homeless shelters and soup kitchens in Coruscant, too.”

Gilgamesh, for his part, kept himself in check despite the hands and arms that sullied him. His blood boiled but lashing out at these workers would only endanger his status in the upcoming battles. “I want it back,” he muttered between clenched teeth.

Proto Man, knowing what he said, laughed as the mounds of workers started to drag the primes in opposite directions. “You’re a prime, you can make a new one. A nice and shiny one to go with that faux benevolence. Maybe next time you shouldn’t leave your stuff lying around before you go on vacation.”

At that, the gilded king shrugged off a handful of workers and lunged. For his part, Proto Man did the same, but before the two got close enough, the Syntech professionals regroup and interceded, leaving fists just inches from the faces. “Our score isn’t settled.”

“Insult my friend like that again, and there will be more to settle than trinkets and baubles.”

Gilgamesh sneered even as he was dragged out of the hallway. A beat later, a security gate slid down, and the group of Snytech workers dispersed like clockwork back to their assigned tasks, leaving Proto Man and Mickey alone.

The machine turned and saw that the Mouse was leaned against the nearby wall. His features were sagged, and his eyes were on the ground. Why would he be upset?

“I wasn’t going to let him talk to you like that, Mickey,” Proto Man replied. “You went there and you did what you could for those people left behind.”

Mickey lifted his eyes. There was some puffiness to them. “You weren’t calling them people earlier, Blues.”

“I’m not going to play that man’s games,” Proto Man shot back. “He’ll say what he can to hurt you. To find your soft spots. He wants to get in your head and make you think he’s the victim. You remember the Empire, don’t you? He’s no different from the stormtroopers.”

“But you saw the city. You saw what those people were living in.”

Proto Man frowned. “You think Karl Jak is a bad man, don’t you? What do you think happens to all the staff he employees once he’s gone? You think they’re just going to go find an unemployment line and live happily ever after? You can’t make the world a better place without being prepared for the consequences, Mickey. You think if we go and banish the Emperor that Coruscant will magically be a utopia?”

“Blues. They’re people.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Proto Man whispered as he leaned against the wall opposite his friend.

In his head, he kept replaying the Vision’s remarks about the darklings. About how the bloodthirsty monsters were ‘people’, despite the fact that they had been stripped of any former humanity by Nebula’s infestation. Those creatures had thrown themselves at him by the dozen as he had evacuated the collapsing pocket verse with Cole draped, half-alive, over his shoulder. Had he let any of those creatures go unchecked, they would have caused more devastation than they already had. How much of the Vasty Deep would Mickey and Vision have been willing to sacrifice?

“Bad people need to be stopped.” Proto Man muttered as he slumped down to the floor. There wasn’t much conviction in his voice. “Bad people will do whatever they can to make good people weak. To make them stop.”

“A hero is more than just a big gun,” Mickey replied. The machine looked up to see the mouse now down on his butt across from him. “Heroism is more than just doing the right thing, Blues. Heroism is about being the right thing… Heroes aren’t perfect. We make mistakes, we’re just…” Mickey trailed off suddenly.

Proto Man lifted his head. “Just human?” He mumbled, and the silence of his companion was truth enough. “I’m sorry I can’t be human like you and Gilgamesh, Mick,” he added softly as he reached into his pocket and retrieved a small whistle. His sister had given it to him back in Coruscant to replace the one he had in the old world. “I’m just a machine. My fate should be hard-wired into this case of metal and gears.”

“If the Omniverse has taught us anything,” Mickey offered as Proto Man brought the whistle to his lips. “It’s that we can all make our own history.”

Proto Man smiled before playing a short melody from the past for the pair of disenchanted primes.