Afternoon Tea

Hello! How are you? Here is a story I published on my other account. Hope you enjoy this random idea.

--E--

The kidnapping of Kalinka Cossack set the world on fire. It set Russia on fire to know one of their greatest scientist’s lost his daughter from a mad scientist’s robots. It was on the news twenty-four seven. Luckily, it ended. It ended with the defeat of Doctor Wily and the rescue of Kalinka. No one knew, of course, that Mega Man was the heroic figure while Proto Man saved her behind the scenes.

“Thank you kindly,” Cossack said with wet eyes, embracing his shaking daughter. “My sweet Kalinka is safe now.”

Proto Man nodded. “Glad I could help.”

The chaos ended.

A week later, after Cossack made it back to clean up his academy and lab, repairing his robots from their forced servitude, he discovered Proto Man was still in Russia. Through the lab’s window, when he was replacing Pharaoh Man’s leg, he saw the Robot resting under a white conifer tree.

He wanted to do something.

“Darling,” he called to Kalinka in the kitchen, “can you call Proto Man inside? I’m busy right now.”

“Sure, papa!” she said with apple juice in her sticky hand and got her coat on.

From the window, Cossack saw his daughter trudge through snow. It had to be a foot and a half thick, but she made it face to face with the Robot. She smiled. Her mouth moved sweet words as snowflakes swam through the wind like tropical fish. Proto listened and answered, arms crossed and scarf still.

“He’s one of Doctor Light’s, right?” Pharaoh Man asked, sitting patiently as the Doctor went to work on his arms’ weapon storage.

“Yes, he’s the first model of the Robot Masters.”

His eyes perked. “How come he’s still in Russia then? Light didn’t forget his creation, did he?”

“No, Thomas never did,” Cossack said. “The boy’s just troubled.”

Moments later, as the snow picked up, two red figures walked toward Cossack’s lab.

“Will you contact his creator, Master?”

“No. I understand his pain. He needs time to find closure.”

“How long will that take? I don’t think housing a lone robot for long is good for Kalinka.”

“However long he needs,” Cossack wiped his hands of grease with a brown rag. “He saved Kalinka, so I owe him my life.”

The snow came barreling down moments later.

Proto Man did not argue. He was terribly grateful for a retreat, but terribly misplaced. It was strange to see other Robot Masters in the corner of his eye, to see humans beside him. Even Cossack’s living room was an uncharted kingdom he could not blend with. The russian dolls on the piano. The apple basket on the mahogany coffee table. The fur carpets stroking his boots. It stung his security, yet he spent most of his free time there.