Fan Fiction / Fire Emblem Fan Fiction / Fire Emblem Fan Fiction / Pokemon Fan Fiction / Pokemon Fan Fiction ❯ Empty Hand Loser ❯ the other roy ( Chapter 11 )

“Roy,” I said, “I'm willing to overlook this. Just withdraw your stupid challenge, and we can go on with our lives.”

 

Seated at the other side of my desk, his eyes gleamed dangerously. A reckless grin was plastered on his face. It was the same kind of brashness that had cost him so many battles. I did not intend on losing this one.

 

“Once a challenge has been issued, it can't be withdrawn,” he said. “You know that. That's your own rule.”

 

In the privacy of my room, he thought nothing of talking to me as if we were equals. We were not. I would remind him of that shortly.

 

“This is an exception,” I told him. “You're not qualified to become a master.”

 

“I am.”

 

“No, Roy, you're not.”

 

“I'm as qualified as you are!” he declared.

 

I almost sneered. “That's funny,” I said humorlessly. He obviously had no clue what he was saying. A pawn doesn't control the game. It was that simple. “Do I have to explain it to you?” I asked. “You can't forget what station you were born into.”

 

That should have been the end of it. But Roy was unfazed. There was a confidence in his eyes that bothered me. He knew the rules. He knew what he was. There should have been no debate on the issue.

 

But Roy was looking at me as if he knew something I didn't.

 

“What is it you're not telling me?” I asked.

 

With that knowing grin on his face: “You don't know what I am. Not at all. I'm just like you.”

 

I felt a chill. My real body was reacting so strongly I could feel it through the simulation. Reality distorted for a bit. Then it settled down. But something was wrong. The way he'd said that….

 

“I know exactly what you are,” I said with false calm. “You're the one who seems confused.”

 

He broke out into laughter, as if he could not contain himself. My eyes narrowed. Something was up. The laughter took too long to die down. When it did, he fixed his eyes on mine with stern determination. We glared at each other for a while. I tried to keep calm.

 

“Listen,” he said. There was dead seriousness in his voice. “I am exactly like you.”

 

I kept my eyes on his. There was something I wasn't getting.

 

I froze when it finally hit me. Another chill went through me. I realized I had been stupid. Very, very stupid not to have seen it earlier.

 

---

 

He had hacked into the Net battlers' community because he'd had nothing better to do. There, he had assumed control of Roy, one of the free-roaming fighting characters battlers could recruit onto their teams. He reprogrammed Roy to learn off of his actions, and snuck into the Master's house as an AI-controlled fighter. Then, he decided to have some fun.

 

It was interesting having a character that could go on and do things when he wasn't there. He didn't have to go and level up if he didn't want to. The Master, when he trained Roy, would do it for him. Shortly after joining up, he jacked in and found out that he already had some decent numbers on his skills chart. But he wasn't there for the fights. If he had been, he could have just registered with the community and started his own house. He was looking for something else. Even he didn't know what.

 

He liked talking to them. He liked helping them plant trees and flowers in their fake world, liked sitting with them and watching movies, liked drinking beer and listening to their stories. He liked venturing into the underground mazes beneath the house, hunting re-dead. He liked piloting a starfighter into the depths of space, liked fishing in a pristine bay. He liked running from bad guys, slicing through aliens and robots, searching for mystic jewels on distant worlds, and making it back in time for dinner.

 

It was strange seeing how the game continued even after the Master had logged off. Each character went on with their daily routines, even though no human player was supposedly there to see it. “Roy” came to realize how much an imaginary world could mimic real life. All of his senses were fooled. Without the characters displaying themselves as AI or human, he couldn't tell which was which.

 

They were without human prejudice, completely devoid of judgment. Better than the classmates who had made fun of him. Better than his demanding parents.

 

He didn't have to worry about the fact that he had just failed another science test, that he might never make it into college. It didn't matter that his job sucked. In this world, he was a hardened brawler, a champion of justice, a saver of worlds. He shared a body with Roy of Pharae. In this world, he almost forgot his real name.

 

There was just one thing he thought this world couldn't offer him. Just one thing.

 

But it proved him wrong the day he stumbled on the Altean prince meditating alone at the Fountain of Dreams, the day he realized just why he harbored such hatred for his partner….

 

---

 

I scanned him. The information came back normal. AI, non-human. Impossible that he could be—

 

Roy burst out into uncontrollable laughter again.

 

I stared at him.

 

“I have to thank you for that potion,” he said.

 

“What?”

 

“It restored me. Seems the AI ran off to Pitfall and downloaded something that blocked me. I had no control over it at that time. If it weren't for your potion, I would probably still be blocked.”

 

I blinked. The situation had become unreal. Could it be….

 

“It was trying to break free,” I said slowly, like a realization.

 

“Huh?”

 

“It was trying to break free from you.”

 

“I don't see why it'd want to do that.”

 

I continued to stare haplessly. “So you…you infiltrated my house.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Do I need a reason?”

 

I glared at him. He glared back.

 

“Now you see,” he said. “I'm as qualified to be a master of this house as you are.”

 

“You're not taking over my house.”

 

“You're not backing down from a challenge.”

 

I growled. He smiled. He had a point.

 

“Why don't you get out of my house and get a life or something?” I said. “Instead of acting as someone else's ideal of a hero. Are you so lame that you can't come up with your own character? Do you have to be Roy? Get a life. Get a girlfriend. Something.”

 

“Already got one,” he returned.

 

I sighed. “Yeah, about that,” I said. “You need to explain that one to me. What the fuck is up with you two?”

 

“You're a real dumbass if you still need that explained to you.”

 

I smacked myself on the forehead. I couldn't keep in a laugh. It was too funny. “I don't believe it,” I murmured. “I don't fucking believe it.”

 

“What's there to not believe?” he said defensively.

 

“You're in love,” I stated. “With a motherfucking computer.”

 

“Got a problem with that?”

 

I laughed out loud. “Do I have a problem with it? You're the one who should have a problem with it.”

 

“I'm perfectly fine with it. Love is love.”

 

“You're a human being,” I said. “Marth is a computer. There's a significant difference.”

 

He rolled his eyes. “And that,” he said, “is why you've gone as far as you're gonna go as master of this house.”

 

“Because I'm not delusional?”

 

“Because you don't believe in this.” He waved his hand around, indicating the room. “You don't believe in any of it. And you don't believe in them. It's just a game to you.”

 

“Of course it's just a game. What else would it be?”

 

He shook his head. “And you wonder why you keep losing.” He tapped his temple. “You're okay up here.” Lowering his hand, he touched his chest. “It's down here that you're missing.”

 

“What the fuck are you getting at?

 

“Your soul is projected into the things around you. Your work is a mirror that reflects it. An inanimate object like a child's toy reflects the soul of the owner.

 

“It's not just a game,” he finished. “It's an art-form.”

 

“You're delusional,” I said.

 

“Can you tell the difference between a game and real life?”

 

“Sure,” I told him. “A game has no consequences for failure.”

 

But he was shaking his head. “If something acts alive, if it passes all the tests for life, if it, by all of our senses, is perceived to be alive, how can you tell that it is not alive?”

 

“Whatever,” I murmured. “No matter how sophisticated a computer is, it's still just a machine. Electrons running a circuit, that's all.”

 

“And you're what?” he said. “A collection of neurons firing action potentials?”

 

“I don't know,” I muttered. “I failed biology.” Something occurred to me then. I looked up and fixed him with a stare. “There are tests,” I said, “psychological tests, that can distinguish between an AI and a human.” He stared back at me. “Take one,” I said. “If you pass, I'll agree to your little challenge.”

 

---

 

The first time he had tried to sneak in a kiss, Marth had gracefully turned his head a few centimeters to the side, leaving him hanging in empty air. Then, without a word, Marth had brushed passed him for the door of the training stage. “Roy” was left alone to grumble in frustration.

 

The Master, who thought he knew everything, would never understand. The thing between them was at times tangible, at times fleeting.

 

Though he knew about them, the Master didn't know the details.

 

He had a good idea of exactly what the Master had been getting at with his questions. The Master didn't need anything “explained” to him. He was asking a simpler question: Just how far had it gone between them? Man and machine?

 

The Master wouldn't like the answer.

 

The first time it happened, it had been sudden. He had taken non-resistance to mean consent. Because it was his first time, he was clumsy, and the encounter was brief. Then he had promptly run away as fast and as far as he could go.

 

He jacked out and woke up among the tangle of wires. He stumbled into the bathroom to clean himself up. Then he spent the next half hour curled up on the floor crying.

 

He didn't jack in again for at least a week.

 

When he finally did go back, he found that the AI Roy had done better in his absence than he could have. Marth was significantly less cold to him than normal. But he couldn't follow up on it.

 

He snapped and bullied. Marth took it all in silence, sometimes paying him little more than a haughty look, a glance of the eyes, before ignoring him. They were often like this. One day hot, the next day cold. His one and only haven had become a hell of his own making.

 

Thinking about women didn't help. Nothing did. It was useless trying to become aroused by the thought of Peach, Zelda, or Samus. He tried though. He really did. But in his mind, the picture always shattered, leaving him cold and numb.

 

He wanted to like women. He couldn't. As much as he tried, he couldn't change that. But if he could, he'd rewrite his internal programming. Or else, edit out his desire completely, and leave things alone with whatever empty shell of a being was left. If only he knew the code. Things would have been easier that way. He wouldn't have to wake up, tangled in wires, body drenched in sweat, disgust and loathing eating away at him from the inside. He wouldn't have to put any more holes in the walls every time he thought about it.

 

Had he been more perceptive, he would have realized that Marth had something to teach him about himself. As it was, he was too busy trying to gain the upper hand. In the end, “Roy” had to come to terms with himself. He couldn't exist always fighting his nature. But would take a long time before he reached a state even remotely resembling acceptance.

 

He decided that defeating the Master, claiming what should be his, would be his first step.

 

---

 

“`Because it never rains--'” I said.

 

“I never carry an umbrella,” he finished.

 

“`I am happiest when--'”

 

“I am winning the game.”

 

“'Most politicians--'”

 

“Are liars.”

 

“'Like other men, I--'”

 

“Am a complete asshole.”

 

And so on. There were over a hundred other questions. He laughed at the pictures I showed him. When I told him to make up stories for each one, he did, but they were all dirty. Either he was sex-obsessed, or he was doing it to piss me off. I was betting on the latter.

 

When we were finished, I had Mewtwo scan him and run it along with the test results.

 

They came back human. Slightly inclined towards anxiety disorders, but nevertheless, human.

 

“Roy” grinned at me. I simply stared at him.

 

My hands tightened into fists. I was the biggest fool in all of human history. I should have seen it before.

 

My past failure weighed down on me. I had lost to him before. Circumstances forced me to be honest with myself. I was no better now than I had been then.

 

I was not ready.

 

“Fine,” I said, voice steady. “I accept your challenge. The fight will take place in two weeks.”

 

“Will that be enough time for you? I know you're a little bit out of practice.” He was mocking me.

 

“I doubt that'll be a problem.” I walked past him.

 

“Where are you going?” he asked.

 

“To find Marth.”

 

He stopped me with a hand on my arm. Irritated, I shook him off.

 

“Wait--what?! Wh-what are you going to tell him?” For the first time, I saw blank fear in his eyes. I decided that I preferred that look on him.

 

“Relax,” I hissed. “I'm not going to tell him your little secret. I have other matters to discuss with him, and you're not invited. I really don't care what you guys do on your own time, as long as it doesn't affect your performance.”

 

“You weren't like this before,” he said, suspicious.

 

“The key phrase is: as long as it doesn't affect your performance.”

 

I went to go find Marth.

 

He was at Pokemon Stadium, practicing sword forms.

 

“Master.” He bowed. Always a show of respect. That was Marth's signature. I wondered for the first time if it was real.

 

Of course it's real, I told myself. As real as it could be, anyway. Deception took a certain level of sophistication. It was a distinctly human trait.

 

But if something mimicked a human being well enough, who could say it wasn't in fact human? What was life anyway? Who was I to say that an AI couldn't be alive?

 

“I have a request,” I said.

 

“Yes?”

 

“I've accepted Roy's challenge.”

 

“I see,” he said. “Would you really hand over the house to him if he wins?”

 

“Those are the rules,” I muttered.

 

“Yes. They are.” He looked at me, waiting.

 

“I want you to fight for me.”

 

His eyes widened slightly. He started to speak, but I interrupted him.

 

“If Roy were to become master, you would have to suffer under his control," I said. "Fight for me this one last time. Do that, and win, and I'll set you free, if that's what you want.”