They made eye contact, emerald eyes staring into his own with a curious innocence, as if they hadn’t just broken into his office from some unknown place. Mikhail didn’t scream, although he felt one rise up in his chest- instead remaining frozen with arms over his head.

“Hello!” The intruder chirped.

“...Hello.” Mikhail spoke, his letters spaced with shock. Who was this? He looked the figure over. Thin frame, olive skin, and long hair that cascaded into shades of blue and green. A white dress was draped over their shoulders, hanging off of a fragile body, and their expression was glassy- but not hostile. Almost confused?

The silence hung in the air for moment, as though this mysterious guest was scanning him, emerald eyes shifting up and down, left and right. Mikhail realized- they were actually scanning him. They straightened their back, and spoke again.

“I’m detecting some concern in your expression. I apologize! I mean you no harm. I’m, uhm, a bit lost, you see. Don’t remember much of anything really.” His voice was soft, sweet, with a bit of a masculine undertone. There was an accent, too. Scant, but definitely there- almost upper crust sounding. “I think I was in an alley? I remember a bit of a scuffle...and then I woke up in that bed back there.”

Ah.

He should’ve guessed.

Mikhail blinked. No, wait, he definitely shouldn’t have guessed that! No bot has ever expressed such a level of autonomy as to wander around on their own, let alone just boot up without so much as an activation command! And that bot didn’t even have a Medal to make him move in the first place, so even if the former was possible, there were hundreds, if not thousands of barriers that kept a robot from waking up and waltzing into his storefront like that! What the fresh hell was going on!?

“Ah, perhaps an introduction is in order.” They must’ve noticed Mikhail’s grip on the chair behind him tightening, or the intensity in his expression, or something else in his disposition that resembled panic. All they did was give a warm smile that did not match the shocked expression at all. “According to my metadata, I’m unit number 0233XIX, model Archetype Taker.”

It took a few moments before Mikhail was able to recollect his thoughts. A unique moniker? “Archetype Taker?” A unit number with less than 70 digits? Oh no, this was really expensive. And still, they-he didn’t have a medal! Mikhail sat up properly, clasping his hands in his lap.

“Uh, d’you have a brand or somethin’?” It was a fair question to ask. Even the most high-end bots had a manufacturer associated with them. He’d examined the bot before (even now he was still having a hard time processing this was that very same mannequin he’d seen in the other room) and hadn’t found anything of note. Could this really just be something someone made in their garage?

“Exceed Solutions.” Never mind, there was his answer. One of the big three. So his guess of SynchroTek wasn’t too far off. “But I’m afraid my insignia was taken.” Archetype Taker pulled down his collar, exposing a discolored patch of skin across his bare chest. That was where he’d seen patched up the gash. Even the Illusory Lens wasn’t completely infallible-it was the thing that gave robots their outward appearance, cosmetic changes to make them more appealing. Looking cooler, basically. But if a surface was warped, uneven, or had its color changed, the Lens would overcompensate. The copper sheet that he’d covered the wound with was doing just that.

“Exceed Solutions? So not only are ya from one of the big boys, you’re a model I’ve never seen before…” Mikhail’s concern grew into rabid interest as he leaned in closer. Maybe a little too close. Not that Archetype Taker seemed to mind. “Were you a custom job? Or are you a prerelease? Did you escape the manufacturin’ facility, and now are a robot on the run?” Okay, maybe a few too robo-mystery novels, Mik.

Archetype Taker shook his head. “No. Or rather, I don’t know. I have very few memories, I’m only just remembering the last twenty four hours? And even those are fuzzy. Without my Medal…” He reached behind him, gingerly touching between his shoulder blades. “I’m afraid I can hardly retain any information.”

THAT’S RIGHT! Mikhail grabbed Archetype Taker by the shoulders. “Your Medal! You don’t have one! Or, it’s missing! Whatever! How are ya walkin’ and talkin’ without a Medal!?” He shook the fragile bot with a mix of excitement and panic. It was more than impressive alone that not only was he moving around and fully capable of articulating without a Medal, but the fact that he was able to hold onto a day’s worth of blurry memories? How fast was science moving!? Technology is incredible!

“O-oh, uhm!” Archetype Taker sputtered, head spinning. “I have a small amount of internal memory storage. Or, I guess it’s large, judging by your reaction. I can retain a small amount of sensory information if my Medal is removed. They’re not clear, but I could maybe give you a rundown…” He breathed a sigh of exhaustion. “Oof. My apologies. Without my Medal, I do feel a bit faint.”

That made sense. Medals also served as a battery. Mikhail spun Archetype Taker around, and did a number of small gestures against his back. With the Illusory Lens active, one would have to disable the area above the Medal slot to get in there. It was as simple as a combination of swipes and taps, and it'd open up. 

One finger outstretched, then two. He dragged fingers down his spine, then made a small circle, then drew a star. Archetype Taker didn’t seem bothered, although he was a little squirmy. “It tickles.” Tickles!? How many nerves were in this bad boy?

Mikhail finally figured it out. Two fingers, trace a circle. Draw a line down the middle. Touch your thumb and index fingers together, and spread them out. Blue lines ran down Mikhail’s back, and holographic skin parted to reveal the Medal slot. Empty. But, looking at it with a more critical eye, he figured out what was bothering him.

Expensive robots, like Archetype Taker, usually had custom Medals, with custom slots that only fit them. A way of copy protection. Even robots weren’t safe from DRM, huh? But Archetype Taker's slot seemed meant to fit any of the box- standard over-the-counter Medals on the market.

Mikhail thought for a moment, and reached out to a small cardboard box of spare Medals he kept around. This could very well be a mistake, but what was the worst that could happen? He’d never heard of inserting the wrong Medal damaging a robot.

Probably.

“What kind of Medal did ya have before? Do you remember?” He asked, rifling through the box. There’s no way he’d have an exact replica. It was definitely a high rarity Medal, probably a Justice or a Temperance, and almost certainly Gold or higher. Everything in this box was just Magicians and Chariots, and all Bronze with a dash of Silver here and there. The cheapo stuff left behind when people came in asking for Medal replacements or things he'd dug out from the trash.

“It was Gold, I think.” Figures. “I don’t remember which one, though.” Figures! Of course it couldn’t be that easy. Why was he surprised? He lifted up a Silver one. The closest he could come. He shifted it in the light, the embossed design of what could be interpreted to be a mighty wizard stamped onto it. A Magician, a classic-yet common Medal. He raised it up to the slot. Medals carried a robot’s personality in it. All memories made with a bot were stored in here, and essentially comprised their individuality. He felt concern brush past him in the crowded hallway of his thoughts. Was he about to wipe this kid’s- er, this bot’s brain by accident?

Mikhail decided he was thinking about it too hard, and popped the Medal inside.

Archetype Taker jumped. Was the Medal cold? Or was it synthetic neurons firing? Mikhail wasn’t sure. A chill ran up and down the bot’s spine. Words flashed across his vision, and he shuddered in Mikhail’s grip.

It was over fast, and Archetype Taker shook his head.

“Oh. Thank you.” He smiled, turning to face Mikhail. “I feel a bit better now.” Archetype Taker stretched, loosening his joints.

“Did that jog your memories at all?”

“Nope!” Dammit.

“Hmph.” Mikhail scoffed, shifting to his laptop. He scrolled through the local social pages for robot enthusiasts. Posts for the local tournament, construct guides, but nothing about a missing bot. You’d think for someone so expensive, Archetype Taker would have way more of a rescue effort behind him. “No idea who yer owner was? Anythin’ like that?”

“Nothing. I don’t think he was very tall, though?” You’re one to talk. Mikhail laughed under his breath. He’d always been on the taller side, eking out past 6’5”, but Archetype Taker seemed to just barely crest his chest. So imagining someone even shorter than that...was amusing to say the least.

“Well, maybe we should head out and try and find someone who recognizes you?” Mikhail said, adjusting his lab coat. “I, uh, have a bit of time.” He looked at the pile of papers behind him as Archetype Taker began to wander the storefront again, musing at the heavily altered pictures of charismatic bots that lined the walls, and the miscellaneous packs of chips and components.

“Oh goodie! I haven’t been outside in…” Archetype Taker thought for a moment. “However long its been since you brought me in.” Mikhail stifled a laugh. “Where are we, anyway? My GPS appears to be on the fritz; I’m not familiar with this place, or this city, or anything really. I have no idea where we are.”

Mikhail rifled through the mess, pulling out a small, rectangular device. It was close in size to a cell phone of old, but plain white and with elaborate housing. “Well, this is my shop, Mik’s and Mechs. Geddit? Kinda like, Mix and Match, but it’s my name, Mik, and Mechs, like robots.” He paused and raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t introduce myself to ya, did I? I’m Mikhail.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Mikhail.”

“Please, just Mikhail.”

“Okay, just Mikhail.”

“Really?” Mikhail snickered. “That’s like, the oldest robot joke in the book.” He approached Archetype Taker, gently.

“Is there a book of robot jokes I was not aware of?”

Oh boy. Mikhail furrowed his brow. He wasn’t used to having someone so un-genre savvy around. He wasn’t used to having anyone around, but of the few people he did have around, they’d at least kept up with his mumblings and grumblings. He couldn’t help but snort, tousling Archetype Taker’s hair. With his other hand, he fiddled with the device he’d grabbed. Bluetooth, connections, and the bot’s ID popped up, and he tapped it. A beep confirmed the connection, both from the object, and from Archetype Taker.

“Connection successful.” Archetype Taker spun around, examining the device. “Oh. Is that a Cat?”

It took Mikhail a second. Cat? Surely there was enough information in those data banks for him to know this was not a cat. It clicked with a few seconds of blank staring. Oh. A Cat. As in, Catalyst.

“Y-Yes, it is.” Mikhail replied, looking at the device. The housing had shifted colors. From plain white, now streaks of emerald green and cobalt ran through it. What looked like a marble under the screen flickered to life; the Insignia. First, the Exceed Solutions logo, which he expected. Then it changed two a four pointed star, yellow against black. A pair of super-deformed wings were overlaid, with a cone of gold between them.

This wasn’t in and of itself uncommon, as many higher end robots had their own distinctive symbols to represent themselves. There was usually a meaning to the symbol, but he was more confused than anything by this.

Oh well, not like any of the other symbols he saw made more than a little sense. And the wandering robot beside him was more than enough of an anomaly on his own.

“Refresher on what those do?” Archetype Taker asked plainly. Mikhail blinked, and then nodded.

“Uh, Cats basically provide me with logistics and information about you. Location, physical condition, energy levels, any severe damage, your combat capabilities, the like. I keep them on hand for use when I’m fixing a bot overnight. They’re also kind of like personal computers? They only work if they're connected to a robot, though. I could get a lot of work done on them if I had a bot of my own.” Mikhail moved towards the glass door and pushed it open. Archetype Taker followed suit.

“You don’t have your own bot?”

“No, I wish. Or rather, I could, but…” Mikhail’s face twisted a bit, earning a confused and concerned look. “I don’t.” He decided to leave it at that.

“Why?” Oh for piss sake.

“Don’t worry about it. We gotta find your owner, right?” Even for a robot who might’ve come fresh out of factory sealed plastic, he could tell that answer wasn’t satisfying. “C’mon, Archie.”

“Archie?” What, did Archetype Taker really think he’d just keep calling him such a long and difficult name?

“Don’t like it?”

“Never said that.” Archie thought momentarily, crossing his arms and looking up, mulling it over in his circuits. “Alright, I’m Archie now.”

“Kickass.” Mikhail smiled, shutting the door behind them. The two made their way down the stairs, and were met with the warm, damp concrete of the sidewalk. Archie squeaked as bare feet, metal as they were, hit the pavement a little too hard.

“Ouch!” He gasped.

“You made yourself a dress, but didn’t make yourself shoes?”

“I wasn’t designed with good priorities.” Archie pouted, staring up at Mikhail. And his glance was quickly ripped away as a bird passed overhead, leading Archie into gazing up at the stunning skyline above him, far and away completely amazed. The city bustled, with buildings that rose high and vehicles that rose higher, filling the clouds with information and sky high yellow roads that were clear as glass. “Oh...wow.”

Archie smiled, maybe a bit too smugly for his own good.

“Welcome to Knightson, Archie.”