:"Bet she had fun, viewing that tattoo of yours" He whips his head back around, remembering the tabloids that followed the crash. If there was anything to be mad about in relation to the man, it was his carelessness. "You ruined her life, bastard." He says, the fatigue-induced mood-swings erasing all common sense from his young mind.

Through the machine's steady rumble, he ponders if he can really hear him. It is for but a second, but just enough to bring him back to neutral.

Never had he seen him angry.

Never had he seen him joyous.

He'd been a robot.

And yet, without fail, everyone would gravitate towards his tall stature for comfort. He saw through backgrounds and personalities unlike any real person. It was as if he was above reality.

"Forget her." He says. "Forget your family and your fans and your support." He places the dead hand in his. "Wake up for the people who hated you, for the ones who never cared about those medals of yours or how you treat everyone like equals." No sooner does the man enter a fit of emotional rage does a tear slide down his cheek. "Wake up for me, please?"

Then, without a sound or second thought; he stood up and started for the door.


"All you had to do was ask."