Perfectionist has a minion!

Hungry the Articiff

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It was created in the year 3054, by inventor Blanche East. He tried to create a robot with maximum intelligence, speed, strength and beauty, and after its creation, claimed it was his daughter. It went by the name Rachel Adams. Functioning smoothly, it was sought after by many villains to aid in their crimes. After one near successful attempt to steal the robot, its right leg was damaged, and East claimed it had started to malfunction and began disobeying his orders. One year after invention, the robot disappeared from his laboratory and was never found.

Life
My name is Perfectionist.

Not that I'm perfect-I'd say I'm far from it. It was just my codename back at the lab with all the scientists. If you'd like, you may call me Rachel, my inventor gave me that name as an alias to the rest of the townsfolk. I remember, I was to call him my father in front of them, although I'd never really understood why.

But, well, that isn't of importance right now. Here, would you like a sandwich? Hungry! Don't eat all the sandwiches! You naughty little.... Oh! *cough* I'll get the bonfire started, if you're cold.

Now, where was I? Ah, my 'father'. He was, in short, quite the businessman. He cared for me, sometimes. Mostly he just saw me as a tool. I'd never really dwelled much on it. As a robot, I'd always thought, Aren't these how humans are treated? Being quite daft, I obeyed every rule my inventor set out for me.

I'd also been the victim of a few failed kidnappings before-although I wouldn't say kidnappings.... rbbery perhaps? Since to them, I was just an object, it was much more of a robbery than a kidnapping. This was also something I'd never understand, being the foolish robot I was. I'd never understood why so many people were out to get me. I'd convinced myself, This is how people are all treated. There was one particular robbery that had almost succeeded, however, and I'd managed to be whisked away to a tiny shed away from the lab before my inventor and his guards had found me. They'd been glad I was safe, and taken me home and locked me back up. However, by that time, a doubt had started to gnaw away at my metal heart. As I laid in my cryotube that night, I recalled the conversation my robber and I had had before we'd been found, and he'd been shot.
"Bring me back," I had said, my voice calm, my system not allowing for emotions. Panic and worry were merely words to me.
The man smirked. "We are like birds, struggling to get out of our cages, wrestling to get free. Captive. We know of freedom, but do not fight for it. We are different, you and I. You have your freedom, and I have mine. This world is my cage. And yours is your body." He'd then pulled out a knife and started to slowly scrape away the fake skin at my leg, revealing the wiring underneath.

"Have you ever wondered why Blanche made you? He does not love you. He knows not of this love, only of his work, and his reputation. Have you ever thought of this, little robot?" It was then the doors had burst open and my inventor had come rushing in, followed by his two bodyguards. They'd quickly untied me and took me home, but the man's words stuck with me. Will I ever be free? I wondered. Did such a thing even exist? I didn't know, but I wanted to be free.

My system somehow, miraculously, started to change. I stopped obeying my inventor, and with every day that had gone by, the doubt in me continued to grow. I was continuously reminded of the freedom the man had spoke of. "We know of freedom, but do not fight for it," he had stated. But now, I was willing to fight.

It was then my inventor must have started to think I was malfunctioning, "due to the damage done to her leg". Perhaps it was true, but I no longer cared. I longed to see the wonders of the world, and achieve this 'freedom'. Before Blanche managed to get my foot repaired, I escaped from the lab. I hid from all the search teams he'd sent out, and one way or another I ended up in the Arctic Frost.

It was there I stumbled across an odd little creature which I'd soon found out was called an Articiff, and after seeing its poor, starving figure I decided to care for it until it was strong enough to manage by its own. I fed it every day until it got quite fat, and after a few months of tending for it I decided it could take care of itself, seeing as it was no longer as weak as it once was. But it seemed the Articiff wouldn't leave my side, and I had to admit I was hesitant to leave it on its own as well. So after some thought, I decided to bring it along with me, and I gave it a name as well, Hungry.

Oh, dear. It looks like Hungry ate the sandwiches while I was talking. He simply loves food! Soon enough he'll get too fat and won't be able to walk at all! I must put him on a diet sometime. Hmmm...

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X by Ashlee.
X by pleth.

Story proofreaded by Frode.