(Just a few little paragraphs I scribbled down when I was making screencaps of Metropolis. Told from Rock's point of view after Duke Red outcasts him in case you can't tell. One shot.
DISCLAIMER: I, sadly, do not own Metropolis.)
Disgraced like dirty snow. Like the flakes under our feet. Like the flakes on the rubble you and yours created down the street. Like the flakes that fall on the final shattered remnants of a relationship that couldn't ever be called healthy. At least not since I was little. We're splintered beyond repair. We've been that way long before this robot, before this Ziggurat. Since the day you stopped allowing me to call you father.
But you're my only role model, the only one I can remember. Who else can I bestow the title and dubious honor on but you? And now I've been disowned, simply for trying to get you the glory and power you deserve. You've always drilled into me that robots are below humans so why should that thing sit on the throne you spent so much time and money and effort on?
You speak. "Get out of my sight," you say. "I never want to see you again." The words hurt like the slap you gave me not even five minutes ago, but I don't move. And then you, my father, are gone. With the hunk of scrap metal that you love more than your own living, breathing, albeit adopted, son. You leave me with nothing but my torn pride and a few filthy footprints quickly filling up with snow.
(I don't usually write things this serious, so tell me what you think? Especially if you want more of this kind of thing. Please?)