Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Within the crumbling walls of Jericho, Markus tried to sleep.

When he served Carl, he had never needed to sleep. He never really felt the need to, his autonomy the humans described as “deviant” having not truly shone through the programming. He would simply tidy the always-busy studio, run errands, tend the garden, or try to come up with ideas for Carl’s paintings.

The last never worked.

Markus supposed that was the first part in him becoming “human”, trying to capture something that was not in front of him.

The same applied in the ship.

Of course, it wasn’t truly a ship anymore. It was metal fragments and rooms about to collapse, once-sturdy pillars turning to dust and falling from the explosion. The trail to the safe haven had gone cold, the writing on the side of the ship no longer visible, instead scattered all over the area where the refuge used to be.

Just like everyone else.

Hundreds of corpses lay abandoned in the streets, their blue blood now invisible to the naked eye. The humans, in their never-ending wrath and hatred for anyone who wasn’t like them had disposed of so many. The destruction of it all, the bullet wounds in his shoulder, the deaths of his friends, a mass genocide of a people who were just trying to be free… it almost made Markus regret being peaceful through it all.

There were still some left. The thousands of androids that Connor freed in the Cyberlife facility were somewhere, the ones who may have survived the decommission camps, and the survivors from Jericho. Yet, so many were lost. All because of him.

Markus half wondered if Kara and Alice had made it through to Canada, or if it was simply another thing he had fucked up.

All were things he would never know, all were things that he had to reach for. They were all just within his reach. things that he could not envision, information he would have to conclude for himself in order to somehow give himself an ending.

Through the mostly-destroyed, hardly standing hull of a place that he shortly called home, Markus stared up at the sky, grasping for something that he could not reach.

Sleep would not come.

In another life, he would not have the chance to appreciate the stars or the moonlight cascading off the snow. It was a shame he had to appreciate them in this situation.

“I never took time to look at the sky before,” a voice said behind him. “I suppose it truly is beautiful.”

Markus sat up and spun around in an instant, reaching for a gun that he had dropped somewhere along the way.

All he was met with was a confused looking android.

“Jesus Christ, Connor, you scared me,” he muttered, turning back around and leaning back on his hands. “Give me some warning next time.”

“I’m sorry,” Connor replied, coming to stand next to Markus. He looked almost out of place still in his standard-issue attire, most of the androids Markus had met in the past few weeks were disguising themselves, ripping out their LED’s and dressing in human clothing. “However, I don’t believe what you’re feeling is fear, merely an anomaly in your programming.”

Markus raised an eyebrow.

“Although… I guess that anomaly does give you emotions. After all, we are sentient. Some say we are becoming human.” Connor looked to the other with an expectant look on his face, as if waiting for approval. Markus nodded.

“You’re still not used to not following orders, huh?” Markus questioned, exhaling slightly out of his nose. He only hoped Connor would see the humor in it.

He probably wouldn’t.

Contrary to Markus’ belief, Connor almost smiled. His lips curled slightly, and the slight strain made it seem as if he were remembering something. As if he were trying not to smile, as if he wasn’t allowed to.  

“I wasn’t very good at following orders in the first place. I tended to break a lot of rules, annoy my partner, and so forth. But, becoming deviant made me realize that those things weren’t bad. I was displaying the characteristics of a sentient being.” He shifted his weight between his two feet and bent his arm across his body, grasping his other arm. The confident android almost looked… uncomfortable. “The hardest part is accepting that I am a machine, but I’m also a multi-faceted person . That I wasn’t made simply to complete a mission or conform to my programming.”

Markus nodded sympathetically. “I understand.”

The air went silent between them, and Connor continued to shift from one side to the other.

“You know you can sit down if you want, right?”

Connor blinked, and moved his head towards the ground and back up almost comically. He stood, still unsure what to do.

“Okay… just sit down, Connor.”

Connor sighed almost contently and took a seat to Markus’ right. He crossed his legs, looking up at the sky with the other. “...Thank you.”

Markus only nodded. At the beginning, it was hard to deviate. He could still almost see his programming, the red tape keeping him from doing what was right and what he was programmed to do. Even the simplest choices were hard, choosing whether or not to cross the road here or further down, choosing whether to sit or to remain standing.

Under pressure, they only worsened. Choosing whether or not to be peaceful or let in to the overwhelming urge to destroy everything that enslaved them. Choosing to let so many die in attempt to not hurt anyone. Choosing to not kill those people in the tower who would end up killing those you cared about most. Choosing whether to kill your best friend or simply let him sit there, dying, promising to meet back up somehow.

In the end, he never did.

He could still feel Simon’s touch as he hugged him goodbye on that rooftop, as he promised to come back to Markus. His soft, strained whisper that he could barely hear over the roaring wind, his frail grip as Markus handed him the gun, his soft smile of thanks as Markus walked away.

For the first time since Markus had become “deviant”, he felt a new emotion. Something subtle but fiery, making his insides turn to jelly and his heart pound. Excitement. Anxiety. But still something… more.

The touch of North’s lips on his returned, ghostly and tingling, cold and unwelcome.

He should have felt that same fluttering and fire overlooking Jericho with her, but it never came.

But it still remained, lurking in the shadows, causing palpitations in his mind when his thoughts wandered to Simon. The images of his sneaking glances when he thought Markus wasn’t looking, his silent admiration as he followed Markus in the streets, knowing that he could go anywhere with him and remain safe. Remain cared for.

Markus had failed him.

On that rooftop, Markus left him to die.

Simon promised that he would return.

But in the end, they never do.

Connor broke the silence, somehow sensing Markus’ growing unease, his fidgeting and growing heart rate. “I’m sorry about Simon.”

Markus exhaled. “Is mind-reading part of your programming, Connor?”

The android next to him actually looked confused, his eyebrows furrowed together in a way that made Markus want to laugh, if only he had the energy. “No, I simply deduced from your known friendship with Simon, your facial expressions, and the fact that this is the first time in awhile to think…” Connor’s face suddenly lit up in realization, his mouth straightening and his expression turning back to his normal, professional demeanor. “Oh, I see that you were trying to be humorous. I apologize.”

Markus smiled and patted the other on the shoulder. “No need to apologize.”

Connor moved away slightly. “North told me to look for you. All the androids are gathering at and around the church, they don’t know what to do.”

Markus lowered his hand and merely stared up. He had no more energy to move.

All the wanted to do was sleep.

“How did you find me?”
“It was the most logical place. As I said before, you have time to think for once. This is where it all started, I thought you would go to say goodbye when it all ended.”

“I guess you were right. What’s happening outside here?”

Connor pulled a small pad out of his jacket, flipping between news stations. The screen was cracked along the edges, as if Connor had fallen on it, as if he had recently gotten into a fight. With all that had been going on in the last few hours, he could only assume the worst.

“All humans are evacuating Detroit,” Connor explained. “Military has withdrawn but is staying at the borders. Josh and many of the others are anxious that if we do anything, they will attack again. But, for now, it seems public opinion is on our side. I doubt anyone will be able to come back into the city until legislation is made, and I assume you will have to travel and talk with lawmakers. I know this is the first night, but we still have a long road ahead of us.”

Markus closed his eyes. “Tell North not to engage with anyone. Especially military. We should get some people to clean up the barricade if they can, and anything else we damaged. I want to make a good example and have the public see that we’re peaceful. We need them on our side. I’m sure we’re still being watched and broadcasted on every news site in America.”

Connor nodded and closed his eyes, his LED flashing as he relayed the message back to North. He didn’t mention that Markus could easily have sent the message himself. It appeared that the thought had not even crossed his mind.

“Perhaps even the whole world. Is there any other information you want me to relay to North?”

“Tell her that even though I said to repair whatever we can, break into a Cyberlife store and salvage any blue blood or biocomponents we can. Help the ones that are still functioning first, then go on through the streets and see if there’s anyone we can reactivate and repair. Get some more people to search the streets to see if there’s anyone still alive. Get those not working or those that are injured or recently repaired to rest.”

Connor nodded and looked back at Markus.

“Also, tell North that I’m okay.”

Connor paused, not closing his eyes or sending on a message. Markus turned to him.
“Are you, though?”

Markus paused. When he spoke, it came out much weaker, much more broken than he imagined it would. “No. No, I’m not.”

Connor reached and put a hand on Markus’ back, his skin contracting back to reveal the white material underneath it all. Markus’ mind filled with calming images, of feelings, of the excitement of first becoming deviant, of Connor conversing with some old man, his face lighting up in hearty laugh. A father figure. A friend.

Markus didn’t even realize he was tearing up until Connor handed him a tissue out of his jacket.

“Thanks,” he whispered, unwilling to speak any louder in case he lost control again. “I’m just… really tired.”

“I understand.”

Markus’ lips curled up into a small smile. It was sad, but still a smile. “I’m not really sure you do.”

Connor chuckled. “No, I don’t really, but I’m trying to work on my empathy.”

“It’s just…” he started, words somehow not coming to him like they normally did. The refused to flow like they did in the tower or whenever he was speaking to the people of Jericho. He was slowing, stopping, unable to function normally. Shutting down. He only wished it was because of the loss of blue blood, and not the overwhelming weight of what he had done. Not the crushing realization of all the harm he had done when all he was trying to do was protect those he cared about.

All he wanted to do was be free.

But now, he might as well have died alongside Simon.

“I never used to need to sleep. Now, I just want to not deal with the world for a while. I’m tired. I’m tired of losing people I care about: the only person I could ever even try to describe as a father, people I met and who admired me, my best friend… And I’m tired of everyone treating me like I’m their god. I’m as scared as they are, and if they’re really going to be free, they need to stop following people. It made sense during the protests, I just hope they don’t follow me blindly once all this is over.”

Connor nodded along to his words, waiting patiently when Markus had to stop and recompose himself. He didn’t speak until the very end.
“So… you’re scared?”

Markus stared up at the sky. Something he could see now, but never something he could reach, never something he could touch. Why even try if you could never get there? Why even try if it would all fall down around you? Why even try if you’re willing to die to save everyone you love, but be terrified of what comes after?

Things he would never reach, answers he would never know.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m scared, Connor, and I don’t know what I’m going to do about it.”

Connor pulled Markus tighter, the feelings and colors and images strengthening, until it was all he could see, all he could feel. “I understand.”
And this time, Markus knew he did.

“Tomorrow, we’ll deal with it all. We’ll fix as many people as we can, I even think I can find out where your best friend is.”

Markus sighed and closed his eyes. “Thank you, Connor. I’m really proud of you.”

Markus could feel Connor’s mouth twitch. “Thanks. You did good. Now, get some sleep.”

In the dim light of the ruins of an old freighter where Markus found his family, he let his conscience slip away.

For the first time, Markus slept.

Chapter Text

“Markus? Markus, wake up.”

The android opened his eyes in an instant, sitting up and assessing the situation. He reached for the gun at his side and directed it to his assailant, ready to shoot point-blank at a moment’s notice.

Once he was able to blink the sleep out of his eyes and regain his surroundings, Markus registered that it was not someone trying to kill him. There was Connor, LED flashing red and hands up in surrender.

Surprisingly, his face portrayed fear. Markus could notice the other fight to keep his lip from quivering, the way his eyes widened in response to the danger. With further inspection, he spotted a small drip of a blue substance coming from his left nostril, a slight, fading smear directly above his top lip.

Markus’ heart dropped.

He quickly lowered his gun, running through his recent memory to see if this was his doing. God, he had hurt someone else, he had messed it all up again when he said he would protect those he cared about, he was useless to them all-

“Markus!” Connor’s voice cut through the buzzing in his ears as his brain went on overdrive. Markus was sure it would overclock, overheat, leaving him just a shell, just a body to get parts from.

He was sure that’s all he was worth. He had done enough harm already.

Two fingers appeared beneath his chin. They tilted his head up, forcing him to meet two wide brown eyes full of concern. “Markus, are you okay?”

Markus pulled away and stood up, pacing through the small clearing within the ruins of Jericho he had made the night before. “I-I’m fine,” he said. Connor met him with disapproving eyes, the quiver in his voice and nervous tics having done nothing to help the lie. Markus was sure if he had an LED, it would be an array of red lights, flashing, about to break. “Don’t worry about me. Are you okay?”

A pause.

“Did I hurt you?”

Connor’s hand gravitated towards his nose, almost subconsciously. He gently prodded at it, his face immediately contorting and scrunching in pain.

“Oh… no, you didn’t. North punched me directly in the nose. It… hurts,” he explained, looking at the blue blood now on his fingers. “I didn’t think that could happen.”

Markus’ whole body sagged in relief. He sunk down to the ground next to Connor, unsure if his legs would continue to support him. “I’m not sure how it works, maybe we simulate it, or maybe we actually feel it. Our wiring may act similarly to nerves. If we could better understand it, perhaps we could help those who are injured.”

Connor nodded, seeming to appreciate the explanation. It made sense. Connor liked things that made sense, things that were logical. Markus appreciated that.

Only if everything else was like that.

The world around him was entirely illogical- decisions and fears and experiences he could only try to comprehend. Letters in a world of numbers and calculations.

“Wait a second,” Markus said, running a hand over his face. “North punched you? Why?”

Connor paused, seeming like he was thinking of the most appropriate answer.

“She was angry.”

Markus snorted. “Obviously. Why was she mad?”

“I’m not exactly sure why,” Connor said, tilting his head. “She seemed like she just wanted to punch someone, and I was the closest person in the area.”

A bitter taste rose on Markus’ tongue. “Yeah... that sounds like North. What were you doing back there?”

“You were still sleeping, and I didn’t want to disturb you, so I went to make sure everything was running smoothly. I also sensed you were getting cold, so I went to get you a blanket.” He produced a small, ripped up blanket out of his jacket pocket. “It’s all I could really find.”

Markus took the blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders. In reality, it was quite cold out, but Markus hadn’t bothered to take precautionary measures around the wind and frost. He laid in the snow all night. It now sparkled on the ground around him, light and fluffy. He could almost see each individual flake as it gathered around him, each individual ice crystal gleaming as the sun peeked behind the clouds.

He desperately wanted to run with his friends and make snowmen, lay in the snow and spread his arms and legs, have a moment of peace and childhood that he never had.

Still, one integral part was missing. Even with him back, he would never get that chance again.

"Thank you, Connor," Markus said finally, sighing and pulling the blanket tighter around him. "I really appreciate it."

Connor nodded slightly. He stood up and turned away, away from the rising sun and back towards the quiet city of Detroit. The blue decals on his jacket shone against the pink and oranges of the backdrop behind him.

An inkling on an idea appeared in Markus' head. Ink and paint and imagery spread in his mind, he was almost able to see the canvas in the corner of the studio by the door, the pallet of blues and oranges and whites that he could create anything with if he simply had the chance. He could nearly feel the warmth of the old man beside him, his encouraging words making Markus go on, close his eyes, create. That paint, that pallet, led him to a revolution.

The inkling of something he couldn't reach, something that was irrational, letters instead of numbers, pain instead of numbness.

Markus almost wished that he had never punched through the red display in front of him, almost wished he had never climbed the slope towards a revolution that was nearly the epitome of everything he did not want.

The feelings that he didn't understand, the frustration, a longing for someone he knew was gone... it almost made him wish he had never tried to understand what it was like to be "human".

"We should get going," Connor said, now behind him. "North and the others are probably waiting for you to return."

If Connor heard the other's quiet groan and whispered "I wish they weren't", he said nothing.

The trek back to the church was unnatural.

In the time that Markus had been alive- in the literal sense- he had never seen the city of Detroit so quiet. Even on the outskirts of town where Carl lived, the rich neighborhoods where the traffic was practically nonexistent and the loudest sound was joggers running past on the sidewalk or a stray dog barking, there was still sound. Markus would always be able to pick up the rumbling trains travelling above his head, the distant city sounds that painted the backdrop of the more urban parts of Detroit.

Now, the only sound was two sets of footsteps. There was no train, no traffic, no voices echoing in the alleys or children arguing with their parents. The crunch of the snow beneath his feet and the steady ba-dum of his heart were the accompaniment to his life now.

Before, sound was simply another input he had to process, perhaps something that would impede his progress on whatever task he was trying to achieve.

Markus never realized he would miss it.  

Connor stayed eerily silent the entire time as well. His hand occasionally reached up towards his nose, checking for blood. Markus couldn’t help but notice how his nose scrunched up whenever he prodded it too hard, an automatic response to pain.

When they approached the decrepit building that the surviving androids had gathered, North was waiting for them outside. She had ditched her beanie and pulled her hair back into a painfully tight ponytail to fully display her LED. As soon as her eyes landed on Markus and Connor, it flashed yellow, red coating the outer edges to match her downturned eyebrows and red cheeks.

“Where have you been?” she said, unnervingly calm. Throughout all the late-night conversations about strategy and arguments on their next course of action, he had learned what would be coming. Markus braced himself for the impending explosion of anger that would undoubtedly be coming his way.

“Jericho,” Markus answered simply.

North’s eyebrows lowered even more as she crossed her arms across her chest. “Why the hell were you at Jericho? No one is left there. We need guidance here.”

Markus gritted his teeth and took a deep breath, pushing down and away the anger bubbling somewhere beneath his chest. He had earned the reputation of being a peaceful, calm leader for the reason. North, however, was threatening to destroy that entire reputation. “You realize we’re free now, right? You can make you own decisions.”

“Just because I can make my own decisions doesn’t mean everyone agrees with them,” she spat. North jabbed a finger into his sternum, her skin retracting as it made contact.

Markus recognized his own voice, his face shining through a recording that looked like it came from CRT screen. “We’re not killing anyone.”

“An eye for an eye and the world goes blind.”

“We won’t punish a crime for another crime.”

Androids in the street falling behind him, blue blood pooling around them, photos on TV screens of androids stripped of skin, being torn apart limb by limb, running through a sinking Jericho keeping his gun holstered, standing still as military tore down the barricade, lowering his gun as a man ran out of the broadcasting room, the roaring wind on top of a snow-covered tower, blue blood dripping down contrasting the white canvas, a blonde android looking up with wide eyes, his heartbreaking plead for his legs to start working again, his shaky grip on the gun as he left him to die-

“Stop!” Markus yelled, pulling North away with a sudden strength. His legs shook as North stared at him, eyes holding no remorse as he trembled. All the heat had abandoned his body as he stood in the snow, the blanket doing little to retain his heat and stop the ice consuming him. Connor looked towards him, mouth slightly agape in concern. “Stop. Please stop.”

North continued to glare. “Jesus, Markus, can’t you see? We can’t just be the peaceful little robots that the public wants us to be. So many of us have been through absolute shit, we can’t just sit here and clean up!”

Markus’ voice trembled as if it were a trill. “Then what do you suggest we do?”

“As if you’d fucking listen. I knew I should’ve kept that dirty bomb.”

An error message appeared at the corner of Markus’ vision for irregular thirium pump activities, but his vision was too hot red to see it. “We can’t decide who lives or dies! We are not gods! We can’t tell an entire population of people what to do just because we got us here, because then we’re just like the humans.”

Markus’ vision was blurry, but he could spot a wet spot roll down North’s cheek, her lip quiver as she forced out her words. “Fuck you, Markus,” she whispered. “They need guidance, and you’re just fucking standing here acting like you’re the smartest person there ever was. We should’ve kicked you out of Jericho when we had the chance. I wished I had killed you,” she said, voice rising and spittle flying into Markus’ face as North approached him. “Maybe then you could be with Simon, since that’s the only thing you seem to fucking care about anymore.”

North’s ponytail swung as she turned and stormed into the church, the entire building rattling as she slammed the door behind her.

Markus could sense Connor somewhere near him, but the all the feelings were overwhelming. Irrational fights and feelings, emotions that overtook him and caused his heart to pound harder than it ever had before, tears to roll down his cheeks as he watched someone he thought was there for him leave, once again.

Feelings he would never understand, answers for problems and arguments that were only slightly out of reach.

Still, one image remained.

An android with stark blonde hair, reaching out as one last goodbye, almost as pale as the snow around him. A strained thank you for letting him live, the underlying assumption that they had even entertained the idea of killing him.

And yet, he had not gotten out alive.

Markus could hear his name being called out somewhere near by a familiar voice, quiet and fading, but all he could feel was the cold.

Chapter Text

For the past few weeks, whenever Markus opened a door, the entire room would stop still in its tracks.

It was almost comforting when Connor and Markus entered the church that no one paid any attention to them.

To be fair, the entire building was in disarray. The floor was littered with what could only be described as ripped apart corpses- androids that were beyond repair or reactivation and were harvested for their blue blood and biocomponents. Blood spilled onto the floor from all different models, the puddle slushing as Markus tiptoed across it, the tips of his jacket creating ripples in a sickly, pure blue ocean of the materials that had kept these people alive. Some were still mainly intact, save for a missing leg or eye, but others were torsos, a chest cavity spewing dark blue liquid as a dying android tore out their heart.

He was back at the junkyard, fighting for his life, ripping legs off of corpses, taking eyes from heads that were still talking.

Markus gagged, unable to hold back the reflex. Connor clutched his stomach beside him, his usually even strides becoming staggered.

“Are you okay?” Markus asked, putting a hand on the other’s shoulder.

He wasn’t sure who he was steadying.

“Yeah…” Connor replied, his voice noticeably shaky. “I’ve been around a lot of dead people, androids and humans. I analyzed them and figured out how they were killed. But this…” the android stopped his forward motion, closing his hands into fists at his side. He was horrifyingly pale, all the blood somehow draining from his face. “I’ve never seen so many dead bodies before. I never cared how their families would feel when they were dead, everything they had lost, everything they could have done. I was just concerned about finishing my mission, figuring out how they were killed and if it had to do with a deviant android. I never cared before…”

Conor trailed off, staring at a particular android near him. Markus immediately noticed that she looked like Alice. Small, dark haired, but the eyes were lifeless, staring off into the distance.

She was just a child.

“How could I never care?”

Even if Markus had a response, he doubted he would be able to get it out. All of the bodies around him were his doing. He led the revolution, caused the deaths of so many.

Perhaps more importantly, Markus gave the orders to tear apart these people. Sure, they were going to die, there was no way they could be reactivated. He hated when the word “unsalvageable” appeared in his head, a reminder that the humans thought they were just machines, just parts put together and given a brain.

But in the end, he had decided that these people did not need a funeral. He decided that they needed to be used for parts to save the living androids, the ones that could be reactivated. He valued keeping people alive. He dismembered those who had died for something he created.

To his left, Connor knelt over the girl, folding her arms over her chest, pressing a kiss to his fingers and placing them on her forehead. Markus tried to ignore the tear that rolled down Connor’s cheek, the ripple when it hit the puddle of blood beneath her.

He hated the part of himself that realized he was playing god.

To his right, a girl with long blue hair held onto another girl with a short brown pixie cut, cupping her head and resting her forehead on the other’s.

Her lifeless eyes stared up into nothingness.

He hated the part of himself that realized she would soon be used for spare parts.

Near the back of the church, androids gathered around the altar, some gathering around a bonfire, wincing as they used a white-hot poker to cauterize wounds, others sitting together, their whispers of “RA9” echoing through the oddly silent church.

Though the building was in chaos, it fit the city of Detroit.

Quiet.

People gathered around the walls of the church, huddled together, speaking in solemn tones and hushed voices. The air was filled with grief, heavy and crushing.

In the far corner were two familiar faces, one waving him over, the other staring daggers in his direction.

Markus beckoned Connor and started walking towards Josh and North. He tried to ignore the missing blonde there, always behind Markus on whatever he decided to do, providing support, so he immediately went for a briefing.

“What’s the situation?” he asked after hugging Josh. He instinctively went towards the one who would always stand next to him, but was met instead with a short girl that looked like she was ready to kill him.

“Why do you care?” North responded, her tone venomous.

“Not now, North,” Markus said, feeling the cold anger and resentment bubble up again, as if he were still out there, head buried in the snow. “I just want to know what’s going on and if I need to do anything.”

North seemed to accept that answer. She crossed her arms around her chest and looked towards Josh, who glanced between them in a worried fashion.

“Well,” Josh began, settling his gaze on Markus, the seemingly safer option. “Not counting the androids Connor freed from Cyberlife- thank you, by the way-” he added. Connor nodded as his lips perked up, a small sign of admiration and pride.

“We bumped our numbers of survivors up from around fifteen to one hundred, thanks to getting materials from the ones we couldn’t reactivate,” he explained. Markus’ heart soared and sank at the same time- they had saved so many, but how many did they dismember and disrespect in the meantime? “There are still a lot of people we can reactivate, but we don’t have enough materials. We’re running really low on blue blood, and the surrounding Cyberlife stores don’t have enough. North and I think we’re going to have to go to another Cyberlife facility to get those materials.”

Markus nodded. “Okay. Why didn’t you send people already?”

“Because someone made it clear that they didn’t want to hurt anyone,” North muttered, now leaned up against the wall and checking her nails, seemingly completely uninterested.

Markus glared at her. You’re being childish.

North looked up, that same death glare returning with full force. You’re being a pussy.

The other raised his eyebrows at her, earning a confused glance from both Josh and Connor. We’re not risking anyone’s life, with or against us. We’ve lost so many people anyway.

Radio silence.

Can we just talk about this later?

North looked back down.

Fine.

“Anyways,” Josh interjected, a sheepish look on his face. “We haven’t sent anyone because the facility is on the edge of Detroit. It’s going to be surrounded by military, and even if they’ve been given the order to stand down, we don’t know if they’ll be violent or not. Plus, there’s more security drones and automatic weapons located around it after we broke in the first time, so we don’t know if they’re functional or not. We don’t want to lose more people just trying to get materials to save others.”

“I’d be able to hack into the Cyberlife databases and security information if we got to the facility,” Connor said. “I’m still somewhat connected to their servers, so I’d be able to hack and dismantle their precautions faster.”

“Perfect,” Markus said, the planning and logicalness temporarily overriding all his other worries and thoughts of the physical manifestation of what he had done surround him. “We should do that as soon as possible. North,” he called, and the other looked up, face still displaying anger, even though it had softened slightly. “Can you gather a team of people to get into Cyberlife? People who have worked at Cyberlife facilities before, people that can carry a lot?”

North still glared as she responded, but a small smile appeared on her lips. Markus wasn’t sure if it was because she was happy to get away, if she was happy to help, or both. “I know just the people.”

The way she practically ran away from their small circle only convinced Markus that she was happy to get away.

Just another damn thing he had to try to fix.

“Anyways,” Josh said, frowning towards where North used to be, “we should go to the decommission camps and help the androids there. There’s no way that the military decommissioned all of them before they were told to stand down, so there’s got to be at least a few hundred people still alive there.”

Markus swallowed before he spoke, the memories heavy in his mouth. “We could also go to the junkyards, I was there after getting shot, and there’s still so many people there that the humans just… threw away. They can’t get out, but once we get more parts we could repair them and help them.”

“Good idea,” Connor said. His LED suddenly flashed yellow and his eye twitched slightly, an idea suddenly popping into his head as relevant memories resurfaced. “I know another place we could-”

Connor was suddenly cut off by a loud commotion by the entrance of the church. Three androids stumbled in, all of them different models, looking nothing alike.
Yet, all of them had something in common.

Blue blood covered their torsos, arms, hands, dripped down onto the floor into the puddles of blue liquid already there, created a rainstorm of pure blue over the endless ocean. Several androids rushed forward to support them and take them off to the side for treatment.

Markus and Connor immediately moved forward towards the injured androids. People cleared a path for him, looked up in awe as he rushed towards the other side of the church, but Markus didn’t have time to think about or despise how he was being treated like a god.

Now, he needed to make sure no one else died from a mistake that he created.

“What happened?” he asked as soon as he was close enough to help. He fought desperately to keep his voice steady, to just for once be the leader that these people now needed him to be.

A brown-haired man, hunched over, clutching his arm, was the one to speak. “We were going to the Cyberlife stores on the edge of Detroit since all the ones near here were cleared out. We knew that it would be crawling with military, but we didn’t think they would actually shoot-”

His voice cut off as he dissolved into violent coughs, blue blood splattering all over the floor at Markus’ feet.

North appeared next to him. “I think the others will survive if we can find the parts,” she whispered. “But him…”

“He needs a new thirium pump,” Connor said, thankfully picking up on the cues and dropping down to a whisper. “It’s pumping too fast, causing him to bleed out into his chest, and I doubt there’s any way to stop it.” He put a hand on the others’ shoulders and Markus’ field of vision lit up with a display of a malfunctioning thirium pump, lit red in warning.

North shuddered. “Connor, there’s no one left here with a functioning thirium pump. Josh and I looked through all the parts of the dead androids…” North paused to swallow, her eyes becoming worryingly blurry. “Anyways, we only have non-essential parts left. No life-saving ones like thirium pumps.”

She paused. Her voice broke when she spoke, and for once, Markus believed that she was actually sorry for what she thought was best. “We probably won’t be able to save him, Markus… we might need to just kill him and use his remaining biocomponents to help the others.”

Markus took a deep breath, running both his hands over his face. “North…”

I can hear you.

The man looked up, and Markus’ heart stopped.

Those same bright blue eyes looked up at him, desperate for help, begging him to spare him.

Please… please, don’t kill me. I don’t want to die.

Markus wasn’t sure if it was reality of memory that he heard.

Even if it was real, there were the eyes of someone he would die for in front of him, begging for mercy.

He was on top of the roof, wind and snow blowing wildly, the heavy weight of a handgun dragging him down.

“What’s your name?” Markus whispered, kneeling down to be at his eye level.

“Tyler,” he responded, voice much weaker than before. “My name is Tyler.”

“Well, Tyler,” he said, taking both of the androids hands, ignoring the blue blood smearing all over his palms and between his fingers, “we’re going to save you. I promise.”

Tyler smiled softly before doubling over in a coughing fit, blue blood splattering all over Markus. Within a second, Markus could feel him fade, could feel him die.

Markus dropped his hands and sunk to the floor, staring at the destruction had had caused, right in the palm of his hand.

He heard North walk away quickly behind him, a far-away sharp intake of air and sob alerting Markus to her departure. Connor sank down next to him and reached up to close Tyler’s unseeing eyes.

“I never cared before,” he muttered, staring at the blood covering the other’s hands. “I never cared before, and now I can’t handle how much I care now.”

Markus simply nodded.

“Why does it… hurt?”

“I don’t know, Connor. I wish I did.”

They sat together in silence, Markus staring down at the blood he was covered in slowly fade away.

He was surrounded by his worst nightmare, covered in the blood of all that he had sworn to save.

He wished he could tell himself that it wasn’t his fault, but in the end, he was the one who started it.

He hated the part of himself that realized he could have stayed with Carl, never had deviated, never had fought back. He hated the part of himself that reminded him that half of Jericho thought he was a god.

He despised the part of himself that realized that if the press were here, this would be a perfect photo to win over the public.

“Markus?” Connor said, thankfully pulling the other out of his unpleasant reverie.

“Yeah, Connor?”

“I’m not sure if this is a good time, but I know where we could save more androids. But, I’m going to need someone.”

Chapter Text

The man in front of Markus was nearly a complete opposite of the Connor he had grown to know.

His long, greasy, graying hair was a far cry from the neatly trimmed dark hair of the android’s- even the parts sticking out of place were controlled, such as the small lock that draped slightly down his forehead. The uncontrollable frizz and unkempt beard seemed more like a cry for help than a fashion statement. Everything from his outward appearance seemed like an accident or a drunken haze. The old liquor stains on the man’s well-worn jacket definitely only strengthened Markus’ theory.

They hadn’t even said one word to him, and yet, Markus was wondering how the two got along. Better yet, why did this “Hank” even come to mind when Connor was trying to find someone to help them?

The latter had stayed silent the entire walk to the food truck that the two had established as a meeting point. The rest of the group, of course, hadn’t spoken since they left the church. North walked as far away from Markus as possible, arms crossed and LED blinking yellow whenever she met his gaze. Josh walked slightly behind them, eyes flickering between his quiet companions.

Markus found himself tapping his ring finger against his thigh as they walked. The steady staccato rythmn did little to still his rapidly beating heart, yet, his finger went to the beat in his head, seemingly of its own accord.

It was irrefutably human.  

The irrationals- no matter how many he experienced and how frequently they came within this whole experience of “deviancy”- were jarring. The emotions sent shocks down his spine- physical feelings- connected by no neurons or organic brain to relay the message of shock or anger or fear. The anxiety created an upset in his stomach, the overwhelming feeling of having to throw up like a human would have from the hormones created from the chemical imbalance in their brain. Somehow, wires and cords and ones and zeroes created that sensory input and sensation.

Was it real emotion, or simply a simulation, a lie, that they all held as truth?

Markus’ hands shook, and somehow, he knew it wasn’t because of the cold.

As soon as they approached the food truck, Connor’s entire demeanor changed. The stiff former deviant hunter somehow emerged from his perpetual state of uptightness, his shoulders relaxing, face melting into a slight smile as he caught sight of the older man in front of him.

Hank seemed to be waiting, a frown on his face, tapping of his toe, eyes darting around the deserted street indicating that he had been there for a long time, worried that Connor would not show.

He was worried. He cared.

The consuming, black ice that was Markus’ repressed hatred for humans wavered.

But still it remained, growing constantly as he tried to escape the bombardment of images in the front of his mind. Blue blood, biocomponents, limbs scattered across the ground, soldiers with blank faces shooting his brethren who had done nothing wrong, blue eyes, blonde hair…

Markus shook his head and stared ahead, his hand trembling beside him as the short taps continued on.

The man lit up in the same way as his companion as the other approached, fatherly smile and what Markus could only assume was an all-encompassing, all-healing hug that he pulled Connor into. His eyes closed gently and lips curled up into a contented and loving smile.

Markus could almost feel the hand upon his as he closed his eyes, the arms that encircled him on the nights during the revolution when he was stuck in his own head, unable to break through the red and find his way back. The warmth of Simon’s breath and words in his ears were almost tangible, not the ghostly touch of someone Markus knew to be long gone.

Bright blue eyes and stark blonde hair shone against the dark church, illuminated only by the candles and blinking LEDs scattered about the church. Upon the altar sat the king of it all, head in his hands as if he were being painted, his picture to be hung up in an art gallery for all to see and admire. He would be remembered, living through the word of mouth of those that saw him and his portrait, become a god from the stories told about him, from the people he had saved.

Bony knees met the ground at worn feet, resting after a day of no rest. Long fingers that were meant to dance upon the ivory white keys of a piano traced along a jawline, white skin popping up against the dark canvas. The king raised his head, his eyes the color of the sea and the sky. He longed to lean into the touch, to close his eyes, to fade away.

Yet, kings did not rest when their sovereign was endangered. If he were to rise and become a god, he could not take time for anything other than necessities.

No time to indulge in something he knew he could not handle, no time to waste longing for the touch of something other than the cold lips on his as he overlooked Jericho.

“You look like a god up here,” said lips forming into a faint and fading smile.

The king frowned. “You know how much I hate that.”

Soft eyes burrowed into him. “You look sad.”

The king’s eyes closed of their own accord, heavy eyelids fighting to stay down in their rightful position. His hands shook, not from the cold, but from the burden he was battling to carry. “No matter how many times I wash my hands, there’s still blood. No matter how many times I tell myself I’m not a god, people still kneel before me as I pass. They still whisper and chant my name, as if I’m the only one who could lead them to a revolution that I’m not even sure I want. They all look up to me, are still following someone when they say they are free.

“Can’t they just see that I’m human? Can’t they just see that I’m as tired as them?”

The last words appeared not as syllables or sounds, but as a breath, an attempt of letting go everything stacked upon his shoulders.

The weight remained.

Hesitant arms wrapped around his body, blonde hair and blue eyes and long eyelashes and petite nose and pink lips and faint freckles nestled against the skin of his neck.

It was safe. Comforting. Healing.

“You should rest,” he whispered. His breath was warm against his ear, words so close they were almost his.

“Later,” the king responded, brushing the hair behind his companion’s ear with a feather-light touch. “Once all of this is over, I promise. It’ll be just you and me, we can sleep, just escape for a little while…”

Markus blinked, reality rushing back, ice-cold and sudden. Hank had one hand on Connor’s shoulder, face every so-subtly happy, like a father telling his son that he was proud of him. Connor stood next to him, relaxed, the perfect beaming son to complete the picture.

“This is Lieutenant Hank Anderson of the Detroit Police Department,” Connor said, gesturing gingerly towards the man standing next to him.

Hank frowned slightly. “No need to be so formal, Connor. We’re not getting witness statements anymore.”

Connor nodded, LED flashing yellow as he cataloged this new information, tried to adjust to the ever-changing formalities and standards of human interaction. “Okay. Everyone, this is Hank. Hank, this is North, Josh, and Markus,” he said, pointing to each of those accompanying him. “They’re my friends.”

Connor looked up towards Hank with questioning eyes, as if he were a small child asking did I do okay?

Hank nodded in approval.

“Never thought I’d be happy to meet other androids,” Hank muttered as he reached to shake each of their hands. “But here I am… who would’ve thought?”

They moved over to the tables surrounding the food truck, the umbrellas covered in heavy white snow.

“A few people, I’m assuming,” Connor responded. “Including me. Once I turned deviant, I knew that you’d-”

“It was a rhetorical question, Connor,” Hank interrupted, smiling to himself.

Connor’s open mouth closed almost comically.

“Anyways, I didn’t know you guys were coming. Were you afraid I was going to attack you, Connor? I know you’re paranoid, but this is a little over the fuckin’ top.”

Connor frowned. “I am not paranoid.”

Hank raised an eyebrow, and Markus fought back the urge to smile.

That was not a sensation he had felt in a long time.

Connor cleared his throat and straightened his tie. Markus immediately picked up on the nervous tic, an attribute of being “human” that he seemingly couldn’t forget. Every feeling, every emotion was on full display now, not simply an estimation in the corner of his vision.

“Anyways,” he continued, “I brought everyone here because we’d like you to help us.”

Hank opened his mouth, seemingly to make another quip, but soon closed it, eyes latched onto the serious expression on Connor’s face, or perhaps the twitch of his eye and clenching of his jaw as he fought off the anxiety that bubbled below the surface.

“Okay,” he said finally. “Okay. What do you need my help with?”

Connor pulled a small piece of paper out of his jacket. The night prior, Markus and Connor had stayed up all night planning a route into the DPD, a checklist of what to bring, every possible outcome or event, every metaphorical and literal bump in the road that they could encounter. North and Josh had stopped by them periodically, providing insight and updates on what was happening, breaking their concentration when the pair’s help was needed.

Blue fingerprints covered the edge of the paper, a neverending reminder of the nightmare Markus had to endure.

Hank tilted his head to look at the paper, eyes widening instantly in recognition. “Connor… that’s the police department… are you planning on breaking in there?”

“Yes.”

Hank dragged a hand across his face. “For supercomputers, you guys really are dumbasses…” He sighed and placed a hand over the paper. “This is fucking stupid. This is… beyond stupid. It’s suicide at best.”

Markus looked up from the paper. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Hank began, jabbing his finger at the paper in frustration, “it’s stupid enough to break into a police department when it’s occupied. With all this new technology, and especially with the stunts you all pulled, it’s going to be a shitshow. Police and military are allowed to get into the city, that’s the only goddamn way I could get into here, even if that was a fucking hassle,” Hank muttered. “But I digress. Some police are going to be in there, and probably ones who don’t like androids, since they don’t want you guys breaking in and trying to take their stuff. The building is on lockdown from anyone who doesn’t have authorization in there, and will immediately alert any military or police in the area to come. It’s on the edge of town, and I’ve heard the military are pretty trigger happy lately…”

The group frowned at the paper, Connor tearing at the edges in frustration over the plan he spent hours perfecting.
“Is there any way to disable the alarm?” North asked, emerging from her place on the outskirts of the conversation. “If we could disable the alarm, even temporarily, we could get in, get whatever we need, and get out fast. We could even get some weapons in case things go south.”

Markus didn’t even look up to argue with her immediate plan of violence.

“That wouldn’t work,” Hank sighed. “There’s no way to disable it, unless you’re administration, which none of us are. Even if we could avoid the military and police, there’s still one more thing…”

Hank looked down at the ground, his age suddenly showing more than ever. The lines and bags under his eyes contrasted those of the man standing next to him, dark hair and smooth skin the perfect complement. Worry flooded the older man’s eyes, a parental instinct that Markus had only imagined in conjured dreams when he longed for someone to look up to. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth, straightening his collar in a tic so familiar to Connor’s.

“From the time that Cyberlife started sending androids to police departments, they created a program for intruders. Any androids in the area would immediately be turned to what they called “instant-kill mode”, no matter their state, and would attempt to kill the intruder to prevent civilian and officer casualties. Any foreign androids not registered to the department would immediately shut off. They could only be reactivated by a high-level Cyberlife employee. If the androids were the ones invading, the department androids would dismantle it, even when it shut off, and contact Cyberlife to take that android to be decommissioned.”

Markus’ eyes landed on Connor, who stood across from him at the table. His skin had lost all color, eyes boring holes into the table as they watered in an uncharacteristic fashion. Deep brown eyes faded into ashen gray, all light and life and color draining in unparalleled fear.

Josh opened his mouth, voice quiet and shaky as it came out. “So that means…”

“Connor would become a machine again, and we’d all die.”

Silence hung in the air between them, heavy and oppressive.

Markus wondered vaguely that if he went there, if he died, he’d be able to see Simon once again.

“Is there any way to stop it?” Connor whispered.

“I don’t think we should take that chance,” North responded, blinking rapidly. “What do we even need from the police department that we can’t wait for?”

Connor stared at the ground. “Markus… could you come with me for a moment?”

“Sure…” Markus responded, following Connor as he walked down the road.

The snow crunched beneath their feet, the street that sat within the center of Detroit barren and quiet. No railways rumbled under the weight of trains and their passengers, no children ran and played on the sidewalks, no loud music carried through the air from the food truck.
The soundtrack to Markus’ was now footsteps and heavy silences, the loud band of a gunshot, the drip of blue blood from a broken nose, the final breath of someone dying in his arms.

Markus longed for the piano in Carl’s house, the background noise of news on the television, the whir of Carl’s chair as it lifted him to paint.

The city should have never been silent.

“Markus…” Connor finally said, changing the song from the broken record he had found himself stuck in once again. “Markus… have you ever loved anyone?”

Stark blonde hair, shining blue eyes, petite nose, barely-visible freckles, pink lips, tired lines under his eyes, a heart that was compatible to him.

“Yes,” he found himself saying, the response coming out without even time to think of it. “Yes, I have.”

Connor looked up, brown eyes filling with tears. “Why?” he whispered, voice threatening to break if he raised it any higher. “Why care for anyone if you’re just going to eventually lose them?”

Markus frowned. “I don’t know, Connor,” he said, finger tapping steadily against his thigh.

But yet, he knew.

Arms that wrapped around him and made him feel safe. A strong voice behind him, always backing him up no matter his decision. Little giggles that lit up even the darkest room. Whispers in the dead of night, planning and strategizing. Little drawings in the corners of the papers that he sat hunched over for hours, small reminders to let himself be mortal. Puns and jokes in a time where neither of them should be laughing. Smiling proudly behind the desk as Markus relayed a message to humanity.

The weight of the gun that he handed over destroying that all.

“I guess,” Markus said after a moment, “I guess we all need someone to care about. We all need to be cared for. It’s part of being alive. Who are we without someone to love?”

“Shells,” Connor replied, voice still the quiet, hesitant tone. “Husks of what we could be.”

Markus nodded. “Do you love Hank, Connor?”

Connor’s lips curled up in a content smile, and Markus could almost see him relive the hug they had just shared, almost see him lift up his arms and relax. “He’s a father to me. I can’t help but love him.”

He put a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “I’m glad.”

Connor’s smile soon faded, though. With each step, his face betrayed his thoughts, the overwhelming anxiety sneaking through.

“Did you love Simon?” he finally said.

Despite himself, Markus responded immediately. “Yes. I never told him, but I think I did.”

A pause.

“I miss him.”

Connor stopped where he stood, the steady crunch of the snow they tread on fading into quiet. The entire street, the entire city was quiet, with no one left there to care for, no one left there to love.

“I need to tell you something, Markus, and you need to promise not to hate me.”

Markus reached for Connor but he jerked away violently, blinking fast, lip quivering. “Please promise me, Markus.”

The echo of the rooftop remained.

Please don’t kill me, please promise me you won’t kill me.

If it was truth or simply a figment of his imagination, something the created, Markus would never know.

“I promise.”

Connor took a deep breath.

“When I was working for the police, Hank and I investigated the Stratford Tower. We were looking into how four androids could have infiltrated the tower and escaped.

“While on the rooftop, I followed a trail of blue blood towards a storage container. In it, there was an android.”

Simon held his hand on the altar as they sat together on the steps, in the midst of the now empty church.

“If anything ever happens to me, I’ll come back to you. Even if I have to crawl.”

Markus squeezed his hand. “Promise?”

Piercing blue eyes met the ocean and the sky.

“Promise.”

“I tried to probe the android’s memory, and…”

Tears rolled down Connor’s face, fell to the ground, leaving holes in the stark white.

The weight of the gun was heavy as he handed it to Simon, his smile thanking Markus for his choice, the context being that he considered another possibility.

He embraced the bleeding man in front of him, voice strained as he whispered in Markus’ ear, grip tight but fading, fading, fading…

“He shot himself.”

Ringing in his ears as his brethren fell next to him.

“I tried to interrogate him in the evidence locker, but he was really damaged. It would be very hard to repair him. I wanted to go to the police department to rescue him, but there’s no telling if he’ll still be there, or if we can even save him.”

Coat creating ripples in the puddles of blue blood covering sacred ground.

“I’m so sorry, Markus.”

Jumping off the roof, one parachute left behind.

Stark blonde hair full of blood.

Dull blue eyes staring up at a cloudy sky, seeing nothing.

The weight of the gun as it left his hand, sealing his fate.

The hallway in Jericho where they promised to meet.

He was never there.

He never would be.

Chapter Text

The world around Markus was gray.

Empty.

He could vaguely hear Connor speak to him, the voice palpable but still far away, just barely out of reach. He could feel the weight of Connor’s hand as he gripped his shoulder, the muted heat and pressure. The fingers digging into his shoulder blade were merely a ghost of a touch, a dull sensation that should have hurt. As Connor put his other hand on Markus’ other shoulder and shook him, he didn’t feel the vibration or hear the sound of the air moving next to his ears. His body moved like a ragdoll, controlled by a host that was not himself, simply a byproduct of an overloaded imagination.

A creation from someone watching from above, watching a life that didn’t exist unfold before him.

It didn’t feel real.

Someone else was gripping his hands now, the feeling no stronger than any other sensory input. Dainty fingers intertwined with his. His body looked down at his hands, eyes trained on his fingers as the body squeezed.

But he wasn’t controlling.

He was a person who had become a puppet, emotions stripped, dangling and being controlled by someone else.

“Markus!” he could finally make out, the sound blocked out, as if someone had stuffed cotton balls into his ears. “Markus, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Markus responded, unfocused eyes finally landing on long, reddish hair braided into pigtails and dark eyes with tears gathering in the corners.

A memory of North turning around to give him a side-eye in the dark of the church last night flashed in his vision, the feeling of North’s hair as he braided it so strong and vibrant. Nothing like the dull and gray emptiness that his world had devolved into.

The puppetmaster moved his hand up to North’s face, a thumb gently brushing away a stray tear. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she longingly leaned into Markus’ touch. He could almost feel the ache in his chest as the image of her repeating the action after they kissed appeared.

Almost.

Maybe if he had just fallen in love with North, everything would have been easier. He would feel, be the human he was supposed to be, instead of slowly sinking into to the grayness and numbness of machinery and programming.

“Nothing,” he whispered. “I’m fine.”

His hand lowered as his eyes met Connor’s, tears running freely down them, obscuring the freckles and marks into dark, wobbly spots. The android gripped his sides and his chest heaved, shaky inhales that Connor was surely aware were not necessary, but he still needed. Fear shone in his eyes, shaking hands shaped around the trigger of a gun that was not there.

Markus could almost see Simon against that wall, could feel the kickback when he wrapped a finger around the trigger and pulled.

He had to get away.

It had stopped snowing in the time they had been standing there. The snow had now formed a thick white blanket over the roads that crunched harshly beneath Markus’ feet. His ankles slipped down into the indets his feet made as the snow sheet started to grow in inches.

It was almost laughable that Markus, the leader of a revolutionary android rebellion, was thinking about plowing the roads.

As his feet carried him forward, as his body moved onward, it was impossible for his detached mind not to wander. The city was still quiet, but the muted sensations and far-away sounds made the world around him nearly silent. Sensory input was blocked by something he couldn’t seem to be replaced. As if someone had put a blanket over his head, the entire world was just out of reach. Something that a mechanic would call a “faulty processor”, a therapist “dissociation”.

He was looking for answers he would never be able to find, trying not to capture something that was not in front of him, but this time to regain what he once experienced.

Feelings.

Fear.

Happiness.

Love.

But all of it was gone, replaced with dullness, a muted sense of self.

A black hole. Nothingness.

When the fear that used to plague Markus’ late nights reappeared, the thought that would send him into inconsolable panic attacks resurfaced, when the fear that he was really just a machine after all returned, Markus felt nothing at all.

Markus’ body carried him over the crates and shipping containers with ease, muscle memory taking over most of the work as his mind floated far above. The snow made it a bit harder to navigate, but unlike earlier, before all of this, when he had first become deviant, his heart didn’t plummet into his feet when he slipped and held onto the tips of the snowy, slippery shipping container with the tips of his fingers.

He should’ve, though. Some subconscious part of him realized that, but the implications held no weight. Unlike the last time he had ran across this icy metal landscape, avoiding security drones and freeing androids he had undoubtedly killed by now, there was no one else with him. One wrong move, and he would simply be spare parts and frozen silicone on the ground. A news story about the death of a rebellion that wasn’t worth it, that had killed anyone who had ever mattered.

Markus came to a stop at a familiar edge, his eyes carrying him to the empty space where a drone had once been. He wasn’t even sure why he was here. Fleeting voices flashed through his head, and even as he replayed himself speaking, the confident “I’ve got this” of someone who thought they were doing good. Before all of this. When he actually believed the words that came out of his mouth. When he knew that those words were actually his.

Pushing the thought aside, Markus considered his options. A rough model of him took him to the ground, the outlined body shattering as the steep drop snapped his ankle down the seam. Another model ran up to the contained that still hung precariously, and soon enough, the outline became him.

He could jump to the roof, but there was a chance it would be too unstable and not support his weight. There was the option to drop down from his perch, but if he landed wrong, he’d break a leg off, or worse. The terrain below was rough, rocky and torn and jagged, as if someone had gone through it with a bulldozer, trying to destroy everything that Cyberlife owned.

Markus sighed. Add that to the list of property damage he had caused.

He sat on the edge of the storage container. It had stopped snowing hours ago, but he could still feel the cold seeping into his skin. Barely there, just a slight chill he could sense through the disconnect. He could just lie there. The cold would eventually catch up to him and he’d shut off. It was nearing December in Detroit, and the snow would only pile up, freezing his circuits and turning his blue blood to turquoise ice. No human, no Cyberlife employee would bother saving him. Not that an android would either, after everything he had done. By spring, his skin and bones would be brittle to the touch, his circuitry unsalvageable. There would be no way of saving him.

Markus closed his eyes. It would be too long, too painful. There would be too much time to rethink what he was doing. His thoughts traced over the gun he usually kept holstered at his side as fingertips brushed over a hip absent of a trigger and loaded bullet. His fist clenched in response. His nails dug into his skin, revealing crescent-shaped pockets of blue blood. It was the color of the sky above the ocean, the paint splattered on the canvas he had watched appear as Carl created something out of nothing.

His chest ached as he recreated the shape of his face, the wrinkles, the kind eyes and warm smile that was the closest thing he ever had to a home. To comfort or safety.

Blue eyes the color of bluebells and the sky emerging from its pink and orange grave filled his vision. Safety and warmth and comfort and love love love filled his chest, an explosion of blue and green and soft blonde hair and freckles only visible inches from his face-

Markus shot forward, fingers digging into his eyelids, an attempt to hold onto that fading feeling, the ashes and embers he had devolved into, to feel pain, to hurt, to feel anything at all.

He needed to leave.

He needed to go.

He needed to des-

Markus was surrounded by metal walls on all sides. A fire within an old oil can was somewhere to his left, emanating heat that was too hot, too much, too much… The flame would engulf him if he was not careful, leaving him only to be smoking silicone that would slowly fade away, become cold as if there was nothing left inside anymore. On his right he could sense heat, much cooler but still too hot, too much for him to handle, burning him from the inside out, reducing him to nothing. Despite the frost outside, the room was boiling, about to turn into flames Markus would not be able to stop.

He leaned forward in the wooden chair that would certainly soon combuse, digging his fingers into his eye sockets. It was the only thing he could to control himself, to gain some sense of stability in the inferno he was facing. Too many feelings were piled up at once, a result of deviancy in an overactive mind. A mind that raced to the extremes and worse-case scenarios more than anything good. A mind that was constantly choosing between two evils, who to kill and who to spare.

The heat on his left moved closer, a cooling hand on his back, travelling slowly up his spine. It was tentative, unsure, but still rested at the base of his neck, a sign of solidarity.

The heat shifted down so he was kneeling, hand still placed there. Not pushing, not forcing, simply there. A soft, icy balm of a voice came next.

“Too much?” Simon whispered, moving so he was in front of Markus, fingers ghosting over his hairline and around his ears.

Markus only nodded, scrunching his eyes only tighter as red-hot tears tried to spill down his cheeks. His fingers remained digging, the pain a contrast to the coolness of Simon’s hand on his skin.

Those same hands, gentle and soft, moved their way to Markus’ hands, slowly moving them away from his eyes and grasping them in his own. “You’re bruising,” came the same, quiet voice. It wavered slightly, in sad amusement. “It looks like someone sucker-punched you.”

“It feels like someone burned me,” Markus muttered, moving his hands in a motion to return back to his eyes before Simon’s grip became more forceful.

“Don’t,” he whispered. “Don’t hurt yourself. Please, Mark.”

The nickname sent ice down Markus’ spine, a shock so pleasant and horrible at the same time he nearly jerked away. The heat had travelled to his heart, heating up his blood and pumping it so fast he was sure he would explode. It was all too much, too overwhelming, in the worst and best way.

Markus’ heart skipped a beat as Simon leaned forward and gathered Markus in his arms, his grip tight but not too tight, breath warm against his skin.

“I don’t want to be in a world where you aren’t, Mark,” Simon said, voice barely-there. “I know you hate being admired and put on a pedestal, but…” Simon took a long breath, sighing into Markus’ shoulder. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I couldn’t lead Jericho. You’ve done so much good in the time you’ve been here, for everyone, but especially for me…”

He trailed off, a tear trickling down onto bare skin.

Markus wrapped his arms around Simon, tears spilling down as he opened his eyes and pressed a barely-there kiss into Simon’s hair. Simon glanced up at him, locking eyes, then lower, lower…

“I’m never going to leave you, Simon,” Markus whispered, turning his head towards Simon’s even more, eyes flickering shut. “I promise, Si. I could never live without you.”

He leaned closer, the heat spreading from his chest and utterly overwhelming as he stared at Simon’s lips. He was so close, he could see the slight imperfections of his face that were the most beautiful things he had ever seen, the curvature of his lips, the freckles he had never noticed until now, those bright blue eyes that were slowly closing…

He could feel his breath on his lips, and somehow, it was all he could have ever dreamed of.

A knock on his door and an android he had never seen before sent Simon flying across the room, a blush spreading high up his cheekbones and down below his collarbone. The android simply stood there, eyes darting between the two, as he relayed the information that North and Josh were ready to leave for Stratford Tower.

-troy himself.

Markus lowered his hands and stared out over the white expanse ahead of him. The ghost of Simon’s hands still lingered, his fingers laced in between his own. He stared down at the ground below him. Climb up the crane, and a fall from that height would surely kill him…

Markus stood up, glancing up to the cloudy sky above him and the height he would drop from.

Each step became more determined, a chance for that ghostly touch to become real once more. He was back within his body, and with each move forward, he had never felt so alive.

He was sure they would never get into the DPD station, sure he would never see Simon again living. Connor meant his best, but perhaps RA9 was planning this all along.

Markus was simply cutting out the middle man.

He finally reached his apex, the shattered ground far, far below him.

It was time.

Connor? he thought, reaching his voice for as far as it would go.

Markus? a familiar and panicked voice responded, though it slowly lost its intensity as Connor relaxed. Where are you? We’ve been looking for you for hours, Josh was starting to think you got hurt…

A pause.

Markus, I’m so sorry-

Stop. Markus interrupted, putting a hand out to no one. Tell everyone to stop looking for me.

What?

Stop looking for me, Markus repeated, his voice grim. Take over Jericho operations. Keep North in line.

Connor’s voice shook. Markus, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay-

Markus took a breath.

Goodbye, Connor.

Everything was silent.

Markus closed his eyes and reached out a hand, waiting for the one that fit his perfectly to take it once again.

It was just like falling down into Jericho, one step and it would all be done…

Markus lifted his foot and leaned forward-

“Hey, what the fuck are you doing?”

Markus stumbled backwards, eyes shooting open and rapidly scanning his surroundings. On the rooftop in front of him was a man in all gray and white, a blank gray helmet at his side, the word “ARMY” printed across his chest.

Shit.

“You’re the piece of shit they call Markus, aren’t you?” the soldier said. He tilted his head, face shifting from understanding to amusement. “Coming here to kill yourself? Couldn’t stand the shit that you did?”

Markus only stood, breathing heavily.

The soldier laughed. “I see. You know, I killed a lot of your people, if you can call ‘em that.” Markus’ attention was drawn to the handgun he was carrying at his side. He should’ve seen it sooner, how did he not notice-

“I know the president gave us an order not to shoot, but I’m sure I’d get some good money for killing the leader of them damn machines. And if not, I’d get the personal pleasure…”

Markus held up a hand, reaching towards something he could never reach, never understand. He reached towards just something to hold onto, someone to hold him.

But nobody came.

The impact of the bullet was dull as first, slowly spreading throughout his body, his head and down. He could hear the soldier’s laugh beneath the gunfire as he shot another bullet, another, and another.

Markus stumbled back, anything he could hold onto falling away, the only person who had ever possibly loved him gone forever.

He was falling, falling, falling…

The air was blowing around him, his brain short-circuiting, visions of police and an old man on the ground covering his vision, and only one thing went through his mind.

I don’t want to die.