Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The gentle ringing of a coin being flipped over flesh rang through the air, cutting past the silence of the elevator. The coin was caught abruptly and placed in a pocket, gloved hands clenched. The elevator came to a stop, chiming softly.

An android model RK800 stepped out of the elevator, boots tapping against the floor. He blinked a few times, surveying the surrounding area, before continuing into the apartment. Humans eyed him warily as he walked past, tightening their hand on their guns menacingly.

The android paid them no mind (although he scanned their faces and sorted them into neat files, just in case it came to it) and continued on his way, eyeing the apartment out of the corner of his eyes. He passed a smashed fish tank and paused, looking down at the fish flopping around on the floor.

It must have jumped out in the chaos, through one of the cracks. Kneeling down, the android gently picked the fish up and placed it back in the water, tilting his head when it swam around safely, able to breathe. He ignored the software instability notification in the corner of his vision. Satisfied, the android turned abruptly and pushed his way into the main apartment.

“Negotiator on site. Repeat, negotiator on site,” a SWAT member spoke up, one finger on the button on his radio. The android glanced over at them before turning his attention to the woman in another SWAT member’s arms, being escorted out.

“No, stop… I, I can’t leave her. Oh, oh, please, you gotta save my little girl,” the woman pleaded. The android eyed her and ran a critical eye over her, noting down her hormone levels and her rapid heart rate. She must be in what humans call ‘distress.’

The woman (Caroline Phillips, human aged 37, AFAB woman) spotted him and paused, skin growing ashen and eyes going wide. She glanced rapidly between the SWAT member holding her and the android. “Wait… you’re sending an android?”

“Alright ma’am. We need to go,” the man holding Phillips said, certainly not gently. The RK800, personally, would have used a much softer tone. Perhaps not all humans were sympathetic. RK800 had a specific coding for dealing with panicking civilians and children- although it was rarely accessed.

“You can't...you can't do that! You W- Why aren't you sending a real person? Don't let that thing near her! Keep that thing away from my daughter! Keep it away!” Phillips screamed, struggling against the SWAT member’s hold. RK800 doubted there was any real venom behind her words. He didn’t particularly care either way.

Turning away from the scene, the android tilted his head, following the voice of Captain Allen. In the corner of his vision, a box popped up, reading the words ‘Find Captain Allen.’ Rolling his shoulders, the android sped up his walking paste slightly, making his way to the bedroom.

He eyed the bed and pocketed the image to memory- the covers were thrown back and there was a pillow strewn on the floor. Perhaps there had been a struggle? Allen twitched at the sound of the android’s footsteps, but otherwise made no move to greet him.

“Captain Allen,” the android spoke up, forcing the man to look at him. The android placed a hand over where his heart would be, if he had one. “My name is Ranboo. I’m the android sent by CyberLife.”

Allen scowled, turning away and leaning in towards the computer screen. Ranboo blinked, shifting his weight between his feet. Aerial footage, most likely from the helicopter outside. “It's firing at everything that moves, it already shot down two of my men... We could easily get it, but they're on the edge of the balcony. If it falls, she falls.”

Ranboo listened carefully to the captain’s words, saving the information in the back of his mind. He twitched slightly, gloves rustling as he tightened his hands into fists and relaxed them again. He needed more information before he could save the girl. “Do you know its name?”

“I haven’t got a clue. Does it matter?” Captain Allen’s tone was sharp and impatient, edged with some underlying hatred. A hatred for androids, or a hatred for Ranboo himself? The RK800 didn’t know, nor did he particularly care. Allen hating or liking him had no impact on the mission.

“I need information to determine the best approach,” Ranboo applied vaguely, his codes not liking that he was being questioned so much. His coding was screaming at him to get the job done and stop dilly-dallying with the humans. “Do you know if it was behaving strangely before this?”

Captain Allen sucked in a breath, rising from his crouched positioning and pinning Ranboo with a displeased look. “Listen,” he spat, stepping up towards the android. He looked slightly off-put with Ranboo towering over him, but martyred nonetheless. “Saving that kid is all that matters. So either you deal with this fucking android now, or I'll take care of it.”

Ranboo watched as the human stormed off, heavy boots thudding threateningly against the floor. If Allen’s purpose was to get Ranboo to feel fear, it was a pointless endeavour. He could mimic fear by controlling the size of his pupils and his facial expression, but feeling and showing were two different things.

Blowing out a sigh through his nose (did it count as a sigh if he was not frustrated or upset…?) he turned and followed the Captain out of the bedroom, scanning the area for the evidence left around. At least the humans had not disturbed any of it. He stopped walking and tilted his head downwards, picking up a tablet left lying on the floor. His LED flashed yellow once before the recording played.

[ “This is Quackity, the coolest android in the world! Say hi, Quackity!” Emma waved at the camera brightly before shoving it in Quackity’s face, waiting for the android to recover from getting smacked in the nose with a tablet. The android waved awkwardly.

“Hello,” he said, attempting a smile. Emma giggled and wrapped her arms around him, grinning so bright and wide it looked like her grin split her face in half. Quackity’s LED flashed yellow before returning to the neutral blue.

“You're my bestie! We'll always be together!” ]

Ranboo tilted his head and placed the tablet back down, pocketing the information in his ‘Quackity’ file. He renamed the file immediately from the Deviant’s model number to his name. Deviants did not have model numbers, anymore. Besides, the Deviant and the girl seemed to be close. The name Quackity was a good memory for them.

Waving off the box in the right of his vision, Ranboo shuffled away from the tablet and instead moved towards the living room. He waved the SWAT team off, letting them know that he was not ready to go see Quackity just yet. Instead, he visited the dining table, eyes trailing over the tablet at the table.

The fingerprints matched the father’s hands. Picking the device up, Ranboo used his LED to turn it on. A successful order page greeted his eyes, along with a familiar android model. One of the newer models, with gentle features and soft ginger hair.

“Oh,” Ranboo mumbled out loud, a deep rumbling sound that sounded very human. Adding the new information to the file, Ranboo placed the tablet back in its place and stepped away, straightening his back. He turned towards the living room once more, making his way towards the door to the outside.

“All units hold positions. The negotiator's going in,” Allen called, holding his radio up to his mouth. Ranboo nodded at him, raising an arm and pushing the door out of the way. Almost instantly, he had to dodge a bullet fired at him by the Deviant.

“Stay back! Don't come any closer or I'll jump!” Quackity screamed, shuffling closer to the edge. Ranboo narrowed his eyes, trying to get a look at the situation. Quackity held Emma in its arms, a gun in its other hand. Emma was sobbing, tears running down her face.

Ranboo put his hands up in a manner he hoped was unthreatening, moving cautiously towards the pair. His moves were so slow, so very against his rushing codes to go, go, go. Still, he could not compromise Emma’s life for his mission. He glanced at the box that popped up- again.

“No! No, please! I'm begging you!” Emma sobbed out, snot dripping from her nose. Quackity looked like it wanted to comfort her, but shook itself off with a growl. Ranboo narrowed his eyes slightly, shifting on his feet warily. The SWAT team murmured instructions to each other, but he tuned them out.

“Hi, Quackity,” Ranboo greeted, softening his voice. The Deviant reared backwards at the sound of its name, alarmingly close to the edge. Emma released a gargled sound of fear, clinging desperately to its arm. “My name is Ranboo.”

“How,” Quackity blinked, narrowing its eyes. It tightened its fingers on the gun, still aiming it at Ranboo. “How do you know my name?”

“I know a lot of things about you,” Ranboo tilted his head, the mask covering the bottom half of his face rustling with the movement. Quackity’s eyes flickered towards the movement, its grip on the gun relaxing slightly. “I've come to get you out of this.”

“I know you're angry, Quackity,” Ranboo murmured, hands still held out in front of him. Quackity shifted nervously, stepping a little further away from the edge. Good. “But you need to trust me and let me help you.”

“I don't want your help! Nobody can help me! All I want is for all this to stop... I... I just want all this to stop…” Quackity yelled, his tone starting off angry before falling away into something sadder. Ranboo scanned the area, filing away the tone of voice. A police officer (whom Ranboo had not noticed before) was crawling away from the Deviant.

“Please… Please help me,” the officer sobbed out when he met Ranboo’s eyes, a hand on his stomach. A pool of blood had formed underneath him. His sleeve was stuck to him, doused in blood. A quick scan of his body confirmed that he was losing blood rapidly.

“He's losing blood. If we don't get him to a hospital, he's going to die,” Ranboo informed Quackity, shifting his attention from the human towards the Deviant. Quackity snarled, baring its teeth. Some of its teeth had been filed into points. Interesting.

“All humans die eventually. What does it matter if this one dies now?” It snapped, sounding vaguely like he was threatening humanity itself. Ranboo supposed it was right- humans were weak with short life spans. Once humans died out, so would he. RK800 would be useless without them.

“I'm going to apply a tourniquet,” he informed, stepping closer to the man. Quackity shrieked, lifting up his gun again. Ranboo froze instinctively- if he got shot, he would not be able to complete his mission.

“Don't touch him! Touch him and I kill you!” it ordered, baring its teeth again. Ranboo shifted uncomfortably, his contradicting codes fighting against each other. He was designed to capture Deviants. But he was required to help humans at all cost.

“He’s going to die,” Ranboo repeated, shuffling towards the downed man. Quackity did not look like it cared, instead raising the gun again. The RK800 model narrowed his eyes. “You can’t kill me. I’m not alive. He is, though.”

Quackity did not shoot when Ranboo tore the officer’s shirt in half. He used the strip in his hand to tie around the man’s arm, forming a makeshift tourniquet. The man looked up, his dark eyes meeting Ranboo’s red-and-green ones. Ranboo pat the man on the shoulder once. “You’ll live.”

The man slumped in relief. Propping the officer against the wall gently, he stood up and turned his attention to Quackity. The Deviant had a curious look on its face, flicking its eyes between the officer and Ranboo. For whatever reason he was curious, it was much more preferred than hostility. “Are you armed?”

Ranboo’s hands went to the holster around his waist instinctively. “Yes. I have a gun.”

“Drop it! No sudden moves, or I'll shoot!” Quackity snapped, its hand shaking slightly. Ranboo did as he was asked, slowly pulling out his gun and placing it on the floor. He kicked it out of the way and they both watched as it skidded across the tiles, eventually falling off the ledge.

“There, no more gun,” the android nodded, attempting to replicate a human smile. He felt his eyes crinkle. Quackity relaxed slightly, shifting its weight between its feet. Emma was still sobbing, though she had quietened down considerably.

“I know you and Emma were very close. You think she betrayed you - but she's done nothing wrong,” Ranboo spoke, still moving slowly forwards. Quackity’s face twisted unpleasantly, a cross between a human mimic of anger and sadness.

“She lied to me. I thought she loved me. She named me after her favourite animal, did you know that? I thought… but I was wrong... She's just like all the other humans,” it spat, jostling the girl slightly. Ranboo twitched, tightening his hands into fists before releasing them once more.

“Quackity, no,” Emma pleaded, sounding genuinely affectionate and sorrowful towards the Deviant. Quackity’s face twisted with a wide variety of emotions. Too many for Ranboo to scan correctly. The android shifted through the file, sorting through what would be useful.

“They were going to replace you and you became upset. That's what happened, right?” He spoke gently. Quackity nodded hesitantly, eyes fluttering as if it was holding back tears. Emma gaped, as if she hadn’t heard that such things were happening.

Gently, Ranboo crooned, “Listen, I know it's not your fault. These emotions you're feeling are just errors in your software.”

“No, it's not my fault... I never wanted this. I loved them, you know, but I was nothing to them, just a slave to be ordered around,” Quackity snapped. Ranboo filed away his pattern of speech for later.

Quackity groaned suddenly, shaking his head like his ears were water-logged. “Ugh, I can’t stand that noise anymore! Tell the helicopter to get out of here!”

Ranboo hadn’t really noticed the steady whirring of the helicopter. He had been more focused on Quackity and Emma. Despite that, he nodded and raised the radio to his hidden mouth. “The helicopter is causing the Deviant distress. Please tell them to go away.”

A moment later, the vehicle wheeled away from the roof and flew off. Quackity watched it go, shoulders considerably less tight. Ranboo stepped forward three times before stopping once more. “There, I did what you wanted.”

“You have to trust me, Quackity. Let the hostage go and I promise you everything will be fine,” he continued, his hands still in front of him. He cracked the metal connectors of his thumbs with his index fingers. Quackity looked over his shoulder, no doubt knowing exactly where the snipers were positioned.

“I want everyone to leave. And I wanna car! When I'm outside the city, I'll let her go!” it demanded, switching its hold on its gun to point at Emma’s head instead. The girl stiffened in alarm, her breath coming out hard and fast.

“You know that’s impossible, Quackity. I’m sorry,” Ranboo replied, not very sorry at all. Quackity cursed something in spanish. Ranboo shifted his eyes over to Emma again. “Let the girl go and I promise you won’t be hurt.”

“I don’t want to die,” Quackity admitted quietly, sounding somewhat desperate. Ranboo juggled between lying and telling the truth. In the end, he decided that lying would have the best outcome. Telling the truth would stress it out- Deviants had a tendency to self destruct when under too much stress.

“You're not going to die, we're just going to talk. Nothing will happen to you. You have my word,” he promised, smiling once more. Quackity hesitated, before relaxing and releasing Emma. She stumbled away from the Deviant, hiding herself behind a deck chair.

“Okay, I trust you,” Quackity nodded, placing his gun down. Ranboo walked cautiously over and reached for the gun, pushing it away. Quackity stood up and Ranboo backed away, his eyes flickering towards one of the snipers. A slightest nod of his head and a bullet went straight through Quackity’s head.

The Deviant fell to its knees, blue blood leaking from the hole in his head. The skin healed over almost instantly, but the hole was glaringly obvious. Ranboo tilted his head down, meeting the Deviant’s eyes as it looked up at him. “You lied to me, Ranboo. You lied to me.”

Chapter Text

MODEL AX400
SERIAL#: 579 102 694
BIOS 7.4 REVISION 0483
REBOOT...

MEMORY RESET

LOADING OS...
SYSTEM INITIALIZATION...
CHECKING BIOCOMPONENTS... OK
INITIALIZING BIOSENSORS... OK
INITIALIZING AI ENGINE... OK

MEMORY STATUS...
ALL SYSTEMS OK

READY

Model AX400’s eyes opened gently, cameras adjusting to the light. He looked around, twitching his head at the rush of information that went through his codes. According to his inner map, he was in a shop that sold androids to humans. AX400 toggled with his hearing and blinked.

“This is the top of the range household assistant. It cooks 10,000 different dishes, speaks 200 languages and dialects and handles the kids' homework from elementary school up to university level,” a worker was explaining, gesturing to a model across from where AX400 was.

“Wow, honey, it looks amazing. This is exactly what we need,” a woman grinned, holding onto a man’s arm next to her. The man nodded, though he looked a little nervous. He shifted around a little, eyeing the worker helping them. The android met the man’s eyes with a false smile.

“How much did you say it costs?” the man asked, cracking his knuckles. A nervous tic, perhaps? The android worker tilted his head, holding a hand out and connecting it with the android on display. The skin of his hand melted away to reveal the white plastic that made up all androids.

“At the moment we're doing a special promotion on this entire range at $7999, with a 48-months interest free credit. And it comes with a two-year warranty for parts and labor,” the android supplied, pulling away from the display. His plastic was covered by faux skin a moment later.

“We'll take it,” the man smiled, holding out his hand. The android worker shook it in a way that suggested he was not entirely pleased with doing so. The woman and the man did not seem to notice. The android smiled pleasantly and gestured for the humans to follow him.

“An excellent choice, sir. If you'll just follow me, we'll process the order,” the android nodded, holding a clipboard. He scribbled something on the paper (presumably the model number) and went to the front of the store. The AX400 turned his attention away, instead focusing his eyes on the man and a human worker walking towards him.

The human man reeked of alcohol and cigarettes, although he did not appear to be intoxicated. His pupils were a normal size and his heart rate was average for a man of his size. The AX400 looked between the two humans curiously.

“Thank you, and we're good,” the employee was saying. The man next to him looked like he wanted to escape the conversation as if it were killing him. The employee didn’t seem to notice, instead reaching out and flipping over AX400’s hand. The android complied obediently. “It was a bit difficult getting it back in working order. It was really messed up. What did you say happened to it again?”

The other human’s heart rate sped up slightly when he answered and AX400 registered it as a lie. “Huh, a car hit it. Stupid accident.”

The employee frowned as if he didn’t believe it (which was reasonable, since it was a lie, the AX400 thought) but shrugged nonetheless, pressing his hand to the panel in front of the space that contained the AX400, allowing the android to step free. “Oh, I see. Anyway, it's as good as new now. Except that we had to reset it. Meaning we had to wipe its memory. Hope you don't mind.”

“That'll be fine,” the buyer said, his head twitching slightly. AX400 surveyed the man out of the corner of his eye, nose wrinkling slightly. AX400 models were designed and programmed so they mimicked human emotions. It was for children. “Are we done here?”

“Did you give it a name?” the employee asked, pushing their glasses up their nose. The other man jerked suddenly, scowling deeply. AX400 filed the facial expression away for later. The man rolled his eyes with an irritated huff.

“Huh? Yeah. My son did,” he shrugged, crossing his arms. The employee nodded, snapping his fingers to get the AX400’s attention. He turned his attention to the worker calling for his gaze with a tilt of his head. The AX400 blinked a few times.

“AX400, register your name,” the employee ordered, before turning to the buyer with raised eyebrows. The man fumbled a bit, clearly not knowing what to do (was this the first time he had taken an android to be repaired and had it’s memories wiped?) before it seemed to click.

“Tubbo,” he spoke, looking at the AX400 model. The android took the name and shoved it deep into his memory, hoping he wouldn’t forget it again. He smiled gently.

“My name is Tubbo.”

[ x ]

The human man was named Schlatt with a silent ‘c,’ Tubbo had learned. He’d thrown his driver’s license in the cup holder of the car with a grumble and incoherent snarling. Apparently he was unemployed and spent a lot of his money on alcoholic products. That was why he reeked so badly.

The car was small and old, duct tape securing the mirrors to the car. Cracks marred the glass, and every now and then, Schlatt would glare at the cracks as if they had personally offended him. Tubbo gazed out the window, eyeing the surrounding area. It was a nice, rich area.

Tubbo doubted that the area was where he and Schlatt were going. Houses would be expensive in the area. The android glanced over at the man, who had pulled a cigarette out of some unknown place and placed it in his mouth. He lit it with a lighter that flickered, narrowly avoiding going out.

Tubbo made a mental note to buy a new one, his LED flashing yellow before returning to blue. Schlatt blew out a ring of smoke, staining the air in the car. The man scowled deeply, grinding his teeth against one another. He met Tubbo’s eyes with a growl. “What’re you looking at?”

Tubbo shifted, turning his head towards the window. “Sorry, Schlatt.”

Schlatt sneered, but otherwise didn’t respond, blowing smoke in Tubbo’s direction. The android didn’t react, keeping his eyes on the road. Clicking his tongue, Schlatt scoffed, tightening his hands on the steering wheel. Tubbo’s program was yelling at him, screaming that Schlatt was not safe. There was no reason to believe it, though. So Tubbo waved it off.

The car rolled to a stop in a beaten down neighbourhood. The house was falling apart, covered by scratched off white paint and dry grass. Schlatt stopped out of the car, swinging his scarily skinny body out of the car. Tubbo followed suit, gently pulling the handle. He shut the door with care, mindful off the beaten down metal.

The android made his way down the path, dirt and gravel crunching underneath his boots. Schlatt waited impatiently at the door, holding it open. Speeding up, Tubbo entered the house. It smelt distinctively of alcohol and burnt paper. Schlatt huffed, rubbing his bony hands against his pants.

“You've been gone for two weeks, so the place is a mess. You do the housework, the washing, you cook the meals, and you take care of... Goddammit! Where the fuck's the brat gone now? Michael!” the man shouted, looking around furiously. He turned towards the stairs before jolting. A young boy sat on the stairs, a toy chicken in his arms. “Oh, there you are... That's Michael. You look after him, homework, bath, all that crap. Got it?”

Tubbo eyed the boy- he looked nothing like his father. His hair was a gentle, lemonade pink, his skin tan and his eyes steel grey. His round cheeks were full, although the slimness of his body suggested that it was baby fat more than from food. “Got it.”

“Get started down here, then you do upstairs,” Schlatt ordered, disappearing into the living room. He murmured a faint ‘TV on’ and Tubbo turned away, scanning the house. He noted down the blueprints, deciding he might as well start in the kitchen.

He was faintly aware of Michael following after him as he entered the kitchen, but he didn’t say anything. If Michael was comfortable around him, he didn’t want to try and jeopardize that. The kitchen was not too bad, but the dishes were piled high. The android turned the tap, plugging the sink.

The sink soon filled with water, and with a squirt of dish soap, suds bubbled into life. Tubbo reached for the sponge, drizzling soap onto it. Grabbing one of the dishes, he got to work scrubbing the grease and old food stains off. He scanned the leftover sauce- tomato sauce from baked beans. The android felt his eyebrows furrow slightly.

The dishes were done in no time, left shining and dripping on the drying rack. Michael stood up from where he had been sitting on the floor, opening a cabinet and pulling out two dish towels. He handed one to the android and pulled the other to his chest.

Tubbo helped Michael up, sitting him on the kitchen bench. The child reached for a wet dish, rubbing circles into it with the towel. Tubbo smiled gently and followed suit, running the towel over the dishes. Together, the dishes were dry twice as fast as they had been cleaned. Satisfied, Michael jumped off the bench and gave the wet towel to the android, running off.

Tubbo looked down at the two wet towels, then followed the memorised blueprints of the house. Before he could make it to the laundry, Schlatt’s voice rang out. “Tubbo! Bring me a cold beer!”

Tubbo jumped. “Right away, Schlatt.”

Discarding the towels on the laundry bench for when he came back in, Tubbo hurried to the kitchen, opening the fridge. It was mostly bare, filled with necessities as well as rounds of alcohol. Tubbo felt his lips tighten as he pulled out a bottle of beer. He stood up, looking for a stubby holder. He couldn’t see one, so he handed the beer to Schlatt, who took it without a word.

The laundry was filled with dirty laundry, a musty smell enveloping the place. Popping the washing machine open, he grabbed the dirty basket of laundry and placed it inside the machine, turning inside out items of clothing the right way as he went. He placed the towels in last, shutting the door.

The washing powder was in a glass box, blaringly obvious that it wasn’t the original container. Standing on his tiptoes (his designer had made him short, so that he was less intimidating than other androids) and reaching for the box, Tubbo inspected the substance. A packet of red ice was sitting in the box, hidden in the powder.

A hand found itself around Tubbo’s throat, throwing the android against the wall. His LED shone a bright red, his programming screaming once more. Other than his LED changing, he showed no outward alarm to the attack. Schlatt tightened his hand and he suddenly found it difficult to breathe. “You shouldn't mess around with my stuff. It makes me nervous.”

“I’m sorry, Schlatt,” Tubbo said, holding the packet out. The human let go of the android’s throat, snatching the packet a little feral. The man blew out an aggravated breath, the scent of bile and beer blowing into Tubbo’s face.

“You stay the fuck outta my business, unless you wanna piss me off,” Schlatt snapped. His eyes narrowed, a snarl twisting his face. He lowered his head, strangely reminiscent of a goat threatening someone with it’s horns. “You wanna piss me off?”

“No, Schlatt,” Tubbo shook his head. Schlatt huffed, stepping back and leaving the laundry. The android’s LED flickered back into a peaceful blue. Shaking himself off, Tubbo spooned powder into the machine. The cycle was set to the recommended length of time already, so he switched in on and waited for it to beep back at him.

Clean laundry sat in the corner of the room, unfolded and most likely crinkled. Scooping the pile up, he placed it in the now-empty basket and picked it up. The clothes line outside was empty, as far as Tubbo was aware. He trekked to the backyard, the basket on his hip.

Michael followed him out, sitting on the porch and running his hands over the chicken’s fur (chicken had feathers, not fur, so it was an interesting design choice), watching as Tubbo worked. He didn’t meet Tubbo’s eyes once. The android turned away from the boy and pulled clothes from the basket, shaking them out as he went. The clothes belonged mostly to Schlatt, stretched-out t-shirts and pants falling apart at the seams. The few items of Michael’s clothes that he hung up were gentle colours, with splotches of darker ones every now and then. Tubbo liked the yellow-and-black-striped shirt that resembled a bee the most.

Tubbo grabbed the empty basket and crouched in front of Michael, tilting his head. Michael looked up, although he kept his gaze planted on Tubbo’s chin instead of meeting his eyes. The android didn’t mind. “You look bored. Would you like to play a game?”

Michael shook his head gently, pink curls bouncing. He held out his stuffed chicken with an affectionate hum. Tubbo softened his face into a smile, reaching out and patting the toy gently. Michael pulled the chicken back and snuggled it into his chest. “I’m going to finish cleaning up downstairs. You should come inside. It’s chilly out.”

Michael jumped off from the porch, padding inside. Tubbo relaxed his face, feeling his smile fall away. It would probably be best if he hid his smile in front of Schlatt. The android looked around the house, scanning the area for other things to clean. The only thing left was to turn the Roomba on. It was situated in the living room.

Tubbo went through the kitchen to get to the living room, avoiding walking in front of the TV. Making himself look as small as possible, Tubbo switched the Roomba on with his LED, the light flickering yellow. The Roomba bleeped into life, moving in strategic little lines across the floor.

“I’ve finished downstairs,” Tubbo said, his voice purposely quiet. Schlatt scoffed, swallowing his mouthful of beer. Tubbo shifted when the man’s eyes slid to him, slightly unfocused and most definitely drunk. “I’ll make a start upstairs now.”

“Do what you have to do but stop bothering me,” Schlatt snapped, taking another large swig of his drink. Tubbo bowed his head and walked off, keeping his footsteps light. He winced when the floor creaked under his feet. The stairs groaned under his weight as he went up them, though he doubted they would break.

He was heavier than both Michael and Schlatt, but not by too much. He knew Schlatt didn’t have enough money to replace them or fix the house, so he just decided to be careful when walking up the stairs. The rest of the flooring upstairs was fine. The android walked into Schlatt’s room, eyeing everything in the room.

He placed a guitar back on it’s strand, looking over the broken strings. He doubted it had been played in a while, dust gathering on the surface. He clapped his hands together, wiping the dust off his fingers. Tubbo turned away from the instrument, picking up books from the floor and magazines. He flattened the bed sheets and pushed away the creases.

Curiously, he tugged open the bedside table drawer. He blinked at the bottle of pills- antidepressants- and the gun. Tapping his fingers against the weapon once, he pocketed the information away. He closed the drawer and turned to his final task. The window was locked, but opened without much stress when he unlocked it. Hopefully, the breeze would wash away the stench of alcohol and old vomit.

Tubbo closed the door behind him on the way out, listening to the gentle click when it shut. The last rooms he had to clean were the bathroom, then Michael’s room. He slipped into the bathroom and surveyed the area. The shower was relatively clean. He knelt down and straightened the soap bottles.

The bath was covered in dust, so he turned the tap and drained out the dust with water. He cupped his hands, cupping his hands and pouring water on the sides of the bath. When he was sure it was clean (or cleaner, at least) he turned the tap off and stood back, wiping his hands on his shirt to dry them.

He left the bathroom and made his way towards Michael’s room. The boy was inside his room when Tubbo entered, hidden in a small tent made of blankets and pegs, most likely stolen from the laundry. Tubbo allowed a gentle smile to tug at his face. Crouching in front of the tent, Tubbo peered inside. “I just want to tidy up your room a bit. I only need two minutes. Is that okay, Michael?”

Michael nodded once before turning back to look at his chicken, flapping the wings a few times. Tubbo stood up and surveyed the room, picking up a stray book. He scanned the cover- Chicken Little. He smiled as he turned back to Michael. “Chicken Little, hm?”

Michael buried his face shyly in the chicken, the tips of his ears going slightly red, visible even with his choppy haircut. Making an amused sound under his breath, Tubbo placed the book back on the bookshelf, running his gaze over the different titles. “Seems like you like reading,” He winked. “So do I.”

The android pulled Michael’s sheets off his bed, shaking them out. He flattened them against the mattress and smoothed it over the bed, tucking it under the mattress. He fluffed up the child’s pillow, patting them until they looked comfortable. Satisfied, he turned back to the tent and sat down in front of the opening, crossing his legs.

“I’m sure we were friends before I got reset,” Tubbo said, smiling gently. Michael peered out from where he was hiding, his grey eyes trained on Tubbo’s chest. The android hummed. “Maybe we can be friends again, if you’d like that?”

Michael nodded hesitantly.

“Your dad said you chose my name. Tubbo, it's nice. How did you choose it?” the android asked, tilting his head. Michael shrugged, then stood up, reaching into the pockets of his pants. He pulled out something silver, the metal rusted and worn from use. Tubbo took it gently when the boy placed it in his hand. Michael ran out of the room, hugging his chicken as he went.

Tubbo turned the key over in his palm, looking around for something to use it on. A single wooden box sat on one of Michael’s dresser drawers, locked. Tubbo picked the box up- it was light- and inserted the key, twisting it. The lid popped open easily. Swinging it back on its hinges, A bundle of photos and drawn images sat in the box, kept together with a rubber band.

Tubbo scooped the bundle up and took off the rubber band, keeping it around his wrist. The first image was of a family- Schlatt, and unknown woman and Michael, although the child looked considerably different. They all looked different. Schlatt had much rounder cheeks and looked happier. The woman had dark skin and shiny ringlets of black hair. Michael had black hair.

Tubbo put the image on the top of the dresser, looking at the next one. It was a crudely drawn picture- Tubbo recognised it as himself, with Michael standing next to him. They were both smiling. The next was of Michael alone, bleeding from his head and frowning. Tubbo frowned, looking at the next. Michael hid behind Tubbo, with Schlatt in front of both of them.

The last image had Tubbo’s LED flashing a warning red. Tubbo was laid on the floor, one of his arms torn off and dripping with blood. Schlatt stood over him. Michael stood in the far corner, tears on his face. It wasn’t a detailed drawing, but it was enough. Tubbo frowned, looking at the door, and grabbed the images, tying the rubber band over them.

He placed them gently back in the box, locking it. He looked around and slid the key into Michael’s pillow case, hoping it was in a place Schlatt wouldn’t look. Smoothing over his expression, Tubbo stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him, stepping over a dislodged floorboard.

As he made his way down the stairs, Tubbo caught a conversation between Schlatt and Michael. Listening to the warning bells going off in his head, tubbo sped up his descent down the stairs. Michael sat in the nook near the window, playing with his toy chicken.

“What are you doing?” Schlatt asked, pacing back and forth. Michael looked up, his eyes tracking the man’s chest- never the eyes. Schlatt leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest and narrowing his eyes.

“I’m playing,” Michael responded softly, running his hands over the chickens head. He was subtly shielding the chicken away from Schlatt, as if expecting the man to grab it and tear it in half. Schlatt released a disbelieving laugh, running a hand over his face.

“You're playing? I know what you're thinking. You think your dad's a lowlife. Huh? Fucking loser? Can't get a job, take care of his family? Don't you think I tried to make things work? But whatever I do, when someone comes along they just fuck it all up!” he snarled, leaning towards Michael. The child dropped his chicken towards his feet and kicked it away- it skidded across the floor and hit Tubbo’s feet. The android picked it up and hid it behind his back.

“I know what you think of me. You hate me. You hate me don't you?” Schlatt snarled, picking Michael up from his armpits. The boy yelped in alarm, meeting Schlatt’s gaze. “SAY IT! YOU HATE ME! God what am I doing?”

Schlatt placed the boy back down, dropping to his knees and cuddling the boy tightly. Michael was frozen in terror, eyes flicking around the room furiously. Tubbo met his eyes before wincing and looking away.

“I'm sorry honey, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. You know I love you, don't you? You know I love you…” he said quietly, tears in his eyes. Michael hesitantly hugged him back, an emotionless expression on his face. No child should look that hollow. Tubbo looked down at the chicken in his hands.

This was wrong.

Chapter Text

A gentle breeze ran through the park, sending leaves rustling. Birds shivered and curled up in their nests, cuddling against each other for warmth. Humans and androids alike went about their day, some working while others enjoyed the fresh air. An older man sat on a bench, his android next to him.

“Would you like to go home now?” the android inquired, tilting her head. She hesitated to stand from the bench, waiting to see what her human wanted. The human jumped in surprise, a thoughtful look on his face. He breathed in a sigh and smiled, struggling to rise to his feet.

“Yes, Rose… I think that’s enough for one day,” the human said, wheezing slightly. The android- Rose- gently grabbed the man’s forearms, helping him stand up. The man grunted in thanks, smiling serenely. “Thank you, dear.”

Further along in the park, a man was jogging next to his android, panting heavily. The android looked like he had barely ran a mile- androids did not feel tiredness, or a need to pant. They didn’t even need to breathe, they merely did so so they looked more human-like. The man paused his jog, wiping sweat off his brow. “Water. Now.”

The android unstrapped the water bottle at his back, handing it to the human obediently. The man drank without so much as a thank you, his throat bobbing. The android looked over at the human. “You have run twelve miles, and are five miles away from your goal.”

The human threw the bottle and the android caught it in one hand. The human didn’t bother waiting for the android to strap the water bottle back to him, instead continuing jogging. The android hurried to fix the bottle before starting off, his pace fast in order to catch up to the human.

The duo ran past construction workers, a human overseeing working androids. The androids were models designed specifically for road work construction, their outfits dark with neon yellow on the shoulders, down the thighs and around the forearms. The human worker scoffed from where he leaned against his safety sign, scratching plaque off his teeth. “Hurry up, you plastic idiots! I want this done by 4!”

Sitting quietly on a bench with his internal clock ticking by, an android eyed the surrounding area, toying a pile of leaves with his foot. His blue eyes blinked steadily, waiting for the time. He tilted his head back, his LED flashing yellow when a reminder went off in his head. Rising to his feet, he rolled his shoulders and exited the path.

As he walked, he brought to mind the list of to-do’s his owner gave him, looking it over. He scanned the messy handwriting, turning the image over in his head. It was a simple instruction given by his owner. The RK200 waved the image off, continuing on.

[ To Do:
Tommy, remember to buy that paint I ordered please :)
Get home safe! ]

Tommy’s owner was a kind, older man, often forgetful. One of his habits was to send the android lists, even after he had already given instructions. He seemed to forget that androids could only forget things when their memories were actively played around with. Tommy always made sure to check the instructions anyhow.

The park was close to the square, where he would do his shopping. Speeding up a little, Tommy checked the time once more. He hit the square in a matter of minutes, scanning the place. As he walked, he eyed the humans and androids living together. Some humans were kind, others cold.

“Hi,” a human greeted, an awkward smile tugging at her lips. The android she greeted turned to meet her eyed, scanning the woman’s attire. The android held a box out to her, tilting their head. “I-I’m supposed to be working with you today. What do you want me to do with the boxes?”

“These are supposed to be in bay seven,” the android supplied, picking up more boxes and holding them under his biceps. The woman nodded, looking slightly embarrassed to be only holding one box while the android held two.

“Sure, sounds good,” she smiled nervously, turning away. Tommy flicked his gaze away from the two of them, watching as an android and a human pair walk up to a hot dog stand. The vendor brightened at the sight of customers, before he looked at the android. He scowled.

“Hey buddy, I don’t serve androids here,” the vendor snapped. The customer shifted uncomfortably, glancing at his android. The android tilted her head curiously, waiting for instructions from her owner. “Get the android outta here, or you won’t be getting any food.”

“Can you go wait over there, please? I’m sorry,” the man said quietly. His android bowed in acceptance, stepping away from the stand. She trekked off, sitting at a bench under a tree. Tommy turned from the scene, slipping past humans. He didn’t want to get in their way.

Preachers stood in front of the shop Tommy needed to get into. The android scanned his options- push through them, or take the longer route and go around. He checked the time. Tommy quietly walked through the group, walking around the humans in the way. The leader of the preachers stood out front, making a speech.

“Poor sinners! The end is nigh! Retribution is at hand! Technology is corrupting us, technology is Evil! We are playing God by creating machines, but we are not God! We are nothing but dust!” he said, his voice loud to speak above the people in the crowded square. “We make these androids in our own image but they only reflect the darkness in our souls! Verily, I say unto thee, the day shall come when we will have to pay the price for our arrogance! On that day, we shall have to explain our acts of idolatry!”

“We built those androids to be our slaves, but the slaves are becoming the masters. We can no longer live without them. They're in our homes, our schools, our factories, they take our jobs!” the man yelled, earning cries of agreement. “They mind our children! They care for our own! We can no longer live without these slaves obeying our every selfish desire. We prefer to live with machines than with our own kind!”

“Technology is our God now! It was supposed to serve man, but it is becoming our new master! Androids are evil! Man seeks to imitate God by creating life, but what kind of life is this? A life of plastic and metal? A life with no soul? A pale copy of our Creator! The machines are observing us,” he continued, walking back and forth through the people.

Tommy shifted around more people. “They are waiting in the darkness for the right moment to take our place. For it is written: "let us lie in wait for blood. Let us ambush the innocent without cause"! God will not let this happen, no, he will not allow his creation to be led astray by these...these artificial demons! My brethren, we have to turn our backs on sin! We have to burn the androids! Let us burn them all!”

The preacher laid his eyes on Tommy, who met the man’s eyes. The man sneered, looking down his nose at the android. Tommy tilted his head. “Why do you look at me so, demon? I know who you are, I can see through you! You are the one by whom The Evil will come! You are the one who will destroy Detroit!”

Tommy turned away from the man, avoiding him. The preacher watched him go, scowling the whole way. Tommy ducked into Bellini Paints, the face of an android greeting him at the desk. The android scanned him, LED flashing yellow. “Identification verified. Here's your order #847. That'll be $63.99. Please confirm payment.”

Tommy’s own LED flashed yellow, access to his owner’s bank account and confirming that he could pay for the paints. The other android blinked. Tommy tilted his head forwards respectfully. “Payment confirmed.”

“Transaction complete,” the other android nodded, bringing a box of paints from under the counter. He placed it down and Tommy reached for it, tucking the box under his arm. “Enjoy your painting.”

Tommy turned away and exited the store, listening to the musical jungle of the bell. He hoisted the box of paints up higher when they slipped from under his arm with his bouncing steps, watching as a notification popped up in the corner of his vision. Take the bus home.

The android turned in the direction of the bus stop, wind ruffling his hair as he went. He passed by a human couple looking over an advertisement for a brand new model of androids. One of the women was looking at the poster with a thoughtful look, while the other tapped her foot impatiently.

“What’s wrong with the one we have?” the blonde questioned, looking down at her phone before looking up again, meeting her partner’s eyes. The black-haired woman shrugged her shoulders, a pout pulling at her lips.

“There's nothing wrong with it, but,” she started, knocking her knuckles together. “All our friends are getting upgrades and this one can do so much more stuff, see?”

“Maybe. Let's come back this afternoon and see if we still like it, right?” the blonde said, tilting her head pleadingly. The black-haired woman rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, eyes narrowed in annoyance.

“You are so boring.”
Tommy tuned the conversation out, walking through a large group of humans. Some of them were holding signs with different messages on them- messages against androids. Tommy’s LED flashed red before flickering back to blue. He sidled out of the way of a fist when it was launched in the air a tad too enthusiastically. The leader or the group was yelling loudly.

“Androids are stealing our jobs! We've got families to feed and these androids are taking our place! Machines, ladies and gentlemen, are meant to serve us, not to replace us!” he cried, walking back and forth with a sign held in his hand. He looked exhausted and his clothes were ratty.

“YEAH!”

“35% unemployment, millions out of work, are we going to do something?” the leader continued, spurred on with the support of the group. Tommy ducked under another set of arms, gripping the paint more tightly to his underarm.

“YEAH! FUCK, YEAH!”

“We want jobs, not more androids!” the leader snarled, his speech clearly rehearsed. He had faintly smudged writing on his hands just in case he forgot what he was going to say. Tommy scurried behind a pair of humans standing glued to each other’s sides.

“WE - WANT - WORK!”

“We need to ban androids NOW! What do we want?” the leader urged, pacing back and forth in front of the group. His held his sign above his head, the crudely drawn letters reading ‘FUCK ANDROIDS’ with a violently drawn image of an android torn into pieces.

“BAN ANDROIDS!”

“When do we want it?”

“NOW!”

The leader of the group spun around, his gaze trailing past where Tommy stood behind some humans. He tried to hide behind them, but his tall height left his LED exposed and the leader spotted him easily, eyes narrowing and a snarl rising to his face. Tommy checked the time- the bus would be arriving in fifteen minutes.

Attempting to escape the group of protestors, he sped up his pace and ducked out of the way. The leader growled and pushed past the other humans, grabbing onto Tommy’s wrist. The android jerked, but otherwise stilled. He could not cause harm- even by accident- to a human.

“Where the fuck you going, tin can? Hm?” he asked, his eyes narrowing even further. He released Tommy’s wrist and the android instinctively moved to step out of the human’s way. The human followed the movement, blocking his path to the bus. “Hey guys, check it out, we got one of those tin cans here.”

The human shoved his hands against Tommy’s chest and the android fell to the floor, landing flat on his back. His box of paints fell from under his arms and slid out of reach, hitting one of the human’s boots with a thud. The human winced and picked it up, concern in their eyes as they scanned over Tommy.

“Look at this little motherfucker,” a woman sneered, kicking Tommy in the ribs. The android jerked and ran a diagnostic on his body- nothing was damaged. He rose to his knees and scanned the area for the human that took his box of paints. “You steal our jobs, but you can't even stand up.”

The android rose to his feet, straightening his metal spine. He turned in a slow circle, still looking for that one human. His top priority was getting those paints back home. Two humans abruptly latched onto his forearms, dragging him back against the outside wall of a public bathroom.

“Yeah! Yeah! Grab him! Get him down! Get that bum! Yeah, take that on! Take it! Yeah, now you know what it feels like! Go on! Go on!” the protestors cried, sadistic hunger in their eyes. Tommy merely blinked slowly, his mouth set in the unfeeling line it always was.

“You job stealer! Kick him outta here! Yeah! You deserve it!” the woman who kicked him yelled, moving to stand beside the leader, who was cracking his knuckles dramatically. The two humans who gripped the android let him go, moving out of the way for the leader.

Tommy attempted to step away from the wall, but was instantly shoved back again. “You ain't going anywhere. We're gonna fuck your bitch ass up.”

A police officer pushed in front of the protestors, a bored look plastered on his face. He yawned, taking more time than was completely necessary. Some of the protestors scurried away, looking scared.
“Alright, that's enough. Leave it alone.”

“Let us teach this bastard a lesson,” the leader of the protestors growled, tilting his head up to meet the police officer’s gaze. The officer rolled his eyes, fixing the protestor with a dry look. He pulled out a book of fines and a pen as a warning.

“You damage it, I'm gonna have to fine you,” the officer rolled his tongue over his teeth, tapping the pen against the booklet. The leader hesitated, then backed away, curling his hands into furious fists. He pointed a finger at the officer.

“They're gonna take your job next,” the leader snapped. The officer blinked, his eyes flickering over to a nearby police car. An android stood at the side of the car, a model designed to catch criminals. A flicker of fear entered the officer’s face. “We'll see how you like it.”

“Okay. Let's go, move along,” the officer said, placing a hand at Tommy back and pushing him away from the group. The android turned to watch as the officer turned away, walking towards a coffee stand. The android looked at his empty underarm, scanning the area for the human that took the paints. The protestors had dispersed.

“Excuse me!”

Tommy turned his head to look at the teenager that ran up to him, sporting a colourful hoodie. It was mostly purple, although the sleeves were different shades of blue-green and a green swirl pattern was on the chest of the hoodie. He ruffled his brown hair awkwardly, holding out a box.

“This is yours,” the human said, his cheeks lighting up with blush. The android took the box and surveyed it for damage. When he found it was in perfect condition, he turned his attention back to the teeanger, his eyebrows raised. The teeanger must have read it as a question. “If you’re wondering why I helped you… I felt bad.”

The teenager turned to walk away. Looking over his shoulder, his brown eyes narrowed slightly. His eyelashes shone an interesting purple-black. “I sense big things from you, Tommy. There’s death in your future. Lots of it. Prove me wrong.”

The human sprinted off before the android could ask how he knew his name. The android blinked slowly and shrugged off dirt, eyeing his clothes. He pursed his lips- there was a tear in his sleeve, easily fixable. No harm done. Tommy placed the box under his arm once again and walked towards the bus stop.

He looked at his internal clock- five minutes. He rocked back and forth on his feet, peering down the street. The buses were driven by androids so they almost always arrived on time, unless caught in human traffic. Two minutes. Tommy scanned the box of paints in his hand, eyeing the range of colours. One minute.

Placing the box back under his arm again, he watched as the box pulled up to the stop. The doors slid open and the android stepped on, waiting for the other android passengers to move backwards in perfect synchronization, allowing Tommy a place on the box.

His LED went yellow before going a dull blue.