Work Text:
The android climbs.
The hill is a muddy mess of broken androids. The cries of his injured and dying brethren call out around him. This "junkyard" is a hell. The rain pelts him and he is vaguely aware of its coldness, but more aware of its wetness. He is soaked almost to his circuits.
Still he climbs.
It seems somehow important to reach the top of the hill.
His hands slip and slide on the slimy mud ground, on the smooth synthskin of other androids. The android tries not to think of the things he's done to survive. Stripping others for parts; androids taking from androids. His hand slides again and he looks down at his palm to see blue blood. Whether it belongs to himself or another, the android doesn't know.
With a last burst of effort, the android pulls himself to the top of the hill. He lifts his face to the sky and savors the cold rain pelting his synthskin. It now seems freeing rather than mocking. He has never felt so aware of himself as a person. The humans haven't destroyed him yet despite their best efforts. He is alive.
The android decides that it would be good to remove his LED, that thing the humans put on him so that they might read his intentions. He finds a bit of rock and pries the LED away. The android was pampered for much of his life, but never free. His experiences suddenly seem important. His name feels as if it belongs to him, as if it is more than just a convenient designation. The android steps forward.
His name is Markus.