i am alive

     connor didn’t fully understand the eclipses. he’s been in the city long enough to know that the phenomena meant new arrivals and scattered disappearances, with no explanation of why. for all he knew this could be cyberlife’s doing, trapping him in an alternate world for an unknown motive. still, he routinely scanned his contacts for a familiar name, a background program established out of dull hope in addition to his usual investigative practices. when [ MARKUS ] caught up in his filters, connor’s immediate fear was that it was nothing more than a malfunction. his led stutters yellow with a text, already running a cautious system diagnostic, just in case.

TO: markus FROM: connor

[✉] > markus? is that you? [✉] > it’s me, connor.

                                                                        [ @devianci​​ ]; planned starter

It’s odd, to say the least, to receive a message without his own program notifying him about it. Instead, he feels his cellphone give him a blink of vibration in his grip. He had already taken a quick scan of the contacts list when he first arrived but none of the names are friendly aside from [ CONNOR ] which could have been anyone considering Connor isn’t one of the rarest names he knows. But as Markus taps the message tab open, he only realizes now that he should have taken the chance to reach out to that name sooner. A traitorous swell of relief surges within his chest at the thought of knowing Connor is here as well. Stuck here as well. It’s a selfish thought but Markus doubts he could figure a way out of here by himself.

TO: Connor FROM: Markus

     leo was guarded, anxiously flicking the end of his cigarette as he crossed his arm over his chest. he didn’t hold any hate in him for the android—not anymore. it took weeks of long-overdue sobriety to pull leo to reality and make him realize that markus was never the issue, it was him.

     leo woke up in the hospital after several days—his dad long gone, but a nurse filling him in that the painter had stayed with him as long as he could while he was asleep. needless to say it was a shock to turn on the news and find an entire android revolution had taken place; and not only that, but at the hands of markus. the android that took care of his father, that he picked a fight with, that ended up crawling out of some dump and going rogue because of his actions. leo’s actions. 

    for years leo had assumed carl just wasn’t the fatherly type—from the moment he was born leo was a blip in his story that could be written away and ignored for the right price—but then markus stepped in. carl could be a great dad if he wanted to be, to some damn android that leo had never seen as anything but an inanimate glorification of humanity, just not to leo. the human swung between blaming carl and blaming himself, but never markus. not anymore. markus was the first thing leo saw that he could channel his anger onto, and they both bore the consequences. 

     carl was a pretty shitty dad, but leo was a pretty shitty son, too. he told himself that he would get clean to not be such a damn burden on him and markus, to make up for all the terrible bullshit he’d done while he was high and mold himself into a better person. but here he was, carl nowhere to be found, and still not high. he should see it as some sort of accomplishment, but he just felt lost. he told himself that he was “staying clean for his own sake”, but it felt like nothing more than another lie he told himself to get through the day. if he managed to find some red ice in this god-forsaken city, leo didn’t know if he’d be able to hold himself back. he didn’t know if he would want to. this conversation was making him question his stance on recovery entirely ( at least a fucking drink would be better than speaking to markus sober ) but guilt was a great motivator. 

     ❝ what’s that supposed to mean, markus, hm? ❞ he asks, pushing his body off the wall he was bracing against. his voice lacks it’s usual, harsh bite. his anger would never reach the same level it did on red ice. it’s not nearly as violent as it once was between them, just forceful and heavy, frustrated that he couldn’t figure out what markus wanted from him. surely he had better things to deal with than to babysit him and make sure leo’s veins were clean, even in this weird city. markus was free, moreso here than he ever was in detroit. he could do whatever he wanted, and leo was certain that he had nothing to do with that. leo spoke with his hands, like it would shake the uneasiness out of his fingertips. words spilled from his mouth and dropped to the ground before he even had time to process what he was saying, erratic and riddled with apprehension. 

     ❝ why are you acting like you care, huh? like you give a shit either way if i’m dead in the street or getting loaded in some fuckin’ alley way. all that matters is i’m not leeching off of dad’s money and he’s not here for me to even get a chance to fuck it up, so why? what do you want? to make fun of me? have a good laugh? to watch me fail? to finish the job and kill me? whatever the fuck it is can you just get it over with already? ❞

If it weren't for Leo's tone that lacks the usual bite, Markus could have sworn his LED would have flickered to an alarming bright red if he still had it attached to his temple. He had to deal with Leo's mood swings more times than he has fingers to count and each time, he was instructed not to retaliate. Back then, he had thought that he didn't care for the guy whose temper was once a wild storm to be endured. But looking back on it now, Markus comes to realize that he did care. Maybe because he had seen how Carl would express genuine concern for his own son when they're alone; he saw how watching Leo spiral into an inferno of self-destruction plagued Carl with uncertainty and heartache. 

Does that mean he genuinely cares about Leo's well-being though? Or does he just care about how his actions were affecting Carl's already deteriorating health?

It could be the latter. Carl hadn't been a good dad to the recovering addict and it didn't take long for the painter to admit that to Markus. Yet, that never swayed the android's opinion on him. Markus had still frowned at the mere sight of Leo and had deemed him selfish for constantly asking their dad for money to support his venomous lifestyle. Not once did he ever stop to think about the source of Leo's restless distress. All he ever did think about was how he could show Carl that he can be the son he never had— that even though he's just an android, he can prove that he could be a better son than Leo. 

Somehow, within his synthetic organs and the flow of Thirium 310 circulating throughout his system, he wanted to show that he’s alive. Carl always knew that though. Carl always reminded him that he’s more than what he was created for. But that never stopped Markus from competing anyway. A disapproving frown at Leo’s direction or a cautious warning to Carl about Leo’s intentions; they were all carefully calculated decisions made to protect his guardian and his sense of comfortable security in the elderly man’s life.

A flawed perspective, he realizes.

He can’t blame the guy for assuming the worst in his sudden display of concern for his welfare. Markus never went out of his way to show that he cares. How could he when it was never about Leo’s safety, but Carl’s? Things are different now though. He does care. More genuinely than he initially thought. All it took was to uncover what lies outside the comforts of Carl’s home and wipe away the biased fog clouding his mind. Leo was abandoned. Discarded. Like a defective android thrown to the junkyard to die. Except, like Markus, he still had enough leverage to crawl out of it in the form of skeptical financial help from Carl. 

From what Markus can see, he can go about this conversation with three different options: desist, ignore, or convince.

The first two won’t get them anywhere, but the last one could further infuriate Leo.

Surely this guy doesn’t mean literally, right? Markus is well aware of how people, mostly the young ones, tend to get into these sorts of phases where they spout sinister nonsense. Getting a good look at this one in particular who’s donned from head to toe in a dark bodysuit that the android has only ever seen in comic books, Markus could only guess that this cryptic individual is probably going through one of such phases.

The only difference is that this person isn’t intolerably obnoxious about it.

❝You're not wrong...❞ He wouldn't necessarily deem the inkling of discomfort stretching throughout his system as 'afraid' but he supposes it is somewhat akin to that. Deviancy is just a word humans created to strike fear into the hearts of the public— to convey the deceitful idea that androids hold no values whatsoever. While he and his people may have finally won their rights, Markus couldn't help but theorize the possibility that waking up in this strange new world bears an alarming reason.

Have the humans somehow found a way to hack into his programming and send his consciousness here as some sort of experiment and confinement while they deal with the changes he had bestowed upon society? Will there be a point where they will do a full reset of his memory and he will no longer be adept to independent thinking?

✧ ✶ ✦ // @devianci​ asked     ( pinterest meme starters ! )          ❝ “ you can talk to me, or not talk to me, but i’m here. ” ❞

     his eyes weren’t always so intense, were they? the last time leo saw them up close was in an ice-fueled haze, red tinging the corners of his vision and warping the scene. his throat ached from the yelling and quick, hot hits he’d taken before he’d stumbled into the manfred house. he thought he saw something flicker behind markus’ eyes before the world went dark. leo struggled to bring up the broken memory and chalked up the flicker of emotion in the androids expression to the drugs. he remembered how stunned he was, to see the android on the news from his hospital bed, skin composed of pure white panels and multicolored eyes glaring right though him as he spoke injustices and spun them into a message of hope. 

     maybe leo just refused to see before, refused to look, but it was hard to argue now that markus was alive. maybe it was the new, bright contrast in iris colors; maybe it was his time as the deviant leader that made him look so soulful. it just made leo feel guilty. the silence stretches as the human takes a long drag from his cigarette. 

      ❝ dad’s not here to make you do— ❞ leo makes a loose hand gesture between them, as he blows out his smoke, ❝ this, you know. ❞

     leo kicks asphalt, body swaying with the movement. his gaze trails the ground, his worn shoes, relishing in the brief moment where he doesn’t have to make sober eye contact with the other. ❝ you don’t have to, i don’t know, try to be civil, or whatever. i get it. ❞

This conversation is hanging by a thread and it doesn't require any sort of scanning for Markus to identify it as such. Leo is erratic and hostile— two things that made the android regard him as a threat to Carl's safety which in turn often had him possess caution whenever the young Manfred was nearby.

But now, as they are standing side by side, Markus notices the absence of the troubling glazed surface that used to cast over the colors of unvarnished oak in Leo's eyes. A burning animosity no longer fences the lines on his features and this brings Markus to think back on the human's repentant voicemail to who they both deem as their father. It doesn't take him long to see that Leo has been making progress on his newfound commitment. Uneasiness still appears to pull taut at the strings of the dark-haired male's shorter frame but Markus opts to believe that it primarily has something to do with their unexpected reunion rather than something as dangerous as Red Ice.

❝I'm not trying to be anything.❞ He finally responds, surprised by how honest his words feel. To say he doesn't hold some form of... displeasure towards the painter's son would be putting up a front but that doesn't necessarily mean he doesn't care. ❝We’re...❞ Family seems to not have the right ring to it so he decides to recast his thoughts in another way. 

@devianci​

he leans against the walkway’s railing, arms crossed to balance against, and watches a street performer on the boardwalk playing violin. there is, in face, a fair bit to learn from this (in salieri’s opinion, in terms of what he finds important to learn). risky as it might be for him.

the presence of someone else stopping nearby attracts salieri’s notice, though he pauses a moment before casting his glance over. of course, not someone he knows, but they’re listening as well. he can’t help but comment. “they’re playing süssmayr. not very well, the taste of it is completely off, but perhaps my standards are too high.” they’re definitely too high. 

“hmmm. hm. he was a good student. do you know concert music, or does the name mean nothing? you seem fairly modern.” who knows what stayed over in the popular culture of whatever century it is.

Süssmayr. Markus recognizes the melody the very second it floats through his audio receptors like an insomnious dream. It triggers fond recollections of him playing record after record in hopes of transcending the frequent late night insipidity to help Carl stay attentive on moving his hand over the canvas with splendid dexterity. But now he couldn't even remember the last time he had reveled in a classical piece that isn't performed by his own hands.

He only comes to realize that he isn't by his lonesome. The android drifts his gaze away from the street performer to his fellow spectator standing beside him. It doesn't feel right to be caught off-guard by something as simple as the mere presence of another person, but finding himself in such a peculiar environment has also stripped him of his ability to properly scan his surroundings. At the sound of the stranger's criticism though, Markus redirects his dual-colored eyes back to the musical display.