#abrilliantlie

     Red light flickers at his temple as the taxi nears his destination. Though he knows it’s irrational, there is a deep fear that comes with the familiar sight. He shouldn’t be afraid. As far as he knew, the Lieutenant and he had been on good terms. It was only the... unfortunate incident which caused this uncertainty. For all he knew, Hank would be happy to see him.

     But the Lieutenant had killed him.

     Briefly. He, as any android, had the ability to be repaired even after such severe damage. He was fortunate that Cyberlife hadn’t thought to dismantle him immediately. Though he was uncertain how he had left the warehouse, he was repaired. It should be fine.

     It should be fine.

     A mantra that repeats throughout his processes as he nears the Chicken Feed. But as he exits the taxi, his LED continues to circle red. Danger. He stops briefly in his step to disable that thought process. Yellow. Conflicting inputs.  Far less distracting.

     It is the owner of the food truck that notices Connor first, pausing in his delivery of Hank’s high-calorie usual.

“Edmund, you’re uniform’s all wrinkled.” Like a father, Reg steps close to the other man, smoothing his hands over Edmund’s jacket. There was something OFF about it. Something that felt like it had been UNINTENTIONAL. Trace amounts of dirt were embedded into the blue fabric and Edmund had yet to meet his eyes. Was his delivery boy HIDING something from him? Did someone ROUGH HIM UP? TRY TO BULLY HIM?

His hands lower.

Reg needed the truth.

“Eddie, ya know you can tell me anything, right? I want ta know if anyone out in the village has been being ROUGH on ya.”  Edmund was GOOD. He was good at his job and even dear Constable Bacon enjoyed the delivery boy’s company. Regardless if the work was tough or not, he did his BEST. And Reg was PROUD of him.

    Ares   ;   she knew of him, old myths passed down on tongues, down to the pages of that dog-eared, split-backed book she’d kept on the shelf with all the others, perusing slow beneath thin bedsheets by light of the torch whose gleam threatened to die did she not hit the sun back into it every ten minutes  on the dot.  Ares, unrestrained harbinger of war, every bit as untamed as the man with whom she’d come to associate the name. Faith thought of no myths now when those syllables caressed her ears. No, no myths.

     Only him.

     Protector to protected, heftily beloved. His presence meant safety, for she knew he’d die before he allowed any harm to come to her  ...  in a way, that made her feel more violently helpless. What if he was not there ?  Faith announced her presence soft, a gentle trace of fingertips across his back as from behind she rounded to front, tentative to ask,

     ❝  Can you teach me ?  ❞

    Tone as gentle as the rest of her pretended to be.

     ❝  How to defend myself, I mean. With the Deputy ...  ❞

     IT sits up, stretching out long limbs before shaking about, causing the bells on ITs white suit to jingle about. Big bright blues, flickering open, light headlights in the dark. Trapping the other within them as red lips part and soon pull up into a smile. Showing off bucked teeth,  

                                    “Have... you come to play?”