#actuallyitscocaptain

                                                                                   Being out sucked.

Yeah, he was smart, but sports weren't his thing; even with how strong he was and how strong he looked, he hated being tied to such a demanding schedule. Plus, he knew where he wouldn't be welcome.

Teachers were more his friends than his peers. Danny would always spend lunches in the band room or the robotics lab, way beyond legos; more like interacting with his veritable zoo (more like kindergarten) of prototype AI personalities, watching them learn, leaving little tidbits for them to absorb later. The school kept it a secret; the last thing Danny needed, other than to continue to be ostracized, was to be scooped up by some alphabet agency and converted toward weapons development.

                                  His latest project, though.

A chassis.

Human-like as could be, built with materials his rich parents acquired, since they were in and on board with the school system when it came to the delicate balance between fostering Danny's abilities and putting a shining "KIDNAP ME" beacon on his skull, visible from orbit.

Danny was a fan of Frank Herbet's Dune series; and he recognized and understood the importance of sexuality, so he left nothing out of the design. Complete simulated reproductive system. Responsive. Effective.

       He may or may not have tested the specifics on the occasional lonely night.

SC-077 was the name he engraved on the hip, using a method akin to modern interpretations of scarification. Big, bold, black letters weren't what he wanted to impose, as they're objectifying. A scar is something that may be undesirable, but it shows character, strength, potential. Survival.

Then, he needed to pick one of the AI's he'd been nurturing. The chassis without a personality is just a glorified sex toy robot; and what was the point of making a human-like body without a human-like personality to fit into it? (To call one of his AI's humanlike would be presumptuous, but he was hoping.)

Dawn of the Final Day was here; He'd chosen one of his earlier constructed personalities-- a goofball with the potential for a slut-streak. Maybe he was thinking wishfully, maybe he was imposing his own will on the creation, or maybe his given reasoning of "it's the most complex and developed personality I've attempted to orchestrate" actually rang with meaning.

No matter which way you sliced it, the cord was running out of the space immediately behind SC-077's (Scott, for ease of pronunciation) right ear, and the upload was underway.

[ he catches Scott's lingering eye as soon as his shirt's in his hands; maybe the angling was a little too perfect, hanging lights casting shadows from the ridges of his expansive chest and toned stomach ]

Do I have permission?

All it took was a thought in question and his mind was filled with visions; vengeance, protection, holy fervor and fury, flames.

Do I have permission?

A bit louder the second time, but Danny shook it off just like before, not quite understanding. He'd get a day or two to himself.

Do I have permission?

No, he thought back, getting angrier and angrier with each repetition, always the same. Days turned into weeks.

Do I have permission?

Sure, the fear was still there; always lingering under the surface, spiking when Scott was around, which seemed to bring the voice out more than anything else.

Do I have permission?

Then, with pointedly-not-fucking-Derek at his back, and Scott on his phone for the first time in months, Danny almost lost faith in himself and in the world enough to say yes.