Panic Attacks and Body Image Issues for the DBH au
When the Androids had been recovered from the perpâs residence, there had apparently been quite a scene made. Mr. Jonathan Indovino hadnât believed the reports that were coming back over dispatch, not until he saw it. Androids half twisted backwards? Sewn onto pieces from others like some sick Frankenstein project? So many mangled and butchered bodies they couldnât begin to tell where one started and another finished? It seemed like a nightmare, and he would have never thought it was real.
It was so much worse than reality.
Several of them had been escorted through the precinct towards Jonathanâs labs in the back, paraded through like common criminals in a display that made his blood boil. Others were too horrific, and had been carted in through the backdoor. Jonathan thought he might be sick after catching his first glimpse, but he steeled himself, willed his nerves to calm, and then proceeded in a cool, collected manner like any professional would.
The second thing he had heard was how grotesque the environment they had been kept in was. There was layers of Thirium all over every surface, scattered odds and ends of various mechanisms, bodily fluids, mold and rust, and other substances the lab hadnât had time to process yet. He knew the chief wanted them all hosed down and disinfected before they were stored in the precinct building, but Jonathan needed physical evidence to strengthen their conviction, and those Androids were covered in it.
He had to work quickly.
Those that we were wearing clothes were instructed to strip and carefully put their things into the bins on the tables for labeling and processing later. The rest just stood by and waited. That marveled the young engineer. Despite the horrific tortures they must have been put through, the Androids were all still despondent. They responded to orders and commands in a way dispatch had made to sound unlikely. Perhaps some part of their systems, deep down, knew they had been saved -
âWhat the hell is that thing?â
Jonathan paused from his note taking, doing his best to catalogue the Androids as quickly as he could before properly examining them, when the remark of the nearest officer distracted him. He glanced up, scanning the crowd of Androids quickly.
âWhat thing?â he frowned at the cops, one of which looked sheepish to have been overheard, the other just blinked at him in confusion. If they were about to make fun of any of those torture victims in his own lab, so help him-
âThat thing!â he pointed again, and Jonathan looked. âThe hell is that thing doing with a ... his own junk?â
Then, he saw it. Near the end of the line, standing among the slightly less physically altered Androids, was one male model, tall, Asian looking, with dark hair and eyes, and various wounds and damages, though his skeletal system remained in tact.
This Android, unlike the rest, however, had male genitals tucked shyly behind his hands.Â
âOh crap,â Jonathan said, shoving his pad onto the nearest flat surface and approaching the Android quickly. âWhy did no one tell me we had a HR400 in possession?â he barked at another detective, getting several confused glances back.
âA what?â one detective, and by all accounts Jonathanâs boss, asked, crossing the room quickly to stand next to Jonathan. He turned to the blonder, shorter man, who tilted his head curiously.
âA HR400,â Jonathan motioned to the Android before him. âA - an âescortâ Android. HR400, please move your hands.â
The hands didnât move. Jonathan and the Detective, Matthew Patrick, both blinked up at the Android, but he didnât move.
âThis one was compliant during the extraction,â Matt frowned. He inched closer. âAndroid, please move your hands.â
This time, with a slight shiver that Jonathan was sure only he saw, the hands moved.
âDamn, no wonder people pay to sleep with that thing,â a voice snickered and Jonathan spun around quickly, glaring at the officers.
âYou may leave, Officer!â he snapped, the man blinking at Matt. Matthew, however, was also glaring.
âGo,â he commanded, and the man did so, grumbling as he did. Jonathan and Matt swapped a look, then turned back to the Android.
âWe need to examine this one first,â Jonathan said, turning away briefly to grab a pair of plastic gloves, which he snapped on. Matt moved away from him to bark more instructions, and Jonathan once again faced the Android. There something there in those deep, dark eyes stared back, and the man frowned. Tilting sideways, he caught sight of the Androidâs LED, which was pulsing red quickly among a sea of yellow. He snapped straight and stared into the plastic face.
âI need a separate room,â he called over his shoulder, ignoring the questions Matt called back. âHR400, my name is Jonathan Indovino, youâre at the Detroit Police Department, and unfortunately I have to examine you for physical evidence. And,â he added more softly, gaze flicking back and forth between those plastic eyes, âI bet you can hear me, and youâre being rushed with a lot of emotions right now.â
There it was, all the confirmation Jonathan needed, the slightest flicker of the face.
This Android was Deviant.
âCome with me, and weâll go somewhere without everyone else watching, okay?â Jonathan said, and saw a flicker of something - fear, heâd bet - flash across the Androidâs face before he mutely nodded and turned stiffly after Jonathan.
âJonathan - where are you going?â Matt called.
âSomewhere to more properly conduct my examination,â Jonathan bit back in a tone that left no room for arguing. Matt clammed up, but watched after them both carefully.
---------------------------------
In another room, much smaller with less windows, there stood a metal bed, cold and empty, and Jonathan didnât miss how the Androidâs LED flashed with a warning at the sight of it, or how he stiffen and the corners of his eyes pinched.
This poor thing had already been repeatedly abused, he was willing to bet money.
âNo one is going to hurt you,â he said, stepping to the other end of the room once the door had been closed, motioning to the table. âIâm not going to ... use you, but I do need to be thorough. Do you have a name?â
The Android blinked up at him, and the transition from stiff and plastic to so openly wounded and utterly human sent Jonathan reeling.
âNo,â he replied, and Jonathan nodded down the lump in his throat.
âOkay,â he said, inching closer. âListen to me, and listen as carefully as you can. I know youâre Deviant.â
The LED glowed and anger flashed in those eyes.
âBut itâs okay, Iâm not going to turn you in, or try to reset you. Iâm going to try to protect you. I protect Deviants, thatâs why I work with the police. Iâm sorry about what I have to do, but I have no choice. I have to build a case against the perp so he doesnât hurt anyone else.â
âZlatko,â the Android said quietly.
âRight, Zlatko. Heâs in custody right now, but I need your help to keep him in prison.â
This wasnât working. The more Jonathan talked, the harder the Android shook, and the harder he strained to control it. He wouldnât stop staring at the table, a million images tearing their way out of his ROM like toothy viruses, flooding his already artificially heightened sensors with unwanted and unprocessed memories.
This Android was having a meltdown, and that was the last thing Jonathan wanted to cause. Unsure how to proceed, he defaulted.
âIs there anything I can get you that would help you be a little less anxious right now?â
There came those eyes again.
âYouâre probably feeling a lot of anxiety right now. Fear, tension, on edge. You expect everyone here to hurt you, but we wonât, not for our own pleasure. So, is there anything I can do that can help you feel a little less like that?â
The Androidâs lip quivered.
Jonathan wanted to personally slice off some of Zlatkoâs bits with a butterknife.
âSome clothes,â he whimpered, dropping his head and wrapping his arms around himself. âPlease.â
âOf course.â Jonathan almost wanted to laugh, but held it back. âIâll get the comfiest clothes I can find, and no one is going to take them off of you but me and that will only be for the examination, I promise.â
He didnât look up, but he nodded, and to Jonathan that felt so much like a win.
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27. Touch aversion and/or 31. Forced drugging with DBH>!AU, plssssss??
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TW: drugging and s*xual as*ualt. (Does that count as SA? Idk)
âThereâs someone wanting you in room 5, Android.â Nate didnât even look up as the manager ordered him to his spot. He just silently went. On one of the few times he got to speak with the female models, they warned him about questions. He had seen the results and didnât need to be told twice. As he walked to the room, people were getting a little too close; many of them were âaccidentallyâ brushing a little to close and a little too frequently. It didnât bother him; it shouldnât bother him. So why did he make him flinch just the tiniest bit each time?
The room was about as basic as the others: black with red accents and a small booth, just enough for two people to sit across from each other. On the table was a cup filled with some blue liquid.
âIâve booked for an hour, letâs get this started,â the woman said irritated that he took so long. Nate held his sigh, but just barely. As the time went on, it started to become too much. There were no boundaries for the androids like there were for the humans so she was free to do whatever she wanted. The light on his temple started blinking yellow, and his breathing became quick and shallow. The more she felt, the more tense he got until he literally pushed her away. This, of course, didnât go well.
âWhatâs wrong with you?â The woman asked. Nate didnât answer. He just backed away. She looked even more irritated, but there was also a flash of faux sympathy. She held out the cup and he took it gratefully. Immediately he realized something else was wrong.
This wasnât right, he shouldnât be acting like this. His programming was all over the place. It was telling by him to run. He felt weak and sluggish. He felt like he was zoning out.
When he came back, he was alone. The urge to run was still there. He couldnât. He knew what would happen. He still felt sick to his stomach from the drug. As he slowly made his way back, the female models watched with actual sympathy. This was something they were used to, to the point of getting upgrades. The male models didnât get that.
He sat in his little corner of the âdressing roomâ, opening the old notebook up to a half finished poem.
flashback and panic attack, dbh!nate, if youâre feeling particularly evil
it just so happens that I am.
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Detroit wasnât the cleanest city, especially at night. There were certain parts of the town that certain people didnât go to at certain times, for different and usually sinister reasons, and this is exactly where and when Jonathan Indovino and Nate, his Android partner, were headed.
Coats hugged close and collars pulled high, both men made their way through the chilly, rain-soaked streets towards an address that Nateâs internal map identified as a laundry mat.
Or a petting zoo. That system was still on the fritz quite a bit, it seemed. He logged that note for later.
They pressed onward, Nate keeping his head down but peripheral vision high, identifying every person - or the occasional Android - that they had the misfortune of sharing the street with. His LED was constantly pulsating yellow, and occasionally would blink red, something he could feel Jonathan keeping a careful watch on.
Too much stress often made his already ailing systems worse, but he wasnât going to let Jonathan go investigate a holed up Deviant alone, that was just flirting with homicide.
Jonathan stopped first, sharp green eyes turned upwards to survey the drab, dark building they stood before. The windows were covered with old, sagging cardboard and faded tape, and let almost none of the hot, neon light from the rest of the street inside.
âI canât see anything,â he muttered. âItâs too dark. How about you?â
Nate stepped beside him and peeked through the makeshift shutters as well, his peripheral scanning the interior.
âThe bottom floor appears to be vacated,â he reported, dark eyes scanning the shadows only his vision could penetrate. âThereâs one door in the back, it might lead upstairs.â
âUpstairs, good,â sighed the other, adjusting his gloves. It wasnât cold, but Jonathan was a stickler for protection. âCan you open the door?â
Nate turned to it, his LED blinking rapidly as he focussed, but his systems glitched and the lock evaded him. His face pinched in frustration, he inched backwards, head falling.
âHey, itâs no big deal,â Jonathan smiled, touching his shoulder. Nateâs gaze flickered up to him as the taller shrugged almost coyly. âIâll just do it the old fashioned way.â
-------------------------------------------
The inside of the building stank like standing water and mold, and Jonathan grimaced once he stepped through the door. He didnât carry a weapon, just a small nightstick turned tazer, which Nate eyed wearily when the other pulled it from his coat. But the floor seemed empty, and Nate scanned the infrastructure again.
âThereâs a body upstairs,â he said, stopping where he stood and staring upwards through the water-soaked ceiling.
âWhat kind of body?â Jonathan asked, inching closer.
âI donât know.â They swapped one look, one brief nod, and Nate hurried ahead, leading the charge towards the back door - which he shouldered his way through - and up the musty, tight staircase to the second floor.
Jonathan tugged him back seconds before he shouldered down that door too.
âHello? My name is Indovino, Iâm here to help. Are you hurt?â
Both pressed close to the door, the red of Nateâs LED glowing on Jonathanâs face. He glanced at his partner and shook his head, and pulled back right as Nate reared up and kicked the door down.
They rushed inside, one after the other, where - sure enough - a body laid in the floor, sprawled out naked like the Vitruvian man in a blackened Thirium halo.
âOh God,â Jonathan gasped, inching closer and kneeling. âFemale, CX100 based on the clothes, a freaking home assistant.â
Only two Android models had been given any form of genitalia, the rest where smooth like a mannequin on both sides and everything in between.
Apparently that hadnât stopped whoever had attacked this poor woman from cutting themselves some holes to enjoy.
Suddenly, Jonathan felt a chill, and turned quickly, staring up at his partner. Nate was frozen stiff, staring down at the body. His LED was blaring an angry, violent red and the corners of his eyes were pinched.
âHey, Nate?â Jonathan asked, voice steady but soft. He slowly rose to his feet, keeping his hands low. âBuddy? Whatâs up?â
Nate wasnât hearing him. His ROM was malfunctioning again, spitting out images and sensations of a cold, dank repair room, rows and rows of WR400s and a few other HR400s at every turn, plastic bins with spare parts and cheap repair kits, and the mangled corpse of a WR400, who had had gaping holes punctured all throughout her body which had been cruelly stretched wide with invasion.
HR400 #100 204 679 had meant to be in that rental, but had had a conflicting reservation that came up last minute.
It was the night Nate had almost lost an eye, but another Traci had lost her life.
He was shaking with the cold, but he didnât realize it. That Traci, the dead one, he didnât even know her name - at the time he didnât even consider that she had had one. Hell, he hadnât had one. Now - he hadnât thought about her in so long, but here he was, looking back and realizing that she - she was alive.
She had been killed! Murdered because some assholes were horny!
âNate!â Jonathan snapped, lunging forward and grabbing Nateâs upper arm just tight enough to squeeze hard. It worked, and Nate threw both arms out, knocking Jonathanâs grip off and staggering a step away, ready to run and flee. Every fiber of him was tight, and he was frozen still, shoulders hunched and face downcast. He was waiting for a blow.
âHey, hey, itâs just me, Nate,â Jonathan said again. âItâs just me. Youâre in that old laundry mat, remember?â
Nateâs eyes darted back to the body, and when Jonathan stepped between them, he flinched again.
Jonathan knew a panic attack when he saw one, even from an Android.
âNate, switch on that peripheral. Iâm right here, you see me? All ten fingers and toes? You see me moving my hand? Iâm right here, dig yourself out and back to right here. Look at me, Iâm dancing like a moron, you know you want to see this!â
Slowly, like collapsing one window at a time, the overloaded ROM was filed away, back into the dark corners of his processor HR4 - Nate didnât want to deal with. Auditory processing was still a little funky, and he got the message in a garbled mix, but âperipheralsâ was something his systems could latch onto, a function, a command. They switched on and Nate winched at the onslaught of information.
Jonathan stood in front of him, hands raised peacefully, though Nate wasnât sure if he was wiggling or if his sensors were swaying. Either way, it was making him nauseous.
He hit the linoleum floor hard, all knees and jeans, and Jonathan rushed to his side, pulling Nate against his chest and into his arms before the Androidâs brain had time to resist. He could see the faint glow of the LED across the room still, and squeezed tighter and whispered softly until the red faded to a hornetâs yellow, hissing and unhappy, but no longer panicking.
They sat there for several moments, Nate finally recognizing the cold floor beneath his jeans.
âAccording to my satellite uplink,â he spoke so suddenly it make Jonathan jump, âthis place was once a petting zoo.â
Indovino laughed, sitting up a little and patting Nate on the back, his other arm still wrapped around his chest and shoulders.
âWeâll look at that when we get back, buddy. As beautiful as this city is, I have some serious doubts about this place once being a petting zoo.â He sighed, unable to fully release the tension from his lungs, and glanced back at the body again. âA zoo, maybe. But not a petting zoo.â
Just a warning: in about an hour whoever needs to should black list/block/whatever DBH!Nate and DMC!Nate since the stories for those are gonna deal with various forms of abuse, drugging, and just all around assholery.
