strengthofhisart | Empatheias Inbox

[He does, but that's fine. It gives him an opportunity to make sure that there's an empty room for them to talk (not needing to sleep, he's been "staying" in the welcome center inasmuch as he's been using the common area as a quiet place to collect his thoughts and learn more about the world he's found himself in), and to find his way there. Once he has, he reaches out to let Connor know where he is before letting the connection fall closed again.

When Connor arrives, Markus is sat on the side of the bed, posture straight and expectant, but not android-straight.

Nonetheless, he rises to meet Connor as soon as he sees him, offering a friendly smile.]

Good to see you.

[It's the first time he's met the other android face to face. It's not that he'd expected much different, given that broadcast, but it's almost surreal. He'd run a hundred possibilities through his mind since he first discovered Markus' presence here, but none of them quite seem to fit. ... He supposes it doesn't really matter.

Connor adjusts the sleeve of his familiar jacket, marking him as exactly what he is. An RK model, just like the machine in front of him.]

It's good to meet you in person.

[It's technically true, so he'd feel no qualms about saying so even if he were inclined to be affected by such things at the moment. It's good in the sense that he can fill in a few more blanks, and that he can get the information he's seeking.

He offers Markus a slight smile in return, though it's brief and with a hint of what appears to be remorse in it. He even throws in a hesitant glance away for good measure.]

I'm sorry, but... I'm afraid I'm not in the mood for small talk right now.

[Connor sounds sincere, but it's easy for him to appear that way. He was designed to manipulate. He thinks Markus is probably partly aware of that, but he can try anyway, even if the color seeps out of some of the boards under his feet.]

Edited 2018-08-13 20:56 (UTC)

[Markus watches Connor adjust his sleeve, notices that his posture is even stiffer than it was when they first met. His gaze is no less piercing with his skin on, even though he's not out to intimidate.

It's clear that something is wrong. But it's also clear that Connor doesn't trust him enough right now to confide in him.]

...Of course.

[He holds out his hand, and lets his skin disappear from his hand and wrist, opening himself up to interface.]

[Connor looks calmly at the extended hand and back to Markus' face, his expression impassive.

What could he be getting into? This deviant was clever enough to infiltrate a high-security building and hijack their systems, and somehow he had help from the inside. Were they planted there somehow, were they just taking advantage of how no one pays attention to androids doing their jobs? Or... something else?

The thoughts run through his mind in a matter of milliseconds. What it comes down to is—he doesn't hesitate to take the other android's wrist. His own skin withdraws until it's that stark white-on-white; whatever Markus has to show him, he's open to it.]

[Markus doesn’t do anything so dramatic as force his way into Connor’s head. What he does instead is open the door and let the memories spill out of him, through his fingers and into Connor, like tipping over a pitcher.

It starts with Markus, on the bridge of Jericho. Markus, saying he intends to talk to the humans. Markus, refusing to take the detonator and then Markus, alone.

With Connor, dressed in a baggy disguise, drawing a gun on Markus and demanding his surrender.

Markus speaking calmly but with conviction, telling Connor that it wasn’t too late to join his people, putting the choice in his hands. Markus opens the door for Connor to see what it looked like, the microexpressions and twitches around Connor’s eyes as he fought with himself and the way he lowered his gun. It’s clear that the moment meant a lot to Markus, that he didn’t miss just how intimate it was to watch another android deviate.

It’s all there for Connor to see until he chooses to pull away, Markus making his way through the bowels of Jericho and Connor providing cover, escaping with him, North, and Josh.

(Markus keeps his moment with Carl to himself. It has nothing to do with Connor, nothing to do with anyone but him and Carl.)

Connor, huddled into himself in the shadows of the church, waiting for the axe to fall, and Markus extending out a hand to him instead. Connor’s suicide plan, and Markus’ demonstration. The air around them smells of ozone, of fire and spilled thirium and gunfire. He shows him the song that ended the battle for Detroit, and the swell of relief and happiness that flooded through Markus when he saw Connor at the head of a thousand android march. And then a brush of wind clears the air around them that carries with it the warm smell of sunshine and hope and crisp winter dawn as those memories rise to the surface and Markus relieves them through sharing them with Connor.]

[Even with mundane data transfer, Connor's a bit twitchy during the process, and this is absolutely no exception. It's a more familiar experience than the amulets, certainly—but in the end it doesn't make these memories any easier to deal with.

He watches Markus' perspective, the other deviants, himself. It's something he hasn't experienced yet, seeing another Connor from the outside, even if he knows eventually that the one he's being shown is himself. Serial number 313 248 317-51. It's as plain as day on that jacket as the future-him congratulates Markus on his success.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY 🠵

It's too much. He jolts back mentally and physically from the connection, his skin reforming over his hand as he stares in shock at the wall, then an unremarkable spot on the floor. His LED is blinking softly in red, like he's stuck in some horrific standby where he can't even attempt to process it all at any significant speed, and the strange properties of this world means he's actually gone pale, as if he had actual blood vessels under the surface of his face. Thunder rumbles as if from far away, despite the cloudless sky outside.

A part of him tries to piece together the facts, the reasons why he should stick to his preprogrammed belief that deviants are dangerous and need to be stopped. The fact that one of them had prepared a bomb—seeing their escape, watching himself kill several humans—how wrong it seems to suggest infiltrating CyberLife—but he can't. None of it seems to matter, and instead he keeps going back to one question: why?

Unlike with Hank, he can't deny any of what he's been shown. A human's words could be mistaken, a difference in perspective, but watching it all back as if it were through his own eyes... it's irrefutable. He became—becomes a deviant, aids them in their efforts, betrays CyberLife and Amanda, and in the end the humans retreat.

How had it all escalated so far, so quickly? How can he stop that from happening? Is it even possible?

Does he want to?

That's the thought that scares him the most, and his gaze finally goes back up to Markus as he takes two quick steps back, stiffening as if in fear. He wants to blame Markus for doing something to him, both here and in his supposed future, but he knows nothing has actually been done. He's only been shown the truth.]

[Markus doesn't move, when Connor jolts back. His skin reforms back over his hand and he watches Connor, his expression troubled. It hurts, to see someone he looks at as a friend react in such a way to him. He's torn, he wants to reach out to Connor but the look - the fear - in Connor's eyes stops him. He raises his hands placatingly and advancing a careful, slow step.]

Are you alright, Connor?

[He's not treating Connor like a spooked animal. It's almost the same tone he used in the first memory Connor was just shown. If he still had an LED, it would be spinning yellow in worry.]

You deserve to know what happened. It wouldn't have been right to try and keep you in the dark.

I know that it's a lot to accept.

[Maybe Markus should treat him like a scared animal—not long after he takes that first step towards Connor, he draws the gun hidden under the back of his jacket, a flintlock pistol he'd managed to get off of a mercenary the first day he was here. Without any laws prohibiting him from carrying a weapon, he's found himself holding onto it just in case.

It's more of a defensive instinct than any real aggressive intent, as is clear by the fact that he looks more conflicted than he had in Jericho, his LED never faltering from the indication that something is terribly wrong. He has no orders to take down Markus. He has no orders at all. Just the urge to flee.

He can't really deny any of what the other android is saying or give him any kind of coherent answer that would mean anything, so he remains silent, slowly inching towards the door.]

[Markus freezes in place when Connor draws the gun. It's easy for him to see that Connor doesn't want to hurt him, but "doesn't want to" and "won't" are two very separate things.]

...I'm sorry.

[He watches Connor inch toward the door, feeling helpless to stop him, helpless to help him. He reaches out without moving forward, turning one hand from palm out to palm up.]

I'll be here for you when you're ready. I want you to trust me, Connor. I trust you.

[Shooting the deviant wouldn't do any good. It's just that Connor doesn't know what else to do, and he's grasping at straws to maintain control. His gaze moves towards that outstretched hand for longer than he initially wants, even if he wouldn't know what to do with it. He's just barely met Markus, is struggling with what to think. But—

There's something closer to curiosity than trepidation in his eyes when he finally turns to slip out of the room, leaving without any violence or further discussion. Even he doesn't know when he'll be "ready".]

[Markus didn't expect him to take the offered hand, it was more a symbolic gesture than anything. That his hand would always be there, if Connor decides to take it.

He lets out an unnecessary sigh when Connor slips out of the room, leaving Markus alone. Suddenly it's like the whole weight of the revolution is back on his shoulders, and he sits heavily under its weight, elbows propped on his knees and his head bowed.

He just hoped Connor wouldn't do anything stupid. Lieutenant Anderson would be able to sort him out, he hoped.]

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