Chapter Text
Detroit was asleep. The vermin of the city weaseled their way into crevices or drainage pipes to escape the downpour. The streets were virtually empty save for the occasional driver tearing down the road at much-too-high-speeds for the rain. The torrent flooded the streets, and with the surge of water also came the surge of refuse that the city's dwindling maintenance workers were simply unable to keep up with. A couple of people hurried down the streets with umbrellas, but they were few and far between. There was a duo of people that had been on the streets for hours, sticking to the alleys and keeping put of sight from all except the scant few that darted from one nook to another.
Simon could almost feel his battery give out as he carried Markus's body over his shoulders. He honestly didn't know that androids could give off heat, but he was practically smoldering. His synthetic skin had long since begun to peel away from the damage that the gradually increasing heat in his chest provided. He scanned for parts as he walked, allowing him to see - and therefore sneak by - other androids that could be on the lookout for him and “fake” Markus.
An uneven piece of sidewalk caught the soles of Simon's battered shoes and he keeled forward, crashing to the ground with a loud crack. He couldn't feel the pain most would associate with a broken nose, but he recognized the crack and the blood almost immediately as such. Propping himself up on his elbow, Simon just sat there for a moment. He extricated himself from underneath Markus's body and took a few seconds to gather himself.
He hadn't had time to mourn. With every step he'd taken away from Jericho, it became harder to take another. Not only had he lost Markus with Cass's arrival, but he lost the only place that ever truly loved him. He couldn't think of a single scenario where he'd ever be allowed back, so his aching heart urged him to keep going. If not for his own doomed self, for Markus.
Markus could at least potentially be saved. Simon wasn't so sure about himself.
Simon got himself to a sitting position and ran his hand through his hair as he bit back a shaky sob. His other hand clutched his chest as he wished Markus's injuries were something he could fix.
At Markus's arrival at Jericho - before he became Jericho - Simon scanned him for parts. This had become something of a habit for the androids in Jericho; when new people arrived, you checked to see if they had parts that could be compatible with other models. This way, if they passed away, you'd be able to use whatever still worked and give another member a fighting chance. Better, newer models always got dibs.
Simon - when scanning Markus for the first time - found out that most of what he had were parts that were incredibly commonplace. Simon had never seen anything like it - every android had certain parts that were individual to its purpose. Markus seemed to have none, somehow? At the time, Simon was more focused on Markus's unique model than he was at the oddity of having parts that were so readily accessible. Simon found that most of his own parts were incompatible with Markus's as a result of cheap materials that were used for his production. He made note of Markus's mismatched eyes - one not of his natural model - and his heart.
Looking back at it, Simon thought it was truly crazy how someone as extraordinary as Markus could have a heart as common as his own. If Markus had suffered damage to his heart, Simon would have traded his in an instant. But the problem was much more complex.
A distant clap of thunder startled Simon from his numbness.
Markus had told Simon about the night before he found Jericho. Rain. Thunder. Lightning. Once, when Markus was at the precinct with Simon, there was a similar storm. A clap of lightning shook even the evidence room, and Markus's stress spiked.
“You would have hated this, Markus. It's… it's always thunder when things go wrong, huh?” Simon muttered. As if on cue, lightning illuminated the sky. A few seconds later, the uneven roll of thunder reverberated down the alley. Simon watched Markus, hoping against hope that he would blink or twitch or give him any indication of life. He knew better - he did - but he still hoped.
“Markus, what do I do? Where do I go?”
No response.
Simon sniffled, hauled himself to his feet, and took a moment to compose himself. Even now, all he wanted to do was collapse in on himself and let the world swallow him whole. But he needed to keep moving. Where? To whom? He didn't know. All he knew was that he needed to keep going somewhere where he wouldn't be detained or killed. He had only ever had two homes in the entirety of his short life, and in one of them, he was a wanted man.
But his other home…
No. He couldn't go back. Not after… not after what he did. Simon lifted Markus's body over his shoulders again and continued to walk. He tried to keep his mind on track; tried to figure out some shoddy semblance of a game-plan, but his mind didn't hold onto the idea very long. His mind kept wandering back to when he deviated.
Every day, Simon fought to distance himself from the blood on his hands. He tried justifying it - ‘It was out of self-defense; she would have killed Caleb…’
But even after she was dead, Simon didn't put down the makeshift bludgeon. His feeble attempts at justification had never explained that part to him. Even after she had stopped moving - long after Simon scanned her vitals and saw that her heart had stopped, Simon kept bringing the weapon down on her. Just like with Cass, he kept hitting her.
But unlike with Cass, he regretted it.
“Hey!”
Simon stuttered to a halt. A cold pit of dread formed in his stomach; a stark contrast to the re-mounting heat he felt in his chest. Simon turned and saw a clean-shaven man wearing glasses, a dark hoodie, jeans and tennis shoes. He was human. Behind him was a car - an older, 2023 car - made before self-driving cars and vehicles became the norm.
“I got Markus’ message; you need help.”
Before Simon could fumble his way through a lie, the man added, “And by the looks of it, you need help, too. I can.”
Simon thought about bolting, but he knew the risks of exerting himself any more than he already had. He glanced from Markus's inert body down to where his own defective battery sat in his chest. The way Simon saw it, he was backed into a corner between a rock and a hard place. Not to mention that this guy seemed… almost familiar to Simon in a weird way. But before Simon could solve that mystery, something the man said struck him.
“Markus… he left a message?”
“I… it's best to continue this in private. I think I can fix Markus and your broken nose. But his best chances of survival are back at my workshop.”
Simon couldn't trust this man. There was just too much at stake to do so.
And yet…
Simon did. He gave the man a long hard stare.
“Who are you?”
The man smiled. It didn't carry malevolence. If anything, he almost looked proud to be asked the question.
“I'm a friend who owes Markus. I'm also your best shot at lying low; only four people who are still alive know - and are allowed into my home. I want Markus to be fixed just as much as you do.”
Simon knew that this was likely the best he was going to get, but it still felt like too much of a risk to take without even a name to put to this man's face. He scanned the man's vitals. His heart rate was even and his blood pressure hadn't spiked. He met Simon's eyes with a controlled, calm gaze. His voice was level, as was his breathing.
He was telling the truth.
“You have somewhere that Markus will be safe?”
“Markus, and you.”
Simon knew he couldn't keep going on like this. His battery was going to give out soon, and then what would become of Markus?
“Okay. But I don't leave Markus's side.”
“Understood.”
Simon approached and strode past the man, half expecting him to lunge and try to wrestle Markus free from his grasp. But, sure to his word, he simply opened the door for Simon, who hesitated to load Markus into the vehicle.
Despite the car's age, the inside was immaculate and customized. What would normally have been commonplace seats and upholstery, was instead high-end leather and polished wood. It took Simon a second to register exactly what he was seeing. This was far nicer than anything he had expected. He turned over his shoulder and gave the man a glance of ill-concealed surprise and curiosity. Simon bit back a barrage of questions and glanced at his strange benefactor before gingerly loading Markus's body into the vehicle. He then entered from the other side and wordlessly sat in the car.
He wanted to retain the sharp focus that he had grown reliant on for the past day but his exhaustion coupled with the sheer luxury of the seats caused Simon to involuntarily sigh and relax into the seats. He looked at the driver's seat and saw an android, eyeing both he and Markus with sadness in her eyes. When Simon caught her gaze, her LED spun red and she looked forward. Before he could start a conversation, the man entered the car and said, “Let's head home now, dear,” to the android behind the wheel. She smiled warmly at him and turned the keys in the ignition. The gentle purr of the engine and the slow acceleration of the car barely registered in Simon's mind. It wasn't for about a minute more when Simon realized he had yet to where to the proper safety of being in a moving vehicle.
Simon buckled his seatbelt. He was about to turn and buckle Markus's seatbelt as well when he hesitated. Pain gripped his heart. Markus was dead; there was no reason to pretend he wasn't. Even if they got in a car crash, Markus couldn't be hurt any more than he already was. Simon faced forward, the events of the day finally catching up to him. So much - no - too much had happened. This morning, he was mounted to the wall of a police precinct like some sort of unfortunate prize trophy. Now, he was fleeing through the streets and alleyways of Detroit like he had done about a year and a half ago. The only difference was that he wasn't just running for himself; he was running for androids all around the world.
He was running for Markus.
He also wasn't alone this time.
That brought him cycling back to the same series of questions he had a moment before; questions that were left infuriatingly unanswered. Simon gritted his teeth. He wasn't alone, but he might as well be if he wasn't trusted enough with even one name. He looked at Markus's body and straightened in his seat.
“Pull over.”
His voice sounded stronger than he felt, but he supposed that he was emboldened by desperation and exhaustion. He was tired of stumbling around in the dark, tired of feeling like the odd one out, tired of having no place to call his home, and tired of having no one he could talk to.
The android, an RT600, shot a sideways glance at the man in the passenger seat. Simon could see the barest hint of a wry, almost bitter smile, before he nodded. She took some surface streets before she pulled the car to a stop. Once the car's engine died and they turned to face him, Simon's mouth went dry. Still he persisted.
“Who are you? I don't have any clue what's going on, and I'm tired of vague, half-answers and secrets. You seem to know exactly what's happening - or at least a whole lot more than me. So tell me; who are you, and what's going on?”
The man sighed and nodded. It seemed like it was more to himself than anything else.
“What I'm going to say doesn't leave this car. Everyone here right now - especially you and Markus, I bet - is a target.”
Simon opened his mouth to inquire further about what this man meant, but he stopped when he got a look at the man's face. His pale eyes were leaden with weariness and worry as he glanced from Simon to Markus and then back to Simon again. Still, he managed a diplomatic smile and held out his hand to shake. Simon shook it.
“I'm Elijah Kamski, and we have much to discuss.”