Ian's parents were murdered. The culprit isn't human-he's a robot.
Androids used to be Ian's passion. Now, he sees them as mindless killing machines to be feared.
After Ian's adoptive family kick him out for being transgender, Ian finds himself home...
When we finally exit the infirmary, the rain that had once stopped is pouring out onto the streets once more. I shiver. I'm still wearing the hoodie I passed out in, and even though I'm generally not one to sweat when it's literally freezing outside, it turns out being feverish made all the difference. Who would have known.
My eyebrow twitches. This sucks. I take the damned thing off. Gilbert gives me a strange look as we continue to walk towards the underside of a bridge not too far away from here, where he parked his car a few hours ago.
I don't count how many seconds pass, but the jacket is on my shoulders again in probably less than a minute. "Fucking cold..." I mutter, as another quiver gets the best of me.
"You are cold?"
Fucking android...
"No, absolutely not—" I scoff. "God only knows what gave you that idea."
"Oh." Gilbert pauses in his tracks. He seems to shrink in on himself as he bows, briefly, before regaining my side. "I'm very sorry for the misunderstanding, Sir."
My shoulders tense as I listen to his nonsense; I know I'm repeating myself, but... fucking android.
The wind rises.
We arrive at the bridge. Now that I'm getting a better look at it, I finally notice its moss-covered wall is tagged with a bunch of graffiti and anti-Assistant slogans.
FUCK ASSISTANTS. FUCK SCIENTISTS TOO. FUCK YOU.
YOU'LL KILL US ALL.
STEEL-BLOODED MURDERERS.
DIE.
It takes me a moment to realize Gilbert's reading everything along with me. Although it's hard to truly tell what signals his programming's sending to him in this moment, his lips are parted in a mournful gape. As his dark hair continues to be drenched by the clouds above, there is sorrow in the way his brows are knitted together, and his eyes twitch ever so slightly, as if he were trying to blink out tears, when he cannot.
I wait.
I wait.
I wait; a minute passes, then two. I sneeze. I'm on the verge of telling him we should go, but he beats me to it. "Is it true, what they say, Sir?" Gilbert's voice is the smallest I've ever heard it be. He does not sound like the typical android you could find in Exia's shopping centers. He sounds... weak.
Devastated.
Human.
I shake my head. I immediately limp towards his car. There's no use in debating on whether or not his feelings are true. I already know the answer. They're not. They never will be. He's not like me. He thinks he feels, but it's only his programming telling him to say it.
"It's only true if you want it to be," I mutter, because deep down, maybe I'd like to believe that's the case, too.
I never wanted us to be enemies.
I never wanted this.
But do we even have a choice now?
A sharp pain travels up my leg. I wince. I shouldn't have tried to go so fast.The medic said the fever's just a cold. Apparently, the cut's temporary, too, and needs no further attending to; however, I'll be out for at least a good few days, and I admit I'd rather have avoided that, since it's going to make navigating Exia's outskirts as Rogue Zero a real pain in the ass. "Fuck," I curse under my breath. "I long for the day when people who aren't dying will also have access to painkillers."
"Sir?" Gilbert tenses. He sounds upset.
I snap my head toward him. "What?" I huff, then narrow my eyes. "I swear, if you ask me one more time about how I'm doing, I will take that finger of yours and shove it into your—"
Gilbert doesn't let me finish. He tackles me to the ground. And I wonder, even if it was only for a short while, was I wrong to trust him, after all?
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