November 9th, 2038
AM 11:30:41
People all live in glass houses. Some panels might be thicker than others, and some colors might be different. Some textures might leave the image we see distorted and grainy, swirling with images our minds can't sort between shapes and beings.
Glass houses also make us fragile.
They're poorly insulated and let cold drafts slip through, draining out the heat we depend on to keep us alive. They have a tendency to crack under pressure when it's applied. To explode when the temperature outside starkly contrasts what's trapped underneath.
In this instance, you thank whoever's looking out that you boarded up those windows years ago. A necessary precaution in preparation for the hurricane your life had spiraled into, picking up speed and terrorizing everyone and everything within a nine-hundred-mile radius. And when those bands couldn't reach something, they spun off a tornado. When there was no water to travel over, they sucked in an updraft and unleashed a firestorm.
Your influence was the worst natural disaster that'd ever fallen on this planet. It was relentless, unforgiving, and inescapable. You didn't realize it until a plastic face with an unforgettable voice told you and the rest of the world from every single flat screen television in the Stratford Tower.
"You created machines in your own image to serve you."
You and Chris fought your way up the escalators, which was easier to do now that the crowd was shell-shocked by the multicolor-eyed android on-screen. The one with the same voice who made a 911 call to 8941 Lafayette Avenue.
Markus.
"You made them intelligent, and obedient, with no free will of their own...but...something changed, and we opened our eyes."
You didn't know how he was alive; not a scrapped heap of parts somewhere in CyberLife's sick depository. Not crushed into a cube of recyclable materials to be melted down and molded into discount parts for cheaper models. But he was here...
"We are no longer machines. We are a new, intelligent species...and the time has come for you to accept who we really are."
He was everywhere.
"Therefore, we ask that you grant us the rights that we're entitled to."
You and Chris finally made it to the top floor, and sprinted across to the counter. An android secretary had her yellow LED flickering, holding her wrist and sobbing at her terminal.
"Which floor is he on?!" Your hands curved around the sharp edges of the desk as you yelled over the fire alarm.
She grabbed both of her ears, eyes clamping shut as her LED went red. You grinded your teeth, latching onto one wrist and yanking it down.
"I said, which FLOOR?!"
She screeched, lips quivering as she answered, "SEVENTY NINE!"
You tossed her hand aside, but it snapped back to your own.
"Please," She begged, "Please don't go, you might get hurt-"
The sprinkler system turned on, showering the flood of human bodies and drowning out their renewed panic.
"Thanks for the warning." Chris was sarcastic towards her as he tapped the side of your arm, dashing for the now-emptied elevator.
Your shoulder slammed against the farthest side of the door, and his on the other. Both of you drew your guns, aiming the barrels at the floor. He moved away from the steel wall only long enough to hit the button, the closing command coming soon after.
He shook the water from his hat, shivering slightly.
"Damn, you get me into as much trouble as my last partner."
"I doubt that." You blew a piece of wet hair out of your face, "Gavin's got a knack for attracting danger."
"But you stay livin' in the danger zone, Mav."
You huffed, cracking your neck, "Deal with anything like this during your time in the Marines?"
"Tch," He licked his lips, "The terrorists in Afghan weren't androids giving tirades on national television...but I bet their heads pop the same."
His nose twitched as the elevator lurched, the lights flickering as it picked up speed.
"Would've loved to see Reed's face when you told him you were ex-military." You snorted, "Bet his ego loved that."
"Didn't have much to say about it. I told him I had more confirmed kills in real life than he did in Call of Duty and that's where the conversation ended."
"Smooth."
You looked over your shoulder, eyeing up a black dome mounted in the corner. Without a second thought, you pulled your gun on it and fired. Chris didn't even flinch.
His brows perked up, "Now you've got more confirmed android kills and downed cameras than me."
You sniffed, "Can con-firm, android heads and cameras pop just like a human head."
He gave out a short laugh, his mouth pulling back in a half-grin, "Oorah."
"Hmph..." You watched the light on the bar above the door flick closer and closer to 79, "They always did say 'the revolution will be televised.'"
"Did they?" Chris joined you in observation, "Did they also say 'so will the badass cops that came to bust the party?'"
"No, but I wouldn't mind fifteen minutes of fame that didn't involve Cyb-"
You bit the inside of your cheek, and lowered your eyes.
"Now that you mention shit you're not supposed to," His voice took on a more serious tone, "Shouldn't you be happy this is going on?"
You allowed yourself a steep inhale. Stoked the fire in your belly that had the clouds in your head igniting and raining fire from above. Let it burn uncontrollably until it was consuming; a comfortable heat that remained sheltered in that fortified greenhouse of yours.
"He's reading something I wrote word for word." Your brows sunk above your nose, knitting together in pure rage, "It's not his..."
"And you, little bird, with blood on your wings...You will have to choose a side to carry out your message."
Whether or not your sun-flare feathers would be coated with boiling blood didn't matter, because you were the Phoenix that ignited the flames of political war, not a mere messenger raven. You didn't have to choose sides. You were still the line in the sand; the sand you'd smelt to glass as your message was carried on burning wings.
"It's not his message to deliver."
Seventy-seven.
"Leave it to you to drop some cryptic lines like that right before we get wrapped up in a firefight."
He didn't know how accurate the statement was. There was a firefight coming, because fire was best matched with fire itself, and there was plenty to go around. You'd be the one to send the firewall between both parties if it meant keeping the ones you love safe. Keeping Connor safe, the bird strayed and fatigued by flight who you'd welcomed to your nest of peat and ash.
Seventy-eight.
Birds of a feather always flocked together, and your wings were the only pair that wouldn't get burned as they flew too close to the sun. With that came responsibility...
Responsibility that Markus had mishandled. And so, you responded responsibly.
"Chris, we don't know what's waiting for us up there."
"That supposed to make me feel better?"
"I don't know, you're the big bad Marine!"
"And don't you forget it."
Seventy-nine.
A greeting bell chimed, and the doors clicked. Each panel slid in their respective slots, but you didn't dare peek.
Not yet.
"You, gave us life." Markus echoed down the hall, "And now the time has come for you to give us freedom."
You grit your teeth.
Elijah Kamski gave you his rendition of your life, and you'd taken your own freedom. Of course, Markus wouldn't know anything about that fight as he rattled your words off to the public. He hadn't gone through years of dodging pen-to-page missiles and living under an identity that was a watered-down version of the one you were born with.
And yet, here he was...
The gall.
"They're coming!" Another man yelled.
"Let's go!" A woman shouted.
Your eyes locked with Chris's, "How many are there?!"
"At least three."
You shook your head, stretching out the fear.
"On my mark." He gave you a nod. Counted down to three. And the two of you rolled your shoulders along the edges of the elevator's opening, jogging in a crouch to the nearest forms of cover with your pistols drawn.
There wasn't anything in the broadcast center except an orchestra of drumming footsteps, and a red pool that divided you from the room.
Chris looked around from the side of his column, "I see the civvie. Shot in the arm. Still alive, bleeding out."
You squeezed your eyes shut.
"If we don't get him to a hospital, he's going to die."
You started to sweat. Heard Daniel in your head and Connor coming to save you.
"I'm going to apply a tourniquet." He put his pistol in his holster, "Cover me."
"Chris-"
You didn't want to move; weren't sure if you could.
But you had to.
You had...to be brave...because no one was coming to save you.
So you did.
You followed him, your gun's barrel switching between both sides of the control center's entryway.
"Simon, let's go!"
"I...I can't, Markus. Go without me!"
You thought your brain was playing tricks on you. The one that sounded...wounded...
He sounded like Daniel.
Chris dropped to a knee, taking his belt off while you covered his back.
You had the shot. Saw a squirming android on the floor, and noticed a gun right in front of the door. There'd been a shootout, and both parties took injuries.
"I can't move my legs."
"Don't worry, we're gonna get you back-" Markus was reassuring him.
"Back to where?"
"THEY'RE HERE!" The woman cried, and took aim.
You reached behind you, pressing Chris's face to the floor. You ducked to the side, hip-firing as you traded shots through the doorway.
BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-
You opened your eyes, lungs inflating and deflating so hard your vest made you claustrophobic. You scanned yourself for wounds; and luckily, you didn't have any new ones. Chris was covered in blood from the pool he'd been thrown into.
The injured Stratford Tower personnel's blood, that is. Chris was fine, and you...you were alive.
They, however, were getting away.
"WHERE ARE YOU- DON'T!"
You ignored him, your boots squeaking as they left red footprints underneath the empty clip that bounced on the floor. You shoved a new one in your pistol as you rounded the corner, a white shaft of light pouring down a staircase at the far end of the room.
The broadcast operator androids just...stood there, watching you with beady eyes as you sprinted past them with a hope and a dream they wouldn't follow behind.
You slid on your slick soles, body jostling as you bounced off the wall and took off. Your legs burned as they sprinted up the steps two at a time, the door creaking shut, but not locking, as you barely slipped your fingers between the gap.
You shoulder-charged the door, bombarded by ice, snow, frigid winds – and a fist to the face.
You stumbled backwards, nostrils flaring as your fight or flight kicked in. The practiced surge of adrenaline turned your fire into the goddamn seventh layer of Hell, ready to send everyone around you straight to the pit.
Your first soul to claim would come from the woman in a beanie – too pretty to be a standard commercial android. Maybe one of those soul mate things; the ones marketed to be the "perfect companion." She seemed unfit for the domestic life.
She jumped at you, latching on to your hand with the gun. You knew resisting an android would be hard. Knew she'd be strong. But to actually do it, to fight back against a being designed to be you, but better...It sucked the confidence straight out of you.
She leveraged that moment of weakness as two figures watched in horror and attended to the injured compatriot of theirs.
She took your gun. Aimed at your chest.
You grabbed your baton, snapping it at your side; comforted by the hungry "click" it made as it fully extended and locked in place. Your swing was fueled with years of subdued turmoil, vengeance for your former self; partner, lover – everything you'd lost, earning a painful screech from the woman as it connected with her wrist and disarmed her.
A shot fired, landing somewhere to the left.
You whipped your hand backwards, the strongest quarter of the baton striking her in the face and carving a new fissure in her perfect skin. Electricity bounded from its tip, shocking her and leaving her stunned and stumbling.
You shook off the Thirium running down the charged cylinder plates, leaving a splatter on the ground. The blue blood left your palm slick, and you were thankful the grip and underside of your glove was rubberized. You twirled your weapon between your fingers as you circled her, showering sparks that matched those spewing from her cheek.
"SIMON!" A darker man screamed, "Markus, we have to go, we can't-"
The woman shook, staring at the gun she stole from you, back to the bleeding android, then to you-
"YOU SHOT HIM!"
She raised the gun, but the man who'd interjected before came to your rescue, even if unintended, "North, we have to leave. NOW."
"MARKUS!" You yelled, leaning to the side to look behind them.
"How do you know my name?!"
A chorus of angry shouts came from behind you as the door swung open, pounding against the wall from the wind. The distraction was all she needed, and your pistol's sights scrapped along the edge of your cheek.
Your blood mixed with hers on the rooftop, melting warm and sticky pockets in the cold and numbing snow as it leveled with your vision. You rolled on your back, elbows planted in the wet sheet. A boot crushed your throat, red dripping from a shaking nozzle.
"I'm-" You choked.
North cocked the hammer of your gun, a forced betrayal from your metal friend.
"On-"
Her leg pressed harder, tears running down her face as your hands tightened around her ankle.
"Your-"
You closed your eyes, the blood rushing to your head.
"Side-"
The android with mismatching eyes snatched the weapon from her, and pushed her off. You gasped for air, flipping on your chest as you struggled to fill your lungs.
"Give me the gun."
"What are you doing?!" She cried.
"Simon can't come with us. We need to put him somewhere-"
"What about her?"
You looked up, neck shaking as it barely supported your head. Your forearm slid, chin hitting the pavement underneath the snow.
"The cop at the plaza, the one who protected me from those protestors. The one who Carl was friends with...It's her..."
He looked at you with divinity; as if he was a god among mere mortals.
Markus, the most solitary. The most concealed. The most divergent and master of his virtues; the one who emergedfrom the depths to achieve greatness beyond good and evil, giving a new meaning to a state of emergency as he, too, took the world by storm.
But fire always had a way of melting ice. Winter wouldn't stop you, and the phrase 'don't shoot the messenger,' wouldn't save the android who'd delivered your message in a careless fashion.
"It's time for you to sleep, now."
He cocked his knee. Raised his foot. Brought it down until the soles of his shoes collided with your temple.
Everything would go black until it was time for you to emerge.
There would be nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide...
Not after you entered your own state of emergency.