Yes. And he’s my roommate. We’re from the same world.
[The circumstances regarding their, ah, relationship to each other back home is another matter entirely, but Markus doesn’t dip his proverbial toes in that deep end of the pool.]
He worked with law enforcement. Something of an investigator — I’m sure forensics is in his wheelhouse, too.
[ ah, the two androids made human. same world, same flat. it all tracks. ]
And we've no shortage of crimes to investigate, so I'll be sure to follow-up with him. Though I got the impression there'd be no "takebacks" on befriending him, anyway.
[ he's so... keen... ]
Does that make him the person who fusses over you?
[That is, in fact, a little misleading. Connor hovers, while Markus feels crushing responsibility for him. It’s a two-way street of different types of fussing.]
But you’re right about that, too; once a friend, it’s a permanent position. I guess I don’t have to introduce you at all.
I'm flattered you considered me worth introducing at all.
[ he'd dodged the earlier compliment, but it should be acknowledged. Sharing ones friends isn't a given. ]
Reckon you've met my friends from home already. Katelin's from my uni days. Daisy's a friend from work. And Daisy will come around, if she had a bit of trouble with you at the start.
[ her exact message regarding Markus had been "I ran into things like it here," so he thinks it fair to assume their first encounter was tainted by team SHIELD's prior android issues. ]
[A bit of trouble. He remembers that first meeting, a snide remark regarding what he was — On a scale of, like, one-to-ten, how much do you want to murder the entire human race? — that has his brow cinching at the recollection, the tension at the time so utterly tangible.
A slight delay, a few seconds of consideration. Thinking.]
Right. Okay. That makes it sound worse than it was. Not that it wasn't bad. It was. But it was my fingerprints all over it, okay? Me and another of the programmers. We were the problem, not the androids.
[After their talk of Ophelia, that day they walked under the dappled light of the sky park, Markus had been grateful to gain what information he could from Fitz. There was a faraway solidarity to be had in discussion about AI sentience, and how it might adjust to the newness of a human body. It ran parallel, he thought, to his own circumstances. And that was comforting at the time.
Now, he’s realizing how much context he might have actually lacked. How there might have been great holes of omission that he was oblivious to, strolling right past them in a haze of ignorance.]
When we spoke before, you mentioned an inability to deviate from core tenants without outside assistance. Are you choosing to shoulder the blame as a result?
[That being said, a far more important follow up—]
[ he's a goddamn rocket scientist. it shouldn't be this hard, either. ]
In the first instance, it was the programming. My mentor changed the code, built duplicates of people without telling me, and set them against myself and my team. I checked the internal logs. I know that's what happened. Human intervention, not deviation.
[ a pause, then. the first instance had been exempted entirely from their talk, irrelevant compared to the latter — but he omitted a great deal from the former, too. ]
In the second instance, Ophelia knew what she was doing. I don't know for how long. Much longer than I'd thought, when we first spoke.
[ precisely because of what they spoke about, even. ]
Can we talk in person? Please, I'll answer any questions that you have.
[Two instances, two entirely differently results. But the second is confirmation of Ophelia acting of her own accord — sentience, and something hard to take the blame for if she possessed her own free will.
But he’s still missing context. Fitz didn’t exactly answer the question of “what happened”.
Markus is tired, sore, and mentally wrung through. But he wants to know.]
[And there's really not much more to be said than that. Markus wills his body to move with its usual expediency (that comes with a little more difficulty given how sore he still feels after Hell Day), and true to his word, he makes his way to the sky park.
It's the same bench he'll be found seated upon whenever Fitz arrives, looking about as well as the last time they saw each other -- like he's been in a fight, bruises along his jawline starting to change color. At least the swelling around his lip has gone down.]
[ Fitz rocks up after Markus, the same as the first time. After they went their separate ways on the day of the outbreak, his injuries escalated. Bandages cover his right hand and criss-cross around his neck, with visible bruises up and down his arms, exposed by the short-sleeve button down. It's too hot to bother with anything else, least of all when he's on sick leave.
His mouth quirks downward, the tell that he isn't looking forward to this, despite asking Markus to talk in person. He skims over his friend (*pending approval), taking in his state of injury and recovery, brows creased with worry. ]
Hey. [ Fitz doesn't sit, looking down at his feet even as he makes a vague gesture with his bandaged hand. ] I didn't realise it went that badly — with Daisy, I mean. I should've said something sooner.
[ which is still not what this is about, but he's stalling. ]
Funny, how despite the discomfort that their burgeoning conversation promises, the first thing that flits across Markus’ tired face is concern. Tired concern that's tainted with the shadow of a difficult discussion to come, granted — but never does he want to see the other man in such a state. Bandages around the hand and the neck, bruises adorning his arm.
Markus swallows, straightening. He wears a plain maroon t-shirt and dark jeans, and even the latter might be proving too warm for this weather.]
...Her knee-jerk impression of me wasn’t a kind one, but we left it as a misunderstanding. Still, it’s hard to forget her exact words when the implication of murder is so clear.
[That being said, he moves to stand. They can walk, just like last time, along the same path — with unfortunate experiences under their belts that they couldn’t hope to have guessed at before.]
What happened to you after we split up?
[Where did you get all those injuries, Fitz. This is the first question he’ll ask.]
What a fine day, as ever, to be discussing the implication of murder and the precarious history of androids. Fitz falls into step, slower than the last time, largely due to his general wear and tear. ]
Ah, well, y'know. [ he makes an uncertain noise, knowing full well dodging a question early on would be a waste of his get-out-of-jail-free card, if he even has any left. ] Bar fight, hostage situation. [ he rolls his shoulder and winces, forgetting the bruising there. ]
Daisy and I had a productive discussion about all this [ He motions between them, indicating the reason they've dragged their sorry arses out in public. ] while she was under the influence. [ his tone tips from dry into weary. ] And it would seem I'm a skilled provocateur, after all.
[ Two trained field agents facing off in an enclosed space never ends well. Fitz is grateful it wasn't Bobbi 'cause he'd be a dead man, in that case. ]
We'll work it out. [ Fitz and Daisy — well, Fitz and Markus, too, he hopes. ] You never shared how you got your shiners.
The sun is harsher than the last time they were here, walking at a slower pace down the same gently curving path. Markus hooks a thumb into a pocket as they walk, a misleadingly casual gesture that doesn’t reflect at all how he feels — but this android, forever cognizant of the perception of others, doesn’t allow himself to fidget, or for anxiety to twist itself up on his features. Only a straight back, a steady gait, and a tone of voice that’s adopted something even, stern, but still allowing for worry.
Bar fight. Hostage situation. And a conflict with a friend over heated difference of opinion (over what they were here to talk about, at that).
The latter sounds painfully familiar.]
I’m sorry to hear it, and I hope that you do manage to... heal the relationship between the two of you.
[Ah, the question is reflected in turn, and Markus’ jaw tightens.]
To begin with? A fight with Connor. Over points of contention regarding the situation between ourselves back home. You can blame the sickness for that.
[Vague? Maybe. But he feels justified in allowing it for himself, if just for now.]
Afterwards, my mood was less than flattering. It didn’t take much for me to find myself in other altercations without much provocation.
[ They're at opposite ends of the spectrum, with Fitz's nervous energy metered out by twisting hands and gestures. A lack of eye contact. The jitteriness that comes from lack of sleep has permeated his waking hours.
And yet here Markus is, offering well wishes and personal details. Markus and Connor's relationship remains a mystery to Fitz — obviously close, inevitably bound by shared circumstances, but the details elude him. Points of contention aren't surprising, given their differing ways of presenting themselves, but he still wonders about them now. Markus had talked about loss as a motivator for change, and androids being the ones to help him. He still wants to puzzle that out. ]
Not at all like how you are normally, then. [ a mild reassurance, offering with sudden attention. That wasn't you. ] I hope you haven't had any trouble after the fact.
[He turns his head slightly to meet Fitz’s attention, blue and green eyes sharp with focus.]
Not at all, no, and not how I’d ever want to be again.
[He’s dealt with mending what had threatened to be broken between the two of them. An understanding that who they were that day is never who they want to be, even if the potential existed. Yet it doesn’t make the memory of it easier. Doesn’t keep the guilt perpetually asleep, sometimes rising up and still raking its claws across the interior of his ribs.]
The worst of us, coming to the surface. Anger, violence, a lack of self-control to keep it all mitigated. Having felt wronged.
[For a moment, only the sound of concurrent footsteps down the trail.]
...which made me feel justified in hurting others. But that’s not what we came here to talk about.
[ Markus' eloquence is always impressive to Fitz, who struggles to cobble together any summaries of his scattered state. His description rings true of Fitz's own experience, too, only the anger, violence, a lack of self-control — the worst lives at the surface now, barely concealed by a shaky approximation of his former personality. No toxin required to activate it, just a split-second decision to drop the pretenses. ]
No, but it's a, uh, a jumping off point. I'm — I suppose I should say that Daisy was right to — [ his hand drifts upward, hovering near his neck and face. she was right to what, go for the throat? he wants to say I'm not a good person, and I didn't want you to know that, but it feels like a cop-out. Still doesn't answer Markus' actual question, either. ] I left some events out of our first conversation.
[confess your sins to robojesus, he's ready to hear them
But the demeanor he's adopted is of a purposeful sort. It counteracts Fitz's nervous energy, meant to offer calm and the space to give the other man to think, to speak. Yet his words are firm, ushering the man to continue, in that strange push-and-pull, of slight overawe-and-openness that is so very distinctive of someone drenched in expected leadership.]
Before you tell me what they are, let me ask you something — what made you decide to hem away certain parts of the truth? Did you think I’d take badly to it, being what I am?
[Not wrong, but maybe not in the way that Fitz might've assumed. He wonders.]
[ He makes a noise of frustration, searching for the words to explain himself. Markus conducts himself well, precisely the sort of personality that Fitz responds to, instinctively following another's lead, even with the ground uneasy beneath them. He tries very hard, then, to avoid hearing Daisy's analysis of his conversations with Markus and Strange. You want him to tell you it's not your fault. What a thing to want from a stranger. ]
It was just — too much. You were so nice. [ a potentially clinical talk had turned intimate, just like that. he looks skyward, mouth twisting. ] I thought you might take it badly, yeah. As someone recently changed. [ ophelia's case study wouldn't have been reassuring. ] As a good person. [ a belief further solidified by Markus' demeanor during the outbreak. ] So, I prioritised my interests and left out the rest.
[ he pauses then, a flicker of uncertainty before he clarifies. ]
Priority one, what made you and Connor human — and was it via the same process that I perfected for Ophelia? Most likely not, but it would appear to be close. [ consciousnesses being lifted and dropped into new bodies. ] And priority two, were you coping with the alterations to your person?
[ Markus might remember that his only comment on how Ophelia coped was, You're handling it better. An inequality of information. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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"Might"
You flatter me and then throw in a conditional. Hot and cold, Markus.
Who's that now?
[ they could use more forensics... ]
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Connor. Have you met him?
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[ but connor!! what a pleasant suggestion. ]
And I have. Thought he seemed too competent to be an amateur in the field.
Are you two friends?
[ their conversations on the network indicate they're in semi-regular contact, but it's best to ask. ]
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[The circumstances regarding their, ah, relationship to each other back home is another matter entirely, but Markus doesn’t dip his proverbial toes in that deep end of the pool.]
He worked with law enforcement. Something of an investigator — I’m sure forensics is in his wheelhouse, too.
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And we've no shortage of crimes to investigate, so I'll be sure to follow-up with him.
Though I got the impression there'd be no "takebacks" on befriending him, anyway.
[ he's so... keen... ]
Does that make him the person who fusses over you?
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[That is, in fact, a little misleading. Connor hovers, while Markus feels crushing responsibility for him. It’s a two-way street of different types of fussing.]
But you’re right about that, too; once a friend, it’s a permanent position. I guess I don’t have to introduce you at all.
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I'm flattered you considered me worth introducing at all.
[ he'd dodged the earlier compliment, but it should be acknowledged. Sharing ones friends isn't a given. ]
Reckon you've met my friends from home already. Katelin's from my uni days. Daisy's a friend from work.
And Daisy will come around, if she had a bit of trouble with you at the start.
[ her exact message regarding Markus had been "I ran into things like it here," so he thinks it fair to assume their first encounter was tainted by team SHIELD's prior android issues. ]
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A slight delay, a few seconds of consideration. Thinking.]
Why would she have trouble?
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There were unfortunate incidents — related to what we spoke about when I first introduced myself.
[ hedging his bets, when he doesn't know how much Daisy disclosed with her stereotypical... frankness. ]
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How unfortunate?
She asked how eager I was to murder the entire human race, for reference.
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Right.
Okay.
That makes it sound worse than it was.
Not that it wasn't bad.
It was.
But it was my fingerprints all over it, okay? Me and another of the programmers. We were the problem, not the androids.
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Now, he’s realizing how much context he might have actually lacked. How there might have been great holes of omission that he was oblivious to, strolling right past them in a haze of ignorance.]
When we spoke before, you mentioned an inability to deviate from core tenants without outside assistance. Are you choosing to shoulder the blame as a result?
[That being said, a far more important follow up—]
What actually happened?
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[ he's a goddamn rocket scientist. it shouldn't be this hard, either. ]
In the first instance, it was the programming. My mentor changed the code, built duplicates of people without telling me, and set them against myself and my team. I checked the internal logs. I know that's what happened. Human intervention, not deviation.
[ a pause, then. the first instance had been exempted entirely from their talk, irrelevant compared to the latter — but he omitted a great deal from the former, too. ]
In the second instance, Ophelia knew what she was doing. I don't know for how long. Much longer than I'd thought, when we first spoke.
[ precisely because of what they spoke about, even. ]
Can we talk in person?
Please, I'll answer any questions that you have.
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But he’s still missing context. Fitz didn’t exactly answer the question of “what happened”.
Markus is tired, sore, and mentally wrung through. But he wants to know.]
Where?
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Same place as last time.
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[And there's really not much more to be said than that. Markus wills his body to move with its usual expediency (that comes with a little more difficulty given how sore he still feels after Hell Day), and true to his word, he makes his way to the sky park.
It's the same bench he'll be found seated upon whenever Fitz arrives, looking about as well as the last time they saw each other -- like he's been in a fight, bruises along his jawline starting to change color. At least the swelling around his lip has gone down.]
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His mouth quirks downward, the tell that he isn't looking forward to this, despite asking Markus to talk in person. He skims over his friend (*pending approval), taking in his state of injury and recovery, brows creased with worry. ]
Hey. [ Fitz doesn't sit, looking down at his feet even as he makes a vague gesture with his bandaged hand. ] I didn't realise it went that badly — with Daisy, I mean. I should've said something sooner.
[ which is still not what this is about, but he's stalling. ]
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Funny, how despite the discomfort that their burgeoning conversation promises, the first thing that flits across Markus’ tired face is concern. Tired concern that's tainted with the shadow of a difficult discussion to come, granted — but never does he want to see the other man in such a state. Bandages around the hand and the neck, bruises adorning his arm.
Markus swallows, straightening. He wears a plain maroon t-shirt and dark jeans, and even the latter might be proving too warm for this weather.]
...Her knee-jerk impression of me wasn’t a kind one, but we left it as a misunderstanding. Still, it’s hard to forget her exact words when the implication of murder is so clear.
[That being said, he moves to stand. They can walk, just like last time, along the same path — with unfortunate experiences under their belts that they couldn’t hope to have guessed at before.]
What happened to you after we split up?
[Where did you get all those injuries, Fitz. This is the first question he’ll ask.]
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What a fine day, as ever, to be discussing the implication of murder and the precarious history of androids. Fitz falls into step, slower than the last time, largely due to his general wear and tear. ]
Ah, well, y'know. [ he makes an uncertain noise, knowing full well dodging a question early on would be a waste of his get-out-of-jail-free card, if he even has any left. ] Bar fight, hostage situation. [ he rolls his shoulder and winces, forgetting the bruising there. ]
Daisy and I had a productive discussion about all this [ He motions between them, indicating the reason they've dragged their sorry arses out in public. ] while she was under the influence. [ his tone tips from dry into weary. ] And it would seem I'm a skilled provocateur, after all.
[ Two trained field agents facing off in an enclosed space never ends well. Fitz is grateful it wasn't Bobbi 'cause he'd be a dead man, in that case. ]
We'll work it out. [ Fitz and Daisy — well, Fitz and Markus, too, he hopes. ] You never shared how you got your shiners.
[ an invitation to do so, if it suits him. ]
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The sun is harsher than the last time they were here, walking at a slower pace down the same gently curving path. Markus hooks a thumb into a pocket as they walk, a misleadingly casual gesture that doesn’t reflect at all how he feels — but this android, forever cognizant of the perception of others, doesn’t allow himself to fidget, or for anxiety to twist itself up on his features. Only a straight back, a steady gait, and a tone of voice that’s adopted something even, stern, but still allowing for worry.
Bar fight. Hostage situation. And a conflict with a friend over heated difference of opinion (over what they were here to talk about, at that).
The latter sounds painfully familiar.]
I’m sorry to hear it, and I hope that you do manage to... heal the relationship between the two of you.
[Ah, the question is reflected in turn, and Markus’ jaw tightens.]
To begin with? A fight with Connor. Over points of contention regarding the situation between ourselves back home. You can blame the sickness for that.
[Vague? Maybe. But he feels justified in allowing it for himself, if just for now.]
Afterwards, my mood was less than flattering. It didn’t take much for me to find myself in other altercations without much provocation.
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And yet here Markus is, offering well wishes and personal details. Markus and Connor's relationship remains a mystery to Fitz — obviously close, inevitably bound by shared circumstances, but the details elude him. Points of contention aren't surprising, given their differing ways of presenting themselves, but he still wonders about them now. Markus had talked about loss as a motivator for change, and androids being the ones to help him. He still wants to puzzle that out. ]
Not at all like how you are normally, then. [ a mild reassurance, offering with sudden attention. That wasn't you. ] I hope you haven't had any trouble after the fact.
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Not at all, no, and not how I’d ever want to be again.
[He’s dealt with mending what had threatened to be broken between the two of them. An understanding that who they were that day is never who they want to be, even if the potential existed. Yet it doesn’t make the memory of it easier. Doesn’t keep the guilt perpetually asleep, sometimes rising up and still raking its claws across the interior of his ribs.]
The worst of us, coming to the surface. Anger, violence, a lack of self-control to keep it all mitigated. Having felt wronged.
[For a moment, only the sound of concurrent footsteps down the trail.]
...which made me feel justified in hurting others. But that’s not what we came here to talk about.
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No, but it's a, uh, a jumping off point. I'm — I suppose I should say that Daisy was right to — [ his hand drifts upward, hovering near his neck and face. she was right to what, go for the throat? he wants to say I'm not a good person, and I didn't want you to know that, but it feels like a cop-out. Still doesn't answer Markus' actual question, either. ] I left some events out of our first conversation.
[ #confessionaltime ]
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But the demeanor he's adopted is of a purposeful sort. It counteracts Fitz's nervous energy, meant to offer calm and the space to give the other man to think, to speak. Yet his words are firm, ushering the man to continue, in that strange push-and-pull, of slight overawe-and-openness that is so very distinctive of someone drenched in expected leadership.]
Before you tell me what they are, let me ask you something — what made you decide to hem away certain parts of the truth? Did you think I’d take badly to it, being what I am?
[Not wrong, but maybe not in the way that Fitz might've assumed. He wonders.]
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It was just — too much. You were so nice. [ a potentially clinical talk had turned intimate, just like that. he looks skyward, mouth twisting. ] I thought you might take it badly, yeah. As someone recently changed. [ ophelia's case study wouldn't have been reassuring. ] As a good person. [ a belief further solidified by Markus' demeanor during the outbreak. ] So, I prioritised my interests and left out the rest.
[ he pauses then, a flicker of uncertainty before he clarifies. ]
Priority one, what made you and Connor human — and was it via the same process that I perfected for Ophelia? Most likely not, but it would appear to be close. [ consciousnesses being lifted and dropped into new bodies. ] And priority two, were you coping with the alterations to your person?
[ Markus might remember that his only comment on how Ophelia coped was, You're handling it better. An inequality of information. ]
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