Chapter Two: Shades of Color

Auburn. The color of dying leaves.

Markus watched one of the leaves rustle as a particularly strong wind blew by, eventually wrenching the leaf off its branch and carrying it along with the wind, only to get stuck on another branch.

Markus' eyebrows furrowed. For some odd reason, this caused a temporary 'itch' in his programming. As androids were often designed with all the traits of humans, they were given a semi-sentient mind, able to accomplish most tasks that an average human would, except the gift of self-awareness.

Thus, they were left with only the ability to describe feelings rather than directly admit to the feeling. As long as he was an android, it was only 'programming' and 'errors'.

And yet, Markus, if able to do so, would have described his current situation as 'being on the cusp of awareness'; Having everything except the ability to truly think.

| Pick up delivery from Bellini Paints |

Markus' eyebrows furrowed as there was another 'itch' in his programming, the closest thing he could describe to be irritation. If he was able to, he surely would have wanted to voice how unbearable it was to be given such close imitation of the human body and mind without the most important component.

As his objective was relayed, Markus turned away from the sightseeing, heading down the nearly empty parkway, where trash was scattered around haphazardly and graffiti covered half the park.

As he continued walking, the park space gradually filled with more and more pitched tents, more of the humans, homeless and in poverty. Even as an android, Markus could sense the disease and rot in the air; The foul stench of decay and death was universal.

Once he had left the park, he began making his way over to the marketplace, having to cross a wide plaza before he could reach the shop. He looked around, taking in the modern art, all of which was either destroyed, damaged or covered in crude drawings or more graffiti.

Another riot had started up last night, this time far bigger than the other nights. Markus made the assumption based on the recent legislation vote, which would allocate more government subsidies to CyberLife. The bill passed overwhelmingly, which sent the people into a rage since their own representatives helped vote the bill through.

According to a released police report that Markus read through this morning, the death toll was in the hundreds, injuries in the thousands. The police force gave up long ago on recruitment from the local area and began getting staffed with entire army companies and foreign mercenary groups, along with androids.

If Markus was able to, he would have remarked sardonically how awful the situation would have been if he were a human. And yet, here he was. An android, in one of the most dangerous cities, surrounded by people who hated androids deeply, picking up paint.

"Hey, why don't you remove that flatcap, buddy?"

An older man sitting against one of the pieces of modern art called at him, pushing him to take off his hat. Markus already fell for this once. People who owned androids knew how intolerable this city was to androids, and began dressing them up to conceal the marks of being one, wearing hats and switching out their standard CyberLife attire for regular clothing.

The people already knew of this trick, and so people wearing hats in public without a good reason were often called out and harassed. Markus had already done so once, and had to fend off a group of teenagers looking to do harm.

Markus put on his facade, and gave the older man the middle finger.

"Go fuck yourself." He snarled. While the response irritated the older man and garnered a few crude slurs, he generally fell silent after that.

Markus continued forward, keeping his head lowered so as to not attract attention. This was one of the less volatile areas, though not by much.

He edged away from a few buildings with symbols of The Ol' Patriots, the largest citizen's faction within the city. A rattlesnake coiled around a flintlock with the words, 'Never Tread on Liberty', was the most prominent symbol, being the icon for the faction. From what Markus had read, they were directly opposed to CyberLife and the government, and their position was that America had been taken over once more by tyranny, this time in the form of corporations.

Oddly enough, they didn't attack or destroy androids, but rather aimed for people within the government and the police force, especially foreign mercenary companies, which they used to point out how the current administration was treasonous. However, they still considered androids to be 'agents of the Crown', and that description in of itself was enough to deter Markus from interacting with anyone affiliated with the faction.

The more he got closer to the merchant's district, the more refined things looked, the more civilized people became. He was only halfway to the entrance of the district, and already he began to see significant changes.

For one, police presence picked up, both in patrol cars and on foot. The sidewalks began to fill with more people, though many of them were in a hurry, especially considering how close to anarchy the entire city was.

Just from the mass unemployment alone, Markus could attribute this to the state of civil war and chaos the country was bordering on. The only thing holding it at bay was the Universal Basic Income the government had established, essentially forcing almost the entire country to become reliant on the system.

According to Carl, he had no intention to stick around right now, from the state of things. 'The wealthy and the government will be the first the people gun for during a revolution', he said.

Of course, Markus was never going to let anything happen to Carl, so it wouldn't matter if he stayed or not. Even then, Carl was an admired, renowned and respected figure of the country, even more so in this city. It sounded foolish for anyone to have a desire to attack an artist, of all occupations.

"I.D., please."

Markus snapped out of his...was that...thinking?

"Your I.D., sir?"

"Of course." Markus quickly and smoothly reasserted, removing his identification and handing it to the gate guard. The wealthier parts of the city were gated off, for good reason, especially considering the climate today.

The officer scanned his eyes over the document, looking up at Markus with a raised eyebrow.

"Android, huh?" He said, though not so loud that nearby passersby could hear. He knew of the reputation of androids, and getting one busted up would be an idiotic thing to do, destroying the expensive property of someone wealthy and/or powerful. "Checks out. Go ahead, then."

It had been a while since Markus had heard any human besides Carl address him with anything but absolute scorn and hatred in their voices. He would have appreciated the gesture, for once.

That is, if he had the capacity to.

Once he crossed through the checkpoint, the landscape changed completely. Dilapidated and boarded-up buildings turned into lovely little shops, parlors and small businesses. Littered streets transformed into beautiful, clean roads and sidewalks. Graffiti disappeared, along with the homeless and drug-addicted that usually plagued every street corner.

What were protestors and looters breaking into shops and attacking police officers turned into loving, rich families taking their children to the park, tourists walking down the sidewalk and taking in the sights, photographers and painters crafting their masterpieces.

It was an entirely different world.

And if he had the capacity to, Markus would hate it.

To abandon one's own kind, to barricade oneself with checkpoints and armed men to keep out the undesired and afflicted, to segregate without any remorse, to ignore the suffering when it was so close...This was behavior that Markus would expect of tyrants.

Of evil people.

Every second spent in this place was...unpleasant for Markus, to say the least. He would move to pick up the paint and then leave.

After a few minutes of locating the shop, purchasing the product, and exiting through a checkpoint, he made his way to the bus stop. He would be home soon, and he could enjoy in the presence of Carl-

...Enjoy?

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Markus felt another 'itch' in his programming, though this time it lingered for longer than he expected.

"Hey, motherfucker."

Markus felt a hand grab his wrist. He looked next to him to see a rugged young adult, wearing a bandana around his mouth and a beanie. He had a broken-off table leg in his other hand, which he brandished menacingly. Standing behind him were two other goons with their assortment of makeshift weapons and face coverings.

"Fuck you want?" Markus hissed. "I've got somewhere to be."

"I'm sure you do, droid."

The young man tapped the paints that Markus held.

"You're from the Lux, that's the only place you can get paint like this. And if you were human, especially a rich one, you definitely wouldn't be taking the bus and risk crossing this part of town."

The man tightened his hand around Markus' wrist, bringing the table leg up.

"Whatever tycoon owning fuckhead you have to go service, why don't you go send him a message from the people? Hmm, maybe I'll start the letter with, 'Dear Rich Asshole, I broke your droid's arm off and shoved it up his- AUGH!"

Markus reversed the hold on his wrist, grabbing the man's wrist then twisting it into the air. The man whimpered as he dropped the table leg, trying to grab his arm, which was angled at a weird position in the air so that he was unable to move. The other goons were shocked by this sudden development, as if they didn't expect any confrontation.

"Remember, Markus."

Markus could hear Carl's voice from a recording a few months ago, when Carl first risked sending Markus out for groceries.

"You are valuable. So feel free to defend yourself when necessary. If that means beating the shit out of a few degenerates, then you have my express permission."

The young man, who was still whimpering, looked up at Markus.

"Hold on, hold on, I didn't know you could do that! Please, just let me go, I'll leave you alone and-"

(Queue Boing Boing by the Siege)

He felt the color drain from his face as he saw the wide, crazed grin that snaked across Markus' face.

"Too late, fuckstick."

"What the hell are you?! What- AUUUUGH!"

He could hardly get another word out before Markus brought his other arm around and slammed the palm of his hand into the thug's straightened elbow, immediately dislocating his arm and causing massive pain to shoot through the man's body. The two other goons backed up in fear as they witnessed the sight.

Of course, Markus wasn't finished 'defending' himself.

He brought the dislocated arm around so that he could angle the heel of his boot against the man's chin.

"You talk too much. Let's fix that."

He delivered a hard kick to the man's jaw, fracturing bones as the man let out a guttural scream. His jaw flopped around as he tried to say something, only causing more pain to radiate throughout his body.

Markus let out a sigh of relief. If he had the capacity to feel good, it would have been in this moment.

He noticed one of the other goons reaching into his pocket desperately, trying to take out their phone to record this.

"We can't have that." Markus said.

The goon brought up his phone just in time for Markus to punch straight through it and into the goon's face, breaking his nose. The goon fell backwards on his ass as he gripped his face, groaning in pain.

Markus looked to the last thug, who had dropped his weapon and raised his hands in surrender.

"Hey, look, dude, I don't want the smoke, I'm just gonna go leave-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence before Markus slithered towards him and punched him straight in the diaphragm. The thug felt all the air leave his body as he crumpled to his knees, gasping for air. Markus backhanded him across the face, sending him to the ground, before Markus kneeled and grabbed the thug by his shirt. He began beating him mercilessly with one hand.

After all, to Markus, these weren't human beings. They were scum of the earth. They were worse than the rich bastards segregating themselves from everyone else. At least the rich cultivated growth in their own little communities, whereas these parasites, these stains only littered and looted, beat and brawled and burned things.

Markus felt that, in the end, nobody would mourn the suffering of these people. They were no good for this earth.

| Objective: Deliver Bellini Paints back to Carl |

"Ah, I almost forgot." Markus said, flicking the blood from his fist onto the ground. The thug's face was nearly unrecognizable by this point, one of his eyes bulging out of his socket. Markus released his collar, leaving the thug's upper body to hit the ground with an audible thud.

The few nearby onlookers watched, with fear and shock, as Markus got up and walked over to the paint he had carefully placed on the ground beforehand. He picked it up once more, noticing a bloodstain on the side of the case.

"Ah, Carl won't mind."

As he got onto the bus and sat in his seat, he looked over the battered and beaten bodies of those thugs. He would have felt a deep satisfaction from that encounter.

That is, if he had the capacity to feel.