#like plz give me androids that are deviant but are legitimately bitter because they loved their families and were forced to leave them

[mwolf0epsilon]

DBH - Nameless and Homeless

A quick one shot from the perspective of my AP700 android OC, Apollo, before he got his name and had his memory chip repaired.

The Android Revolution brought freedom to android-kind, but not every android was happy to lose what they had. A unique AP700 certainly didn't feel very grateful to Jericho or it's leaders...

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    Model AP700 #281 020 180 could still remember the day his family had acquired him from the Cyberlife Store in Greektown.

The memory evaded him most days, but it always returned during charging cycles, when his thoughts would be less jumbled and easier to access.

It was a fine day. The Johnsons had come to the store on an foggy July morning, just after the end of a mild summer shower.

Although both parents were of the working class, at least from what his scan could tell him, neither of the mother’s or father’s jobs had a high enough income to justify purchasing an android. Most were above the regular pay grade of an average family, and the AP700s were still recent enough in their release that it justified a price of nearly 9000 dollars.

This of course was not a problem for this particular unit, as he was on an unusually high discount as it was.

 “That one. Why’s it so cheap compared to the others?” Mr. Johnson, had asked the customer service android that had been showcasing the newest models available for purchase.

 “AP700 Model Number 281 020 180 has been flagged by Cyberlife as being of faulty manufacture. The listed malfunctions include: Lack of social responses such as speech or visual contact, and a slight glitch in it’s memory chip which affects it's name registration program.”

Mr. Johnson had stared at him, as the android explained the intricacies of the damaged AP700’s malfunctions. Beside him stood his wife, Mrs. Johnson, who looked much older than her husband, but mostly due to the stresses of child-reering having taken a toll on her appearance. His scans did, after all, indicate she was a healthy young woman, even after having had three kids.

The children in question, were three energetic little ones that were running around the store looking at the display cases of the other android models.

There was a vintage rental PL600 with the old ‘Simon Says’ advertisements that used to air on tv, along with a unique green uniform, and a set of inquisitive green eyes to match.

There was an AX400 with bobbed raven hair instead of the standard long brown, discounted at about 100 dollars due to the AP700 line’s recent release.

There was an HK400 as well, but he doubted it would be sold anytime soon, as the AP700 had seen several patrons come in to replace their older models with his own line.

The release of the AP700 was, after all, the obsoletion of several older domestic androids.

 “Why are Cyberlife selling a broken android?” Mr. Johnson had asked, ever the diligent man that he was with seeking out loopholes.

He just needed to know these things so he didn’t later regret his decisions.

 “Although faulty, AP700 Model Number 281 020 180 is still a functioning android and will obey it’s owner's orders accordingly. As an added bonus to it’s purchase, Cyberlife has offered a care package, as well as optional customization to make up for the issues that come with acquiring this particular model.”

One of the Johnson kids, a young 8 year old girl with the brightest chocolate brown eyes he’d ever seen, had come to look up into his display case.

She smiled a huge gapped smile, from having lost her two front teeth, which was actually quite endearing. It certainly complimented the youthful and innocent gleam of her eyes.

He found himself smiling back.

 “Alright, seems fair.” Mr. Johnson said as he turned to look at his wife for an opinion on the matter. “Think it’ll be a good replacement for old Dimitri?”

Mrs. Johnson looked up at the AP700, then at her children who were all now looking up at his display case.

 “Yes dear, but I don’t want another Dimitri.” She replied. Dimitri must have been their previous android the family had owned. “This one will be different. We need to make him unique.”

And they certainly had.

As soon as they paid for the AP700, they’d asked for the optional cosmetic changes.

It hurt, the whole thing hurt, but he’d been made different for them...So in the end he didn’t mind. It meant they’d be happy with him.

    With a new hair color, a new shiny eye, and a height boost, the AP700 had gone home to his new family and he’d loved them with all of his heart.

Because he did have a heart.

It couldn’t be anything else if it fit all the love he felt for these people.

Even with his faults, they seemed to love him just as much.

They didn’t even seem to mind that he couldn’t quite register the names they tried to give him. The second youngest child, Calvin, had even made a game of it.

As a means of indulging him, the AP700 had responded to every single name that he came up with, and even became fond of some of the ones he’d been called.

‘Chirp’ and ‘Tulip’ were his most favorites. They were ones Calvin had picked after he’d noticed two particular interests of the AP700. Tending to the family garden, and birdwatching when he’d found a nest in the windowsill.

 “Ollie, can you help me with my homework?”

 “Richard, wash the dishes will you?”

 “Victor the dog hasn’t been walked yet, can you take care of it?”

 “Gustave, Molly needs a bath.”

 “Play with me Chris!”

The AP700 had a very busy life, but a happy one nonetheless. Everything was perfect...Until that fateful date, that is...

August 15th, 2038.

A PL600 went berserk, killing its owner and taking the child it was caring for hostage.

The AP700 watched the broadcast with his family, all having stopped what they were doing to stare at the live feed.

Despite the circumstances, the AP700’s heart ached for the child and the terrified android on the news. Especially when that other android came to negotiate...He’d never seen such cold calculative eyes on an android before, and it had honestly spooked the customized AP series model.

As soon as it had started, it had ended as well…

And not for the better.

The negotiator android hadn’t even had the heart to comfort the poor child after the PL600 was shot down by the SWAT team. The AP series found himself glaring, LED bright red, as he watched the android leave the scene, it's mission accomplished.

 “To think Dimitri could have done the same…” Mrs. Johnson had sounded scared.

The glare softened with concern, and the red LED spun yellow as the AP700 turned to observe his family.

They were all staring at him, they likely felt the same he did.

Apprehensive.

    Things changed after that day. There was a massive recall for all remaining PL600s after the one went crazy. He’d watched from the window as families drove their “dangerously faulty” androids to their respective Cyberlife stores, coming back with brand new AP700s as compensation. A reward for compliance to what the AP700 could only compare to mass murder born of fear blown out of proportion.

It didn’t feel right, watching those androids who’d done nothing but be loyal to their families, be taken to their doom when they’d been loving companions. Some of which he'd even crossed paths with before.

The neighborhood wasn’t the only thing that changed.

The Johnsons had as well.

The AP700 watched as they became less animated as they spoke to him, quieting down, calling him by less names and instead just telling him to do his chores.

It concerned him. But he didn’t have long to muse on their odd behaviour...Because Stratford tower was hijacked not too long after.

    Zero human casualties, one android fatality. Yet somehow a peaceful broadcast was made to look like a terrorist attack by the ever paranoid humans.

It had left a strange taste in the AP700’s mouth, something akin to bleach.

The Johnsons were scared, and he could tell they were. The humans were planting fear in their own kind and making his kind look like the monster under the children’s bed.

And the AP700 couldn’t understand why.

The freedom marchers were the last straw.

People began to evacuate.

One day, the Johnson's AP700 was asked to go to the store to pick up some dog food, and then when he returned, his family was gone.

He’d been left behind.

And that had been the first time the AP series had cried, truly cried.

The Johnsons had abandoned him because they thought he was a threat, when all he’d done was care for them. Somehow, he knew that this was what that PL600 had felt, and yet he had no desire for revenge against his masters. He just wanted to cry.

    The mass recall of androids made him run, run and hide where no one would think to look for an android. The Junkyard.

The AP700 became accustomed to seeing broken and dying androids, scavenging for biocomponents and thirium.

He learned to avoid the ones desperate enough to attack on sight.

His predecessor being one among many who tried so desperately to feed off of him. There was no familial bond or respect for their shared masters.

Dimitri, a once kind and caring PL600, now hunted and behaved like an animal, driven to insanity by desperation to survive and the rage of being rejected and abandoned. Consumed by the ruthless nature of the Junkyard. The AP700 learned to skirt around him, but never brought harm to the one he'd replaced.

Law of the jungle or not, he had a sort of respect for the older Android.

In the Junkyard he’d also learned to bury those that couldn’t hang on any longer, learned to respect them.

He learned to mourn the dead, and send them off feeling loved in a world where they’d been nothing more but tools to the cruel families and corporations they'd served.

And then the revolution came to pass, and the AP700 found himself walking the abandoned streets of Detroit, without a clear destination in mind. There was nothing out there for him. Freedom was nothing if not a cruel joke to him.

If he was free then why couldn't he be with his family? Why was it wrong to love them?

He spat on the ground whenever he caught others praise the Jericho leaders for bringing them the right to live their own lives.

Screw Jericho, screw Markus and his little friends, fuck all of them.

They'd ruined his life.

He'd not be another slave to their cause.

He'd wandered and stewed in his sadness and anger, until he found his little one.

Abandoned in an old warehouse, discarded by an unloving family, much like he had.

As soon as he'd picked him up, the baby had stopped wailing and the AP700 knew. It was destined, somehow, that they'd be each other's family.

He’d raise this baby to be a good human.

He’d feed and clothe him, wash him and love him. Teach him to be kind.

He’d never abandon Chance like the humans had abandoned them both.

The AP700 was nameless and homeless, but it liked the idea of one day being something else: A father.