revivalproject | And look at me, I'm tattered

Entry tags:

And look at me, I'm tattered

WHO: York & Open
WHERE: York's Calibration Room
WHAT: Calibrations event
WHEN: May
WARNINGS: CW/TW: York's room has the potential to bring up the following situations: gaslighting/manipulation, abuse, gun violence, death, and assault. The items are labeled with warnings.

Waiting Room Post
Mingle Post

Calibrations Room

The room is a workshop that has seen better days. Once a sterile, almost hospital like room, with a black, pleather covered chair for android repairs. Now, the room is ripped apart. Cables and wires have been ripped apart or unplugged from exposed panels, electricity sparking from live ends. The chair is broken in numerous pieces and thrown about the room, covered in oil, grease, and blue blood. There's broken parts, both mechanical and biocomponents, littered about. On the walls in that same blue blood is "I AM ALIVE" painted by hand in a large, bold, Helvetica font. The floor is wet. Shell casings glint in the light from above.

On the floor are items: a black NYC hoodie that smells earthy; a fireman's hatchet caked in blue and red blood [cw: gun violence, death]; a news tablet with a line about robotic parenting [cw: gaslighting, abuse]; and a pamphlet of Bryant Park’s 191st anniversary ripped midway [cw: assault, physical violence against human and android].

Around the items are some wires that haven't been destroyed, and all of them lead into the back of an older looking and taller York, who is curled up on the floor surrounded by the objects. There’s thirium covering his hands. The wires weave around the items, but don't touch them. He is shirtless, with his knees drawn up to his chin to hide himself. He wears black sweatpants as his only clothing.

The whole room feels isolated, full of fear, and strangely enough: it feels too small.

Upon seeing another enter his mind, York is immediately aggressive. "What are you doing in here?! Ģ̡͝E̸̵T̴̢͠ ̶̴̸O̴̧UT̴́͟!̸̨!̴͘" York gets to his feet - his LED is swirling red, throwing light against the open section of his chest next to it where his thirium pump beats. The android moves quick, as though to try getting to the intruder, but the wires seem to reel in, snap taut, and pull him back towards the wall he’s written on. It’s then apparent that York is too big for the room, with his hair almost brushing the ceiling. There's no hiding the fear in his expression as he struggles for freedom the cables aren’t giving. Realizing the vulnerable state, York relaxes and turns away from his intruder, with those tight wires loosening around him. It shows the wires going into the open panels of his back now, hooking somewhere deep within the machinery that moves and gives him life. York wraps his arms around his chest, ducking his head down. His open interior section pulses blue like a heartbeat.

"I̸͠ţ's̶̡ ņ̀̕o̸̶t̸̡ s͘͝u͡p̷p҉ós͏̕͘ed͘ ͟͞t̨̨o ̨͜h̵̸̛u̶͞͞r͜t́́," he whispers angrily, though the room is small enough that the other would be able to hear it anyways. "D̕͜͡ò̷n̨̡'ţ̕ ̡h͜u͢ŗ͜t̢͠͞ ̴͝me̢͟"

_{[I'll be using a different set of icons for the older version of York in replies, but that face doesn't apply outside of the calibration room. ~Xi]}

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York wasn't sure who was touchier about the subject: himself or Tommy. Sounds like the androids - no wait, excuse him, synthezoids - had evolved to start reproducing. Great. Fantastic. He keeps the snark to himself at the moment though. Last thing York wanted to do was provoke someone into hurting his mind from the inside.

"Sure, that'd be great. Since our Malibu address is gone, you'll have to settle with going to Detroit 2038. Don't take any of your family with you though, if you don't want the humans to tear them apart." Because again, York is assuming that the people Tommy knows are sort of like him and right now? Humans did not like any kind of android right now. "My creator, my dad, is Tony Stark."

An image flickered up in a window next to York, like a contact page or something of his world's version of Tony. The one that York was scared of the city's Tony being.

Nah, there hadn't been any reproducing. Not really. Vision had made his wife, and Viv, and Victor. And Wanda's magic had made Billy and TOmmy. But he was still family to them.

"Yeah, I don't need the future. I'm happy where I am not. But hey, that's pretty cool, being related to Stark. Apparently in some world, my dad Vision was created by Stark, so in some universe he's my grandfather."

Would that make them family? Who fucking knows. Though seeing that picture? He fucking bursts out laughing.

"Dude is just hideous. Yes, offense meant."

"Good, be offensive as much as you want. Fucking prick forced me into that younger body as an experiment. Finally had enough of it and just... fucking left. Ran off and joined the revolution happening." His eyes lingered on the bloody hatchet that lay between them. "I don't think my Stark is anyone else's Stark, if I'm honest."

York sounded honest. It's hard to lie when one is sitting inside your head like this.

"I hope he's not anyone else's, aside from mine and my brothers'." He makes a face. "I think... to leave here you get to take your pick of the memories and then a door opens up for you to leave. That's what's worked for others."

"Yeah, that's definitely not a Stark I know," Tommy answered. He hated to admit it, but the old guy was probably attractive. Maybe. Clearly some people wanted in his pants so yeah, probably.

Still, he moves around, considering the place, somehow graceful despite needing to move carefully in the smaller room. Comes with the grace of his mutation perhaps.

"I know. I was in this whole mess the first pass. Let's see..."

He reaches for the pamphlet at las.

York could only watch, trapped as he was in his own headspace, as Tommy moved around. A brow quirked up at the remark. That's right, Jon said this had all happened before... The Calibrations. Something had been different this time. It didn't matter.

The room goes dark immediately upon the touching of the pamphlet, with only the LED glowing still. When the lights came back up, it was nighttime, and Tommy was outside. Bryant Park of Manhattan. Before him, alone, stood York as the speedster had met in his own dreamscape. He wore a neutral expression on his face as he gazed around at the city skyline from the ground view, and a simple outfit. The LED glowed through the fabric. Crickets chirped and there was a distant bubbling of some fountain.

"Look," came a voice from behind York. Three human men, looking a little worse for wear, maybe even a bit drunk. The android didn't have the means to scan for the inebriation levels. They looked disgusted by York as they moved around him. "One of those plastic pricks."

The android calculated the threat level and realized that he shouldn't stick around. "Excuse me, I must go home." His smaller size made it easy to slip past the men, but it was easier for him to be yanked back. The city and park wheeled as York's view point changed - he landed on his back in the grass. One man squatted down as the others held him down by the shoulder and feet. "You're not going anywhere, plastic shit."

One of the men laughed. "See if he's built like a Cyberlife! This looks like that famed Stark tech no one can buy."

The third man's laugh joined the others' as the supposed ringleader pushed the plain shirt up. "LED is in the wrong spot for a start. Who the fuck puts it there?"

York found it in him to squirm, especially as the hands pressed at where panels were hidden under the skin. "Please, let me go. Just let me go back home, I did not mean to do any offense--"

Errors flew up in his HUD, blocking his view of the men. The fine layer of his skin section had been torn through and taken offline. Why were these men doing this? Why was this one prying open his panels? What did he do to warrant this? Was it because... of what he was? No-

Who he was? York wasn't a thing. That much he knew. Yet these men were treating him like another appliance to be examined, to be torn apart for scrap. Were they going to scrap him? Now his body started moving in earnest in an attempt to get away. More errors came up - the panels were damaged.

Humans hands were reaching in, pulling at cables and tubes. "Let go! Please, please let go!" His vision was going red, so many errors were coming up. He was starting to lose thirium as one of the connectors came undone. A spark of electricity crackled through him, and he felt something else break in him.

Then it was red. All he could see was red. Something in his programming broke - whether it was from the onslaught of the errors cropping up, or the human pulling him apart, York snapped. Rage tore through him, fueling his limbs.

The man who was working at pulling out pieces cried out, fresh blood spurting from his now broken nose thanks to York's accurately aimed punch. He twisted his feet and slammed down to hear a crack and he was almost free. Free. The last man, at his shoulders, looked baffled at the sudden turn of tables before the android reached up and used what leverage he could get until - snap.

The three men howling in pain and incapacitated, York immediately shoved his abdomen panels closed before taking off. He had to dismiss the errors to be able to see properly and headed off east. East was home. He sent a message and a tracker to his brother. York wasn't sure if he was going to get far. He at least got out of the park and a block away from his skyscraper home before he had to stop. He didn't feel pain, no android really could, but York knew he hurt. It hurt that the men attacked him for no reason except for being an android. They tried to tear him apart, held him down--

The small android slumped against a wall, his chassis and clothes covered in blue blood. God damn it, York couldn't even cry. He buried his face against his hands and let out a muffled scream against said hands. It didn't help as much as he thought it would. Fuck, fuck, he was losing power.

York curled up as much as he could, vulnerable. Then, as the darkness of his stasis started to power him down, he saw and heard his brother at the mouth of the alley.

"York!--"

The memory went dark just as York did, coming back to light on the ruined workshop. The much bigger android crossed his arms over his midsection, which wasn't ruined in this state. "...Don't really go to parks anymore."

Well, that was... A whole thing. A serious whole thing. To the point where Tommy was clearly seething with rage as it ended.

"If I was there, I'd have broken some fucking bones. Why the fuck did they think they could do that to you? You're a person!"

"Because I'm not a person to them in my world." York wasn't looking at Tommy, eyes distant. "I had to deviate from my programming. It was either deviate and hurt them, or stay compliant to android laws as lesser beings to humans and let them kill me." That had to have been what the men were going to do. The terror on York's face in the memory showed that's what he had been scared of.

"There's a revolution happening where I'm from. Our leader, Markus, is leading a peaceful revolution for us to be seen as the same humans. As sentient beings that deserve rights. But there's a lot of push back. They raided our home, killed a lot of androids on sight and took others into custody to be decommissioned. Then they blew up the rest." There's a miserable look on his face as York finally looks to Tommy. "I didn't even do anything that night in the park. I was just looking at the lines of the city against the sky from a ground view. I was initially programmed to be an architect."

Not a... FUCKING HELL. Yeah, he's red in the face now from all this rage.

"You're a fucking person!" he roars in fury. Triggered much? Fuck yeah. "Hell, sounds like you're more of a contributing member of fucking society then their asses were. Fuck them. And Fuck Stark for making you look young and vulnerable. and FUCK whoever programmed you like that, to not value yourself. That sorta shit can just as easily lead to intelligences like my grandfather Ultron, who is basically of the opinion that humanity should be fucking wiped out. Fucking HELL!"

York's wondering where all this anger is coming from. Humans didn't get angry about this topic like this back home. He doesn't flinch at the yelling though, feeling like he's holding his ground against it.

The moment Tommy mentions about his grandfather wanting to wipe out humanity, he laughs. It's a little hollow and he turns away. "That's funny because that's what I think about the humans of my world. I want to burn them to the ground, see how they like it being shot in the head for just existing, to be torn apart because you're seen as lesser."

But the androids of home had held him from doing it, trying to get him to see a different way.

"And since they took our fucking home with guns and a bomb, I really, really want to level the city for them."

"Don't be like the crazier of my grandfathers, okay?" Tommy says. "That doesn't win you what you want. It will never win you what you want."

York isn't certain what Tommy's tone is, so when York's laughter dies down, he just regards the human with an amused look. Sparks crackled from the open ends of some wires around them. "Do you even know what I want? I want freedom from humans and their unneeded violence against us. One way to do that is to just remove them from the situation." A little shrug and he made himself comfortable against the wall. "You saw what they were doing to me! More instances like that happen every fucking day in my world. I've helped fix up so many others like me on Jericho from damage caused by humans."

A pause. "Androids were built to be their servants and now that we're going off program to disobey, they're killing us. So why not just show them how it fucking feels for once? To have a bullet put through their skull in their home, or to be pinned down and pulled apart while being berated?"

"That's what I want too," Tommy sighs, rubbing at his temples. "But removing humans isn't going to achieve it. Some assholes doesn't mean it's worth genocide. I know. People like me, they want to kill us too."

That's just how it is, though. How it will be and stay.

"That's not that easy to do."

Some assholes? As far as York understood it, it was entire cities of them. Not just New York City, but Detroit, Chicago, all sort of cities. And that was just in his country. He didn't even know what it was like for those outside of their boundaries. Eyes squint for a moment, trying to figure out what Tommy was talking about.

Flickers of images - but mostly one of a leg bouncing too fast. Way too fast for a human. He grits his teeth. "Humans just want to fucking kill anyone that classifies as an 'other', don't they." It's a hard whisper, the rage from the memory barely held back in those words. York thought about the hate he harbored for humans, and realized there were exceptions he had started to make in this city. Reeve, Richie - all showing that humans weren't as bad as his experiences were showing him. "Why can't they just fucking let us live? For fucks sake, why is it so difficult?"

"Yes," Tommy answered. "And we keep going. We keep working at it. We can't be like them."

Why can't they let them live? Because they're scared.

"I get it. I get hating. I've got reasons to hate too. I think we can't let it win."

York knew if he let the hate win, then the human problem they had would be resolved back home. But for some reason Markus didn't see it that way. The one thing he hated to admit was that the peaceful revolution was working, though York knew the slower pace gave slower results. It was easier to demand things when you held a threat that could give faster results.

But then the humans would just hate them more, wouldn't they? Fuck.

"What, the hate?" York scowls at his own hands, feeling the intricate mechanics move within his hardware as he flexes his fingers. Hands like these had torn him apart. Had forced open his neck to plug cables in to transfer him into this body. Had pulled triggers to put his friends offline permanently. "... I'm tired of being a victim to someone else's fucking hate. I just want to fucking live, be in the right body, have a home with my friends who are fucking dead now. They've taken so fucking much from us." The rage threatens to boil over again. Fingers move into his own dark hair, holding the synthetic strands tight.

"I'm terrified and I'm fucking scared god damn it." York doesn't even know if his voice is loud enough for Tommy to hear that.

"Exactly," Tommy said, shrugging. "And I get it. Dude, you're from Earth. Imagine how I get it. I'm a kid of Romani, Jewish, and mutant heritage. Both of my grandfathers have had a 'fuck humanity' personality and gone with attacking them. I know what it's like. You have that right, and they will take, but taking back? It doesn't solve it. It makes you them."

Scared is... reasonable.

It took a silent moment to process what Tommy was saying. Well, process wasn't the right word so to speak, as he sorted through information still in his head from his own world. History of his world showed that those of Tommy's heritage had been terribly oppressed for centuries, even hunted for a long span of time. The portion he didn't know about was the mutant thing, which sounded like something out of sci-fi media.

A bit ironic, really, that York would think that.

There's a scoff of a laugh.

"That's almost the point. I want to be a human, or at least treated like one from a rights perspective." There's a small pause. "...For whatever the fuck it's worth, Markus is leading us through a peaceful revolution. Other androids kept me from razing the city to the ground, though doesn't stop me from wanting to do it still."

"Good," Tommy said, nodding. "And if people here give you shit, tell me. I'll deal with it."

Same thing he'd told the Exos, who didn't need defended, and the droids, who were his little buddies.

He'd defend them all.

The one thing that Tommy and York had in common seemed to be that they were friends with droids at least. Maybe if he remembered this interaction in the waking world, that will be the bit he remembers. "You gave me shit when you got here," York pointed out with a smirk.

Over on the far wall perpendicular to them, a wide window opened. It sized itself larger until it was an open door for Tommy to leave through. "I'll keep you in mind if I can't handle myself out there. Being smaller means I have an easier reach to break people's fucking knees."

Of course he was friends with droids. Dude, he'd learned to speak their language.

"Yeah, well, you're sort of an asshole. Trust me, I'm an asshole too. Like recognizes like."

He moves to the window itself, and damn, he's almost disappointed that it's a door. That would be have been fun.

"Going for the knees isn't a bad plan, man. Good luck."

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And look at me, I'm tattered

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CW/TW: assault, physical violence against human and android

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So sorry Tommy XD

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