revivalproject | 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]}

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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."

And look at me, I'm tattered

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So sorry Tommy XD

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