Detroit Become Human x Readers

Spares (Markus x Reader)

This was incredibly stupid.

That’s the sentence that runs in your mind over and over as you walk through the doors of this CyberLife repair shop. This is stupid, you’re going to be arrested, you’re going to be shot you’re going to kill yourself doing this. Through your mind these anxious sentences run, bringing up the same question you’d been asking yourself since you’d concocted your plans.

Was this worth it?

Absolutely.

You’d always had a knack for robotics. Fixing up the tv for your parents when you were in your teens, deconstructing remotes and toys to see what made them tick. Hell, at sixteen you’d started developing your own engines and had plans to become one of the top mechanical engineers at CyberLife.

That changed when you met Charlotte.

Well, bought was a little more apt. Your first android was gifted to you by your parents, an ST200  model. Or, as they are more commonly known, a Chloe. You didn’t keep the name, changing it to something to make her a little unique. She worked as a receptionist and a housemaid while you did small time android repairs. Little things like fixing up irregular pumps and providing thirium cheaper than what CyberLife was selling them for.

She was friendly and kind, and you often had to remind yourself that she wasn’t a human, she was an android. Incapable of actual emotion or feelings. That’s what you thought for a very long while until that changed as well.

3 years into having Charlotte, you’d developed a set system and timetable that she always kept to. So when she wasn’t home an hour after she was supposed to be, you were getting worried. What if she’d gotten lost? Picked up by a stranger? You stress and stress until, after another whole hour later, she came home. Just not in the state you’d been hoping.

It was a pounding at the door that caught your attention, along with the shouts of a terrified woman who’s familiar voice sent ice through your veins. In seconds you’re on your feet and ripping open the door, only for Charlotte to fall into the apartment on her hands and knees, covered in a sickening sheen of blue blood. But that’s not what sends a shiver up your spine.

You’d seen damaged androids during your repairs. You’d seen androids missing limbs or covered in gashes from accidents at work or in the street. But you’d never seen an android cry before that day.

Charlotte had been sobbing and shaking on the ground, staining your carpet blue with blood that would evaporate in a matter of hours. But that wasn’t your worry then. It’s your instincts that kick into action, grabbing your repair tools and sitting her down to begin your treatment, soothing her with a gentle voice as you worked.

Through floods of tears, she told you how she’d been attacked by anti-android protestors, intent on destroying her as a means of letting their anger out. She apologized for being unable to retrieve the parts you needed, but that was hardly the most urgent matter at hand.

It took too many painstaking, hours but your diligence paid off, and not long after you found yourself on the couch, arms wrapped around your friend.

She was afraid. Panicking and crying, and that’s when you first realized that androids were more than just machines. Maybe their bodies were artificial, but those tears and that anguish was real. And as you thought about it, something that a number of other androids likely felt as well.

She wasn’t a commodity, like some new phone or computer. She was a living being, who you’d bonded with over these past few years. A person you loved and cared for like a little sibling, and who cared for you in the same way. It’s then that you realize you have a responsibility. A gift that you can use to help others like her, giving you a purpose you were more than happy to have.