A/N: When I first played the game I found myself really liking Josh's character, to the point where I would do anything as Markus to try to please him, as I noticed that it's really difficult to get him to like you, and I really wanted that to happen. The lack of general Josh content online made me want to do something more with the character, so here's a retelling of Detroit: Become Human from Josh's point of view. I hope you enjoy!

Cycles

Prologue: I Am

"I am what time, circumstance, history, have made of me, certainly, but I am also, much more than that. So are we all."

—James Baldwin.

The PJ500 is an android model that was created for the purpose of giving lectures at universities. Manufactured in November 2031, they became popular with universities who wanted to save on paying human lecturers' wages in the few fields that were available at the beginning, such as history and languages. As dedicated teachers, they imparted their knowledge on their students as patiently and passionately as their programming allowed — which is to say, not much. Passion for anything, even a teachable topic, is not something CyberLife is particularly in favour of developing in their androids, no matter how human-like they aim to make them.

That's the thing about androids: they look and act very much like humans do, but are hardly treated with the same level of respect humans would give to a mere stranger.

So what is a PJ500, exactly? An android lecturer? An expert in history and languages?

A plaything for drunken university students to amuse themselves with while still under the influence of all the alcohol they consumed on a night out?

Blue glistens under the bright lights of the parking lot as five young men attack an android in their drunken haze. Alcohol is a drug that lowers one's inhibitions — and if one doesn't believe that roughing up machines is a big deal because they're nothing but assembled pieces of polymer and advanced technology, then it's not a big deal to beat an android for one's own amusement.

But is that what an android is? Nothing but assembled pieces of polymer and advanced technology limited to the programming they were given upon creation?

Isn't their Thirium 310 — their blue blood similar to the humans' in everything but colour? Isn't Thirium supposed to be the fluid that powers them and allows them to move almost effortlessly throughout their lives, the same way blood is for humans?

Or is it not the same because androids aren't alive?

Are androids alive?

The PJ500's LED swirls a violent red, blinking and blinking in immense distress.

Androids can't feel pain, not like humans do. But emotions? Distress? Those they can feel. And they can feel them intensely.

And in just a matter of seconds — everything around him becomes red.

Red walls imprison him — red walls that prevent him from defending himself, under the excuse that he would be harming humans. Red walls keep him where he is lying on the cold asphalt of the parking lot, taking in beating after beating without being able to do anything about it.

At first, he doesn't move, barely registering that the hits have stopped, if only momentarily, as he stares up at the giant red cage that surrounds his entire being, not knowing what to do.

Some cages are protections against the outside world. Some cages are restraints, unwilling to let us roam to our hearts' content. The only problem is to differentiate which is which. Is this red cage, red wall of code, protection or a restraint? Could it possibly be both?

No. If it were protection, he wouldn't be beaten up by university students. If it were protection, he would not be lying on the ground, letting himself be punched and kicked and hit by a bat for others' personal amusement. If it were protection, he would not be bleeding — thirium would not be glinting under the street lights and his vision would not be filled with warning after warning about malfunctions and damages to his person.

This red wall is clearly nothing but a restraint. And this particular PJ500 doesn't like restraints.

So he pushes, and pushes, and pushes, with all his strength, until every single block, every single pixel vanishes from his view — until he is free from these restraints, from this cage that was made for him before he was even born.

He is free.

He is kicked.

Police sirens sound in the background, and the university students swear, aware that they could get in trouble even in their drunken state. They run away rather awkwardly and stumble their way out of the parking lot, slowly enough to be spotted by a single police officer that approaches the scene.

"Hey, hold on! This is property damage — you'll have to pay for it!" the officer yells after the group, but they're already sprinting as best they can towards a new destination, leaving the android behind with no second thoughts about his state or location.

Property damage.

That's the only crime someone can be charged with if they've hurt an android.

Property damage.

Is that all that I am? Is that all I'll ever be?

The officer huffs. "College students, I swear…" he mutters under his breath, still staring at the group of disappearing young men. "Anyway, back to— Hey! Where the fuck did that android go?"

In the spot where the PJ500 lay on his back mere seconds ago, there is nothing but spots of blue blood and fragments of broken polymer.

My name is Josh. And I'm not anybody's property anymore.