Chapter 1: The End

Marcus was entombed by the rubble of the caved ceiling. It was a burden almost as heavy as his numerous, failed mission plans. His motherboard couldn't handle any more stress. He shouldn't have been the one under the rubble. Marcus had always expected, without a doubt, that he'd successfully complete his mission.

Until now.

In all of the countless scenarios he had generated during training, he never predicted an outcome where the lab rats were victorious. Loss or death (which he imagined felt like permanent deactivation— not that he had ever experienced it,) was never a possibility to him. Now Marcus didn't know what to do. There was no training for death, not even a manual. Douglas had not even predicted this outcome.

Marcus was energy-depleted, most of his infrastructures were fatally damaged, and he didn't know if he could make it.

Prior to being trapped, Marcus had thought catching his bionic "friends," and subduing Leo would be simple. He couldn't believe the absurdity of his current reality. He always thought the mission would be easy, not difficult, and dangerous, like now. After all, he had the benefit of taking them by surprise— "Marcus is a great guy!" Chase had helpfully insisted. So much for being the genius, Chase, Marcus thought smugly. You wouldn't have even known about this, if it wasn't for Leo.

Yet again, the nosy little runt had figured out a way to ruin Marcus's plan. Leo never even should've gotten that opportunity, but Marcus had let hate and manipulation squander every single one of his schemes. He just wanted to have a little bit of fun on the mission, and he was sure Douglas wasn't going to give him a break, even after the mission was completed.

Look where fun got him, entombed by a ton of stones and malfunctions— that's where! Marcus hated to admit to himself that he was really messed up. He had been much too careless, and he imagined Douglas would belittle him even more. Marcus had heard plenty enough times how incompetent he was.

Marcus wanted to scream in frustration, but he wanted to conserve the last of his energies. He was a dying computer. Anyway even if he did scream, Douglas wouldn't be able to go back for him if any more of their lair collapsed.

He should've eliminated Dooley the first chance he got, so none of this would've happened. Douglas had only assigned him one mission in his entire life, and he was going to fail it. The most embarrassing part of the whole ordeal was that Marcus had a seismograph app, he should've sensed that there was going to be a cave-in. And even if he didn't, he'd been warned by Chase! If only he didn't freeze like Douglas's slow computer. Even this attempt Marcus had made to end Dooley once and for all had gone wrong. So terribly wrong. He had never felt more useless in his life.

Marcus mustered the last of his remaining strength, his resolve to finish his mission powered his processors. It was his sole purpose, and he was going to carry it out. He had managed to push some of his fingers out of the rubble. He was worried that he'd overheat in the suffocating tomb before he could even break out.

His fingers were badly damaged, his "skin" had been peeled off from catching on the sharp debris, exposing his metal frame. He appreciated being human while it lasted. It was a childhood dream he never quite gave up on. He saw Pinocchio once, when he wasn't supposed to be on the Internet, and wished on every single birthday since then for life— the stuff of flesh and bone. I could really use that fairy godmother now, he thought exasperatedly. Stupid, stupid Pinocchio and Disney, for making him wish the impossible every single birthday.

At least this year Douglas hadn't forgotten his birthday, Marcus had been so… happy, and excited when he was promised a car. Too bad I'll never see it, the boy thought sadly.

Marcus knew he was dying. His mind was slowing, and he was thinking of the most random bits of his life. He was glitching out. His mission status, his childhood, Pinocchio? He cleared his mind as best as he could. None of those things mattered now.

He had calculated his chance for survival— it was practically zero. His eyes were watering with salt water (Douglas had given him imitation tears in an effort to make him human like, too bad he was lacking the full range of human emotions. Douglas had made him... as Leo said, unstable.)

Marcus had already reached more of his fingers out, he could still finish the mission, or at least live, to try again. In a wild burst of strength, he managed to get his entire forearm out. He felt so much hope in that instant, even more sparks flying from his exposed fingers— it was an outward reflection of his celebration. And the purveyor of doom.

Suddenly, Marcus paused, in realization. What would he do if he managed to dig himself out? Finish the mission, duh. Was he even repairable? Of course, I was made out of mass-produced parts, and my father is my creator. Plus he has a lot of degrees. Would Douglas still let him continue the mission after revealing everything to the entire Davenport family? Maybe not after this mistake... What would Marcus do if Douglas didn't want to take him in? I'd die if he didn't take me back. My parts aren't easy to find or to make. What if Douglas destroyed him to hide the evidence of the entire fight? Oh God no, not my own dad! Marcus despaired. He had made the worst mistake imaginable, and there was no going back. There was no fixing himself or the situation. (Once, in desperation, Marcus had gone searching for a time machine— or at least its plans, in Douglas's evil lair. Apparently, that was something his all-amazing father didn't create, or intend to. However, Marcus knew that Donald Davenport would probably have at least the beginnings of one. Unfortunately, he never got the chance to search Donald's lab.) Now Marcus was going to pay.

Marcus was no idiot, he knew that his father had made him to fulfill a purpose. He had seen plenty of machines (he considered them much lower than him, and completely different,) in their house be thrown out. They weren't worth the time or money to be fixed. And Marcus would be next. He didn't want to be the next discarded coffee maker or "that stupid freaking fridge!" Marcus was built for perfection and now he was breaking apart. He could see a junkyard in his future.

At this point, Marcus had uncountable losses on his record (his dad actually had an approximation though.) He didn't want to have any losses on his record, but piled up on him, just like the rubble. Losing this was shameful to him, and he figured that his constant failures were even more burdening and stressing to Douglas. Marcus had fifteen years to get the Mission done. And all his plans, no matter how good they were, like driving the car into the ocean, always ended up ruined. He decided that Douglas wouldn't want to save him. He was a waste of resources.

He'd been defeated by Dooley and that was the last straw. His emotions were crushing him, but they were almost as suffocating as the mountain of debris entombing him.

Douglas would replace Marcus with a newer, competent android; or build a new bionic son. One that wouldn't be a failure, a disappointment, or an error. He'd be perfect.

All his life, Marcus had done nothing but serve Douglas. He'd get in one last service to Douglas. Of course that would do nothing to fix the mess they were both drowned in, but at least Marcus could make it up to him. He was too distraught and ashamed to go back to Douglas now.

At that moment a final tear streaked down Marcus's face, only confirming Marcus's decision. It was pitch-black, the color of nightmares, inside the tomb, and somehow darker in his mind. Marcus finally found a reason to be glad he didn't have a heart and soul. The only light at the end of his tunnel was out of his reach. It seemed like the only solution to his never ending problem was just to go away. Forever.

So he let go. And gave up. The rubble crushed him, the pressure and force were overwhelming, but it had released his own pressures. His fears and worries. Everything was gone.

His hand stopped twitching, and his sparking had ceased. Marcus hoped that Douglas would be successful and happier without him dragging him down.

Marcus was dead, killed by his own hopelessness. Everyone was relieved that he was gone, even Douglas— for awhile. He hadn't yet understood that he had just lost his greatest asset, even greater than Adam, Bree, and Chase. All Marcus wanted was for Douglas to be proud of him.

Author's Note:

I forgot to put this here before, I really want to thank my friends and my cousin for reading this and giving me feedback. And thanks to anyone whose read this, and even more so to those who've faved/reviewed/followed.