Doctor Gero had presented himself as a violent ghost who was long overdue on what he was owed, and he'd wasted no time in explaining how he would make his claim. From the very start he had been too trusting; he'd overshared and licked so fervently at his wounds that he could probably taste his own blood on his lips. In truth, he was a pathetic little man who was so very deeply in love with himself and his dreams that he saw nothing else.
He'd suggested an alliance, and the benefit of this was implied to be axiomatic. Getting revenge on Goku was implied to be enough.
It wasn't.
For Doctor Myuu, the concept of acting was a relatively new trick that was still fresh in his mind, taught to him by none other than one of his own. Initially, playing the role of the invested assistant had been somewhat entertaining. By hiding his own truth he was able to silently nurture his fondness for keeping secrets, and throughout his lifetime he'd protected so many of them; beautiful, frail things that could be tucked away in dark corners and underneath his skin. He knew that Doctor Gero could not see through his glasses to catch him rolling his eyes. In conversation he laughed on cue, was expressionless when he was required to be, was silent when Gero spoke. It became mind-numbing, and eventually the amusement dissolved into a biting irritation that made him want to lash out on a multitude of occasions. It very rapidly became clear that Gero had no interest in him and that he had only been enlisted to serve him; it was a 'collaboration', of course, but there can only be one first author on a scientific body of work.
The Machine Mutant version of Android Seventeen had been difficult to build, and the construction of his body presented problems that shouldn't have arisen. Previously straightforward concepts had somehow become hard to grasp. In the early stages of his development, Myuu had struggled alone in a violet twilight and held nothing but a bloodied, synthetic mess in his hands, and the ordeal had sparked a cascade of frustrations within him that were only made worse by Gero's presence. Kneeling in agitated confusion, with trailing wires and circuitry scattered about him, he'd indicated to Gero that things were progressing well when all he'd wanted to do was scream. The man seemed to enjoy hovering over his shoulder and observing him as he worked; he assisted fitfully at best and mostly with the design aspects, many of which seemed suboptimal.
But, like a work of art, Seventeen came together, became beautiful. He was the embodiment of their collective rage, a force that strained in agony against the dying light of hope. The difficulties of bringing this machine to life were eclipsed by the wonder of him standing for the first time, looking around with curious, newborn eyes as he found his strength. His new soul should have been eased into the realm of eternal damnation, but in the moment of his awakening Myuu had been too drained and could only watch him in silent awe.
"My new creation!" Gero had exclaimed as he'd moved between them, and his statement – a veritable thunder that danced excitedly around the caverns - would not yet be challenged. Perhaps the hardest part of the masquerade had been pretending not to care. Forced into complacent apathy, Myuu had agreed that Seventeen was not his work. However, it is not possible to know something you have never touched, and so Doctor Gero remained oblivious to the changes in Seventeen's programming and barked orders at him as though he might actually take notice of them.
With his fierce eyes a little softer than usual, Gero had murmured something or other about his gratitude. It was as hollow and meaningless as the rest of him. Within Myuu there persisted a quiet anger which he knew would only subside when the truth came to light. In an ideal world he would have progressed without Gero's continuous disturbances, however, he could not risk Seventeen being taken out of Hell without him.
As such, the only way forward was for the two of them to remain devoted to Gero until they reached the point where they had the strength to break away from him, and so the masquerade continued. Seventeen followed the example given to him and spoke only when he needed to. They were both comfortable with their silence. Doctor Gero never saw their single shared glance and never caught Myuu pouring out the wine from his glass.
Remember that you are more than what this man believes you to be, Seventeen.