Chapter 23

Faintly he remembered their mother and father. Their father was a businessmen who had just got finished with a divorce from his previous wife.

Markus couldn't remember much about that woman that was once his mother. His father had called her an awful, selfish person.

When he had married to his second wife, Markus had loved her immediately. They had grown attached to each other instantly.

She had let him hold his half-brother in his arms. He was a cute baby.

She always made sure he was fed and changed his diapers.

When he was older, she invited Markus to play with him. She turned towards him glancing at him sternly.

"Remember be gentle to your little brother. He's still young and fragile."

He was a greedy and a selfish like most 2 year old boys were.

Connor had taken one of his favorite toy cars.

"Mine," he uttered.

"That's not yours. Give it back," he said.

"No."

Markus reached for the cars but Connor jerked them back.

"Give them back," he persisted.

"No!" Connor screamed before running away giggling.

Markus lunged at him pushing him to the ground.

Connor cried.

"Mama!"

She came back witnessing the entire display helping Connor to his feet kneeling in front of him.

"What happened, dear?"

"Mawcaws," he sobbed.

She glanced away at Connor to glare sternly at Markus.

"Markus, why did you push your brother?"

"He took my cars without asking."

"You didn't have to push him."

Markus glared at her angrily.

"I asked him nicely but he wouldn't give them back."

"You think pushing him was going to solve anything. Are you trying to kill your brother?"

Markus' eyes widened.

"What if I was?"

"You know what they do to people who kill other people."

"They go to jail."

"You're lucky if you wind up in jail," she said pensively. "Do you think anyone would care if you wind up there? I couldn't save you from that fate. You'd have no one. When me and your father die, who will you have then if you decide to kill your only brother? Tell me is it worth it? You'd be willing to throw it all away for your cars?"

Markus thought back on when she let him hold his brother. He was so innocent and delicate.

"Make sure to look out for your brother alright."

Markus felt tears run down his face and he bawled.

"No, I'm so sawry."

At some point she had fallen ill when Connor was only five years old.

"Where's mom?" Connor asked after arriving at school.

"She collapsed when she arrived back at the house."

"She looked fine when she dropped us off," Markus said. "Where is she?"

Their dad frowned.

"Don't worry about it."

"Where is she?"

"At the hospital."

Connor sobbed.

"Can we drop by and visit?" Markus asked.

Connor continued to cry. Their dad frowned turning to their son. His arm furled back as he smacked him across the face.

"Stop your crying."

"Why did you hit him? He didn't even do anything wrong," Markus snapped.

"How is he going to be a big boy if he can't stop crying over every little thing."

"You think being bullied by the other kids is a normal thing at his age. He's had a hard time at school. I'd think you would understand?"

"Why do you have to be so disobedient?"

Markus felt bravery well up in him giving him courage even as his father smacked him against the cheek. He had to be strong for his brother since his mother wasn't around.

Their dad probably thought he didn't pick up on it, but it was obvious the effort he went in ensuring that neither him or Connor was there when he was in the room. The distance seemed intentional.

Eventually their dad asked them to accompany him in the car.

"Where are we going, dad?" Markus asked cautiously.

"Away."

"Why?"

"I think it's for the best. Your mother doesn't want to see you anyway."

"That isn't true. She loved us which is more than I can say about you."

"Markus, you shouldn't say that. Dad is a good daddy."

"It doesn't matter what you think. The doctor says she's unstable and sending you away is in her best interests. I wish it could happen any other way."

"Dad, why don't you take care of us?" Connor asked.

He frowned.

"I wish I could. Maybe when everything settles down."

Markus glared at him.

The old lady had welcomed the two kids to the orphanage with open arms ushering them to bed.

Markus laid on one of the children's beds set in the room glaring at the ceiling. He felt Connor's gaze on him.

"Do you think dad will come back for us?"

Markus glanced at him noticing that Connor had teary eyes.

"Yeah, maybe some day," he said. Even if he had to lie, it was better than seeing his brother cry.

Some weeks passed before a man dropped by the orphanage. He was middle aged but could pass as someone much older judging by his nearly balding head.

"Sir, can I help you?"

"I'm here at the request of a friend," the man said. "He's interested in adopting one of your kids."

"And you are?"

"Elisha, Elisha Kamski."

"Well, follow me and I'll introduce you to the kids."

Eventually Elisha had made it in one of the playroom, spotting a young brown skinned child scrubbing the floor. He was whistling to himself.

There was red paint all over the floor.

"Sorry about the mess. I'll clean it up as fast as I can. I made a bit of a mess in here," he said.

Elisha saw that another one of the kids was coated in red paint.

"Did some get on that kid too?"

The boy chuckled.

"Yeah, I accidentally got some on my brother."

Elisha had a feeling that was a lie but admired the way the child looked out for his brother.

"What was that kid's name?" he asked when had left the room.

"His name's Markus. He dropped here with his brother, Connor, a couple of weeks ago."

"He's a good kid," Elisha said.

A couple days later, Carl had dropped by to pick up the kids.

The old lady had dropped by their bedroom as the two kids were getting ready.

"Looks like you are getting adopted."

Markus looked confused.

"Why?"

"Y'know that guy that dropped by a couple of days ago. He told his friend all about you and he dropped by asking for the adoption forms."

"What about Connor?"

"He didn't say anything about adopting your little brother."

Markus folded his arms.

"Then I'm not going."

"Mr Manfred went all this way just to ask for you."

"Well I don't want to go."

Markus sat down on the floor stubbornly and the old lady sighed before she walked out.

Seated outside was an old man with a balding head. He was standing with a sturdy gait.

"I'm sorry Mr Manfred. Markus doesn't want to come."

The man looked surprised.

"What's the problem?" he asked curiously.

"He was brought here with his brother," she said. "Markus doesn't want to leave him behind."

Understanding crossed his eyes and he smiled softly.

"Then bring him too. I'll adopt them both."

"It won't be any trouble to you?"

He looked irritated by the prospect that the kids could be any trouble. If their parents couldn't handle them that didn't mean it was the children's fault.

"Of course not," he said.

Early the next morning, Markus awoke to something wet nudging at his face.

"Tiny, down."

Markus awoke to the sight of a white pitbull in front of him. It was seated on a chair at his bedside.

"How are you feeling?"

His eyes followed the voice landing on Simon who was gazing down at him softly.

"Fine, I guess. It's kinda boring around here."

"You didn't receive the art supplies yesterday?" Simon asked.

"Carl told me he asked you for them so I could use them."

"He did."

"...and you just so happened to have a bunch of art supplies at your beck and call?" Markus asked.

Simon grinned.

"Exactly."

"You don't intend to supply the reason because you think it makes you more mysterious."

"You intend to prove me wrong?" Simon asked cheekily.

Markus rolled his eyes.

"You couldn't be a more open book if you tried."

Simon frowned momentarily before a smug smile reappeared on his lips.

"Then why don't you indulge me. Tell me about what you think you know about me."

"That art set, you have it because you're an artist too."

Simon's smile didn't falter.

"What makes you say that? Did you think I am too overequipped to be anything but an artist?"

"Don't get cheeky," Markus said. "You think that kind of stuff means anything. Anybody could have bought art supplies. Maybe they wanted to practice with the real stuff. Just because you bought a lot of art supplies doesn't mean you're an artist."

"Then indulge me, Da Vinci. What makes you think I'm an artist?" Simon asked.

"Isn't it obvious? I saw the plants you drew in the back of the sketchbook."

Simon looked surprised.

"That could have been anyone."

"Maybe but if you combine every single clue, there is really only one conclusion. I think you know by now that the people who come here don't even have anything much less art supplies at their disposal. Anybody can be an artist, but people who have nothing don't have much of anything do they?"

Simon smiled pensively.

"You're quite smart."

"Nah," Markus said. "My brother had to study that stuff to become a police officer and he often asked me for help with his work."

"Oh."

"So where do you get your references?" he asked.

Simon glanced at him in confusion.

"References?"

"Yeah, the pictures that you base your sketches on."

Simon smiled.

"There is none. I draw them straight from my garden. It's quite large y'know."

"You have a garden?" Markus asked in surprise.

"Yeah, does that surprise you?"

"I didn't want to hope."

"You could deduce that I'm in artist but you're surprised that I'm a gardener?"

"With the chaos going on, I'd assume you wouldn't have time to worry about a garden."

Simon snorted.

"Well guess the jokes on you."

Markus glanced at his dog.

"So why a pitbull?"

"You got something against my dog?" Simon asked.

Markus knew he was teasing but nevertheless felt it necessary to reveal what was on his mind.

"You just seemed like you'd go for a pet that was more docile."

Simon snorted.

"You'd think because of their reputation that they're bad pets that turn against their owner."

"You can't blame me for that, the media does a good job selling it's case."

"The media also brought to light several trends in the early 2000s: the cinnamon challenge, the tide pod challenge. I'd say if it wanted to kill people it was a success."

Markus glanced at him surprised by the serious frown on Simon's face.

"I-I'm..." he stammered clutching his nose. "not that stupid."

"Of course not," Simon said. "It'd be a bad case of selection bias if you honestly thought that pitbulls were bad just because of your own perceptions. Especially given their loyalty. Police officers used to use them on the force long before the German Shepherd."

"ACHOO!"

Simon glanced at his face and saw his eyes were watery.

"What's the matter?"

"Allergies," Markus said. "It's especially bad around pet dander."

Simon chuckled.

"Sorry."

Markus noted he didn't seem sorry in the slightest. He smiled.

"You're not sorry."

Simon smiled smugly.

"No, I'm not. Does that mean you've never had any pets?"

Markus chuckled.

"If you think that, you'd be absolutely wrong. At some point Carl bought my brother a cat."

"Connor?"

"Yeah, he originally wanted a dog but Carl was worried that it might worsen his allergies. His face gets very swelled up and it's hard for him to breathe whenever he gets a severe reaction."

"Sounds awful," Simon said.

"It is bad compared to me," Markus said. "He also got really attached to that cat. He was really upset when he died even after leaving his fair share of scratch marks and scratched furniture."

"Someone sounds a bit bitter."

Markus smirked.

"Me and the cat had a fight going on and he was winning by a margin."

Simon chuckled.

As they were talking, Simon felt his phone go off in his pocket.

"You ought to get that."

Simon nodded, took out the phone from his pocket clicking it and putting it to his ear.

"Hello?"

Simon's eyes widened, his mouth agape from the message over the phone.

"What's going on?"

He frowned, Simon's eyebrows raised in concern for a split second before it turned into an indifferent frown.

"What's the matter?"

The frown grew larger.

"Alright, I'll be there right away."

Simon sighed.

"What's wrong?" Markus asked.

The blond's lips contorted in a wry smile.

"Nothing. They need me back at the hospital. If Lucy drops by, tell her I'll be back in the evening."

'That was strange.'

"Alright," Markus said, unnerved by the quick transition of expressions on Simon's face.

With that Simon headed out.

Lucy dropped by later.

"Have you seen Simon?"

"He told me to tell you he was heading back to the hospital and will be back later in the evening."

Lucy sighed.

"He's so lucky we got a spare medic on hand. We can't always afford to be taking liberties like this. It doesn't help matters when he has a big target on his back."

"Who's targeting him?" Markus asked curiously. "I'm sure he has enemies but it sounded as though you were thinking of someone specific."

Lucy frowned looking away.

"The same people who attacked you. We were at the same hospital when those androids dropped by asking for us to let them in your room," she explained. "Simon had to rescue me after they nearly killed me."

"Wait, you were that nurse who was shot."

"Simon hid in one of the other rooms until the coast was clear. i was choking on blood so he did an emergency tracheotomy. I still have the scar on my neck."

Lucy lifted her head and pointed to the scar.

"I think he managed to take some of them out before they reached you. One of them witnessed him trying to help you. It's likely they suspect he was recruiting your father to take down Cyberlife from the inside. They must have suspected I was involved with him because they returned later and tried to threaten me in order to disclose his location until Simon stopped them in time. So Simon sent me here and I've been here ever since."

Suddenly Markus heard something between a vibration and a clatter.

"Looks like your phone's going off," Lucy said glancing at the cellphone on his bedside table.

"Can you hand it to me, please?" Markus asked.

Lucy handed the phone over to him and he answered it.

"Hello."

"Markus?"

"Simon, what's up?"

"How's the fort holding up?"

"It's good. Might want to hurry, I think Lucy's worried about you."

"Only Lucy?" Simon quipped.

Markus sighed.

"Yeah."

There was a long pause before Simon spoke.

"A shame. Catch you later, Markus."