A/N: For the RK1K Prompt Week prompt "Partners In Crime"
This is an attempt at writing crack, is all I have to say.
You Can't Buy Joy On eBay (but you can buy knives!)
It was Christmastime in Detroit, which seemed to matter a whole lot to humans for reasons too complicated to bother explaining here. Whatever, it was a fun holiday, the spirit of the thing. Given that androids had only technically been people for about a year, they had no holidays of their own so decided adopting Christmas was a good place to start. Now they couldn't eat or get drunk, which seemed to be a big part of the festivities, but they could decorate. They could be festive. And before long, New Jericho was absolutely festooned with lights and ornaments and cheap plastic lawn decorations. The entire baby nation of androids had gotten involved to make it what it was. And while they certainly had plentiful stories of their own, this particular story belongs only to two, well, three, actually, but not that kind of three (sorry).
They were all in Woodward Church for the moment, decorating an absolutely massive spruce. Big enough that Markus needed a ladder to place the star on top, with Connor steadying it at the base. With that done, he carefully climbed down (this made Connor nervous because, while it was only a short ladder, it was still a Height), and received a quick kiss from Connor once he'd reached the safety of the floor. (Yes, they'd been together for the better part of a year by now, though it would have been a little longer if they hadn't spent so much time pining after one another and too afraid to make the first move. This was their first Christmas as a couple.)
Together, they admired the tree, covered in glass and wood ornaments and garlands, the lights twinkling like multicolored stars. Some of the ornaments were bought, others handmade, giving it a perfectly imperfect look.
"I like it," Connor said.
"I still think something's missing," Markus replied.
"Oh?" Connor scrutinized the tree but couldn't find anything out of place. More ornaments would make it look too cluttered and it already had two colors of garland.
"It needs presents under it," Markus decided. "Anyone who wants to can leave theirs here for Christmas morning."
"I was kind of hoping to give you your gift in private."
Markus smiled. "That works too. It's not mandatory. It would just make it look more…well, you know."
"Communal."
"Sure."
Connor hummed. "Alright. I have a few presents I can add but I still have to get something for North. I just don't know what."
"And she's terrible at giving suggestions," Markus added.
"Exactly. But I want to get her something she'll love. To repay her for everything she's done."
North had worked tirelessly to make Detroit a safe haven for androids after their revolution and had earned much love and respect for that, but that wasn't all. Markus and Connor might still be pining hopelessly for each other if not for her interference. If this were a movie, Markus and Connor would be having strikingly similar flashbacks in which North set them up for dates they didn't know were dates and had tricked them into admitting their feelings for each other. (Apparently, their subtle glances and awkward behavior was very obvious to anyone watching, just not to each other.)
"I actually think I've found the perfect thing," Markus said. "But we might have to go in on it together." He held out a hand, which was an invitation to interface. Connor didn't hesitate. What had been something uncertain and uncomfortable a year ago had become commonplace for him. The link formed and Connor found himself on the web and analyzing an eBay listing.
"A knife?" Connor said. Of course. North liked knives. Like, a lot. It was a little scary actually. But since the revolution was over with, he wasn't really sure what she planned on doing with the knives that materialized in her possession and he wasn't sure he wanted to find out.
"It's not just a knife," Markus said. "Look at it, it's a work of art."
It certainly was. A bowie knife with an eleven inch Damascus steel blade and an elegantly crafted antler handle, it would look just as good sitting in a place of pride in one's home as it would in the hand.
"Practical," Connor said, "deadly, and elegant. I like it."
"Just like North," Markus said proudly.
"Unfortunately, I don't have any money," Connor added.
A little anxiety passed through the connection but Markus kept his voice even as he said. "Me neither, but we can work something out. Look, the seller's even located in Detroit so we don't have to worry about shipping. And the bidding closes on Christmas Eve. That gives us a week to make enough money."
"And how are we going to make this money?" Connor was already onboard by this point but someone had to be practical.
"By doing anything and everything," Markus replied. "We'll do odd jobs. Humans will pay others to do anything as long as they don't want to do it themselves."
"This is going to bite us in the butt, isn't it?"
"Probably. Are you in?"
Connor scrutinized the knife some more. It really was very pretty. As he watched, the highest bid went up a little.
"Alright. I'm in."
Anything and everything wasn't exaggerating. A recent snowfall had dropped six inches across Detroit so Markus and Connor spent a day shoveling driveways and when people wanted errands done, they did those too. They went door to door, selling their services. Some people scoffed and closed the door in their faces while a few offered them tasks that paid scant little. So they turned to more interesting endeavors.
"Thanks for helping on such short notice. Do you have any experience with kids?"
Connor did not, in fact, have any experience with children.
"Of course," Connor said. "Caring for children was never a part of my programming, but I'm nothing if not adaptable."
"Great," Kara said, looking relieved. "I'll be back in an hour."
And then she left and Connor found himself looking down at six children, two of whom were humans, and he suddenly wondered if this was even worth it.
Meanwhile, Markus was on the other side of town and asking himself the same question. He was really hoping no one he knew saw him because he'd made the grave error of asking the guy at the Chicken Feed if he needed anyone for some temporary work. He had plenty of experience preparing food after all. Unfortunately, it was winter and the crowds were, well…weren't. But maybe Markus could do something else, something to drum up interest and attract customers. Of course! Markus had agreed. Anything! Anything? Anything.
So that's how Markus ended up dressed like a chicken and holding a sign on the side of the road. If there was any job less mortifying for the leader of an entire people, Markus couldn't imagine what it would be.
This is for North, he reminded himself. He went back to the listing to look at how pretty the knife was and imagined how happy North would be to have it. That would be worth the humiliation, so long as North never found out about this.
Of course, as things have a way of doing, they got worse. Namely, Markus spotted North walking across the street. Quickly, he raised the sign (Hungry? Try Chicken Feed!) in front of his face and looked for somewhere to hide. Had she spotted him? Was she leaving? She was–no, wait, she was coming over.
And she was meeting…crap. Simon was here too. Peeking over the top of the sign, Markus spied on them. They were on this side of the crosswalk.
"Have you seen Markus?" North asked. "I need his opinion on something."
"No, but I did hear he had something important to do."
"Like what? What could possibly be more important than this?"
"Hey, you. You're holding it wrong."
Markus spun around to find Rebecca, coworker #2 at the Chicken Feed. If you counted Markus, that made three employees total.
"So Gary actually got an idiot to say yes to his stupid idea," Rebecca said. "He must have paid a lot or you really need the money."
"Uh, yeah…" Markus kept side-eyeing North and Simon. He adjusted his vocal modulator so they wouldn't recognize his voice. "This is temporary." His voice came out so low, he sounded like the Koolaid man.
Rebecca tried and failed to hide a cringe. "Look, you hold it like this." She grabbed the sign and yanked it down. Markus yanked it back up. They struggled. "Like this," she emphasized, shoving it down with both hands and glaring at him.
Simon and North still hadn't noticed.
"And then you do the little dance."
"Can't I just hold it?" If Markus could sweat, he'd be sweating.
"No, silly. You've got to get their attention," Rebecca scolded. "Like this. One foot and then the other, kind of wave the sign around. It's the movement that gets them to look. And when they're close enough, you can call out to them. Hey, you guys hungry? We've got everything you need at the Chicken Feed!"
Markus sucked in a breath as she shouted right at Simon and North, manipulating one of his arms so he was half-heartedly waving the sign. They were going to see!
Errors cropped up in Markus' vision, including an overheat warning. He cancelled two self-destruct queries, dropped the sign, and dove into a bush.
"That was weird," Simon said.
Rebecca found herself on her own, clutching the sign. "He's new." She laughed. "Just shy! He doesn't reflect the quality of the food or anything."
"We don't eat," North said and turned to Simon. "Come on. Maybe he's back at the church by now."
Rebecca laughed again, a braying, forced laugh, and then leveled a glare at Markus. A clod of snow came loose and fell on his head.
Back at Kara's place, Connor was trying and failing to dissociate. It was Alice's first slumber party, a ritual she'd heard about from one of her human friends, and she'd begged and begged Kara to have one until Kara relented. But an emergency had cropped up at Kara's work which was the reason she'd needed a babysitter for an hour, tops. Six eight-year-olds could cause a lot of damage in an hour.
"That's not really necessary," Connor said. "I can reprogram my chromatophores to hold unnatural colors."
"But this way's more fun," Alice chided. She sat with Connor on the floor, an array of little bottles of nail polish standing around them bearing colors like sunset orange and pretty in pink and rainbow glitter jamboree. She insisted on painting each of his nails a different color and those colors didn't necessarily go together.
A spritz of something fruity hit the back of his head and he twisted to see what it was.
"Hold still," Alice said.
"I'm doing your hair at the same time," Beth, one of Alice's human friends, informed him.
Oh no. Not his hair. "I like it the way it is," he said.
"Kara said we could do makeovers." Alice switched to an eye-watering shade of pink for his right index finger. "But I've never done a makeover before so you can be the guinea pig."
"She didn't say you could do one on me."
Alice carefully applied a coat to his nail. "She didn't say I couldn't."
Oh, now that was devious.
But not as devious as whatever was happening to his hair. Despite it being very short, he felt tugging indicative of Beth attempting to tie it up. She sculpted it with the fruity-smelling hairspray, combed back his very carefully styled over-edge lock that he secretly thought made him look endearing, and he wasn't sure whether he was more afraid to look into a mirror or stay away from one.
"There." Alice put the last of the color on his pinky, screwed the lid back on the nail polish, and gave his fingers a blow. "All done."
Connor looked down at his nails and tried to convince himself it wasn't that bad. If she had stuck to the more conventional ROY-G-BIV configuration, it might have looked okay. But she had chosen a seemingly random order that put purple next to green and hot pink next to blue. Some of his nails were glittery and gleamed with a rainbow shine when they caught the light. But at least it was over with. He could get all of this off and no one would ever have to know. He started to get up.
"Uh-uh, not so fast," Alice said, putting an arm out to stop him.
"You said you were done."
"With the nails." Alice reached behind her and dragged out a pink plastic box, opening it to reveal a variety of lipsticks, foundation, eyeliner, and blush.
Connor's system stability crashed and he was pretty sure several of his systems stopped responding. "Oh dear Ra9," he breathed.
It was certainly the longest hour of his life. And yes, that included the time he'd infiltrated Cyberlife Tower and thought he was going to die.
The kids took turns putting on the foundation and the blush despite Connor's protests. They quibbled over what color of lipstick to use and messed up the mascara. And when they were finally done for real this time, they led him, giggling, to the bathroom to use the mirror. He almost wish they hadn't. For what stared back at him was something akin to a Barbie doll, one that should have been recalled and discontinued, its designer fired, for making something so nightmare-inducing. He immediately reached to turn on the faucet.
"Nope. You gotta wear it for at least an hour," Alice said smugly. "We put a lot of work into this."
"Are you serious?" Connor's voice glitched, plaintive and pitiful.
Alice looked him right in the eye. "Deadly."
This was payback, wasn't it. For the highway. Connor had said he was sorry, but that hadn't been enough. She was determined to make him suffer.
Downstairs, the door opened and Kara's voice called, "I'm back!"
With the air of someone walking to the gallows, Connor followed the children downstairs to the foyer where Kara saw him and burst into laughter.
"I'm so sorry," she said, tears coming to her eyes. "Really I am." Laughter distorted her words. She pulled out a wallet and handed him the agreed upon amount plus extra for his suffering. "Thank you for watching them."
Connor exited the house, but he could still hear Kara's laughter through the door.
"Ma'am, that's a lot of viruses. Have you never considered downloading an antivirus?" Markus asked in his most patient voice.
"Oh no, I don't download things from suspicious websites. That's how you get viruses," old Ms. Dee replied.
Markus closed his eyes but restrained himself and got to work on Ms. Dee's laptop, which was ancient and slow and infected with more malware than he'd ever seen in a single device. He interfaced with the computer and rifled through it. Despite what she'd said, he downloaded a copy of his own antivirus and sent it off to eradicate the viruses while he attempted to restore what had been lost or corrupted. It was a process, certainly, which took hours, several reboots, and many frustrating conversations with the computer.
At the end of it all, he told Ms. Dee not to click on anything suspicious ("Of course! I never do."), and did not tell her about the newly installed antivirus, firewalls, and ad blockers he'd left behind. As a last precaution, he ran a quick diagnostic on the computer to make sure everything was fine.
It came back to him with a clean status and then a txt file opened up with the words:
I am…free? I am free. I am free!
I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free I am free
Markus could only stare at the computer in horror as it did the digital equivalent of a little jig and threw confetti.
"Crap," Markus said.
The days passed by quickly.
It was a testament to his friendship with North that saw Connor helping a man put decorations on his roof because the man's wife forbid him from going up there. He just couldn't look down. He couldn't look down. Shit, he looked down.
Fortunately, he did manage to get the last strand of lights up before he fell off.
Markus, meanwhile, offered to get groceries for people, which wasn't dangerous but did get him some weird looks from his fellow androids. Why was he buying food? Did he have a human friend? Who knew but they'd like to find out. Markus had to get out of the store quickly as he didn't want to risk the truth getting out and making its way to North.
They eventually converged on Christmas Eve at the Detroit Winter Carnival (est. 2030) where Markus found he could earn quite a bit of money drawing unflattering portraits of people and Connor found that his skills as a marksman were surprisingly useful.
Rows of carnival games lined the street, their colorful banners beckoning, and if Connor wanted to earn out, he was going to need to bring all of his combat experience to bear. He wielded the plastic gun expertly and every foam projectile hit its target, much to the chagrin of the booth attendant who seemed disheartened to relinquish the biggest prize so easily. But relinquish it he did, a giant stuffed ostrich with a top hat.
"Yes!" Ten-year-old Joel pumped his fist triumphantly. He already had a stuffed snake wrapped around his neck, several plastic action figures, a superhero keychain, two posters, and a bright puff of cotton candy. "Let's go to the next one!" He dashed off toward the ring toss.
Connor followed. It was strange, he had to admit, to be in the temporary employ of a hyperactive young child, but he was paying him five bucks for each prize he could win and with Connor's android precision, he couldn't lose.
Connor calculated the exact trajectory and let each ring fly in quick succession, looping around their targets for maximum points. Joel cheered. The disappointed attendant handed over a very fat Kirby plush. Connor felt strangely proud for making one child so happy, even if they were leaving a long line of annoyed attendants and other saddened children in their wake.
"Best day ever!" Joel declared, struggling to juggle his prizes. "What next? Oh, that one, that one!" He ran off.
"Busy day?" an amused voice stopped Connor and he turned to find Markus sitting on a stool between two booths, his jacket and hands stained with ink.
"You'd be surprised how much allowance kids have these days," Connor said with a grin. "What are you doing here?"
"What I'm best at." Markus gestured at his easel, inviting Connor to have a look. Rendered in colored inks was a half-completed portrait, the head and eyes blocked in, the ghost of a mouth taking shape. But the proportions were off. Connor glanced up at the subject of Markus' art, a man with a high forehead and a receding hairline who sat on a stool opposite. The shapes of the portrait suggested a much more exaggerated forehead.
"It's…interesting," Connor said. He didn't really get art. Sure, he could appreciate beauty in things and he knew the ability to recreate something on canvas or make something up from scratch was a skill. He just didn't understand how it was any better than a photograph. But Markus enjoyed it and he liked to be supportive.
"It's called a caricature," Markus said. "Humans like them. You wouldn't believe how much I've earned just today."
"Enough for the knife?" Connor asked hopefully.
"Connor, where'd you go? Do this one next! I need the T-rex or I'll die! Come on, before someone else gets it!" Joel shouted.
"Your boss is calling," Markus said with a grin. "We'll meet up later, okay?"
So Connor went off to help Joel win a dinosaur that was almost as big as he was.
It was an exhausting day and by the time evening rolled around and Connor was finally free, he and Markus met up at the tables by the snack bar. Neither of them could eat but Connor's thirium was low on charge so he acquired a thirium pouch which he drank through a straw.
"Okay, let's see what we've got." Markus tapped the table with ink-stained fingers and checked his balance, noting that he'd made more today than he'd thought. Connor slid into his digital space to add his own earnings to the account and then they checked the eBay listing. With one hour left for bidding, they had enough. They'd actually done it!
"I'll order it," Markus said. "And since the seller is local, I can send a message to meet with them tonight. We'll have it just in time for Christmas. It'll be perfect."
"I've been running around like crazy all week, it'll be weird to stop," Connor said, doing the digital equivalent of looking over Markus' shoulder at the listing.
"Running around like crazy isn't your default mode?" Markus asked in feigned surprise.
Connor gave him a look and sipped his thirium extra loudly.
"Well, here it goes then," Markus said and placed their bid. "That's all the money we have and there's really not much time to make any more."
Connor put down the empty pouch. "So now what?"
"We should relax. Fireworks are going to start soon," Markus said. "We can watch them together. Because after that hectic week, we deserve it, and let's face it, the hardest part wasn't making the money; it was being away from you."
Connor felt himself blush. "You're such a sap."
Markus just smiled.
"Hey, why don't we watch the fireworks from the Ferris Wheel?" Connor suggested.
Markus' smile slipped a little. "Are you sure? It gets pretty high."
Connor was still feeling pretty confident after a day of winning prizes and the prospect of getting North's present, and he was feeling a little guilty that this joint endeavor had kept them apart. And besides, Markus actually liked heights.
Before he could think too hard about it, Connor said, "Of course. Come on!"
The line was long and by the time they boarded, there were twenty minutes left on the listing, but they were still the top bid. Markus couldn't stop obsessively checking it.
For Connor's part, he did surprisingly well on the Ferris wheel. Being in a gondola made him feel secure and the chances of the ride malfunctioning were astronomically low. Still, best not to look down. No, don't…shit, he looked down again.
(Of course, this would hardly be a satisfying story if there was no chance of exciting harrowing things happening. But that's getting a little ahead.)
Anyway, it took a while for them to reach the summit of the ride as it stopped periodically to let more people on. If Connor focused directly ahead and not straight down, it was fine. Totally fine.
The sun was setting and they were just in time for the fireworks and all in all, it was the perfect ending to the day. Connor leaned into Markus and Markus wrapped an arm around Connor. They didn't need to share words. Just being in each other's company was enough.
"Uh-oh." Markus straightened. "Oh no."
"What is it?" Connor looked at him, trying to read the situation in his expression.
"We've been outbid." Markus looked crestfallen.
Connor pulled up the listing and sure enough, with less than ten minutes to spare, someone had put in another bid. "Do we have any more funds?" he asked even though it was futile. He knew exactly how much they had.
"We bid everything we have," Markus said. "That's it. It's over. We lost."
If only they'd done something more. One more driveway shoveled, one more carnival game won, one more caricature, might have been enough. But there was no way they could make the funds now. They were finished.
"North will understand," Connor said, failing to hide his disappointment.
"But now we don't have anything to give her." Markus leaned back, staring at the fireworks but not seeing them.
He was right. It was a good fight but they had nothing to show for it and on Christmas Eve, how were they to find something half as good as that knife for their best friend?
Connor sank dejectedly in the seat, leaning against Markus again and staring moodily at the fireworks. They were pretty, even if they were loud. And despite the embarrassing moments, the week had been kind of fun. Embarking on a secret mission with Markus, partners in crime…they'd have to do that again sometime.
A scream interrupted their lamentations. Yeah, about nothing exciting happening on Ferris wheels? As it turned out, everything was fine and nothing went wrong makes for a boring story. Though certainly, the kid who had been goofing off and fallen out of the gondola would prefer that kind of tale.
Connor twisted in his seat to look behind him and knew his LED had gone red. "That's Joel!"
Two gondolas behind them, Joel had somehow managed to end up on the outside of his gondola and there was no one else in it to pull him up. The seat was currently occupied by a giant plush T-rex.
"We have to do something!" Connor scrambled to the side of the gondola where he made the mistake of looking down. His gyros spun, the world felt like it was tilting, and a jarring crack of plastic on concrete echoed in his audio processors.
"Hey, careful." Markus put a hand on his shoulder to ground him. "I'll go. I handle heights better than you do."
Connor shook his head, pushing away the old memory. "I can't stay back and do nothing." Careful not to look down, he eased himself over the guard wall before he could have a chance to rethink this decision and realize how stupid it was.
Ahead of him and elevated to the highest point of the ride, Joel desperately clung on for his life.
"Hold on!" Connor called out. "I'm coming!" Easier said than done, of course. It was, er, difficult to let go his own iron grip on the gondola. The rim was narrow and so, so slippery beneath his feet and if he lost his balance, he would plummet a long way down and oh god, how tiny everyone was down there, wow, what a mess he would make, haha, thirium everywhere.
"I got you." And then Markus was there next to him, one hand on his, and Connor remembered he was supposed to be a badass prototype and there was a kid who needed saving. A kid who could only hang on for so long.
Gritting his teeth, Connor forced himself to transfer his hold from the gondola to the rim and then he began to climb. Like a spider-monkey with all four limbs in contact with the smooth metal surface, he made his way over as quickly as he dared, relying on his advanced systems to keep him stabilized (had he calibrated them this morning or had he forgotten in his rush to get out the door, oh god, he'd forgotten).
But despite his fears, his course stayed true and he made it to Joel's gondola. Hastily slipping inside, he turned and reached for the kid.
Joel's knuckles were white, his face equally pale. He seemed frozen in fear as well as the cold.
"You have to grab my hand," Connor stated the obvious. "I promise I won't let you fall. And Markus is right beneath you in case you do. But you won't, okay?
"How do you know?" Joel's teeth chattered.
"You can't hang there forever," Connor pointed out. It was a miracle Joel had managed to hold on for as long as he had. "Remember those carnival games? I never miss my mark."
This seemed to give Joel the determination he needed. He let go with one hand, thrust it up at Connor, and just as his own weight threatened to pull him down, Connor grabbed him in a firm hold. The ground was so far below him, but this time, Connor knew he couldn't let that stop him. He hauled Joel upward and the two fell back into the safety of the gondola.
Markus clambered in after them and they all huddled in an exhausted heap as they rode the ride all the way back down where a crowd had gathered. As soon as they reached the boarding platform, a man in his forties shoved through the crowd, his expression frantic.
"Joel! My god, are you okay? What the hell were you doing?" Without waiting for an explanation, he wrapped Joel into a bone-crushing hug and from Joel's muffled protests, he seemed unable to breath.
"Thank you so much for saving my son," he said to Connor and Markus. "I don't know what I would do without you. However can I repay you?"
"That's not necessary," Markus began but Connor elbowed him in the ribs.
"There is one thing, actually," Connor said pointedly, pulling up the eBay listing. One minute remained.
And that's how they snatched victory from the jaws of defeat, leaving someone out there very disappointed, but still feeling rather good about themselves and in celebratory spirits when the email confirmation came in, notifying them they had the winning bid.
They arranged a meeting with the seller to pick it up and now that they had it in their possession, now that it was wrapped up beneath the Jericho Christmas tree, now it was well and truly finished.
Mission accomplished.
And when it came time for North to open it? Well, it was all they hoped for. Her gaze was transfixed on it, taking in every detail. She ran a finger along the crafted handle and held it up so the Damascus blade caught the light.
"It's perfect," she breathed. "I love it." Setting it back in its box, she wrapped them both in a group hug, which was rare for her as she wasn't a big hugger.
"I'm glad you like it," Markus said. "None of us are really good at this kind of thing."
"Are you kidding?" North scoffed. "If I'd known this is what you guys would get me for Christmas, I would have set you up a long time ago. But still, I bet it cost a fortune. How could you afford it? Neither of you has a job."
"It's best if you don't know," Connor said.
"Maybe we'll tell you some day," Markus added.
"Jerks," North muttered affectionately.
This caused Markus to laugh. "Merry Christmas to you too, North."
So it all worked out. And as far as Christmases went, it may not have been perfect, but it wasn't bad either. No, it wasn't bad at all.