@gaby

[vns]

[ this was supposed to be one of Gaby's days off. in fact, she's not in the safehouse when the message comes in. ]

Turns out that we're missing two new faces around the safehouse.

I'd play a guessing game as to why I wasn't told, but I don't care. These two faces apparently murdered two people that night.

I don't know who they are, but I do know that they're locked up. Any guesses as to what's going to happen to them?

Genuine question. Because I don't know.

Oh, and because some of you think you can do whatever the hell you want around here: don't think the way out for them is a jail break. Don't even fucking try it. And no, Morningstar isn't in the business of breaking people out of jail, because that would be stupid.

[ she's a little angry. no. a lot. but mostly she doesn't know how to handle this one. ]

Look. You know something? Tell me. You won't be "in trouble."

Comments

[saviorexe]

The truth of the matter is, we don’t have enough information to make a reasonable decision either way. We either risk revealing that there’s something more happening under their noses, as Connor said, or we hope that those undergoing questioning are surprisingly discreet.

Either way, I think it’s naive to think that we’re not already compromised in some small way.

And I think it might be wise to skew our focus to preparing for that, accordingly.

[cyberlife]

If our third party decides to issue a truthful statement about his connection to the authorities, then absolutely. We will be leaking information and quite quickly.

It's ultimately up to Morningstar how we proceed. I'll respect their decision at that time.

[saviorexe]

Gaby doesn’t seem to want to make any kind of move, so you might just get your preference regarding all of this. Though I’ve spoken to her about what we might need to do if things go south.

[cyberlife]

I was reviewing your comments.

If the safehouse's location has been compromised, then it seems to be in the civilians' best interests to uproot again.

[saviorexe]

And I think that's a plan worth putting our energies into, instead of arguing about what we should and shouldn't do.

private.

[cyberlife]

(finding a new place to hide. it causes an ache between his ribs that makes him inadvertently think of jericho, the explosion, the church.

after disappearing for some time, isn't it necessary now to warn him? just in case he disappears for good next time?)

Markus, we need to discuss something privately.

private foreverrr

[saviorexe]

[The privacy filter wasn't quite something he expected, given his previous reply. It seems a little out of the blue, which lends to the assumption that it might not have anything specifically to do with the issue of newcomers committing murder, and Morningstar going to ground over it.

That's a little... worrisome.]

Of course. In person?

[cyberlife]

(in person... it has to be.)

Yes. Are you at the apartment? I have some time.

(and he's heading there now, sick with a dread that makes his palms sweat.

what if—)

[saviorexe]

Yes, I'm here. I'll wait for you, if you want to head this way right now.

[And he'll be wondering what this is about the entire time, until Connor gets here.]

[cyberlife]

Okay.

(he shows, but lingers outside a moment to gather his bearings. markus will understand, that's what the sensible side of him supplies in an attempt to stop the gentle shake in his fingers. markus knows he was different then, he wasn't awake and he had no choice. it wasn't him. it wasn't him.

that's the only thought that gets him through the door.)

Markus?

[saviorexe]

[He waits, as he says he will. Scouring through the post while he does, still abuzz with comments, it's hard to push aside the mounting sense of weariness from reading all of the discordant conversations, in all the branching directions that they go.

But when he hears the door open, when the sound of Connor's footsteps herald his arrival, Markus pipes up from his spot on the couch; elbow pressed deep into its arm, body straightening from loosely tired to steadily attentive.]

Here, Connor.

[With a mental command, the flurry of exchanged words from the network dissipate from his vision, so he can give the other android his full attention. Already, he can spy signs of stress, of anxiety. He wonders if a few of their text exchanges had something to do with that.]

[cyberlife]

(turning his head at the familiar voice, connor feels his heart jump into his throat. he almost wishes markus wasn't at home, that he was still out and it'd take him some time to get back before they had this conversation. but that'd feel like a betrayal of some kind, after all he's put him through today.

only to add so much more.)

Markus — (he begins before he loses his nerve, placing his messenger bag down on one of the kitchen island's stools.) — I want to apologize for my behaviour. As much as the others in that network post were reaching, I shouldn't have instigated arguments in the way that I did... or spoken to you like that.

(the android creeps closer, standing in the centre of the floor. well before markus with every intention to join him.)

I'm sorry.

[saviorexe]

[To be fair, Markus didn’t expect an apology. Connor is always so headstrong, always so assured in the arguments he kicks up with others on the network, not always garnering their goodwill as a result. Ending each conversation without much compromise on his end, leaving the other party either impressed, reeling, or endlessly annoyed. It’s an almost enviable trait, if it weren’t employed in such a way that made Markus increasingly tired with each message that piled up.

And yet Markus knows there isn’t anything inherently wrong with that. Connor sticks to his guns, while Markus finds himself caught between two halves made of compromise and moral idealism. He’s proud of the other android because of it, even with the exasperation as it brings.]

There’s nothing to apologize for. You weren’t out of line, not with me or anyone else. You just make it very hard for anyone on damage control to pick up the pieces you’ve left in your wake.

[But looking at Connor, he already knows there’s something else encircling his mind. That he didn’t want to speak in person just to ease the guilt from his shoulders, just to tell him sorry.]

[cyberlife]

You shouldn't have to be on damage control. (he should be better than this, he shouldn't still be doing these things anymore.

goading people into making mistakes, interrogating them without remorse, refusing to be empathetic the way markus and noctis are. connor is obviously ashamed in himself, but — even that's a lie, isn't it? a large part of him still believes that what he did to jason was the right thing, to expose his loose wires, to grip him proverbially by the hair and raise him up to show everyone how great their precious friend is to the people who try to help him. the safehouse is safer without him.

and yet he wants him there to be a part of it. the duality of this has connor clenching his jaw, refusing to say something prideful. markus wouldn't be proud of that, of his boyfriend, of his trusted comrade. so it's shoved down with everything else.)

There are... more important things to discuss. Things that have no relation to the mess I've caused.

(pushing forward suddenly, connor reaches for the couch cushion and lowers himself down beside the person he now cherishes most in either world.)

It has to do with the uprising, Markus. I haven't been entirely truthful, or forthcoming — not about anything we've already discussed, we do secure our victory and you save us as a people, but... about the routes to get there. Ones I didn't think I was ready to discuss with you...

[saviorexe]

[No, he shouldn’t. In a perfect world, there would be no need for anything like damage control within a group whose goals should remain the same — to keep everyone safe, to keep them whole, to have them push forward in the same direction towards the same set of goals. But people are messy, and in their differences they say things that turn into arguments, that sting and burn and threaten to throw cooperation out the window. Splinters sinking in between bonds to pry them apart.

And yet that doesn’t even seem to be the sticking point; Markus was right, it wasn’t the reason why Connor wanted to meet him, abruptly, and have a conversation for reasons that appear worrisome when coupled with a preamble like that.

Markus shifts to angle himself to look at Connor, brow knit in concerned curiosity, eyes skating of his features as if he could pry forth clues to inform him of what this may be about. He can’t, not quite, but—]

Because they’re hard to say, or you didn’t think I would wish to hear them?

[There’s a difference, however slight, in that. Inversely, it could be both, which would make this seem even more ominous and serious than Connor is already making it out to be. Yet Markus adopts the stillness of an android, waiting patiently for an answer, ready to hear it — telling himself that apprehension has no place here.]

[retravel]

I like that better.

[ he's still on team "just let it happen." hell, maybe they'll be bait for the og captors. ]

Agreeing with Connor re: Morningstar's call.
But it should be noted that the newer arrivals among us will be most vulnerable, without even a month or two of appearances on footage or pings at nearby locations. The same goes for those of us who chose ridiculous identities.

[ deadeyes wrench, matches, etc. ]

[saviorexe]

Do you think they're in danger of being put under more scrutiny than the rest?

[This mostly goes for the newcomers, and not those with iffy chosen names.]

[retravel]

Absolutely.
A fake history's only the barest bones of a cover.

[ the newbies will lack the anecdotes that a neighbour or coworker could provide, and physical indicators of a presence, besides. ]

And those in captivity may have offered physical descriptions.

[saviorexe]

Then we keep more of an eye on them than usual, if necessary.

However, let’s hope that those being questioned don’t give the authorities reason to go looking for IDs with flimsy backstories. The city is a large one, with an impossible number of people — we at least have that advantage.

[...]

Can I ask you what you make of all of this? All this arguing.

[This whole discordant post. The lack of a singular direction.]

1/2.

[retravel]

I think I have a headache.
And a shift I can't miss.

[ this post is like dumping glass into his garbage disposal brain. ]

private.

[retravel]

We've never been more than people with commonalities, brought together by chance, not choice.

[ they're not a group. not a team, not a family, not SHIELD (his heart aches for them, for the sense of belonging that they foster in him). maybe he forgot that for a moment or two (with certain people, who make him — soft, worried, sloppy). his birthday left him happier than he'd been in months, but he knew that was temporary, the same as the relative period of peace and quiet in his head, which has reached a new, discordant peak as he reads and replies to this post.

it's neural overload, when his circuits are already fried. ]

We're in the moral grey now, Markus. Before this, things have been relatively straightforward, haven't they? Save the civilians and each other. Solve the mysteries.
Disagreement now is to be expected, given the high stakes and dangers this post has made tangible.
And it would also seem that this topic has arrived at a precarious moment for many individuals.

[ that's about more than the obvious, as plenty of their own seem to be fighting with their fellows or unearthing old wounds from other universes. ]

It worries me, but I don't know if a smoother outcome was ever possible, with all these factors in play.

private.

[saviorexe]

We are a group of people with the only commonality between us that matters — the want to find answers, the understanding of how important it is to keep each other safe. All of us. Even a self-centered mind would be able to see the cold reasoning behind that, if nothing else.

[Maybe he’s naive. Moreover, maybe he’s simply being Markus — overly hopeful, wanting to sink his feet into common ground between all of them, wanting to feel as if this is a group. To move forward as a team, to understand that each perspective is valuable in its own way, even if they’re bound to disagree on how to proceed.

With Jericho, he had been that balancing factor between the want to stay in shadow, and the want to press forward, sword held high, his comrades orbiting around him, each guided by mutual trust in the other. He can’t hope to fulfill that role here, not in the same capacity, and yet he still grasps at those ghostly threads like it might be some anchor to keep him from feeling rudderless.

Impossible to please everyone. He knows that’s a reality. Impossible to please himself, to feel as if he’s doing what he should, all that he can, which is far harder for him to forgive.]

I hate feeling like there’s more I could do — more than I would do — if circumstances were only slightly different.

[If it were Connor who had been taken in and questioned, for instance. Scared, confused, with no idea of what might happen to him.]

Back in Detroit, I could decide to take action. Here, my hands have never felt so bound; and I know that’s simply the reality of it, that I have to be patient, but that doesn’t making reading any of this easier.

private forever.

[retravel]

[ No, he thinks, it's differences, however small or large, that mark them. That's the way of humanity. Always.

Only he doesn't say that 'cause Markus is admitting to feeling — outmatched by the weight of this. Helpless, in the way he knows they both cannot abide. So, Fitz waits, thinks, considers what his better half would do, if it were her here, reading this. ]

I want to believe you're right about that.

[ Fitz hasn't lied to Markus since he came clean about the Framework (beyond the keeping of secrets that aren't his own to share, as in the case of "Katelin"). He tells the truth now. ]

And no, it doesn't make it easier.
But it's only right that it's hard.
I'd be more worried if it were easy for you.

[ To see this and immediately see the rational route forward and stay that course without second thought, uncaring of the individuals trapped therein. Fitz feels he came to his conclusion hastily (and yet he stands by it; has only budged in his offering to Connor to act, if they receive intel that indicates the removal of other alternatives). Caring, worrying, considering the what ifs only makes Markus human — well, you know what he means. ]

You're handling yourself well, bearing in mind the greater context. It's not just us we risk by acting, it's MS and all the people they've helped and continue to aid in this universe.
If Jemma were here, I think she'd say the steps we take don't have to be big, they just have to take us in the right direction.

[ He likes that one of hers. It helps, even with business as urgent and spiralling as this. They're withholding judgment; Markus and Strange are working towards a plan for a new safehouse; and Gaby is seeking informed answers, not misguided action.

That's not nothing. ]

[saviorexe]

[I want to believe you're right about that, and the message is clear in its meaning; hopeful, but doubtful that it should ever be the reality of the situation. And that's fine, because Fitz is reasonable and grounded in ways that Markus is not -- the android forever wanting to reach higher plateau than where they stand, an idealized form of a group of people trying to achieve the same goal -- and perhaps that's the kind of balance he needs, when he feels the ground upending itself from under the soles of his feet.]

I know you're right. That if I can only take a small step forward, then it's still forward movement. It's still progress.

[If he walks in the right direction, he can hope that he pulls the rest along with him. Yet sometimes he wonders if that's too presumptuous. He doesn't believe himself to hold the same sort of sway here, as opposed to his standing with a group of androids who wanted nothing more than to grasp at their own personal freedoms.

And he realizes, perhaps belatedly, that he's doing Fitz no favors by dumping his uncertainties on him. That he should coil it all back within himself, and use it to straighten his spine. As he always does.]

I'm sorry, I didn't mean to place my worries on you. It'll pass, and we'll make the right choices moving onwards.

[retravel]

[ An overwhelming (and perhaps undeserved) weight has sat between his shoulders for some time now, earned by a life and half of choices. Of course Markus' worries find a home there, slotting alongside the rest. A dear friend's concerns, particularly ones relevant to the whole to their shared situation, always will.

It doesn't threaten to knock him down, however. Not this time.

Finding ways to be strong for others can be an exercise in doing the same for yourself, after all.]

Hey, you don't have to apologise.
It's not placing your worries on me; it's letting me walk with you.

[ That makes one person pulled along in the correct direction. For his part, Fitz thinks Connor was accurate in one his first assessments of Markus: His charisma is a powerful weapon. Frightening, emboldening, liberating. ]

You remind me to try for more.

[ Aim higher, be better, make the right choices going forward. He hopes Markus can see that he has that effect on others, even here, his small steps triggering a wave of momentum that can catch others in its crest. ]