[It hits him the moment the spear is spatially dislodged, jarring and jolting. But it tears through him only a breath of a moment later, dissipating any shred of remaining focus as if it were made of vaporous haze, flung away in favor of—
Pain. Hideous, clawing pain blossoming in the core of his gut (how? it shouldn’t, it can’t, a synthetic body not programmed for it not hardwired not possible) lancing outward with its many teeth, shearing and tearing at his insides. For a harried moment still cursed with lucidity, Markus thinks he’s lost his android body again, but flashes of incomprehensible code spilling into his vision imply otherwise. It’s torture unlike what he’s ever felt before, android or human — it’s nerve endings pulled apart, it’s every atom of each biocomponent (WARNING: CRITICAL SYSTEM FAILURE, SHUTDOWN IN 15, 14, 13, 12_ /ERROR, ERROR, ERROR...) unhinging itself from its proper place, leaving an interlocking interior of agony on its wake. He hunches over, loses strength in his legs, crashing his knees into the ground; a hand gripped at his middle and the other at his temple, eyes squeezed shut, so tight that the hard plastic beneath faux skin cracks.
A circular, infinite noise in his head overrides the scream that falls from his lips. He wants to echo the words, form them, as if repeating the mantra might free him of how they fill his head until it may burst.
(Torn apart. My insides are all being torn apart! Torn apart. My insides are all being torn apart! Torn apart. My insides are all being torn apart! Torn apart. My insides are all being torn apart! Torn apart. My insides are all being torn apart!)
Markus cries out in stubborn desperation, mauled from the inside, harassed in his own head (WARNING: MY INSIDES ARE ALL—) opening his eyes to view only briefly a fading Cain and, closer, a suffering Fitz. He strains, screaming still, reaching out for him on instinct; hopes to grab his shoulder, his arm, a wrist, anything to anchor himself to the other man, it’s what they’ve always done when fraught and frightened and in so much pain, a reliance on the one another that has always helped them, god let it help them now.
Fingertips shake and brush against the man. But the world goes a brilliant, deep black when his whole body shudders, cracks in violent paroxysm, and (WARNING: —BEING TORN APART) shatters in a cobalt cloud of blue, of scattered and ruined components, coiled tubing, and shining pieces of once-pristine white.
This mass of detritus drifts lazily in the sea, all the life gone from it.]
no subject
Pain. Hideous, clawing pain blossoming in the core of his gut (how? it shouldn’t, it can’t, a synthetic body not programmed for it not hardwired not possible) lancing outward with its many teeth, shearing and tearing at his insides. For a harried moment still cursed with lucidity, Markus thinks he’s lost his android body again, but flashes of incomprehensible code spilling into his vision imply otherwise. It’s torture unlike what he’s ever felt before, android or human — it’s nerve endings pulled apart, it’s every atom of each biocomponent (WARNING: CRITICAL SYSTEM FAILURE, SHUTDOWN IN 15, 14, 13, 12_ /ERROR, ERROR, ERROR...) unhinging itself from its proper place, leaving an interlocking interior of agony on its wake. He hunches over, loses strength in his legs, crashing his knees into the ground; a hand gripped at his middle and the other at his temple, eyes squeezed shut, so tight that the hard plastic beneath faux skin cracks.
A circular, infinite noise in his head overrides the scream that falls from his lips. He wants to echo the words, form them, as if repeating the mantra might free him of how they fill his head until it may burst.
(Torn apart. My insides are all being torn apart! Torn apart. My insides are all being torn apart! Torn apart. My insides are all being torn apart! Torn apart. My insides are all being torn apart! Torn apart. My insides are all being torn apart!)
Markus cries out in stubborn desperation, mauled from the inside, harassed in his own head (WARNING: MY INSIDES ARE ALL—) opening his eyes to view only briefly a fading Cain and, closer, a suffering Fitz. He strains, screaming still, reaching out for him on instinct; hopes to grab his shoulder, his arm, a wrist, anything to anchor himself to the other man, it’s what they’ve always done when fraught and frightened and in so much pain, a reliance on the one another that has always helped them, god let it help them now.
Fingertips shake and brush against the man. But the world goes a brilliant, deep black when his whole body shudders, cracks in violent paroxysm, and (WARNING: —BEING TORN APART) shatters in a cobalt cloud of blue, of scattered and ruined components, coiled tubing, and shining pieces of once-pristine white.
This mass of detritus drifts lazily in the sea, all the life gone from it.]