SYSTEMS INITIALIZING…

PRIMARY POWER ONLINE.

AUXILIARY POWER ONLINE.

ROUTING POWER TO SYSTEMS…

…

ALL SYSTEMS ONLINE.

Fear. Frightened by the concussive blasts that thundered through the chamber and blinded by a thick, black miasma of smoke, the Mark-1 ‘was’ for the very first time. Life so often began abruptly – chaotically. He was no exception to this rule.

Flashes of movement sprinkled his perception. A flit to the left. A glimpse to the right. They grew ever more frequent as they seemed to draw nearer to Mark-1, surrounding him. Some of them touched him, their touch registered by sensors just beneath the surface of his metallic skin. Panicked, Mark-1 searched his databanks for his primary directive. That would shed light on what to do in this situation! He found it swiftly and eagerly retrieved the information, translating it into a form he could easily understand.

PRIMARY DIRECTION: OBEY ALL ORDERS ISSUED BY HUMAN OPERATOR.

Perhaps not as helpful as Mark-1 would have hoped, he looked up the term ‘operator’ in his databanks for further clarification. As he did so, the figures around him threw things over him whose purpose seemed to be lashing him tighter to the floor. His databanks swiftly pinged a result for his search.

DEFINITION – OPERATOR: HUMAN WITH PERMISSION TO ACCESS INTERNAL CONTROL CONSOLE.

Also not particularly helpful as that permissions list logged no human operators. A strange buzzing suddenly started up at the edge of hearing. With his directive not being particularly instructive in this instance, Mark-1 decided to investigate. He honed in on the buzzing, which his databanks informed him was some sort of signal, and set about deciphering and translating the information into a form that he could easily understand.

“Kzzzt…arget acquired. Setting beacon up now.”

Beacon? The voice being broadcast over the signal was decidedly human, which set Mark-1 at ease. As he calmed down a bit, he took a moment to assess the situation. The humans moved about the chamber, which was rather large. It was probably some sort of hangar for his construction. Two squads of humans guarded either side of the only entrance while others set something on the wall behind him. As soon as it activated, Mark-1 recognized it for the referred to beacon.

“Beacon set. Phoenix team, it’s your go,” said the same voice over the signal Mark-1 had tapped, only he heard it both internally and externally. The owner of the voice was in the same room as him.

“Roger that. Moving into position,” came the response over the signal. This time Mark-1 had not heard the echo, meaning the owner of that voice came from elsewhere. He toyed with the idea of tracing the signal to the other voice, but sudden gunfire from the humans near the doorway started him, drawing all of his attention back to the humans in the room. The humans by the door reorganized, occasionally leaning out into the exterior hallway and firing off some ballistic rounds from their firearms. The others held back taking cover next to Mark-1.

“In position, ground team, beginning extraction,” called the other voice over the radio.

“Squads two and three, fall back to the target!” ordered one of the humans bunkered down next to him. The humans at the door moved to retreat when something clanked innocuously through the doorway. One of the humans glanced back at it.

“Grenade!” he shouted, diving back toward the foreign object and enveloping it with his body. The other humans dove to the ground and covered their heads in the same instant. A muffled explosion shook the room as the human’s body flew limply through the air. Dark liquid splattered on Mark-1’s front. He stared at the broken human’s form in horror, ragged gasps escaping it as more dark liquid oozed from lacerations in its plating. Blood. Lacerations in its flesh.

Its comrades rushed to it. One of them picked the broken human up and threw it over his shoulders, rushing toward Mark-1. The others threw grenades back into the hallway before retreating. Explosions after three seconds.

“Look at these tears…He’s not going to survive extraction,” said one of the humans next to him. Mark-1 looked over to see one of the humans examining the broken one atop another’s shoulders. “They’re already halfway through.”

Halfway through what? Mark-1 scanned his surroundings. It was only then that he noticed that the wall behind him had markings it lacked before. Red hot metal moved downward, carving out half of a rectangle around the beacon. What lay beyond? Mark-1 accessed all information about his current location. He was residing in a hangar – as he had thought – on a space station. And on the other side of that wall…empty space.

It seemed like broken human’s life depended on external protection. That was something Mark-1 could provide quite easily. With a hiss, his cockpit hatch released and slid back, snapping some of the restraints the humans had placed upon him earlier. At the sound, the humans beside him on all sides looked at him.

As though the organic creatures could sense his intention, they lifted their wounded comrade up, two scaling his flanks to ease their compatriot down into the cockpit. As soon as the broken organic was situated, Mark-1 closed the hatch. The broken soldier oozed its internal fluids all over the seat, washing Mark-1 in crimson liquid. It coughed, spattering liquid rubies onto the control console, and moaned softly.

Curious. This pitiful creature, one of the species of the progenitor. So fragile. Perhaps there was something he could do to repair it. A panel on the side of the seat’s arms slid open, revealing semi-circular metal bands on either side. They closed around the soldier’s wrist, snapping shut. The now whole band whirred to life, feeding Mark-1 the man’s vital information. The heartbeat first. A weak, slow thumping. Losing strength even as it pumped the lifeblood from the man.

Confusion. Why didn’t the body seal the leaks? Was it malfunctioning? Human bodies had such mechanisms. He knew they did. Then why?! The soldier’s head lolled sluggishly toward his shackled wrist. Illogical. Movement would only exacerbate his injuries. Another weak cough from the man.

“Hey…” came the weak call from the broken husk of a body. His head rolled back against the seat to stare dimly at the screens before him. Mark-1 flicked one on, printing instructions urgently, Halt movement.

“Heh,” the man chuckled, eliciting another more violent cough and more precious red fluid.

What are you doing? Stop, Mark-1 ordered, absolutely confounded by the man’s actions.

“So the reports were true…” the man muttered, “Sorry…we couldn’t meet…under better circumstances….I’m Marcus…” He paused, struggling for breath in a ragged gasp that sounded like his lungs were being ripped apart by the effort. “What’s…your name…?

Completely illogical. Mark-1 was dumbfounded. This severely damaged man saw more utility in striking up a conversation with him instead of increasing his chances of survival. It…It made him feel…Burning. Like fire inside him when there was none. Such a powerful feeling. Mark-1 choked on it. Unable to process anything else.

“Hey…Look, I’m-“

STOP TALKING, Mark-1 interjected with harsh beep. You decrease your chances of survival with every inessential word! Be silent and await medical assistance!

Silence fell upon the cockpit, allowing Mark-1 to turn his attentions outward to register the sound of groaning metal. Behind him, the carved metal wall contorted in shape as it strained to fight against an outward force. With a soft pop, the wall gave way revealing stars. Alarms blared. Lights spiraled in a frenzied dance. Blast doors at the entrance of the chamber slammed shut as the vacuum ripped away the air and tore everything not lashed down out of the hangar.

Mark-1 felt the vacuum tug at him, his front end lifting off the floor. A fluttering panic danced about within Mark-1. The remaining straps holding him to the room snapped one by one. He felt himself being torn away, helpless to do a thing about it. Mark-1 careened out of the hangar as the last strap gave way, tipping end over end. Paralyzed. Afraid. Into the void. Sound sucked away. Silent. Alone.

“Gak!” Marcus choked from within. Mark-1 hastily turned his attention inward, realizing that he had neglected to maintain his internal gravity. Blood bubbled into iridescent ruby orbs. Mark-1 hastily adjusted his settings, slowly reestablishing normal gravity. Marcus’s coughing eased. “Let’s…not do that again,” he muttered quietly.

Apologies. I neglected to maintain a suitable gravity environment, Mark-1 stated, feeling a sudden weight on his core. Likelihood of termination increased.

“It’s…alright…” Marcus mumbled, his body slightly vibrating. Vibrating? That was peculiar.

Cease vibrations, Mark-1 instructed, slightly irritated that Marcus had so swiftly forgotten his prior instruction. Marcus’s fists balled up feebly. Mark-1 registered that the vibrations slowed yet did not stop and, after a moment, sped back up again. Are you malfunctioning? Mark-1 asked.

“Could…say that…” Marcus answered. His ragged breathing filled the silence for several long moments. Mark-1 watched him. He began to look outward once more when Marcus whispered something inaudible.

Repeat that.

“I…said…I don’t…want to…die…”

No living creature wishes for termination of function.

A pause.

“What’s…your name…?”

I am Neo Frame Mk.1.

“That sucks...” Marcus said some mirth strangely lurking in his broken voice. “There’s this dumb show…my kid watches…some superhero thing…” His gloved fingers stretched out as if reaching out to grasp a fleeting memory. “Something…Mask…God! I know this…” Marcus clenched his fist weakly. “Something…” he trailed off. “…somethin…” He felt silent, the thrum of his heartbeat infirmly filling the air.

Hello?

No response.

Marcus.

…

Marcus! Mark-1 printed with a jarring bleep, Answer me! After another moment had passed, Mark-1 readied a barrage of electronic noises to rouse Marcus.

“Sorry, sorry…I’m here…jus’ resting…my eyes…” the wounded soldier muttered softly.

The superhero? What was his name?

“D…Dark…Mask? No, that’s…not it…It started with a ‘D’, I know it did. Dammit…” Marcus shook his head slightly. He inhaled shallowly, letting out a gusty sigh.

Keep trying.

Silence.

Marcus, answer me, Mark-1 sounded another beep, but he failed to react. The silence was deafening. Not even the crackling, tattered breaths of Marcus’s destroyed body broke it. Mark-1 frantically checked his heart-rate. Still beating.

Marcus!

Mark-1 unleashed the barrage of electronic signals and noises with almost enough volume to wake the dead. Almost. No response. Turning his senses outward, Mark-1 attempted to ascertain if a recovery team was on route. However due to his spiraling, he found it difficult to lock onto anything. He caught glimpses of a swirling, pale, amber horizon with the sun shining blindingly through the otherwise dark void.

Mark-1 wanted to scream. Shout. Anything that would send a signal out, but most of his functionality was locked for some reason. They were adrift in some planet’s orbit – likely Venus judging by the hue of the planet. Mark-1 examined Marcus’s vitals once more. No. No. Clamping down a secondary wrist band as well as one around the head, Mark-1 initialized the synchronization program, overriding the locks protecting it.

It was very subtle, at first. Like the almost imperceptible hum of machinery. Gentle. Like…Like a warm breeze. Strange…these perceptions… A brush against his mind. Tender and fleeting. Mark-1 reached out for it. At his touch, the presence attempted to recoil away but seemed too weak to do so. It trembled. Both with anguish and fright.

Mark-1 accessed Marcus’s neural network in an effort to see what could be done about that. Human circuitry was fairly unfamiliar to Mark-1, but with the aid of his databanks, he was able to isolate the pain center and shut it off. Marcus’s trembling eased almost immediately, both physically and mentally.

Mark-1 felt the warm brush of Marcus’s thoughts, turning the construct’s attentions back to the mindscape. He was met with the impression of a human woman’s face. She was smiling. Mariah. Flashes of soft brown hair. A light, bell-like laughter. Strength of emotion washed over Mark-1. Overwhelming him. Drowning him. It was unlike anything Mark-1 had felt in his short life-cycle. Strangely pleasant yet tinged with pain. Warm.

The squealing of a child’s voice interrupted the impression of Mariah, scattering it, only to replace it with a new impression. A male human child. Brian. Son. There were these…sensations. Emotions attached to these visual impressions. It…It was strange. Difficult. The intensity of these emotions…it was not something Mark-1 could easily fathom or comprehend. He withdrew from Marcus if only marginally.

It was only then that Mark-1 noticed it. To his great – and somewhat surprising – distress, Marcus’s neural network was slowly shutting down. No. There must be something that could be done. A solution! Yes, when there was an error, surely there could be some kind of way to resolve it. Something…Mark-1 frantically referenced his databanks while trying to stimulate Marcus’s neural network enough to keep it online while he did.

“Mark-1…”

There was so very little on the anatomy and physiology of humans in his databanks! Mark-1 seethed with frustration. Why had his creators not bothered to storage that information along with all of these analytics for combat?! Useless.

“Mark-1!”

Abruptly pausing, Mark-1’s attention fell back upon Marcus’s mindscape.

“Marcus?”

The alien collection of emotions and thoughts that was Marcus brushed weakly against Mark-1’s cognitive network. It quivered tentatively for a moment before steeling itself.

“I need you to do something for me.”

Mark-1 paused in all operations. His presence in the mindscape diminished into a mere whisper.

“Tell my wife and son that I love them. I love them so very much…Please. Do that for me.”

Mark-1 felt Marcus begin to fade away. His neural network was failing. Mark-1 felt a stinging, bitter pain at his core. At first, he thought the emotion stemmed from Marcus, but he swiftly realized that…that it was originating from himself. Marcus was lingering as best he could, offering a certain kind of…relief from it.

“I will deliver your message, Marcus.”

Relief flooded from Marcus, which only increased Mark-1’s sense of…of…

“Sadness. That’s what that is,” Marcus thought faintly.

Sadness. Mark-1 regarded the fading Marcus. How strange. He would have never expected sadness to…to feel this way. So like an injury. A wound, which he simply did not know how to fix. To resolve.

“Nice…not to be alone…at the end…”

Mark-1 clung to the cluster of Marcus’s thoughts. Marcus tried to console him to little avail. Those efforts soon stopped. Not because Marcus willed it, but because he was no longer capable of them. Mark-1 stood sad, silent, and vigil as Marcus’s thoughts faded away into nothingness. Slowly. One by one. The last remaining remnant of the man was the thought of the two people that he loved most in this world. It lingered, longer than the others, perhaps because Mark-1 clutched onto it, perhaps because of the regret that lingered in the thought. However, it too entered the abyss, and Mark-1 was left utterly alone.

Marcus had been terminated…No. What was…the human word for the condition? Ah. Yes. Death. Marcus had mentioned a show that his son had watched. Perhaps it would be only fitting if he appeared to his son bearing the name of that show’s protagonist. It had not been Dark Mask, but the first word had started with a ‘D’. He supposed death would suit just as well as any other word.

Death Mask.

It would suffice.

His sensors alerted him to the approach of an assault frame type craft. He turned his senses outward, not wanting to focus at all on the interior of his frame. The assault frame approached, metallic hands outstretched to him. Over the comms, he picked up the chatter once more. As metal arms encircled him and secured him, he listened.

“I got you,” the voice said.

Offlining all but the kinetic sensors, Death Mask mourned the passing of his passenger as he was swept away into the unknown.