For those invested in the story Spreading, this has nothing to do with it.
Was it right? His mom didn't love him? She couldn't right? She wouldn't have let him take him. She wouldn't have if she loved him. So she didn't love him. And daddy didn't either. He at least said so. Mom never made it clear. But this man. These men... They cared for him didn't they? They gave him lots of checkups to make sure he was okay. They let him play with the other kids.
They made him special. One they made him stronger. Just like his new siblings. But he was different.
His other siblings were taken away, to be "trained". He stayed with the improver man. The trainer man would visit, but leave saying he would come back. He did. Repeatedly, each time, something in him hiding away. Wanting to run and hide. The improver man kept him from the trainer man. He began calling the improver man Uncle.
Uncle protected him. Let him help him. He enjoyed helping, even if he hated seeing what was brought to them. Mostly babies. Sometimes they were kids. They would talk to him, scared of being improved. It wasn't that bad, he would assure them. It didn't matter. It would happen anyway.
No matter how many times they improved others, it never grew easier. The trainer grew harsher. Uncle was nervous. So they built some help.
They named him Marcus. He looked like a younger and cooler version of Uncle. He liked to help. And trainer was satisfied.
When the trainer was gone they would rest, build, invent, and in his own case, learn. Vaguely he remembered school. Not that Marcus did. He was built. And Uncle didn't like to talk about it. But he was required to learn. So he learned. How to cook, how to work devices, how to do math, how to disable a bomb, kids stuff.
He had never been so happy.
Years passed. Marcus was rebuilt a few times to make him look older, like he was. Just like he was looked over when a new power came in. It wasn't until he was thirteen, that Uncle revealed his chip wasn't like the others. Why he never was sent to train like the others. He was a medical bionic.
And that when he was fifteen, he would be sent to the trainer location to make sure all the others like him were in tip top shape. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.
But he prepared, his weary Uncle looking at him with love and compassion he never had from his own father, and protectiveness that he had only know from Marcus's programming, everything changed. They were under attack.
In a whirlwind of chaos, someone had attacked and destroyed the trainer's base. The others like him were on the loose. Running freely among common men. The trainer had escaped to their little hideaway where he fought. He was nestled between Marcus and Uncle while the fighting happened above. In what seemed like hours it had stopped. Then, footfalls. A few sets of them. He curled in more, hiding into the alcove of their hiding place, holding his breath.
"Whoa. This place is a dump," a neaderthalic voice said with amusement.
"It's disgusting," a more feminine voice complained.
"Quiet guys. We don't know who else could be down here," a younger distinguished male voice said.
"Chase is right. Scan the room. I don't want anymore surprises today," an older man with a less raspy voice than Uncle said.
"Over there! Three people."
In no time, Marcus and Uncle were dragged out followed by himself. He stared at three teens, two male, one female, and a man who looked suspiciously like Uncle. He stood for a moment, mouth agape.
Uncle groaned at the name.
"It's Douglas Donnie."
"It's Donald Dougie."
"Mr. Davenport, you know them?" The taller male asked.
"Yeah. He's my brother. Douglas Davenport. Who are the boys Dougie?"
"Leave them out of this," Donald hissed.
"Are they Krane's soldiers? Your bionic protectors? Your sla-"
"You leave my sons out of this," Douglas roared. Not one word was spoken. Eyes fell on the two. Marcus, they could see. He, they could not. His skin was so much darker. Nutella like in color, a rich color. His eyes were dark cups of hot chocolate in contrast to Douglas's fading green. His face was rounder and more child like, Douglas was more angular. The only aspect in common was that they were both shorter.
"Who are they?" The girl questioned.
"Douglas. My brother, and his two sons... What are your names?" He asked.
"Marcus," the andriod stated, glaring at Donald. The younger looking boy swallowed nervously.
"Leo," he squeaked. Donald's face contorted to stone hearing his name uttered.
"That's what he said isn't it?" Marcus hissed, remaining between Donald and his brother. Leo remained still, knowing that everything he had known, was about to change.
So... Mobbed by another plot bunny. A, Leo ended up with a not so great dad instead of Tasha, leading to him being raised under Douglas. Small world isn't it?
If this idea sounds interesting to you, give it a shot. Just let me know so I can read it.
And as always, please review.