i would adore it if you could do a "robot developes feelings for their human" fic, with either bruce or clint as the robot. either way i'd be absolutely ecstatic!~ (btw all of these au's you've been doing have been destroying me, thank you)
Ahh you’re so sweet! A compliment from you is the highest form of flattery. :)
This went a little different than you probably intended???
downloading: physicstricks.RAP; nervousdisposition.RAP; largeego.RAP; lonelyextrovert.RAP; emotionalpackageRAGE.RAP; emotionalpackageKIND.RAP; genderpackage0.RAP…
Welcome Robot Assistance Package designation: Bioactive And Nearly Neural Emulator Robot (B.A.N.N.E.R.)
BANNER opens its eyes and decides it is male. He looks left as an assembly line worker slaps a sticker on his chest, then right as another worker consults a chart.
“You have been assigned lab work in sector 7.0.1. Do you comply?”
“Yes,” says BANNER. He looks forward as the conveyor belt carries him away.
Day one: B.A.N.N.E.R. progress report: 17.12 units of serum inspected.
Day two: B.A.N.N.E.R. progress report: 17.12 units of serum inspected.
Day three: B.A.N.N.E.R. progress report: 17.12 units of serum inspected.
Day seventeen: B.A.N.N.E.R. progress report: 17.12 units of serum inspected.
Day one-hundred-four: B.A.N.N.E.R. progress report: 17.12 units of serum inspected.
Day one thousand seven: B.A.N.N.E.R. progress report: 17.12 units of serum inspected.
Day one thousand eight: B.A.N.N.E.R. progress report: 17.12 units of serum inspected.
Day one thousand nine: B.A.N.N.E.R. progress report: 17.12 units of serum inspected.
Day one thousand ten: B.A.N.N.E.R. progress report: 0 units of serum inspected.
B.A.N.N.E.R. unit has been scheduled for destruction.
The BANNER unit is tired. He does not want to inspect anymore serum. It is boring and tedious, and he wishes that they hadn’t programmed him to be so realistic. It makes it easy to get tired of his work. Each day is a struggle to complete his assigned task and so one day he just…stops struggling.
He’s sitting hunched in a chair inspecting his hands–they look as real as the humans he works with–when the technician comes in. He glances up at the technician, then back at his hands.
“Ready to go, Bot?” the technician asks.
Mutely, BANNER shakes his head.
The technician seems thrown. “You, uh. Got a case of the AI blues?” He coughs into his fist and shuffles his feet when he receives no answer. BANNER catalogues the movement and adds it to his database. “Look, Bot, I’m just doing my job. So can you come with me?”
BANNER considers. Eventually, he decides that remaining alive is pointless. He stands and mutely follows the technician.
The technician leads him down the hall. He is clumsy when he walks, BANNER notes, but something about him implies that he could move more gracefully if he wished. His hands are large and square and when he smiles nervously his eyes crinkle at the corners. He leads the way to the dismantling bay and ushers BANNER in with a flourish.
“It’s painless,” he explains. “Not that you, uh, feel pain.”
“I feel pain,” BANNER says. Those are the first words he has said since he answered ‘yes’ to his work assignment. His voice is not tired from disuse. It is as deep and clear as he remembers.
The technician blinks in surprise. “What, really?”
“Yes,” BANNER says. His programming is telling him to stop there, and so he goes on just to spite himself. “Pain, hurt, pleasure, anger. I can feel anything you can.”
The technician stares at him. At some point, his hand has come to rest on the lever that could wipe BANNER’s memory, but it seems unconscious. “They never told me that,” he mumbles.
“Why would they tell you that what you are destroying is human?”
The technician startles and rips his hand off the lever like he’s just noticed it was there. “Aw, Bot, don’t do this to me.”
“I’m not doing anything.” He watches the technician scrub a hand through his hair and begin pacing around the room nervously. “You asked a question and I answered it.”
With a sigh, the technician whirls on him. “Look,” he says pointedly. “Stop trying to get me on your side.”
“I don’t have a side,” BANNER says. He feels mildly offended. “I’m more nuanced than that. Almost seven thousand programs were installed during my creation, and I’ve added seventeen times that since. ‘Side’ implies a dichotomy; thinking things are not dichotomies.”
“Seventeen…” he trails off. He blinks. His eyes are very blue. BANNER notes this because his eyes are factory brown; he sees them every day in the reflection of the centrifuge. “What’s your name, then?” the technician asks, like it’s an accusation.
“Banner,” he says, and he’s surprised that he means it. It’s suddenly not a designation. It’s a name. He’s just introduced himself. He feels joy at the implications. Now he can truly say he’s human; he has an identity.
“Banner,” the technician repeats. “Alright, Banner. I’m Clint, and I’m about to do something I regret.”
Slowly, Clint reaches out to him, hand held sideways like the blade of a scalpel. Banner mirrors him and is surprised when their hands meet. A handshake. He’s never experienced one.
It’s warm. He can feel dampness on Clint’s palm, the spark of neurons firing under his skin, the thrum of blood in his veins. His own hand feels dead in comparison.
Clint rips away. “Whoa,” he says.
“Sorry.” Banner wrings his hands together at his waist, embarrassed.
“No, no,” Clint insists. “I’m just surprised. I didn’t expect you to feel so–”
“Real,” Clint corrects. He’s smiling. He reaches out again and this time Banner knows what to do. Their shake lingers as Banner revels in the feeling of life under his fingertips.
“This is nice,” Banner says, staring at their joined hands. He glances up at Clint after a moment and finds Clint regarding him curiously. “This is what you regret?”
“No.” Clint rolls his shoulders back in a shrug. “This is.” He drops his hand and jerks his thumb to point to the door behind him. “I’m busting you out of here. I mean.” He blushes. “If you want to go.”
Banner is smiling. It’s weird and foreign on his face. “Yes, Clint. Let’s go.”
He can’t resist reaching out again and taking Clint’s hand, holding tight as they leave the base and step out into the world.