"Wait, not yet Donny" Anadin whispers to his younger brother as they both lie prone in large shrubbery decorated in red flowers in what seems to be someone's front yard.
"He's within shooting distance, just let me take the shot and get this over with," Donny tells him as he shuts one eye and aligns his gaze with the iron sights of a gun trained on what seems to be a lanky man in a tan trench coat.
"We're not gonna get him good if we don't time it right, idiot," Anadin warns as he gently slaps the back of his brother's head, breaking his focus entirely.
"Ugh! Then you do it since you're the expert, you do this all the time, I don't get your obsession with having me tag along with your nonsense." Donny protests and grumbles as he shows visible annoyance with his sibling.
"Just shut up and be ready on my cue, Don." He tells his brother as he guides the barrel towards the head of their victim.
The man is seen sorting through his mail as if looking for a specific envelope, and slightly scoffs at the dissatisfaction of not seeing what he's looking for. He crumples the letters in his hand and walks towards his home with a tired expression, and as his hands inch towards his doorknob, a rustle of leaves grabs his attention. "Now Donny, fire!" Anadin shouts as they both jump out and expose their position, laying a devastating stream of bullet fire upon their enemy. SPLRSH! Their target is drenched and dripping in water from the face down, and he was visibly caught offguard by his assassins, laying him on his hands and glutes in the nicely trimmed lawn. "Hahahaaaa! That was awesome, Don!" Anadin exclaims as he bursts out laughing at the sight of his father's misfortune. His brother, on the other hand, struggles to snicker as he stares into his father's disappointed and unwavering glare.
As Anadin clears his throat of laughter and attempts to fully regain his composure, his father moves his long, wet, blonde hair away from his face and raises himself from off the floor without so much as a smile, word, or positive expression. He walks past the two boys into the house, leaving them without any of the reaction they expected to receive. "Dad, wait!" Donny meekly begs as he trails behind his father's shadow into their home. "Aw, come on, Dad, you gotta admit that was pretty good." Anadin joyfully points out as he follows behind them, intentionally and knowingly not reading the room whatsoever.
Anadin lets out a sigh of relief at the entire ruse, grinning with his missing central incisor, and closes their door. "Fetch me a towel, will you, Donovin?" the boy's father eloquently asks, scratching an English itch in your head if you were to hear it in person. Donald searches for a towel and hurriedly gives it to his father, who is now down to a white shirt with overall straps and is taking off his scuffed dress shoes. "Why do you insist upon my misfortune, Anadin? Be like your brother for once, calm and -ugh- collected." The man gripes as he squeezes water out of his drenched hair. "Ahhh, come on daddy-o, I'm just tryna lighten your mood, you know my routine," Anadin states with a smug smile and crossed arms. The boy's father shoots a sharp glare at him with a disappointed scowl, sending a message to Anadin without a single word spoken, causing him to read the room instantly. He then switches his attention towards Donovin and says, "You're better than this foolishness, Donovin. Cease this behaviour from ever happening again, and get back to work on your studies, leave Anadin to his stupid pranks and activities alone. Do I make myself clear?" Anadin, with empathetic eyebrows, responds in kind, "Yes Father, I won't meddle with you again."
"Good, now get to it. I'll be in the basement like usual, so both of you don't pester me." He states as usual, making his way downstairs, creaking the wood floor with every step. Donovin lets out a sigh and tells Anadin, "Leave me out of your stuff Andy, and do yourself that favor too, you're only going to make dad worse." Donovin watches his brother head upstairs as he scratches the back of his head in shame, and he is left alone in the living room to absorb all that has transpired. He himself sighs and walks to his room, teary-eyed and somewhat sad about something distant in his mind, lying on his bed, putting on his earphones, closing his eyes, and sinking his mind and soul into his music playlist. This moment of silence and drowned out noise for Anadin submerges his spirit into a state of sorrowful memories, bringing him back to a time he loved so dear.
"Ahaha! I got you, you little rrrat!" A woman with lovely, long, straight black hair states as she finds a young Anadin who was hiding behind a curtain. "Ahaha mommm! Stop tickling me, I'm going to pee!" Anadin laughs uncontrollably as his mother furiously tickles his sides and stomach. The two laugh in togetherness as they enjoy eachother's company. They go searching and find a rosy-cheeked Donovin who was hiding under a table, and get drunk in each other's presence, and have fun caclking, after which they all sneak up on their father, who was cleverly positioned under a standing lamp. He gives up his position and gives off a wide smile that contrasts with him completely from today.
Returning to modern day, the man of many eye bags is seen tinkering and fidgeting around with reasonably high-tech electronics and gadgets with slight frustration. He's building something, something humanoid in nature. There's a torso and right arm present that vaguely resemble the human anatomy, but it is entirely incomplete. His concentration is unwavering and steady, almost as if he is desperate to see his creation through to the end.
"You'll overwork yourself like that, Dr. Atsin," A female robotic voice warns him as he screws in a component. "Leave me be, V., I thought I added new lines of code for you to stop worrying about me," he grumbles. "My apologies, Doctor," the voice apologizes as it seems to be coming from a cube with a camera that is positioned on his desk. The doctor's plaques, awards, and certificates that cover the basement walls do him no justice, as advanced robotics is seen littered across the floor, poking out of storage boxes and flashing in a sequence.
The cube shifted on the desk, its lens angled toward the unfinished body. "System strain increasing," V. said. Dr. Atsin did not respond. He secured a connector and powered the unit, and a dull hum spread through the basement as lights flickered along exposed wiring. The torso jerked once, the attached arm twitching sharply before freezing in place. Dr. Atsin leaned in. "Good. Hold it," he muttered, fingers flying across the control panel. The hum deepened into an uneven whine. The lights pulsed out of rhythm, then dimmed. The torso tried to lift itself, metal joints grinding as the movement faltered and collapsed. Sparks snapped from the shoulder joint across the floor. Dr. Atsin recoiled, then stepped forward again. "No. You were stable," he said, frustration cracking through his voice. "Run the sequence again."
Power levels unsafe," V. warned. "Structural failure imminent." He ignored the cube and forced another cycle. The arm spasmed violently, fingers bending at the wrong angles before going slack. The lights flared once more, then cut out completely. The basement fell silent, the smell of burnt circuitry hanging in the air. He stood motionless, staring at the lifeless form with grim eyelids. His shoulders sagged as he slowly reached out, touching the cold plating of the torso. "Still not there," he whispered. V. rotated away from the body. "Attempt failed," it said. Dr. Atsin withdrew his hand and turned toward the cluttered workbench, already surrounded by broken parts, his expression hardening as the failure settled in. "Every time," he muttered. "Power bleeds out the moment you move." He looked from the arm to the exposed torso, wires hanging loose where a chest should be. "What is the point of a neural core when the body cannot even hold itself together" he said, voice rising. "How am I supposed to build a mind when the frame fails basic motion?"
"Recommendation," V. began. "Structural redesign before cognitive integration." He laughed once, sharp and bitter. "Redesign. Redesign?" Again?!" His hands curled into fists as he looked over the scattered parts and burned components. With a sudden burst of rage, he slammed both hands down onto the workbench, rattling tools and loose metal across the floor. The sound echoed through the basement as he stood there shaking, staring at the arm that refused to move.
The crash from below shook the floorboards and made Donovin flinch at his desk, pen freezing in hand. The sound faded into silence, but his focus was gone. He stared at his open textbook, words blurring as his thoughts drifted to the basement, to his father's anger and the strange work he never spoke about. He gave up on studying and lay on his bed, opening a sketch pad, flipping through numerous past drawings, some were silly, and others were elegant. His mother's drawing always were always a delight for him to go down memory lane with. The Atsin's all shared one heartache, but at the very least, they have what is left and what can only be more in their lives to come.
Late at night, a strange, ghastly sound is heard emanating from the doorway of Anadin's room. He's asleep, but something is watching him intently as if it were studying his face. It wisps away as he adjusts his sleeping position.