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A quiet whirl is the only sound that fills the room, the tell tale sound of an android being awaken from stasis. Genesis blinks slowly, awareness seeping into his form and system. Cynically, he wishes the place would have burnt down overnight, though he still clings to hope that there is a light at the end of the tunnel.
The club is a mix of humans and androids, though none are quite like Genesis. He’s always been special, according to his creator, and it is never more evident than in the way he moves to the low pulsating beat that vibrates within the walls. Slow and sensual, fast and rhythmic, his body shaped for one purpose and one alone – music.
Tonight is special. Tonight, he will finally free himself from Hollander.
While it may be the first time he has danced for Sephiroth, it is not their first encounter. The young man has turned into a regular, one that Genesis finds he is all too fond of, inappropriately so. Even if he weren’t a dancer by trade, he is still an android and such dalliances may not be forbidden yet they are certainly frowned upon. Why does it matter if all parties are consenting? Genesis can think for himself, that’s the very basis of his consciousness compared to certain other models. Oh, he may not be sophisticated enough to exist without a set purpose, however he does not think what he had been built for is at all in any way restricting.
Well. Outside of this venue, at least. Genesis might like to be a dancer in another club, in the event he is unable to return to his original purpose.
His eyes travel to where Hollander stands with Sephiroth, watching the two interact, while he sets up his silks. The holoscreen is brought up, credits used to purchase his time in this private room that will them to put his plan into action. Excitement sparks within Genesis, a quiet delight in being able to show Sephiroth what he is capable of beyond a pole. They have discussed returning him to the stage after, in hushed whispers across the bar while Genesis had entranced by Sephiroth’s eagerness and green eyes that match his uniform.
But this – this is just as meaningful, and he is loathe to begrudgingly admit that sometimes Hollander does have a decent idea once in a while. Silk wraps allow him to showcase his form completely, bending and flirting with gravity in ways a pole does not allow.
While he's finishing up the final touches, he steps closer to where Hollander and Sephiroth are talking, a few knowing glances cast his way. A dangerous game, one that has multiple outcomes, all spelling disaster bar one - Genesis wonders if this will be the last night of his existence or if he will ride off into the proverbial sunset with this stunning human being.
"I've adjusted your programming. Don't make me regret it and perform properly or I'll send you back to Tuesti in pieces," Hollander hisses when he approaches, and Genesis rolls his eyes yet says nothing – he, they, cannot afford to deviate from the plan.
"As you wish."
Luckily, they will be afforded privacy, Hollander working under the assumption that Sephiroth is looking to have his way with the ball jointed fuck machine he's paid for. The reality couldn't be further from the truth (although Genesis would love to explore such possibilities once he is out). Listening out for the door shutting, he closes his eyes, tugging at the silk in his hands while waiting (waiting, waiting, always waiting) for the music to begin. The beat flows like water, his form climbing dizzying heights and dropping effortlessly, the low bassline thumping all around them.
He catches Sephiroth’s eyes on him, knows that they are both keeping track of the time – although it seems to be harder for the man than it is for Genesis. His foolish consort (his) looks up at him with wonderment, not a thought going through that pretty head of his. Dropping down, he beckons for Sephiroth to step closer so he can cup his face, fingers pressing into flesh. Genesis can feel his hand warm against Sephiroth’s skin, reacting to the oh so human heat he gives off. It feels hot enough to melt, an impossibility for his model – just because he can register temperature changes does not mean he can feel it. Instead of sinew and blood pumping through his veins, it is coolant fluid and wires, engineered perfection.
Of the two fathers he has, one had sought nothing but profit and ego, keeping him here like a caged animal. The other had been his true father, the Almighty, a god in his own right. Who hadn't created him in his image or a desire to control, it had been something more. To give birth to something new altogether, the dawning of a brave new world. Showcasing a different kind of beauty through steel and mechanics.
Would his creator be disappointed in the depths to which his creation had sunk in this world due to his own folly? Hidden away in a club, at the mercy of Hollander, all because he had sought to become more? Hubris wrapped around him, yet guilt still leaks out uncontrollably.
Silk runs over skin designed to be supple like flesh, though it can never bleed, a facsimile of a human. Genesis is a prototype, the first of his kind – Genesis. And in the beginning, he had set stages alight and conquered hearts with nothing more than a tilt of his head, accompanied by the faintest smirk. He does not need to be fed data to exist, he has already adapted to what had been initially programmed in. Only Hollander had seen the dancing, saw how it funded the research, and decided he was done with sharing, taking it another step further by stealing Genesis away from his creator. He did not care that he would tether this new kind of existence to the wings, he simply wanted money. Greed all the way down, only made possible in the first place due to the android’s own mistakes and misplaced pride.
Even now, as he glides up and down the suspended material, Genesis cannot turn off the automated program that existed inside him solely to test movement after repair while his sentience is in stasis. He knows how, his creator taught him just in case, but he needs a second set of hands. And there is no one who would help him (before Sephiroth came into his life, that is). Hollander has not even bothered to repair the corruption that taints his body, insisting the cracked facade across his chest only adds to his allure. Instead, he added his own programs, allowing him to control most of Genesis’ movements where possible, using him as he sees fit and copying what he can from his schematics to make more just like him.
And so, he bides his time, waiting in the wings for the right moment. Biting back snide remarks, the threat of harm coming to his creator all too real. Hollander hates it when his things have opinions – just like his rival that he constantly complains about, ranting and raving like a madman as if Genesis would care instead of being trapped and forced to listen.
When Genesis had first spoken of his mistake, Sephiroth had listened willingly, seemingly empathising with his situation despite not fully understanding how it could come to happen in the first place. And there had been contentment in fulfilling his purpose while wrestling with his developing sentience, at least until that tempting lure of a new life purpose led to Genesis accidentally corrupting himself in a bid to speed up his own evolution.
From there, they had developed a curious kind of friendship – Genesis, fascinated with Sephiroth’s appearance and willingness to befriend an android, Sephiroth entranced by him. He cannot lie and say it does not give him a thrill to know a living, breathing creature desires him but it goes beyond that.
Trust. It does not come easy to either of them.
"Are you ready?"
Genesis' eyes open when the music ends (when had they closed again?) and Sephiroth’s words register to him, blue meeting green, machinery meeting flesh.
"Would you die for me, Sephiroth?"
"Yes."
A slow smile creeps over his features. Their plan will succeed even if it destroys them both.