born sickly, it's safe to say ivan has never had much going for him. family was poor from the start, the wee mendoza lineage forced into the lower city levels of worbach. for a community that so deeply prided itself on its ability to prosper, you'd be shocked by the number of folks scavenging about for a bite to eat within its very confines. even their own mother had a habit of leaving her children to fend for themselves, ivan only managing to survive for as long as he did due to elder brother's care. it wasn't rare for her to seemingly forget them for days on end, the rotting house they called home left again and again under the watchful eye of her eldest. isaiah has a lot thrown onto his plate at an age where he doesn't deserve the responsibilities. nonetheless, he takes them in stride. there's an attachment to younger brother that he fosters deeply, the pair not liking to leave one without the other. it's a bond that, ultimately, keeps them both alive. what purpose does one serve without the other?

there inevitably comes a day when their mother doesn't return. ivan is only five, and isaiah thirteen. without any real warning, without any confirmation, the pair are orphaned. what became of the woman, they aren't sure. did she simply find a better life for herself, stop coming back entirely? was she killed out there? it's a painfully plausible assumption, the streets a far more dangerous place now than it'd ever been. without her, they stick around for as long as they can. it isn't long before someone is knocking at their door, seeking monthly rent. isaiah has nothing to show him, landlord unswayed by what he considered sob story. what belongings the boys couldn't carry would be taken by him, serve as payment so their missing mother wouldn't face consequences. just like that, they're booted to the curb. clothes on their back, they can carry little else. what space a pack in their mother's room had goes toward necessities for ivan, various doses of medications and a progressively dwindling tanker of oxygen.

from that moment on, the pair has no place to call home. an alley is surveyed early on, isaiah doing what he can to make the space livable. it was easy to convince a five year old that this was some kind of trip, that they'd go home soon, just not now. ivan doesn't fuss, content to shack up with elder brother as they claim a corner as their own. it serves as a base of sorts, the spot they spruce up. collected blankets strung about to keep the cold out, sheets hung on questionable wires to keep away prying eyes so the duo could have a moment of peace. it was ... shelter, if you wanted to call it that. holey tarp isaiah found one day did well enough to keep the rain out, and moth - chewed bedding was a comfort every night.

food was another beast entirely. isaiah works on a basis of ivan eating first, and himself chowing scraps. there isn't much around here, never had been. he does what he can, collects them varying quality meals from behind the city's restaurants. being shooed off like an animal was humiliating, though efforts always felt worth it when burger could be bitten into. lucky for himself, younger brother was blessed with a pallet that made him happy to eat anything. cold fries, day old nuggets? without a second thought, isaiah is thanked, and dinner taken happily.

for a while, the brothers subsist this way. years pass, and the streets of worbach's slums are simply home to them. as isaiah ages, his skills sharpen. he no longer feels the need to root about through garbage bins, knows he could get them better if he only put his mind to it. and his feet, of course, his over indulgence in anime boosting confidence greatly. if they could do it, why not him? watching lupin had its perks, and those included an inclination to steal whatever he could get his hands on. if it'd serve them in the long run, he'd be taking it back.

even their alley crib is exchanged for something new in due time, boys shacking up in the shoddy remains of a warehouse. to some, this wasn't much of an upgrade. to them, even a single flickering light felt heavenly. electricity, genuine walls to keep them protected from the elements. they look to make the place their own, decorate it together with various trinkets and knick knacks. isaiah even nets them a television, though it's showings only broadcast in black and white. anything to sate his detachment from the situation at hand.

no matter how well they might be doing on their own out there, the nagging fear of ivan's illness never leaves. every year, he's getting worse. his breathing worsens, muscular weakness degrading his motor skills at a frightening rate. where isaiah always felt like he had some manner of plan, a way out of it all, he doesn't quite know what to do here. there's no cure, only momentary solutions that delay the unavoidable. he keeps at collecting his medications, continues supplying him with oxygen. all he can do is comfort the boy, who just can't understand why.

when fears are spoken of to another street rat, whispers reach his ears. there's a man not far from here, someone who ran a shady operation. for a fee, he could transfer the consciousness of a human into the body of a bot. it's a frowned upon process, an outright illegal activity now that they'd begun cracking down on the activity of the more advanced synthetics. scary as this process may sound, it's an answer to isaiah.

for months, every penny he finds is saved. they're picked off the street, earned through hard labour, stolen from shops where he risked his very life to snag a single dime. he fears not having enough, can only collect the funds in a hurry the day ivan can't do anything more than cry about the pain he's in. all the way across town, little brother is totted. nobody bothers to stop and offer aid, likely due to the fact isaiah had been in a frenzied rush the whole way there.

his worries are confirmed upon talking with the smarmy robot who runs the operation, told that he just didn't have the coin, even for their cheapest body. into a state of begging, isaiah launches. he'd do anything, anything to keep ivan alive. hysterical state causes the shopkeep to contemplate other options, mentions having a rundown exoskeleton. without any type of shell around it, thing is prone to crumbling apart. in spite of this, isaiah agrees to take it. they shake on it, agreement made. isaiah would serve at the bot's beck and call, do his dirty work to pay off the thing. did he leave these tasks unfulfilled, body would be taken back without a second thought.

within hours, the skeleton is taken apart and cobbled together again to better fit the size of a seven year old. without a hitch, they go through the process. only issue comes in the form of ivan's overwhelming excitement, practically has to be restrained as to not injure himself right off the bat. he hadn't legs that worked in far too long, wants nothing more than to stretch them about once given to him again. of course, risk comes in the form of not knowing how to use his newfound body just yet. that would take some time.

that's where they are now, ivan given what you could consider a second chance at life. the tech he's made of is lousy and poor quality, sure, but that doesn't bother him none. he's a hyperactive seven year old if there ever was one, even more excitable to the core than he used to be before the transfer. he can move around, he can run, even if he looks funny! he's experiencing things he simply couldn't before, believes this all to be a blast.

excited as he is explore the world, and happy as isaiah is to not have lost him, it doesn't null the public distaste for bots within worbach. not to mention, a weaker willed being would find ivan's new face a ghastly one. to combat this, baggy clothes and a box atop the head. before ivan even has a chance to feel some type of negative way about this, isaiah produces paper brown bag of his own. he needn't worry about looks; the pair would match, do this together as they had everything else thus far in life.