Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Connor huffed to relieve the pressure in his chest. He gazed toward the rising sun, watching as it cast an orange glow on the snow in people’s yards. This time of day was easiest for him. No one cast him pitying glances. No one asked how he felt that day. No one talked.

[New text message from Markus]

Connor sighed and bowed his head.  

Markus: Haven’t heard from you in a while. Just making sure you’re okay.

Connor ignored the message. A dozen others littered his phone, and he ignored them all.

Josh: If you’re up for it, we can catch a movie sometime.

Tina: Hey, if you ever wanna talk… I’m here. I miss her too, you know. You’re welcome to stay in her room or something. IDK, might be weird.

Chris: Saw a cute dog today. Hope it cheers you up, man. [Attachment]

Gavin: hey asshole chris and I are getting drinks this weekend. Come be our designated driver

North: Are you alive?

Connor wanted to laugh at North’s message, but the hollowness in his chest drowned it. He didn’t feel alive. He looked toward the glistening city and swallowed a scream.

“I’ll never forget the day we took that picture in the park.” He wanted to wipe her tears away. She blurred as his eyes burned. “Please don’t forget me.” Her voice barely reached a whisper.

His heart twisted and he choked. “Never. I-I love you. So much.”

They hugged. He squeezed her so tight that he probably hurt her. If he did, she never complained. Pressure built behind his eyes, so he clenched them shut. Tears threatened to leak past his synthetic lashes. His fingers curled in her hair. The other hand dug into her shoulder.

“I’ll never forget the day we took that picture in the park.”

Connor closed his eyes as his thirium pump twisted sharply. He swallowed the sting. Of all the things to remember, why that? He opened his eyes and squinted at the sun.

He exhaled, and his breath fogged the air. He turned and headed downhill to Hank’s house. Slipping inside, Connor shut the door behind him with a soft click. Sumo lifted his head before resting it back on his crossed paws. Connor fed Sumo and started making coffee for Hank, who Connor could hear in the shower.

He walked to his room and undressed from his sleepwear. He pulled on jeans and a crisp white button-down. He peered in his closet at his growing collection of ties. He reached for a grey, white and dark grey striped one. His fingers brushed a black one with dinosaur bones on it. A lump welled in his throat and he parted his lips. His LED cast a yellow glow in the darkness of his closet. Connor snatched the formal tie and put it on rather aggressively. He slipped into a dark grey blazer and closed the closet door. He cleared his throat and blinked the stinging from his eyes.

Connor slipped on his shoes and walked into the kitchen, where Hank finished his coffee and placed the mug in the sink. Hank ran the faucet for a few seconds before turning. He lifted his eyebrows.

“You’re dressed nice for work,” he grunted.

Connor tilted his head. “I’m dressed professionally.”

“Yeah, but… never mind. Lemme go brush my teeth and then I’ll be ready to go.” Hank left the kitchen, avoiding Connor’s gaze.

Two minutes later, Hank emerged from the bathroom, wiping his mouth of toothpaste residue. He grabbed his keys from the counter, and the two left for work. Hank blasted his music as usual, though Connor got the distinct impression that Hank was drowning out the silence between them.

Connor’s biocomponents sank at the distance between Hank and him. With each week that she’d been gone, he and Hank drifted further apart.

Two weeks, three days, and eight hours. He couldn’t forget how much time had passed since she left. Since he lost Wren. His stupid, perfect processor wouldn’t let him forget. He could relive memories to perfection, actually replay them, so he could watch Wren walk away from him over and over again. Somehow, it managed to hurt him every time.

He promised her that they wouldn’t take her. She’d been so scared. He held her close and told her that they wouldn’t take her, that Prometheus wouldn’t win. But when Prometheus showed up, every bit of fight Wren vanished. She just… laid down and showed her belly for the beast. Connor curled his fingers toward his palms.

Why hadn’t she fought back? Why did she let them take her away?

Oh, he knew Prometheus’s reason—their barely-concealed threat to murder Wren if she didn’t cooperate—but why hadn’t Wren tried? Why…?

Connor knew he shouldn’t withdraw from his friends and family. But he was sick and tired of the pitying looks, the condolences, the I’m-here-for-you’s, the empty apologies. He noticed how everyone spoke in softer tones when he entered the room. He noticed how everyone danced around possible triggering conversations. He noticed everything, and it set his teeth on edge.

He distanced himself by pouring himself into their cases. The Human-Android Division had never been so efficient, and it was mostly thanks to Connor’s late nights. He avoided stasis mode, though he knew the emotional toll on his systems required some time in stasis mode—eventually. He avoided his bed as much as possible. Their bed. Where he held Wren close to him, the feeling of her naked skin on his nearly overwhelming him, where they made love—

Connor jerked his head. He pushed the memories away. If he relived those moments with Wren, he risked losing himself.

He distanced himself from everyone because he didn’t know how to behave anymore. How did he go back to how things were before? He tried, but he ended up adhering to the fragments of his programming, which resulted in his intense focus on cases. Part of him liked it, though. Working a case and solving it in record time kept him from thinking about Wren. It blocked the hurt.

Connor focused on their most recent case, refusing to talk to anyone unless it pertained to the case. Tina and Hank cast each other glances, but Connor ignored them.

“Alright, so, let’s go over this again. Mrs. Dale was supposed to go on a business trip, but they said she never made it there. We’ve got a dead android whose friends say he was friends with Mrs. Dale, and was actually purchased by Mr. Dale before the whole Android Liberation Movement. Mrs. Dale’s sister thinks she’s missing. Maybe she just killed the android and fled.” Gavin propped his feet up on his desk.

“That doesn’t make sense,” said Tina. “Why would she just kill him for no reason?”

“Women can be psychopaths, too,” said Gavin.

“Yeah, duh, but psychopaths also like to inflict pain. An android doesn’t feel pain.”

“They get off on fear. Androids feel fear. Don’t they, Connor?” Gavin twisted to look at Connor, who continued staring at his terminal, reviewing the evidence.

“Connor?” queried Tina.

Connor lifted his eyes slowly to hers. “Yes?”

“Wanna join us? We’re reviewing the case.”

“Oh,” said Connor. He looked at the four pairs of eyes staring at him. He pressed his lips together for a moment.

“You okay, man? Your LED is yellow.” Chris pointed to his temple.

Connor tightened his jaw. “Let’s stay focused on the case.”

Chris raised his eyebrows but turned to Tina and Gavin, who shared a glance before continuing.

“All I’m saying is that Mr. Dale had motive to kill poor Ian,” said Tina.

“What fuckin’ motive?” Gavin demanded.

Tina smirked. “Mrs. Dale was having an affair with Ian.”

Gavin jerked his legs off his desk to lean forward. “No way. How do you know?”

“You’re gonna need more than just a theory, kid,” said Hank.

“Best friend told me,” said Tina, lifting her eyebrows. “Plus, did you see Ian’s bank statements? And Mr. and Mrs. Dale were having marital trouble recently. Actually, it started before the Movement. I think that Mrs. Dale was having an affair with Ian before he even deviated. I bet you anything that’s why he deviated and left the Dales in the first place.”

“Okay, your theory’s not outrageous—”

“Not a theory!”

“Shut up,” said Hank, “but that doesn’t explain where Mrs. Dale is and if Mr. Dale is actually the killer.”

Connor scanned Roger Dale’s records. “His parents own a boathouse.”

“We could check it out,” said Tina.

“Hello? Warrant?” said Chris.

“We could just go… and look around… not inside, of course… see if we see anything suspicious.” Tina shrugged.

“You mean walk around until you might have probable cause?” Chris surmised, folding his arms.

“I mean…” Tina’s hands smacked her thighs. “We don’t have much else. Dale’s smart and knew how to hide a lot of evidence to keep Connor from putting all the pieces together.”

“Or, you know, he could’ve made a mistake,” muttered Gavin. Connor narrowed his eyes and looked at his fellow detective. Gavin ignored the looks that everyone gave him, pretending to play on his phone. “He hasn’t been himself lately.”

Connor jumped from his seat. Gavin flinched, looking at Connor with wide eyes, but Connor simply grabbed his coat and headed for the elevator.

“Where the hell are you going?” Hank demanded.

“The boathouse.” Connor strode toward the elevator and pressed the button. Tina scurried, pulling on her coat.

“You might need backup.”

Connor dipped his head and stepped onto the elevator. Tina followed.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

At the boathouse on Lake Erie, Connor walked around the premises, his footsteps muffled by the snow. He stepped onto the deck and glanced at Tina.

“Careful, there’s ice.”

“Thanks,” said Tina. She wrinkled her brow. “I really thought we’d find something out here.”

Connor peered through the window. The boat sat inside, covered with a tarp.

“I thought we might hear crying or screaming… something…”

Connor scanned inside. The familiar blue glow of thirium splattered the walls and pooled on the floor. There was a lot of thirium. Enough to power an android. And someone let it evaporate. Roger Dale successfully avoided detection so far. Connor withdrew from the window.

“There are traces of blue blood inside,” he said.

Tina raised her eyebrows. “How much?”

“Enough to give us probably cause,” said Connor. He elbowed the window and shattered it. He slipped inside, creaking the wooden deck. The platform encircled the boat, save for a back opening where the boat could enter and exit onto the lake. The door ahead led into a sitting room. Connor trekked toward it, following the blue blood trail. Tina tumbled inside the boathouse. Glass tinkled around her. She crunched it underfoot.

“Ah, fuck,” she hissed, brushing shards of glass from her hair. She sucked on one of her fingers. Connor looked at her.

“I can go alone.”

“No, it’s fine,” said Tina. Connor opened the door and snuck inside the sitting room. Tina wrinkled her nose. “Do you smell that?”

Connor crinkled his brow. “I can’t smell.”

“Oh. Right. Well, it’s not strong like a rotting corpse, but… I don’t know. I know what dead bodies smell like, and it sort of smells like the ghost of one.”

Connor dipped his head. He turned the corner and faced a staircase. Placing one hand on his hip where his gun sat holstered, he climbed the steps. Tina followed him. Connor reached the landing and dropped his hand from his holster.

Tina stepped around him. “Oh, holy fuck…”

Tammy Dale lay strapped to a pool table. Someone carved open her chest. Flaps of skin exposed her insides. The killer pulled on her ribcage, too, opening it up like a mangled book. Foam leaked from her nose and mouth. Her body appeared bloated. Connor swallowed and stepped toward her.

«scan…processing…complete»

|Cause of death: drowning from punctured lung|

|Dead for six days|

“She’s been dead for six days,” Connor muttered.

“Why doesn’t she smell more?” Tina breathed, joining him beside the pool table.

“The cold air,” said Connor. “Mr. Dale hasn’t run the heat and the recent snowfall.” He touched Tammy Dale’s wrist. Her body appeared bloated, but felt hard to touch. Frozen.

“She was dead before we started the case,” Tina shook her head. “Fuck. I’ll call it in. I think we have enough to bring Mr. Dale in for questioning.”

Connor nodded as he stared at Tammy Dale. Her eyes stared at the ceiling. He tilted his head. Tina thumped downstairs. Connor tuned her out, still staring at Tammy Dale. Her killer apparently harbored a lot of rage toward her, to enact this amount of aggression toward her. Connor left Tammy Dale’s body and joined Tina downstairs. She leaned against the counter, staring at the floor with wide eyes.

“Was she… alive when…?”

“She probably died before she experienced her ribcage’s mutilation,” Connor assured Tina.

She pursed her lips and nodded. “All this for cheating…”

Connor folded his arms and leaned against the counter. “It is overkill.”

“Hey, you okay? You barely seemed affected by that,” Tina nodded her head toward the stairs.

Connor pinched his brow. “I naturally compartmentalize my emotions better than humans.”

Tina snorted. “Right. That’s why you’re ignoring your friends and shutting off your emotions completely. That’s totally healthy.”

Connor gritted his teeth. He pushed away from the counter and stalked toward the door. “I’ll wait outside.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor chose to go home with Hank instead of working on paperwork. They closed the Dale case, as Mr. Dale confessed pretty quickly to Connor and Gavin’s harsh interrogation. The interrogation seemed to pass like a hazy dream of static and distorted audio. It felt as if Connor acted without… conviction. Emotion. The mechanical nature in which he approached cases jolted his thirium pump, but he also preferred the cold.

“Tina said you seemed out of it today. But you’ve been out of it for the past two weeks, so that’s nothing new.”

Connor clenched his jaw and looked out the window while Hank drove them home. His thirium pump panged, but he refused to talk. He didn’t want to talk about how different he was. He didn’t need another reminder that she was gone, and she took him with her.

Hank pulled into the driveway and parked the car. Connor followed Hank inside, only to grab Sumo’s leash.

“I’m taking Sumo for a walk—”

“Connor, for fuck’s sake, talk to me! Ever since Wren left, you’ve been… not yourself.”

Connor narrowed his eyes. Hank averted his eyes. “Not myself? We’ve solved twice as many cases as we normally do. We’re more efficient now.”

“What? Now that Wren’s gone?” Hank snapped, his blue eyes boring into Connor.

Connor stiffened. Hank’s lips parted, but he offered nothing else. Connor’s face crumpled for a split second as he tried to push away the ache surging in his chest. He hardened his gaze. “She is no longer distracting me,” he choked, “I can focus on my job, which I’ve been doing. I’ve become so efficient that I expect Captain Fowler will promote me soon.”

“Oh, so you’re back to only caring about you mission?” Hank taunted. He stepped forward, his arms outstretched slightly. “Ever since she left, you’ve stopped caring. You don’t care about the victims that we help. You just wanna solve the case, and accomplish your fucking mission. That doesn’t make you a good detective, Connor. The job we have requires empathy, you don’t have it anymore! Fowler won’t promote your plastic ass if you keep this up!” Hank pushed Connor, though his touch was gentle.

Connor stumbled slightly, but he forced his expression to remain cold. “You’re trying to provoke a reaction. I know your methods, Hank. They won’t work.”

“Yeah? You think Wren would like how you’re acting?”

Connor flinched. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter.” Hank stepped closer to Connor. “Ever since she left, you’ve changed. You’re not you anymore.”

“And who am I now, Hank?” Connor snapped, scowling. “How am I acting?”

“Like a…” Hank stopped.

Connor narrowed his eyes. “Like what?”

Hank’s eyes flared. “Like a fuckin’ machine!”

Hank’s yell rang throughout the house. Connor’s systems stalled. His thirium pump plummeted and he felt sick. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before glaring at Hank. “Because I don’t want to feel anymore!”

Hank jerked back, his eyes wide. Connor’s shout caused Sumo to whine. Hank gaped at Connor, who drew back. Tears pricked the edges of Connor’s eyes.

“I… I don’t want to feel,” he repeated quietly. “It hurts too much.”

Saying it aloud seemed to unlock everything. Tears dripped down Connor’s cheeks as he clutched his chest. “It hurts, Hank. It hurts so much.”

Hank’s expression softened. He pulled Connor into an embrace. “I know, son. I know.”

Connor resisted the hug at first, then relented. He gripped his father so tight it probably hurt Hank, but he never complained.

“I’m sorry for what I said,” whispered Hank. “I don’t think you’re a machine. I was trying to get you to snap out of it.”

“I know,” Connor whimpered. “I want her back.”

“I know, son,” Hank’s voice sounded tight. “I do too. We’ll get her back.”

Connor pulled back from Hank, avoiding his gaze. “I didn’t expect it to hurt so much. Androids don’t feel pain, but… I can’t describe this any other way.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, kid,” said Hank. “I wanted the pain to stop so bad that I killed myself a little every day because I was too scared to pull the trigger. I know it hurts.”

Connor glanced away. His biocomponents lurched. How could he have been so selfish? “I’m sorry.”

“Everyone experiences grief,” said Hank, waving Connor off. He sighed. “Look, I know that it’s probably easier to revert to avoid these feelings, but you’ve gotta let yourself feel it, kid. You’ll lose your mind if you don’t.”

Pressure welled in Connor’s chest and surged up his throat and behind his eyes. He coughed out a dry sob. He buried his face in his hand, rubbing his brow. “I miss her so much, Dad.”

Connor sank to the floor, his limbs too heavy to hold him. His mechanical heart throbbed. Hank grunted as he sat next to Connor, who buried his face in his arms.

“I miss her too, son.”

Connor rested his chin on his arm. “I don’t know… I don’t know how to go back to normal, Hank. I don’t know how to pretend that I never knew her or forget that I…” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I still love her.”

“Well, she’s only been gone two and a half weeks, kid,” said Hank. “It’ll take a while for you to get over her. She was your first.”

“I wanted her to be my last.”

“I know. Look, don’t give up hope, Connor. I’ve got a feeling that she’s not gone forever.”

Connor’s mouth tightened. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“You, uh, you called me ‘Dad.’”

Connor parted his lips. “Oh.”

“You mean it?”

“I… Yes.”

“Good. Feeling’s mutual.” Hank patted Connor on the back. “Look, you know Wren wouldn’t want you to isolate yourself from everyone.”

“I know,” Connor muttered. He pinched his brow. “Is this how it feels when someone dies?”

Hank sighed. “Maybe. Kind of. At least when someone dies, you know they’re really gone.”

Connor closed his eyes. “Why didn’t she fight back?”

“They threatened to take her apart.”

“I know,” Connor groaned, “but… We could’ve gotten her a lawyer… Or brought her to Kamski to make sure she’d be okay…”

“Maybe in the moment, she felt she didn’t have any options.”

Connor turned to look at Hank. “Why do you really think she left without a fight?”

Hank pressed his lips into a flat line before answering. “Honestly? Some bullshit reason like they threatened to hurt you or something. They probably scared her, and she so she left without considering any other option. She’s got a bit of a hero complex or something.”

Connor turned his head away. His biocomponents cramped. “That… seems like her.”

“Yeah.”

“But how will we find her?”

“I don’t know. We’ll figure somethin’ out.”

Connor nodded. The ache in his chest refused to lighten, but he managed a slight smile.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor messaged everyone back, thanking them for their support and apologizing for his behavior. Everyone responded with well-wishes. North created a group text.

North: Okay, let’s hang out. All of us. Tomorrow night.

Tina: Yes!!! I’m down

Gavin: idk

Chris: can’t. I’ve got plans with the Mrs.

Tina: oooooh naughty

Chris: wow I didn’t even say what I was doing with her

Tina: didn’t have to!

Josh: Is this a good idea? I mean, I know some of us are still grieving…

Connor: I don’t think I should isolate myself anymore.

Tina: aw, connor, I’m so proud of u!

North: Excellent!

North: I mean, not excellent that you’re going through this.

North: But excellent that you’re not pushing us away.

Josh: North, do everyone a favor and shut up.

North: Josh, I swear I am going to throw you out the window.

Markus: Please no murdering at Jericho.

Josh: Yeah, North.

North: Fuck you, Josh.

Tina: ANYWAYYYYY…

Connor: I can’t promise that I’ll be much fun.

North: That’s okay. I actually kind of wanted to mope about this.

Tina: yeah me too. Still trying to wrap my head around the whole thing.

North: Okay, so who’s up for this?

Gavin: sure whatever

Chris: can’t

Tina: no one cares

Tina: also I’ll be there

Chris: no one cares

North: Obviously Markus, Josh and I will be there. We’re hosting.

Connor: I’ll come. When?

North: Some time after dinner. I’m not feeding a bunch of humans.

Tina: :’(

Hank: Jesus you guys. 32 fucking texts. 32. 32. Shut the fuck up.

North: Are you coming or not???

Tina: LMAO

Tina: rapid

Tina: fire

Tina: his

Tina: ass

Tina: !

Tina: a

Tina: b

Tina: c

Tina: d

Tina: e

Tina: f

Tina: g

Hank: Tina

Tina: h

Hank: Tina I swear I will hit you upside the head with a Jack Daniel’s bottle

Tina: I

Tina: J

Tina: K

North: I’ll kick you out of the group.

Tina: aight point taken

Hank: Thank you. Yeah, whatever. I’ll be there.

North: Great! See you guys then!

Gavin: are we gonna have like a candlelit vigil or something

Tina: shut up gav

Gavin: k

Connor shook his head. He laid on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He knew Wren would’ve enjoyed Tina’s chant of the alphabet. He envisioned her laughing, her eyes crinkled at the corners, her head tilted back and one hand covering her mouth. His thirium pump swelled and then deflated. The audio in his perfect memory always sounded tinged with static and the image always looked slightly distorted. He could recall the memory exactly, but also not. He wanted Wren’s actual laugh.

“I’ll never forget the day we took that picture in the park.”

Connor furrowed his brow. He sat up. If Hank was right, and Wren left without a fight to protect him… He looked at the framed picture of Wren and him, the park visible behind Wren. They were the focus of the picture. Connor stood and crossed over to the frame and lifted it. He turned it over and widened his eyes. One of the latches on the back was out of place. With trembling hands, Connor removed the back of the frame and withdrew a folded paper. He set the picture down and trekked to his bed. His thirium pump clenched and quivered as he sank onto the edge of the mattress. He unfolded the paper.

Connor,

I hope you find this. I’m sure you will. You’re smart. But part of me can’t help but fear that you won’t, and you’ll be left thinking you that I left you the way I did.

I can’t tell you everything, but I will try my best to explain. We could’ve fought Prometheus and tried to prevent them from taking me. We might’ve even won. But Prometheus would’ve still had power. And eventually, they would’ve done whatever it took to eliminate the threat. They would’ve come after me, and more importantly, you. I will never be free from them. Not unless I do something about it.

I struck a deal. They won’t come near you or the others as long as I work with them. They’re not allowed to wipe my memory or attempt to recondition me or reverse my deviancy. At least deviancy in cyborgs makes it harder for Prometheus to control them, so… That’s sort of comforting that they won’t be able to change me. While I work for them, I’m hoping that I can work against them, too. I didn’t have time to tell you all this in person, and I was afraid that they’d find some way to listen in… Paper is harder to track in a technological world.

I don’t know if or when I’ll see you again. I’m hoping that I can find something to take them down and set me free, but… I don’t know if I’ll be successful or not. The thought of never seeing you again tears me apart, but I have to do this. The nightmares won’t stop. They’ll never stop while Prometheus is still out there. I hope you can understand.

Connor… If I never see you again, I want you to know that loving you was the best part of my life. You helped me put myself back together. I was the happiest I’ve ever been when I was with you. I want you to know that I will always love you, and that I am so sorry that I’m doing this to you. I hope that I can be free and come home to you one day… But I also hope that you hate me for leaving you. It might make it easier to move on. You deserve all the happiness in the world. I love you more than anything, more than my own life. Which is why I had to go.

Please, don’t wait for me.

I couldn’t leave you without a proper explanation.

Wren

Connor’s mouth hung open. He ignored the warning that his salivatory fluid ran low. He read the letter once, twice, three times. Another to be sure. He committed it to memory. He stared at Wren’s signature, memorizing the large “W” with dagger points and the small, messy scrawl of “ren.” His body tensed.

She left to protect him. She left to take down Prometheus. She wanted to come home. His thirium pump sank. But what if she never got the chance to come home?

Somehow, reading Wren’s letter only worsened Connor’s feelings. Before, she felt dead to him. There was no reaching her, no getting her back. But now, she felt just out of reach, as if she were on one side of a glass wall and he stood on the other. They pressed their palms to one another, but the glass between them kept them apart. Or, he reached for her and she reached for him, and their fingertips brushed, but neither of them could grasp onto the other. Somehow, knowing Wren slept in a lion’s den failed to ease the ache in Connor’s heart. He bowed his head, still clutching the letter.

He just wanted her to come home.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The letter seemed to weigh down Connor’s pants as he rode the elevator up to the Jericho penthouse with Hank. He kept the letter to himself, not wanting to repeat himself. His fingers wiggled at his side, itching for his quarter. He tapped his thigh to ease his tension instead. Hank glanced down at Connor’s fidgeting.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. No. You’ll see.”

Hank lifted a brow but shrugged. “Alright.”

Connor exited the elevator and found North, Josh, Markus, Tina and Gavin piled in the living room. Markus and North stood to greet Connor and Hank. Markus embraced Connor and patted his back.

“It’s good to see you, Connor.”

Connor’s throat tightened. “Thank you, Markus. It’s good to see you, too.”

The corner of North’s mouth twitched. She puckered her brow and seemed as if she couldn’t decide between punching Connor or hugging him. She decided on the latter and wrapped her arms around him.

“Glad to have you back.”

Connor hugged her with his free arm, as his other hand clenched the letter in his pocket. Hank sat on the couch beside Tina.

“Alright, kid, spill what you’ve been dying to tell me. You’ve been antsy all day,” he said.

Everyone turned their attention to Connor, whose face heated. His sucked in a ragged breath to cool his systems. “I found a letter.”

North widened her eyes. “From Wren?”

Connor nodded. He withdrew it from his pocket and unfolded it. “I thought her last words to me were odd. She told me, ‘I’ll never forget the day we took that picture in the park.’ So I opened up the frame of that picture and found this.”

Gavin leaned forward. “Paper?”

“Smart kid,” said Hank, smiling and shaking his head, “didn’t want to leave a trace.”

“What does it say?” Tina demanded.

Connor looked down at it. He read it aloud, skipping the final, intimate paragraph. He refolded the letter and placed it in his pocket and looked around the room. Markus’s brow pinched.

“She’s going to tear them apart from the inside out.”

“Yeah, but how do we help her?” Tina asked.

“We can’t,” said Gavin. “We’re just local police. This is underground government bullshit. The fuck are we supposed to do?”

North frowned. “So we just sit and do nothing? Forget about her?”

“That’s not what I meant…”

Hank sighed and crossed his arms. “We could try and find Prometheus the way we tried to find them by tracing Wren’s past.”

Connor widened his eyes. His metal heart seemed to jump to life. Blue blood thundered in his tubing system. “She thought we could find them that way, once. Maybe we still can.”

“But how would we help her?” Gavin said. “Not trying to be an asshole or devil’s advocate here, but… Even if we managed to find Prometheus, what would that do for her?”

“I don’t know,” snapped Tina, “but it’s better than doing nothing.”

North balanced her elbows on her knees and folded her hands. She lowered her gaze. “You know, I was so angry that she left… without even saying goodbye… But it’s hard to stay angry with her when I know she’s probably scared.” She lifted her head and looked at Gavin. “Whatever we can do, we should do it.”

Connor pressed his lips together and swallowed the lump in his throat. He would save Wren, no matter what.

Chapter Text

Wren stretched, pursing her lips at the tug of her puckered skin on her back. The doctor instructed her to stretch every so often, as well as continue her core exercises. He removed her stitches from her side and gave her a compress and ointment for her other healing wounds when she first arrived back at Prometheus. They were so kind as to give her a new cell, one that looked less like a prison cell and more like a room in a psychiatric ward.

After just five days with Prometheus, two guards showed up to her room and led her to the infirmary. The doctor sedated her, and when she woke up, she felt the stitches of a small incision on her back. She ran a systems check.

…:Scanning:…|Complete: Anomaly detected in audio processor|

Wren gritted her teeth at the blatant violation. She guessed the anomaly tapped into her audio processing and either recorded her conversations or allowed Prometheus to listen to her in real-time. Either way, she practiced caution with what she said aloud. But Prometheus couldn’t watch from her eyes.

The CIA wanted to watch Prometheus, and due to Rhett and Wren’s past capability to work together, the organizations agreed to pair the two once more. Wren met with Rhett every two weeks to update him on Prometheus’s projects and missions that week. Wren wrote a note to tell Rhett that she believed Prometheus hid many of their missions from the CIA because they no longer trusted her and mostly likely despised checking in with the CIA. She used American Sign Language to inform Rhett that she was ninety-nine percent sure that Prometheus placed a listening device in her body and connected it to her audio processor. Rhett signed back that they ought to keep the device intact, just to avoid suspicion. Wren agreed, though it placed a bad taste in her mouth.

Over the next few weeks, Wren recovered from her minor injuries and surgery. She partook in tests to prove that she still exceeded expectations in the field, though Prometheus’s distrust of her gave her surveillance missions only until further notice.

So, Wren sat in an inconspicuous van adorned with monitors and speakers and other fancy equipment that allowed her to spy on her target without much action required from her. It was the most boring job she ever worked. Prometheus didn’t trust her (rightly so) to accomplish high-risk missions. So, they assigned her to surveillance. Whenever she found something important, she reported and then the higher-ups sent an agent—not a deviant—to investigate and take care of things.

Currently, her target was a minor Red Ice dealer who kept stealing from a bigtime dealer. Prometheus hoped that by watching the minor dealer, they could catch the big one. This meant Wren sat in a surveillance van, waiting and watching and thinking.

No matter what, her thoughts always circled back to Connor. The look on his face as she said goodbye ripped her heart to pieces. The tight way he held onto her stabbed into her chest and made it difficult for her to breathe.  

Did he miss her? Were he and Hank okay? Did they stay up to watch movies still? Was Hank drinking still? Had Connor found her letter? Did he hate her?

She assumed that he told North, Markus and Josh about her departure. Wren’s heart ached for her friends. She figured North probably hated her, or at least disguised her pain as hatred as North was wont to do.

And Tina? Had Chloe moved into Wren’s room? Was Tina lonely in that townhouse? Wren negotiated that Prometheus provide Wren’s half of rent each month for Tina, since their taking of Wren affected Tina’s livelihood. Pauline Thomas reluctantly agreed, though she also insisted the payment be in cash and would mysteriously appear in Tina’s mailbox each month. Pauline Thomas also prohibited Wren from ever taking part in this payment process, lest she attempt an escape.

Tears stung Wren’s eyes as she thought of her mother and brother. Did they think she abandoned them?

Wren inhaled sharply and coughed to clear her throat. She tried to push her loved ones from her mind, but…

They never left her thoughts.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Connor. The slight furrow of his brow, the part of his lips, the softness in his eyes… More often than not, she envisioned the hurt in his eyes as she said goodbye. The horror as Pauline Thomas announced that Prometheus won, and they were taking Wren away. And that Wren was leaving without a fight. Wren couldn’t stop thinking about how Connor held back tears and it broke her heart.

She hated herself for leaving him. For hurting him. But she would hate herself even more if Prometheus killed Connor because she refused to cooperate. So, she’d be their weapon. She would sit in a surveillance van and watch every Red Ice dealer on the planet for the rest of her life if it meant Connor was safe.

Prometheus promised her they would not touch any of her loved ones as long as she cooperated.

Rhett promised her that she would be free if she found dirt on Prometheus.

But first, she needed Prometheus to trust her, which they didn’t. So, she sat in the van and executed every surveillance mission they wanted with brilliant performance. She wanted Prometheus away from her loved ones, but she wanted to go home, too. She felt as if she were standing between home and Prometheus, with one hand reaching for Connor and the other keeping Prometheus at bay.

Wren leaned forward, narrowing her eyes at the monitor. Two men followed her target from a distance. They were obviously not professionals, as Wren easily spotted them. Her target was no smarter than a donut, so he strolled along the street, unaware of his stalkers. Wren ran her target’s stalkers’ through a facial recognition program. Both of them received a hit. Wren sighed and grabbed a tiny tracker. She placed it on her fingers and exited the van.

Wren walked with a dazed expression, pretending to look for an address. She strode toward her target, glanced at her palm, and then “bumped” into her target. She placed her hands on his chest.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!” She attached the tracker to the inside of his jacket without his noticing.

Her target grinned, flashing her dirty teeth. “No problem, baby.”

Wren pushed past him and scurried off, keeping her head low. She stepped around the two stalkers, who watched her pass with her head ducked. Wren circled back to her van. She activated the tracker and grabbed her earpiece and microphone to communicate with her supervisor, Pauline Thomas herself.

“He’s being followed. I expect they’ll kidnap him. I placed a tracker on him, but whoever you send after him won’t have much time to find him. These guys’ll find and disable that tracker almost as soon as they grab him.”

“Well done, 01. Agent Anson will be there shortly for extraction.” Agent Thomas sounded pleased, if surprised.

Wren withdrew the earpiece and microphone. “Wonderful.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“You’re in a bad mood,” said Rhett. He glanced at her from the driver’s side.

Wren folded her arms. “I’m always in a bad mood.”

Rhett stopped the car. “Look, I know this isn’t what you wanted—”

“Gee, what makes you say that?”

“Wren, c’mon.” Rhett twisted to face her, but Wren refused to look at him. “At least Connor and the others are safe.”

Wren looked at him. “Have you spoken with them?”

“No.”

Wren lowered her gaze and tried to ignore the sinking in her chest. “Oh.”

“And because you’re deviant, you have a little bit more freedom than you did before. Plus, you’re not in Montgomery’s squad, and as I understand it, he was a bit harsher than other supervisors are.”

“Lucky me.”

“Wren,” sighed Rhett, “you keep acting like this and you will never find peace.”

“I don’t want peace,” snapped Wren, “I want freedom.”

“Well, you’re not going to get that. It’s either you accept your life now, or you die. Which would you prefer?”

Wren clenched her jaw and looked ahead. Rhett lifted his hand to signal Wren his transition to American Sign Language. Some words he spelled out individually, but Wren deciphered his message.

“Unrest in Russia. Progress with Prometheus?”

Wren signed back: “Still gaining trust. No contact with other cyborgs.”

Rhett nodded. He pulled the car out of its stop and drove Wren to the rendezvous point.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren sat in her cell, her elbows balanced on her knees. Her lungs felt sore. Her thoughts returned to Connor. She missed the way he held her at night when terror kept her from sleeping. She missed the soft upturn of his lips. She missed resting her head on his chest and the way he placed his chin atop her head, or the way he buried his face in the crook of her neck and clutched her close. She missed how he sat with her when panic rose to her throat and threatened to wrench out her heart, the way he counted down from ten to calm her down. She missed the way he blushed blue. She missed his freckles and the contours of his face. She missed the way he crouched to examine evidence and the way he straightened his tie.

Tears welled in her eyes. She missed him so goddamn much. Her breath hitched. She clutched at her chest and tried to slow the beating. She could almost hear Connor telling her to focus on ten things around her. Wren searched her room for something to ground her.

Ten.

White walls.

Nine.

Steel bedframe.

Eight.

White sheets.

Seven.

White floor.

Six.

White toilet.

Five.

Steel door.

Four.

No windows.

Three.

Florescent light.

Two.

Open shower in the corner.

One.

She didn’t even have a picture of him.

Wren buried her head and a sob trembled past her lips. She swallowed it and stripped of her Prometheus-issued clothes and stepped inside the shower. She ran the hot water and held back her tears until she was sure the shower would drown out her cries. Then, she let her body shake with soft sobs. Soon, her eyes grew gummy and her throat ached, but she continued to cry, to grieve. She hugged herself, letting the water river down her arms and back. For a moment, she imagined Connor’s arms around her, but stopped. Imagining him with her only carved out a deeper hole in her chest.

She barely slept that night. With no mission, she left her cell during her freedom hours to train. The gym was empty as usual. It was a massive room with all sorts of equipment, including a section reserved for sparring. Wren drifted to the corner with mannequin opponents. She practiced punching and kicking. She pulled on her stitches, but continued despite the teeth-gritting sensation of pulling at puckered skin. Someone entered the gym. Wren glanced over her shoulder to see Agent Pauline Thomas, looking crisp and clean in her matching skirt and blazer. Wren wondered if the woman ever experienced frizzy hair in the morning, or if she just woke up with that sleek bob.

Wren faced the faux opponent and jabbed. Sweat seeped through her sports bra. Pauline’s heels clacked the floor as she approached Wren.

“You seem restless.”

Wren snorted and punched the mannequin the face with unnecessary strength. The foam man swayed on its stand. Wren gripped its shoulders to steady it. “Yeah. You guys took me back with such urgency, only to send me out on fucking surveillance missions and to lock me in a cell. The only people I talk to are you and Agent Anson, and those aren’t daily occurrences. I’m losing my fucking mind.”

“I can only imagine,” said Pauline. “It is not your performance on your missions that gives us pause on sending you out on a real mission, as it were.”

Wren jabbed the mannequin in the face. She pictured Pauline’s face in its place. “Then what’s the problem?”

“I’m surprised by your compliance.”

Wren laughed. “I do well on my missions, but I have too good an attitude about it?”

“Well, as a deviant, and your reluctance to leave Detroit because of your attachment to certain things there—”

Wren punched the mannequin so hard that it fell over. Pauline flinched. Wren pressed her lips together and faced her supervisor. Pauline smiled.

“So, you are angry.”

Wren wanted to grab Pauline by the throat and wring her skinny neck. Instead, Wren folded her arms. “What the hell do you want from me? Yeah, I’m angry. But if I have too bad an attitude about all this, you’ll either kill me or stick me on surveillance-only missions, or you’ll threaten the people I love. But I have too good of an attitude about it, so here we are. What do you want?”

Pauline lifted her chin. “I want to know that you can be a team player.”

Wren crinkled her brow. “Why?”

Pauline’s nostrils flared as she drew in a deep breath. “The original purpose of the cyborgs under a supervisory agent was to create a squadron of elite agents, capable of performing high-risk missions. Montgomery veered from that vision a little bit, but he was also tasked with the first squadron and the first cyborgs. We didn’t question his methods very much until it became clear that he had his own agenda. Montgomery’s entire squadron—01, 02, 03, 04 and 05—are either dead, deviant or missing. I think you are for integration with a team, but there can be no discussion of deviancy with the other cyborgs. Understood?”

Wren nodded. “Yes ma’am.”

Pauline dipped her head. “Then come with me.”

Wren followed Pauline out of the gym and down a white corridor. They swept through several sets of double steel doors and twisted down corridors until they arrived at a wing that looked much like the one Wren occupied all by herself. Five cells lined the hall, to the right sat a cafeteria and at the end was the gym. This wing also possessed an obstacle course. Pauline led Wren into the gym, where five people trained. Two sparred. One lifted weights while another practiced tai chi.

“Assemble,” said Pauline.

The five cyborgs stopped what they were doing immediately and lined up. Wren shivered at their obedience. They regarded Wren with cold curiosity, as if dissecting her or figuring out the easiest way to kill her.

“01, these are CY006, CY007, CY008, CY009 and CY010. They serve under Senator Caldwell. Agents, this is CY001. She was part of Montgomery’s rogue squadron and has returned to us. I think it’s time to put her to good use. She will join you on your mission to bring back CY002. If all goes well, the six of you will be able to bring 02 in without much incident. However, you have permission to terminate 02 if need be. But do try and bring him in. The lot of you are expensive. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am,” barked 06. His dark eyes flicked to Wren.

Pauline dipped her head. “Then prepare yourselves. You leave in thirty minutes for San Francisco.” She left the gym. Wren watched her go, suddenly feeling very naked under the sharp eyes of the other cyborgs. She faced them and swallowed.

06 smirked at her. “So… A rogue agent returns. And a former leader of a squadron. How the mighty fall.”

Wren lifted a brow. “Actually, I never got to lead a squad. Montgomery didn’t exactly run things accurately.”

07’s lips twisted as she walked over to the gym mat. She stretched. Wren glimpsed her CY007 tattoo on her inner left bicep. “Great. We get to babysit a loose cannon.”

“A squad-killer, too,” spat 09, pushing past Wren to grab her jacket hanging by the door.

08 raised his eyebrows. “Impressive, though.”

“She killed her whole squad,” muttered 10.

“Not the whole squad,” said Wren. “I didn’t kill 02, 03 or 05.”

“03’s murder is the one that alerted Prometheus,” said 08.

Wren regarded him. He seemed softer than the others. “03 killed herself.”

“We’re not babysitting,” said 06, looking at 07, “we’re testing her. Seeing where her loyalties lie.” He grinned at Wren. “You’re going to help us draw out 02. You were from the same squadron, so there should at least be some sort of tie to each other. You draw out 02, and we close in. Easy extraction.”

Wren folded her arms. “And if 02 doesn’t want to come out for me? I never met 02. We weren’t a team.”

“You never met your squad members?” said 09. She pursed her plump lips. Her brow crinkled.

“Nope,” said Wren. She leaned against the wall. “I can try to draw 02 out, but I can’t tell you how. I never met any of them before they attacked me on Montgomery’s orders.”

06 folded his arms. The veins in his left bicep bulged. He narrowed his eyes. “Leave the mission planning to us. You’re just a tool. Got it?”

Wren lifted her eyebrows. “Got it.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren tried to ignore the knots in her stomach as she waited at a café by the bay for 02 to show up. She established a meeting after a few days in San Francisco. Wren followed 02 around until she managed to leave a note with 02’s morning coffee. He visited the same café every morning, so Wren, disguised as a barista, scribbled a note on 02’s coffee cup.

We need to talk. Meet me here at 9 AM tomorrow morning. Keep a low profile. -01

02 looked around the café, but Wren hid from view. She caught a glimpse of his face before he scurried out of the café. It twisted Wren’s stomach and sent nausea surging up her throat.

Wren checked the time. 9:13. She figured maybe 02 decided not to come after all. Part of her felt relieved. The other part knew Prometheus would punish her for her failure.

“01,” muttered a voice. Wren looked up. 02 stared down at her, his dark eyes wide.

“Hi,” Wren greeted. She gestured for 02 to sit. He refused to move.

“How did you find me?”

“I work with the DPD,” Wren lied. “We were keeping an eye out for you. You come to this coffee shop every morning, so…”

02 worked his jaw. “What do you want?”

“I just want to talk.”

02 narrowed his eyes. “Look, I didn’t want anything to do with Montgomery’s plan.”

“Yeah, you’re the only one who didn’t. I mean, besides me.”

02 sank into the seat across from Wren. “I mean, I helped 04 kidnap the RK800, but… I saw how much he cared about you, and seeing Jericho… It changed me. I… I woke up.”

Wren’s heart sank, but she smiled. “I know the feeling. Technically, we’re deviants now.”

02’s lips twitched. “Yeah… Look, 01… Do you have a name? I call myself Tom. I assume you picked a name for yourself?”

Wren licked her dry lips. “Wren.”

Tom nodded. “Wren, look. I just wanna start a new life. I like it here. I can see the ocean, there’s good food… It’s a colorful place compared to where we used to live. I don’t have any answers for you, okay? I just want to be left alone.”

A lump clogged Wren’s throat. Everything screamed in her to warn Tom that a squadron of cyborgs waited for him, to drag him back to that hellhole. Instead she croaked, “Why’d you agree to meet me?”

Tom lowered his gaze. “I wasn’t going to, but… I guess I was curious. You’re the first functional cyborg that Prometheus ever created. And you’re the first deviant. I thought that maybe… Maybe you had some answers.”

Wren’s brow puckered. “Like what?”

“Do the nightmares ever stop?”

Cold prickled down Wren’s spine. She smiled ruefully. “I still don’t have an answer to that.”

Movement brought her eyes to 06, who stood behind Tom. “02, there’s no need to cause a scene. Just get up and come with us. There’s no need for a fight or for anyone to get hurt.”  

Tom froze. Wren held his gaze, tears burning her eyes. Tom gaped at her. “You… You lied to me.”

Wren held up her hands. “Tom, I promise, they won’t hurt you if you just go with them.”

Tom pursed his lips. Tears jiggled in his eyes as he struggled to hold them back. “You’re in their pocket. So much for being a deviant, huh?”

The tears in Wren’s eyes spilled over. “I’m sorry.”

Tom nodded. “I’m not going back there.” He flipped the table, sending Wren sprawling to the floor. Tom knocked 06’s gun from his hand. Wren jumped to her feet.

“Tom, wait!” She chased after him and grabbed him by the jacket. She tackled him to the ground. He elbowed her in the mouth. She blocked another punch, moved his arm and jabbed him in the chest. Then, she elbowed under his chin. She scrambled on top of him, pinning him to the ground.

“Tom, listen to me! There’s a whole squadron of cyborgs! They will kill you if you don’t stop!”

“I’d rather be dead than go back!” Tom wrenched Wren off of him. He sprinted away from her. Wren jumped to her feet and ran after him, kicking up dust along the hiking trail of the park. She pushed along, huffing as she ran uphill. Her feet pounded the concrete of the sidewalk along the Golden Gate Bridge. Tom steamed ahead. Wren scrambled to a stop on the sidewalk. Ahead, Tom turned and looked at her.

“Here’s to being free!” he shouted. He saluted her, and then stepped out onto the highway.

Wren screamed as a truck slammed into Tom. She wheeled to cover her eyes, only for 06 to grab her.

“Let’s go.”

“But Tom—”

“Is no longer our problem.” 06 dragged her away and to the sidewalk leading back to the café. A van waited for them. 06 forced Wren inside first. She trembled as she sat down. No one spoke the whole drive to the rendezvous point.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren waited in her cell, still shaking. She vomited earlier, unable to push the image of Tom’s body breaking against the truck. She couldn’t forget the splatter of thirium and blood.

She wanted Connor to wrap his arms around her and tell her that everything was alright. She wanted to feel the thump of his thirium pump. She wanted to watch his LED swirl as he processed information, to count his freckles.

After a few hours, the door to Wren’s cell slid open and Pauline stepped in with her shiny taupe heels. Wren refused to lift her head.

“What a fucking disaster,” Pauline seethed. “Not only did you lose 02, but the fucking mess we’re having to clean up—”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Wren snapped. She looked up. “You’re worried about the mess? About the money lost? These are people’s lives—”

“Your lives are to be given in service to your country,” responded Pauline coolly. “02 is no different simply because he was deviant.”

Wren pursed her lips. “The others are people, too. And you’re forcing them to do your dirty work.”

Pauline’s stance stiffened. “I had hoped you’d prove me wrong, that you weren’t too sentimental to work cases, but here we are. Your deviancy is preventing you from maximum performance. You’re not a team player. You chose to chase down 02 instead of sticking to the plan. You’re rogue—”

“Yeah, no shit,” snapped Wren. She bared her teeth at “I’m a deviant. I’m awake. You can’t control me. I’ll work for you, but you will never break me.”

Pauline’s mouth twisted. “We’ll see. I’m assigning you a new surveillance mission. Until further notice, you will man our outpost in the Arctic to monitor Russian activity. Get some rest, 01. You leave at dawn.”

She turned on her heel and left the cell. The steel door slid shut and clicked behind her. Wren clenched her teeth before lying back on her bed to stare at the ceiling. Tears leaked out the corners of her eyes, slid down her temples and dampened her hair. She covered her mouth with her hand and squeezed her eyes shut. Her body shuddered with soft sobs as her heart ached. The pit of her stomach felt empty where Detroit used to fill it. She wanted to go home.

Chapter Text

Connor crouched behind a car parked on the street and pointed his gun at Daniel Michaels, the killer in their most recent case. The human killed two androids so far, all ST300 models, and now he held another at gunpoint, using her body to shield his from Connor and Tina’s aim.

“I’m circling around back to see if I’ve got a shot,” said Gavin in Connor’s earpiece.

“Let’s see if we can talk him down first,” said Tina. She crouched behind a different car, aiming her gun at Daniel, who looked back and forth between Tina and Connor.

“Copy that.” Gavin fell silent after his confirmation.

“Daniel, we just wanna talk!” said Tina.

Daniel shook his head. “No, no! I see your guns! Drop them!”

“We can’t do that, Daniel,” said Connor. “Let Katie go and we’ll lower our weapons.”

“No, you’ll shoot me!”

“No one is going to shoot you if you just let Katie go,” Connor replied calmly.

Katie clutched Daniel’s arm around her neck. If she still possessed an LED, it would circle crimson. Even from across the street, Connor saw the panic on her face.

“Daniel, hurting Katie isn’t going to make the pain go away,” said Tina. “You’re using her as a surrogate for the person you really want to hurt.”

The hand with the gun shook. “Shut up!”

“That’s why you keep hurting ST300 androids,” said Connor. “They remind you of your wife.”

Daniel glared at him. “I’m warning you!”

“Katie didn’t do anything to you!” cried Tina. “Androids are not to blame for your wife leaving you!”

“Shut up!” screamed Daniel. He pointed his gun at Tina. She ducked behind the car right as Connor shot Daniel’s arm. Daniel screamed and dropped his gun. He released Katie to clutch his bleeding arm. The android ran toward Tina, who crouched with her behind the car. Connor rushed forward, still pointing his gun at Daniel. Gavin emerged from behind a car behind Daniel. He kicked Daniel’s gun away. Connor holstered his gun and retrieved the handcuffs. He grabbed Daniel by his hands and twisted them behind his back.

“Agh! You’re hurting me!”

“You’ll live,” muttered Gavin. Connor cuffed Daniel. Gavin led the killer to a patrol car, reciting Daniel’s rights.

Tina walked Katie over to their patrol car, parked down the street. Connor huffed, eyeing the crimson in the snow. His processor flashed with a static memory.

▓ They stumbled out of the burning house, and Wren collapsed into the snow, too exhausted to carry Connor anymore. Thirium stained the snow blue. He glanced at his mangled leg, with wires sticking out. The white plastic cracked, allowing thirium to leak out. He was glad he couldn’t feel pain. He glanced at Wren, lying in the snow, leaving patches of red in the white. She clutched her side, where blood seeped past her fingers. He reached for her. Their bloody fingers intertwined, red and blue mixing until he caught glimpses of purple. ▓

Connor blinked, forcing himself out of the memory. Footsteps crunched the snow behind Connor. He glanced to see Tina, her arms folded against the cold.

“You okay?”

Connor swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. “I’m okay.”

“Your thingy’s yellow.”

Connor’s fingers jumped to his LED for a moment. “I’m… processing.”

Tina lifted her chin, and then nodded. “Well, uh, I wanted to thank you for saving my life.”

Connor met her gaze. He offered her a small smile. “Of course.”

Tina gripped his arm for a moment. Her brow crinkled and she looked as though she might say something. Then, she turned back toward their patrol car and walked away, her head bowed. Connor glanced at the blood in the snow again before following her.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

At the station, Connor finished his paperwork for the case. As soon as five o’clock hit, Gavin jumped from his seat and tugged on his jacket.

“Whelp, I’m gonna go see a movie. Anyone interested in tagging along?”

“I gotta get home to the missus,” said Chris.

Gavin rolled his eyes. “Boring. Tina? You in?”

“Not tonight, Gav,” said Tina, putting on her coat. She swept her hair out of the neck. “Nearly getting shot at kinda made me tired.”

Gavin’s shoulders slumped. “Lieutenant?”

Hank shrugged. “Yeah, why not.”  

Connor pursed his lips. “I’ll drive you there and pick you up.”

“You’re not gonna go?”

“I’d rather go home.”

Hank poked his cheek with his tongue. “Well, maybe I should just go home, too—”

Connor shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”

“I can just ride with Gavin,” said Hank. He tossed his keys to Connor, who caught them with one hand. “You sure you’ll be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Connor insisted. “I don’t want to leave Sumo alone for too long.” He smiled tightly.

Hank nodded, though his brow remained creased. He, Gavin, Tina, Chris and Connor piled onto the elevator and headed out to the parking garage. Gavin and Hank headed for Gavin’s new car. Chris waved to Connor and Tina and got into his car. Connor walked Tina to her car, as Hank parked a little further away anyway.

“See ya, Connor,” said Tina.

“Goodbye,” Connor replied. He walked away, then slowed his pace. He stopped and turned as Tina got into her car. “Wait!”

Tina raised her eyebrows, one hand on her door, ready to pull it shut. “Yeah?”

Connor pressed his lips together. He pushed a breath through his nostrils as Gavin and Hank drove past. He met Tina’s gaze. “Do you mind if I come over? I… I want to look through her room, if that’s alright.”

Tina’s brow softened. “Yeah, sure. I’ll see you at the house.”

Connor nodded. Tina shut her door, and Connor walked over to Hank’s car. He slid inside the driver’s seat. Knights of the Black Death blared as soon as he started the engine. He turned down the music and switched it to jazz. He followed Tina to the townhouse, his biocomponents churning. He clutched the steering wheel, flexed his fingers, and then clutched it again. His LED cast a flickering, yellow glow in the reflection of the passenger side window. He parked on the street, let out a breath to cool his systems, and then exited the car. He inhaled the freezing air through his mouth, let it whistle through his teeth and into his systems. His internal temperature normalized, though his thirium pump’s rhythm quickened as he knocked on the door.

Chloe answered the door. She smiled. “Hello, Connor. It’s good to see you.” She stepped aside and let Connor enter.

“Thank you.” He stepped inside.

Tina strolled toward him. “You can take however long you want. And you know you’re always welcome to stay here or something… I haven’t touched her room.”

Connor swallowed. “Thank you, Tina.”

Tina nodded and turned to leave, her fingers intertwining with Chloe’s. Tina stopped as Connor moved toward the stairs. “Hey, um… I got her half of rent in the mail today. It was in cash, so completely untraceable and all, but… It’s weird. It’s like she’s here, but she’s not. She’s like a ghost.”

Connor parted his lips and glanced toward the top of the stairs, almost expecting Wren to be there. His thirium pump clenched when she wasn’t. Tina and Chloe strode toward the living room. Connor stood on the first step for a good fifteen seconds before ascending. His thirium pump quickened with each step. He paused outside Wren’s closed door. He lifted his hand to knock, then squeezed his eyes shut. He clenched his fist and then lowered his hand. He entered the room.

It was untouched. The bed was still unmade and a laundry basket of clean clothes sat in the corner. His chest ached to see her room look exactly as she left it. It seemed like she’d walk through the door at any second to finish her laundry. Connor ran his hand along the bedframe as he circled to a framed picture on her bedside table. He lifted the frame. It was the same photo he had in his room. He drew in a breath and bottled it in his chest.

“I’ll never forget the day we took that picture in the park.”

He scrambled to open the back of the frame. Maybe she left two letters—

Connor’s heart plummeted to find the frame empty. No, she only left the one in his frame, which he now kept in the drawer of his bedside table. He read it every night, even though he committed it to memory. He liked to touch the paper, and to study Wren’s handwriting. He knew the parts where she applied more pressure, and where her writing trembled. She probably cried while writing it, which hurt Connor’s thirium pump to consider.

He set the frame down beside her iPod and headphones. He picked up the iPod and tapped the screen, but it ran out of battery a long time ago. He glanced around and found the charger plugged into the wall. He sat on the edge of the bed and plugged the iPod in. He closed his eyes as he waited for the iPod to charge. He wished he possessed a sense of smell. He knew that smell and memory correlated, and he was sure the room smelled like Wren. His biocomponents twisted when he realized he had no idea what she smelled like.

He opened his eyes and tapped the screen of the iPod, now charged enough to awaken. He opened it and scrolled through the playlists.

Top 25 Most Played

aesthetic

bada$$

c o f f e e  &  c o n t e m p l a t i o n

connor ♥

friendship is magic

grl pwr

shower songs

wow that’s me

x x x

Connor stared at the playlists. He scrolled back to the one bearing his name and opened it.

Songs that remind me of Connor/our relationship <3

Connor’s chest felt sore with the aching. He quickly exited out of that playlist. His eyes pricked and he blinked away the hot wetness. He opened up the playlist Top 25 Most Played.

Pursing his lips, he unplugged the iPod, grabbed the charger and the headphones, stuffed all three into his pockets and swept out of the room. He shut the door behind him with a quiet click and descended the stairs. He walked into the living room, where Tina and Chloe sat on the couch, holding hands.

Chloe spotted Connor over Tina’s shoulder. “Hello.”

Connor tried to smile, but the corners of his mouth barely twitched. “I’m going home.”

Tina twisted to look at him. “Okay. I’ll walk you out.”

She kissed Chloe’s cheek. Connor averted his eyes and his chest clenched. He hadn’t kissed Wren enough.

Tina walked with Connor to the front door. “You okay?”

Connor swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. “I’m okay.”

Tina folded her arms and leaned against the door. “You know… It’s okay. To not be okay. We won’t think any less of you. You’re handling all of this really well.”

Connor lowered his gaze. “It still hurts.”

“Yeah, I know. And it will for a while. But we’re gonna do everything we can to help her. You know that, right? We’re not going to give up.”

Connor tightened his jaw and raised his eyes to meet Tina’s. “I know.”

Tina offered a small smile. “See you tomorrow night.”

“Right. Thank you for letting me do this.” Connor glanced past Tina, toward the stairs.

“Of course. You’re welcome to come over anytime. Even if you just wanna talk. Or not talk. I’m here, okay? You know Wren wouldn’t want you to go through this alone.”

“I know. Thank you, Tina.”

Tina smiled and squeezed his arm. Connor dipped his head and ducked outside. He slid into Hank’s car and fumbled with the USB cord, disconnecting Hank’s iPod in favor of Wren’s. He scrolled through the playlists. He hit shuffle on Top 25 Most Played.

A soft, electronic song began. Connor drove down the street, took a right and drove up a street. He turned right onto the main road and headed for the highway toward Hank’s house. He tried not to think of Wren as he drove, but with her iPod playing her favorite songs, it seemed that she talked to him through the stereo.

You don’t know where to go Lost in this world and every day is the same Don’t know why we still try It never works but still we do it again

And I try to get to know you But you fade away yeah you fade away I know you’re scared feelings are spared Cause you fade away yeah you fade away

The song tugged at the wiring connected to his thirium pump. He agreed with Tina’s analysis: Wren was a ghost.

Connor reached Hank’s house after listening to that first song three times, trying to pick apart the lyrics. Why did Wren like that song so much? It was beautiful, but she always talked about music speaking to her… So what did that song say to her?

He jingled the keys outside, and Sumo whined. Connor unlocked the front door and entered the house. Sumo padded up to him, wagging his tail. Connor crouched and scratched behind the dog’s ears.

Connor fed Sumo and plugged the iPod in to charge while he walked Sumo. He changed into more casual wear and walked Sumo around the block. Then, he returned to his room. He grabbed the iPod, placed the headphones into his ears and laid on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. The next song was by an artist he recognized. He tapped his fingers to the indie beat, thrumming on his chest. As the song built, Connor’s throat swelled.

I have seen what the darkness does (Say goodbye to who I was) I ain't never been away so long (Don't look back, them days are gone) Follow me into the endless night (I can bring your fears to life) Show me yours and I'll show you mine (Meet me in the woods tonight)

He knew what this song spoke to Wren. Maybe she thought of these lyrics at night. Maybe she thought of him, meeting her in the woods.

|Warning: Stress levels rising|

|Enter stasis mode|

Connor ripped the headphones out of his ears and inhaled deeply to cool his systems. He stared up at the ceiling. His stress levels lowered, though the warning in the corner of his eye remained. Connor clenched his teeth and stood. He turned off the light and crawled into bed. He grabbed the iPod and headphones and placed them in his ears once more. He settled against his pillow and closed his eyes.

|Enter stasis mode?|

○Yes

□No  

|Yes|

His systems entered stasis mode, though he still heard the music from the iPod.

▓ At first, all he saw was the static that typically came with stasis mode. Then, it lessened to reveal a figure with dark red hair. She smiled at Connor as he approached. He reached a hand toward her and she took it. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Her smile faltered. “Why? I’m right here.”

Connor’s hands trembled as he cupped Wren’s face. “No, you’ve been gone…”

Wren backed away from him, her brow puckered. She glowed. Connor frowned at the bright wings outstretched from Wren’s back.

“What…?”

Wren’s eyes filled with tears. “Why didn’t you make me stay?”

Connor parted his lips, but his voice cracked.

Wren lifted her hands, and metal clinked. Connor glanced at the shackles around Wren’s wrists before meeting her gaze again.

“Wren, you left…”

“You didn’t even try to stop me!” Wren cried. “Why? Why didn’t you stop me? Why didn’t you say anything? You just… You let me go.”

Tears filled Connor’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“You promised you wouldn’t let them take me, but you lied. You lied to me, Connor.”

Connor clenched his teeth and lowered his chin. He closed his eyes for several seconds. “You didn’t want me to save you.”

“I wanted to save you,” breathed Wren. “Why didn’t you want to save me?”

Connor’s eyes flashed to hers. “I did! I still do!”

Wren smiled sadly and looked at the shackles around her wrists. Her wings drooped. “It’s too late. Prometheus will never let me go.”

Connor stepped toward her, but a glass wall parted them. He walked into it and felt along the glass, trying to reach Wren. He banged against it. “Wren, no!”

Wren knelt on the floor. “You let me walk away, Connor. Now I’m stuck here forever.”

Connor gasped. “No—”

A naked, faceless man appeared beside Wren. The figure, who Connor recognized as the nightmare from Wren’s dream, placed a hand over Wren’s mouth. She closed her eyes. ▓

Connor jerked out of stasis mode in the early morning. His thirium pump fluttered wildly in his chest. He sat up and took several deep breaths to calm himself. He yanked the headphones out of his ears and leaned over to charge the iPod. He laid back against the pillows and stared up at the ceiling, his synthetic heart racing.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor ignored the looks Hank kept shooting his way. He tried to focus on the crime scene. Blood splattered the walls and pooled around the unrecognizable body. An android sprawled on the floor beside the dead human, his thirium pump regulator in his hand. The blue blood evaporated hours ago, but the traces remained on the android’s chest and palm. Red blood covered the dead android. As crimes scenes went, this one was one of the most gruesome ones Connor ever step foot on.

He crouched beside the dead person, squinting at the beaten, swollen and torn face. Connor’s biocomponents.

“Can you get a positive I.D.?” Hank sounded sick.  

Connor scanned the body. “No. My facial recognition scanners can’t identify her.” He glanced up at Hank, whose face drained of color. “I can take a blood sample and analyze the DNA.”

Hank turned away. “Do what you gotta do.”

Connor placed two fingers in the woman’s blood.

«scanning»[Complete]

|Blood type: O-negative|

|Victim: Rhodes, Cleo|

|14 hours|

Connor balanced his arm on his knee, still crouched beside both bodies. “The human victim’s name is Cleo Rhodes.”

“Alright. Chris, look into Cleo Rhodes. See if we can find family and whatnot…”

“Yeah…” Chris tore his eyes away from Cleo’s body and walked out of the alleyway.

“And the android?” Hank queried.

Connor reached toward the android, dipped his fingers inside the thirium pump regulator chamber, and withdrew his fingers with a sample of blue blood. He placed it on his tongue.

«scanning»[Complete]

|LM100 model, registered as Rhodes, Xavier|

|Serial number #454-553-343-79|

Connor pinched his brow. “His name is Xavier Rhodes…” He twisted to look back at Hank. “He took her last name.”

Hank frowned. “So, they knew each other?”

“That’s what it seems like,” said Connor. He stood and walked around the crime scene. The alleyway provided very little evidence, but Connor traced the scuff marks in the mucky snow to the entrance of the alley. He reconstructed the scene, following the outlines of the bodies. Cleo and Xavier walked together, but it looked as though Xavier’s footsteps began to drag as they neared the alley. They stopped right outside the alley. Then, Xavier hit Cleo. Connor followed the reconstruction into the alley. Cleo stumbled and felt her way along the brick wall. She crouched, holding up a hand to keep Xavier at bay. Xavier hit her again. Blood specked the left brick wall. Cleo scrambled across to the side with the dumpster. She picked up a broken bottle and slashed at Xavier. She cut his forearm, leaving a few drops of thirium behind. The bottle shattered. Xavier grabbed Cleo by the throat and rammed her into the brick wall. He slammed her head against the brick wall three times. She dropped to the ground, where Xavier straddled her and tore at her, hitting her well after she perished. Then, he scrambled back in the snow, as if horrified by what he did. He took out his thirium pump regulator and laid next to Cleo, clutching his regulator in his hand until he shut down.

Connor withdrew from the reconstruction and blinked. His biocomponents roiled. Connor looked at Hank, his eyes wide. “He killed her and then himself.”

Hank furrowed his brow. “Jesus… This is overkill. What the fuck happened that made him do this? He took her last name, you said?”

“Correct.”

“That means that they saw each other as family. Why would he do this?”

Connor stared at the two bodies. “I… I don’t know.”

“I guess we’ll dig in their past, then,” said Hank. “Maybe she did something to androids in the past that pissed him off. Maybe he was her android… I don’t know. Let’s just get the fuck outta here. I’m tired of looking at this.”

Connor nodded. They left the alley and allowed the crime scene investigators to clean up and take the bodies away. Hank drove Connor back to the DPD, where the team gathered around a conference room. Chris, Tina, Gavin and Hank ate takeout while they reviewed their findings.

“Okay, so I looked into Cleo’s past and all, and there’s nothing. Like, she didn’t ever get an android. She was supportive of the Android Liberation Movement on her blog. She was a bit of a shopaholic, but… I don’t think that warrants this amount of violence,” said Tina.

“Definitely not,” agreed Chris. “From what I could tell, Xavier and Cleo met after the Movement. He got a job at her workplace and they became friends.”

“Then they started dating,” said Gavin, propping his feet up on the table.

“Get your nasty-ass feet off the table,” snapped Hank.

Gavin rolled his eyes and lowered his feet to the floor. He leaned forward. “According to social media and whatnot, Cleo and Xavier were dating and excited to get married. He took her last name and lived with her, so I don’t see the fuckin’ point in them getting married, but that’s what they wanted.”

“Marriage isn’t just about taking the name and living together, dumbass,” said Tina. She pinched her brow and steepled her fingers. “Their wedding planning got put on hold, though. They canceled their venue. They weren’t able to get a full refund, either.”

“Apparently, according to Cleo’s mom, no one would agree to marry them. They couldn’t find an official to perform the ceremony, and the courthouse was giving them grief over it. Android-human marriages aren’t technically illegal, but they were making it seem like it was.” Chris pressed his lips together for a moment before looking at Hank. “Please don’t make me be the one to deliver the news to family again. Hardest shit I’ve ever done.”

“We’ll take turns doing that,” said Hank, folding his arms. He sighed. “Probably the worst part of our job.”

“So… They were happy until they couldn’t get married. But why would Xavier kill Cleo?” Tina looked to Connor.

He stared at Cleo’s portrait. She had dark red hair like Wren’s. Connor forced himself to tear his eyes away from Cleo’s picture and met Tina’s gaze.

“Can deviants still self-destruct if under a lot of stress?” Gavin asked.

Connor nodded. “It’s entirely possible.”

“So… They got into a fight about the wedding and Xavier did this to her?” Hank gestured to the crime scene photo. “It’s still overkill.”

“That’s what the evidence indicates,” said Connor, though his biocomponents twisted. How angry or stressed did one have to be to exact this level of violence on someone they loved?

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

They set the case aside, even though they technically closed it. They figured out what happened, but still failed to determine a motive for Xavier’s actions. It unnerved the whole team, but they left work to head to Jericho. Hank and Connor rode together, following Gavin, Chris and Tina. Connor twirled the flash drive in his fingers.

“You sure you’re good to do this?” Hank queried, one hand on the steering wheel.

Connor swallowed. “I’m fine, Hank.”

“You seemed kind of shaken this morning. Your LED was yellow pretty much all morning.”

Connor clenched his teeth. He looked at the flash drive and rolled it around for a moment. “Something happened when I went into stasis mode last night. It… surprised me. I plan to ask Markus about it tonight.”

“Anything I need to be concerned about?”

Connor stared ahead. “I’ll let you know.”

Hank inhaled deeply. “And you’re sure you’re okay to go over Wren’s past? If you need me to talk—”

“I’ll let you know.”

They arrived at Jericho a few minutes later. Connor rode the elevator up to Markus’s office with his team. His biocomponents quivered as he strode into the office. North, Markus and Josh set up chairs and a TV screen. Everyone spent a few minutes greeting each other, but Connor remained standing, trying to hide his shaking. He clenched and unclenched his jaw.

Markus patted Connor’s arm. “We’re ready whenever you are.”

Connor dipped his head. He swallowed and faced the six pairs of eyes watching him from the couches. Hank stood beside Connor.

“Alright, we’ll tell you what we know of Wren’s past. You guys got a computer we can hook up to the TV? It’ll be easier to show you some of the records we have.”

“Of course,” said Josh. He set up a laptop and plugged it into the TV, which he turned on. Connor inputted the flash drive. He pulled up Wren’s files and flooded the screen with them.

“Alright,” Hank bounced slightly and rubbed his palms together. “It took us a while to track down who Wren was because she couldn’t remember anything about her life before, except that her name was Wren and that she was in a terrible car wreck, which is why she’s a cyborg. She got the idea to have a doctor examine her for possible diseases or genetic abnormalities. He didn’t find any, but he did find evidence of past fractures. We figured out that she made frequent hospital visits, so we narrowed our search and found her.”

Connor glanced at the picture of Wren’s old driver’s license. She smiled slightly, though she looked tired in the picture. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Her real name is Isabelle Wrenley Blanchard. She was arrested for possession of Red Ice, but avoided jailtime because she agreed to testify against her dealer. She and her fiancé at the time, Jonah Cage, became small-time dealers. He hospitalized her numerous times.” Connor stopped and took a deep breath to cool his systems. Heat still prickled the back of his neck.

“You okay?” North queried.

Connor swallowed and nodded. “I’m fine.”

Hank eyed him for a moment. Heat rushed to Connor’s cheeks and he lowered his gaze. Hank stepped forward. “Based off of what Wren remembered and what we found, Wren got clean and tried to get Jonah clean. He refused, and nearly killed her. She ran away that night, and got into a wreck. An android hit her car and this happened.” Hank changed the screen to show the pictures of Wren’s car after the wreck.

“Jesus Christ,” drawled Gavin.

“The authorities couldn’t find her body, so they presumed an animal dragged her off. But we know that CyberLife found her first. They saved Wren’s life by amputating her limbs and whatever else they did to her. I don’t know all the science behind it.” Hank turned to Connor, who cleared his throat. He stared at the floor as he spoke.

“She was approached by Prometheus after the operation. She suffered from post-traumatic amnesia, which Prometheus preyed upon. Trauma-induced amnesia rarely lasts more than a year, but because of Prometheus’s conditioning and control, Wren forgot who she was, except for the name Wren. She said she clung to it without Prometheus’s knowledge because it was the only thing she had left of herself. We hoped that by tracing Wren’s past, we could discover something about Prometheus.”

“We need to go through Wren’s life with a fine-toothed comb. She gained some of her memories back as she was exposed to things from her past, as well as her distance from Prometheus. We could’ve missed something. Wren believed that tracing her past could help us find Prometheus. Maybe it won’t help up, maybe it will. At the very least it’ll give us some closure and understanding.” Hank placed his hands on his hips.

North dipped her head. “Alright. Let’s get to work.”

They split up into groups to read over Wren’s records, starting with her beginnings. Connor, North, Markus and Josh worked on Wren’s high school years. She attended Ellsworth High School. She was an A-B average student and partook in theatre. She also attended dance class at the Northern Lights Dance Arts studio. Apparently, she excelled in dance to the point where she obtained a freeride scholarship to the University of the Arts in Philadelphia. She maintained her A-B average in college, with one C in a biology lab. She excelled in her dance degree. Connor flipped through pictures of Wren in high school. She appeared happy, with her arms around her brother and her cousin, grinning widely.

Connor, North, Josh and Markus watched a few clips of Wren performing in high school. Watching her dance, Connor parted his lips. She was so graceful. His thirium pump tugged with that familiar ache for Wren. He missed dancing in the kitchen with her. Connor drew in a shuddering breath. North looked at him.

“Are you okay? Your LED’s yellow.”

“I’m fine,” Connor assured her. He furrowed his brow. “Can androids… dream?”

Markus and North looked at each other, but Josh seemed unaffected. “Actually, yes. I’ve heard from several androids who regularly go into stasis mode that they relive memories, but sometimes the memories divert from what actually happened. There’ve been reports of androids going into stasis after watching a movie and aspects of the film occur in their dreams. Has this happened to you?”

Connor relaxed. “Something like that. I was listening to music when I entered stasis. I’d never experienced anything like it before, so I was… I didn’t expect it.”

“Yeah, it’s nothing to worry about,” said Josh. “As I understand it, dreaming is a good way for us to process some of our emotions.”

Connor nodded. Once they finished researching Wren’s high school years, everyone regrouped. Tina, Gavin, Chris and Hank presented on Wren’s early years.

“She was born December 27, 2004, at Maine Medical Center in Portland, Maine. She grew up in Ellsworth and attended Ellsworth Elementary Middle School. She took dance at the Libitzki School of Dance before switching to the Northern Lights Dance Arts. There wasn’t much about her as a kid, other than she was healthy. Her mom was a teacher and her dad owned his own construction company. As androids got more popular, he refused to use them, preferring people.” Tina glanced at the picture of young Wren. “She was a cute kid, but that’s all we got.”

Connor relayed the information about Wren’s high school years. North included that Wren twisted her ankle during a production of The Lion King, but she was able to dance again after her recovery. When Connor finished, he glanced at the picture of Wren’s college graduation. She looked so happy, holding her diploma. She used to look at him with the same brightness in her eyes.

“She looked so happy,” whispered Tina.

Connor’s chest tightened.

“Yeah, but everything goes to shit after she got out of college,” sighed Hank. “We’ll pick this up next time, alright? It’s late.”

Everyone nodded and dispersed. Connor moved to leave, but Markus grabbed his arm.

“Hey, if this ever gets too difficult for you—”

“I’m fine,” Connor snapped. He clenched his teeth as Markus raised his eyebrows and released his grip. Connor averted Markus’s gaze. “I can handle this.”

Connor kept his eyes low as he left the office. Hank followed him a few moments later. They stepped onto the elevator together. Connor felt Hank’s eyes on him, but refused to acknowledge it.

“Your LED’s red. You okay?”

Connor sucked his teeth for a moment. Heat flushed through his systems. His synthetic muscles tensed. “I’m okay.”

Hank sighed. “Quit lying. You said you wouldn’t push us away.”

Connor closed his eyes and pressed his lips into a flat line. He opened his eyes as the elevator slowed to a stop. “Then I’d appreciate it if everyone quit asking if I’m fine or if I’m okay.” He walked away. Hank followed him. The ride home persisted in a thick silence. When they arrived home, Connor tried to hurry to his room.

“Connor, hold up a second,” Hank called, locking the front door.

Connor stopped in his tracks, mid-flee to his bedroom. He curled his lip and mouthed shit before turning around to face Hank in the living room.

“It’s hard not ask if you’re okay when your LED is constantly yellow or flashing bright fuckin’ red. You keep saying you’re fine, but we all know you’re not.”

“Then why do all of you keep asking?” Connor demanded.

“Because we’re worried about you, and we’re trying to get you to talk about it!” Hank snapped.

Connor looked away from Hank and worked his jaw. His eyes stung. “All of this is difficult, Hank. You know what I think when I see those pictures of Wren? I see everything that Prometheus took away from her, and I think of how I failed to protect her!” Connor trembled.

Hank’s brow furrowed. “Connor…”

Tears blurred Connor’s vision. He blinked them away impatiently. “But I also think about how she chose to leave. She just walked away and left us. She chose to throw us away, Hank.” Connor’s voice broke.

Hank stepped toward Connor, his blue eyes reddening. “Son, you listen to me. She didn’t throw us away. You read her letter. You know she did all this for some stupid heroic reason. Yeah, it’s stupid, and it’s unfair. But that girl loves you. She loves you enough to go back to the people who took everything away from her to protect you. We don’t understand everything yet, but we will.”

Connor closed his eyes. Tears slid down his cheeks. His lips trembled, so he pressed them together. His biocomponents constricted and he shuddered a breath into his systems. He opened his eyes. “I failed, Hank. I told her that I’d keep her safe. I promised her that they wouldn’t take her. I didn’t know… I didn’t realize that I’d have to protect her from herself. I should’ve seen that coming; I should’ve convinced her to stay, but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t even try to make her stay. I let her go. I just let her walk away even though I promised that they wouldn’t take her—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Hank said, gripping Connor’s shoulders. “You couldn’t have foreseen that. This isn’t your fault, you hear me? None of this is your fault. Wren made her choices. There’s only so much we can do when she does that. We were all there when she walked out. None of us tried to stop her, okay? You didn’t fail. You know why? Because you’re here now, and you’re trying to figure out a way to save her. You haven’t failed. You won’t fail. You never do, son.”

Connor’s face crumpled as he looked at his dad. “What if I fail on the only mission that matters? What if I never see her again?”

Hank’s mouth fell open. His brow creased and something flashed in his eyes. He pulled Connor into a hug. “I don’t know, son. I don’t know. But I’m here.”

Connor clutched Hank closer and buried his face in Hank’s shoulder. Connor squeezed his eyes shut, purging the last few tears from his eyes. Eventually, Connor released Hank. He waited for Hank to go to bed before getting up from the couch. He grabbed a small knife from the kitchen and locked himself in the bathroom.

Connor faced himself in the mirror. He looked… tired. His hair was a little mussed. His mouth was set in a hard line. His eyes bore an almost haunted look to them. His LED swirled yellow, occasionally flickering red. Connor leaned toward the mirror and placed the tip of his knife to the LED. It flickered faster and his thirium pump fluttered.

Wren pushed herself up, her eyes glinting. “You look like you’re having an aneurism.”

“I’m fine,” Connor gritted out.

“Your LED is red,” Wren stated. “You’re not fine.” She stood and knelt in front of him. “Are you… Are you having an anxiety attack?”

Connor’s processor downloaded the definition and checked symptoms of such a condition. He nodded once.

“Okay,” Wren murmured, “breathe.”

“I don’t need to breathe.”

“I know that, but it helps,” Wren placed her hands over his. “In and out. Mimic me.”

Connor froze, unable to wedge the knife into his LED to lift it from his temple. He heard Wren point out his LED so many times. It was one of the ways he learned to open up to her. He dropped the knife and let it clatter in the sink. Connor bowed his head as a sob ripped out of his chest.

Chapter Text

Wren geared up in her snow gear and tugged on a pair of goggles before exiting the airlocked compartment between the outpost and the frigid Arctic outside. Once she was ready, she pressed the button and the massive steel door slid open. Snow whistled inside as Wren stepped out into the blinding white wasteland. The wind bit at the slightly exposed skin of her face. She pulled up her scarf as she marched through the snow to the ladder on the side of the concrete outpost. She climbed the ladder and brushed snow off of some of the scanners and visual equipment. It seemed as though Prometheus had not sent anyone out here in a while.

Wren returned to the indoors of the outpost and stripped of her gear. Her skin felt as if it melted in the warmth, tingling as the cold slipped from her skin. She sat down and examined the scanners. They showed no signs of vitals. The large monitor directly in front of her showed footage of the Russian outpost. No movement.

Wren leaned back in her chair. The silence pounded on her ears. She wished she had her iPod. She’d kill to listen to some music. She tapped her fingers to create a beat. She hummed, trying to find the right tune.

“Needless to say, I keep her in check.” Her voice sounded husky from lack of use. She cleared it. “She was all bad-bad, nevertheless. Callin’ it quits now, baby, I’m a wreck…” Tears blurred her vision and she broke off. She looked at the ceiling to keep her tears at bay. She glanced at the clock, which also provided the date. She clenched her teeth. Her birthday was coming up. Was she going to spend it alone in the fucking Arctic? Who knew how long Prometheus would keep her here?

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren awoke to the airlock door sliding open. She jerked out of bed and crouched in the dark as a figure entered the outpost. Prometheus sent her here without a gun, probably because they didn’t want her to kill herself.

She peered through the plexiglass wall, into the main surveillance area. A figure bent their head down, examining the equipment. Wren crept through the doorway. She straightened slowly. The assailant was alone. There was only one entrance into the outpost, and this man came through it alone. Wren bent her knees and charged for the unknown man. She jumped, tucked her knees to her chest, and then kicked the assailant with both feet before dropping to the floor. The man slammed forward into the equipment but threw his hands out to catch himself. Wren kicked his legs out from underneath him.

“Whoa! Fuck, stop, it’s me!” cried the man. Wren placed her knee against his throat and narrowed her eyes. She drew back.

“Rhett? What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Came to keep you company,” said Rhett as Wren stood. She held out a hand to help him to his feet.

“Jesus, I can’t get away from you even all the way out here.” She flipped on the lights before turning to face Rhett, who rubbed his chin.

“Yeah, you’re just so much fun to be around.”

Wren crossed her arms. “Apparently you liked getting your ass kicked.”

“Yeah, I should’ve announced myself. Sorry about that. I didn’t want to wake you.”

Wren pushed past him and checked the equipment. Nothing seemed damaged. She faced Rhett. “Thought I was in timeout?”

“Yeah, by Prometheus, not me,” said Rhett. “And since Prometheus is grounded by CIA… They can’t tell me shit.” He sat in one of the chairs overlooking the surveillance equipment.

Wren sat down in the other chair. She pulled her knees to her chest. “Why are you here?”

Rhett folded his arms. “I heard you were ranting about deviancy to the other cyborgs. And that whole fiasco with 02.”

“Yep,” said Wren, resting her chin on her knee, “so now I’m in timeout.”

“Are you an idiot?”

“Maybe a little bit.” 

“Stop joking around,” snapped Rhett. He leaned forward. “How do you expect to settle in if you keep messing up?”

Wren sucked her teeth. Her hands curled into fists. “I don’t want to settle in. I didn’t want to come back in the first place.”

“Yeah, well, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” said Rhett, leaning back.

Wren resisted the urge to punch something. She looked at the monitors plastered to the wall in front of her. “The Russians aren’t doing anything. It just seems like they’re occupying their post just to hold it.”

“That’s probably exactly what they’re doing,” said Rhett. “It’s a power move. But our guys in Moscow said there’s unrest, so…”

“Something’s going to happen,” Wren finished. She sighed. “Guess it’s just a matter of time before World War III starts, huh?”

“Maybe. Maybe we can prevent it.”

Wren nodded. “Thanks for coming up here. I appreciate it.”

“I don’t want you to go crazy.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure the point of Prometheus sending me here was so that I would avoid attaching myself to people, so…”

“I don’t follow Prometheus’s rules.”

Wren’s lips twisted. “Wish I didn’t have to.”

“They’re never gonna trust you if you say shit like that.”

“I’m not going to pretend that I’m happy to be back. I’ve told Thomas that. Besides, if I act too loyal, they’ll still mistrust me. I can hate that they’re forcing me to do all this, but I’ll still do my job if it means Connor and the others are safe.”

Rhett averted Wren’s gaze. His jawline hardened. “You’re still worried about them?”

“Uh, yeah?” Wren widened her eyes. “Wait, why? Have you seen them?”

“No,” said Rhett. “I just think it would be better for you to forget them.”

“Well, I can’t. And I won’t.”

“Alright, fine. You’re just causing yourself more heartache by doing that.”

Wren worked her jaw. She jumped from her seat. “I’m going to bed. There’s a cot in that storage closet.” She gestured to the door to her left and turned toward her room with the plexiglass walls. Rhett watched her for a moment as she climbed into bed. She rolled over and closed her eyes. Rhett rustled about the closet and set up his cot in the room with the monitors. He turned off the overhead light. The monitors cast an eerie green glow in the small outpost. Wren pulled the blankets around her and shivered. She closed her eyes, her body aching for Connor’s warmth.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Congratulations,” said Rhett, unlocking Wren’s shackles, “You’re free.”

Wren rubbed her wrists. They felt so light without the shackles. She glanced at the naked, faceless man. Someone tore open his chest. She turned back to Rhett. “Thank you.”

Rhett smiled and stepped aside. Wren’s heart jumped to her throat. She parted her lips and tears filled her eyes.

“Connor…” She stumbled forward. She reached toward him. Blood covered her hand. She glanced at her hands and arms. Turned them over. Blood. Blood everywhere. She looked back at Prometheus’s body. Scratch marks covered it, aside from its torn-open chest. She faced Connor.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Murderer.”

Wren’s heart split. “What…? Connor, no, I-I did what I had to do to get back to you.”

Connor’s lip curled. “No. You’re too bloody.”

Wren felt wetness slide down her face. She touched her cheek. Fresh blood glistened on her fingertips. Blood splattered her clothes. Blood gathered at her feet. She tried to step toward Connor, but tripped over something. She felt around and felt bodies. She grabbed the face of CY009, who stared with blank eyes at the ceiling. Wren knelt upon a pile of bodies, of cyborgs. Her heart jumped to her throat and she tried not to vomit.

“Connor, I did what I had to… I want to come home.” A dry sob raked out of her throat.

Connor backed away, shaking his head. “You can’t come home. I don’t know who you are anymore.”

Rhett stood beside Connor. He tilted his head and lifted a gun, placing it against Connor’s temple. “You just couldn’t follow the rules, Wren.” Rhett pulled the trigger. Connor’s head jerked to the side with the impact. Then, his body slumped to the floor.

Wren screamed.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren gasped. She tried to sit up, but her blankets tangled around her and choked her. She scrambled to kick them off, sweating from the trapped heat. Cold air kissed her skin as she managed to sit up. Her chest heaved with her breaths. Wren buried her face in her hands.

“Everything okay?” Rhett sounded thick with sleep.

Wren lifted her head. “Just a nightmare.”

Rhett stood and crossed over to her immediately. He sat on her bed with crossed legs. “Wanna talk about it?”

Wren shrugged. She hugged her knees. “I killed them. And you killed Connor. He couldn’t even bear to look at me.” She avoided Rhett’s gaze as tears filled her eyes.

“You killed who?”

“The other cyborgs,” Wren breathed. She looked at Rhett and blinked away tears. “I killed the whole squadron.”

“It was just a dream. Besides, you’re not even really friends with them.”

“Yeah, but…” Wren trailed off. Her heart twisted. They’re like me. Her eyes burned and her throat felt sore. She swallowed. “I don’t want to be a murderer.”

Wren failed to hold the tears back. She chuffed with a sob. Rhett pulled her close. He stroked her hair while she cried into his chest. She clutched his shirt as she wept. He leaned his chin on her head.

“It’s okay, Wren. It’s okay. It was just a nightmare. You’re not a murderer. You’re not a monster. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Wren squeezed her eyes shut and controlled her breathing to stop her sniveling. Her body hiccupped with a few sobs before she finally regained composure. She withdrew, her throat thick and her eyes gummy. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. You know, I still get nightmares?”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah. Well, I do.”

Wren looked at her hands. “Before I deviated, I didn’t really have nightmares. I mean, I had them occasionally, but they were rare. But once I started regaining a conscience, I started having nightmares. And when I finally broke through my programming, I had these horrible night terrors… I’d had those before, but… Only after something really traumatic. Connor was the only one able to calm me down after I deviated.”

“It sounds like he was a good friend to you.”

Wren’s lips twitched. “He was too good of a friend to me.”

“Don’t do that to yourself.”

“What?”

“Act like you’re not good enough or something.” Rhett rubbed his chin. “Because you deserve good friends, even if you think you don’t.”

Wren’s heart softened toward Rhett. She managed a small smile. “Thank you.”

Rhett patted her knee. “Go back to sleep. We’ve got a long day of watching monitors ahead of us tomorrow.”

Wren snorted as Rhett stood and returned to his cot. She laid back down. Sleep danced away from her for a while; the image of Connor dying still burned behind her eyes. Eventually, exhaustion took over.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren and Rhett spent the next few days playing cards and watching the monitors. The Russians never moved. Rhett told her about some of the places he visited on his missions and cases. Wren avoided telling him too much about her friends in Detroit. She knew Prometheus was listening through her. She didn’t want to give them an edge.

On the morning of Rhett’s fourth day, he packed up to leave. “Well, I can’t say this has been my most exciting mission…”

“Stakeouts are never fun,” said Wren, leaning against the wall with folded arms.

“They can be,” argued Rhett. He shrugged on his jacket. “Hopefully they won’t leave you out here too long.”

“They’ll probably keep me here longer since you came for a visit.”

“Nah,” Rhett shook his head as he finished gearing up. “You’re too good. A loose cannon, but good at your job.”

Wren pressed her lips together. Rhett turned toward the door. Wren bit her lip and stepped forward. “Will you do me a favor?”

Rhett turned. “Anything.”

“Will you…” Wren trailed off. Her throat swelled. She swallowed before continuing, “Will you check on them? Make sure they’re happy and are okay—”

“No,” said Rhett.

Wren blinked. “What? Why?”

“Just let them go.”

Wren scowled. “You said you’d do anything—”

“Anything but that.”

“That’s not fair.” Wren’s eyes pricked.

Rhett bared his teeth. “You’re probably never going to see them again anyway. Just let them go!”

“I can’t!” yelled Wren. Her chest heaved. “I can’t let them go. I won’t.”

Rhett flattened his lips for a moment. “Why the hell do you still love that android?”

Wren tightened her expression. She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Just go.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren hated herself for crying. As shitty as their relationship was, Rhett was Wren’s only friend. And now, she pissed him off too much. She hoped not.

She passed the time by exercising and practicing her training, though that was usually more effective with a partner and equipment. The absolutely nothing that occurred while she resided at the Arctic outpost drove her insane. She wasn’t there for very long, but it was enough to make her skin crawl. She wanted to claw her hair out by the time CY006 showed up to take her back to Prometheus.

Wren geared up for the snow and followed 06 out into the snow, where they marched toward a plane. Once aboard, 06 faced Wren, a syringe in hand. He smirked. “It’ll be easier if you sleep it off.”

Wren opened her mouth to argue, but 06 injected her. The world spun, Wren’s eyelids drooped, and she fell forward.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

She awoke strapped to a chair. She pulled against her restraints. “What the fuck is this?”

Pauline stepped into view, her hands clasped behind her back. “I’m sure you remember Sicilian models 003 and 006.”

Wren looked at the two androids, the ones who used to torture her under Montgomery’s orders. Apparently, not all androids deviated. She clenched her teeth and faced Pauline, pulling at her restraints. “You said things would be different.”

“I didn’t lie, 01,” said Pauline, raising her eyebrows. “But you have.”

“What are you talking about?”

Pauline lifted a small remote. “You are currently connected to a system of electroshock device that delivers a high voltage but a low current, so it won’t kill you. I want you to think very carefully about your response.”

Wren glanced at the wires attached to her arms. One stuck to her android limb while the other wire connected to her human skin. She met Pauline’s gaze. “Response to what?”

Pauline’s lips twisted. She bent down to meet Wren’s eyes. “How are you in contact with your friends in Detroit?”

Wren’s eyes stretched. “I’m not in contact with them.”

Pauline’s brow crinkled. She straightened. “I was hoping for an honest answer.” She pressed a button on the remote.

At first, Wren felt nothing. Then, every nerve in her body screamed. Her back arched and she pinched her face before emitting a cry. Just as quickly as the pain started, it stopped. Her body slackened and she panted.

“I don’t want to have to turn you over to the Sicilian models, CY001. How are you in contact with the DPD?”

“I’m not.”

Pauline pressed the button again. Wren screamed as her body burned. Electricity arced through her circuits and her bloodstream. Static appeared in her audio processor.

“How are you in contact with the DPD?”

“I’m not!” Wren yelled. Sweat dripped down her forehead. She trembled.

“Fine. You give me no choice. Sicilian models 003 and 006, do what you must to get her to talk.”

003 and 006 removed Wren’s restraints and forced her to her feet. Her knees buckled and the two androids dragged her out of the room.

“I’m telling the truth!” Wren cried. The androids ignored her. They forced her into a broad room that Wren recognized. She struggled against her captors, but her arms jerked awkwardly, still weak from the electrical shock. The two androids lifted her onto a board and strapped her to it. They laid a rag over her face.

“How are you in contact with the DPD?” demanded 003.

Tears stung Wren’s eyes. “I’m not.”  

One of the androids tilted the board back while another poured water onto Wren’s rag-covered face. She tried to hold her breath. But eventually, her lungs shrieked for air. She exhaled through her nose and inhaled, chugging water directly up her nostrils. It burned and brought tears to her eyes. Water clogged her throat. She squirmed as her heart raced. One of the androids ripped the rag from her face and straightened the board. Wren gasped for breath and coughed up water.

“How are you in contact with the DPD?” 003 questioned.

“I’m not,” Wren choked.

006 punched her. Her face exploded with pain. She whimpered and jerked to cup her face, but her restraints gripped her wrists.

“We know you’re in contact with the android RK800, serial number 313-248-317-51. Tell us how!”

“I’m not in contact with him!”

006 tipped the board and replaced the rag. Water poured through the rag and into Wren’s mouth and nose. When the androids relented, she wheezed as they straightened the board.

“How are you in contact with them?”

“I’m not…”

006 hit her again. Wren spat a mouthful of blood at him. He blinked and looked across the board at 003. 006’s LED flickered. Then, the androids removed Wren’s restraints and dumped her onto the floor. The impact knocked even more water from her lungs. She coughed up a mixture of water, saliva and blood onto the concrete floor. 003 hauled Wren to one side of the room, where he forced her to sit in a chair. The androids clasped Wren’s wrists into the cuffs attached to the chair. 006 took a picana from the shelf attached to the wall.

“How are you in contact with the DPD?” demanded 003.

“I’m not in contact with them,” Wren croaked. She stared ahead blankly. 006 hit Wren with the picana. On top of the blunt pain, the rod also shocked her. She jerked with the agony and moaned. She pressed her lips together until it hurt. Her eyes smarted.

“How are you in contact with them?”

“I’m not in fucking contact with them!” Wren snarled. “I haven’t talked to them in weeks!”

The Sicilian androids exchanged a glance. “Then why are they researching your past?”

A chill rippled throughout Wren’s chest. “They’re researching my past?”

006 smacked Wren in the shoulder with the rod. She cried out as her shoulder seared with pain before it ebbed into a throb.

“We’re asking the questions, not you!”

“Why are they researching you?” 003 bent toward Wren, but she avoided meeting the android’s cold gaze.

“I don’t know,” she breathed. “Maybe they want closure or something. I don’t know. I didn’t even know they were doing that, just please…” Tears welled in her eyes and she finally looked at the android. “Stop. I’m telling the truth.”

A door opened on the other side of the room. Pauline entered; the click of her heels echoed throughout the room. “Leave us.”

The Sicilian androids obeyed, moving with hauntingly mechanical unison. Wren looked up at Pauline, her entire body aching. “I’m not in contact with them. I didn’t know they were researching me, I swear.”

Pauline squatted. “Tell the truth, and this will end.”

Wren swallowed. “I am telling the truth.”

Pauline straightened. She circled behind Wren and withdrew something. Wren stiffened when she heard the click of a gun’s hammer. “I’ll ask one more time, or I’ll be forced to terminate you. How are you in contact with them, and why are they researching you?”

Wren’s lip trembled. Her heart slammed in her chest. She wanted to throw up. Her mouth dried. She considered lying, but that would only endanger Connor. This would end one of two ways: Connor’s death or hers. “I am not in contact with them, so I can’t answer why.”

She closed her eyes and tensed, waiting for Pauline to pull the trigger. Wren pictured Connor’s face, his gentle smile and soft eyes, the way he parted his lips when he didn’t know how to respond to something—

BANG.

Wren jumped and emitted a soft yelp. Her ear rang from the shot that missed her head. Static rippled through her audio input for a moment and a sob erupted from her chest.

“Congratulations, CY001. I believe you’re telling the truth.”

The two Sicilian androids reentered the room. Pauline handed the gun to 003.

“Take CY001 to the infirmary. She’s earned it.”

The Sicilian androids removed Wren’s restraints. Her body shook so violently that her legs buckled as she tried to stand. 006 caught her, scooped her up, and carried her through the hall. Wren stared at her hands, though she took note of the new location in the building. 006 entered a door to the right, which led into a large, hollow area of the building. Wren’s eyes traveled toward the ceiling. She looked around the area. Walkways circled the opening, like the inside of a hive. 006 carried Wren through the walkway and descended a set of stairs. He crossed a path that stretched across the open area. He entered a room, which Wren quickly registered as the infirmary.

A man wearing scrubs walked forward. “Place her on the table.”

Sicilian 006 obeyed. The cold steel of the table burned the part of Wren’s leg that still possessed human skin. She flinched as the doctor looked her over. He cleaned her wounds and used butterfly bandages on the cuts of her face. He gave her a salve to apply to her electrical burns. He even used a synthetic skin fluid to repair the electrical burn on her cybernetic limb. When he finished over an hour later, the Sicilian androids brought Wren to her cell. She noted that they walked through the hollow area, down three corridors that looked exactly the same, and entered the wing that belonged solely to her. They shoved her inside her cell and locked the door.

Acid bubbled up Wren’s throat. She dropped beside the toilet and vomited.

Chapter Text

Five weeks, three days, thirteen hours.

Over a month.

Connor lost Wren over a month ago. He pictured her face perfectly, but it wasn’t the same. He heard her laugh exactly as it should sound, but it wasn’t the same. He remembered the feel of her lips on his, her naked skin against his, but it wasn’t the same.

He had friends, but nothing was the same. Not without her. He functioned better than he did when she first left, but it still wasn’t the same. Wren’s departure sucked all the life out of him. He felt like a machine, except when he researched Wren’s past, searching for a lead to bring her home. That brought him closest to feeling alive than anything else. That, and Wren’s music.

He sat with the rest of the Human-Android Division and the Jericho leaders, researching Wren’s past. They discovered that she made frequent hospital visits for various reasons. Connor informed the others that most of these reasons were lies, as Wren was in an abusive relationship at this point. North shook her head and scowled.

“Who could do something like this to someone they loved?” Tina murmured. They continued going through hospital records to piece Wren’s past together. There wasn’t much else to go by, except that at the strip club she worked at, everyone called her the Red Queen. North discovered that Wren got arrested for possession of Red Ice, but avoided jail time by testifying against who gave it to her and Jonah.  

It seemed like they hit another dead end when Tina gasped.

Connor looked at her, his brow furrowing. “What is it?”

“I… I think I found something big,” she murmured. Everyone stopped their individual research to gather around Tina and her laptop. “So, a little bit after she was arrested, she went to the hospital for intense abdominal pain and… and vaginal bleeding.”

Connor frowned and exchanged a glance with the other androids. Hank rubbed his face and muttered an expletive.

Tina sighed. “She was five weeks pregnant and miscarried.”

Connor’s metal heart twisted sharply. He let out a choked breath and returned to his own research. He wondered if Wren remembered this and never told him, or if this was a memory lost to her. He hoped it was lost to her. He could only imagine how much that new would affect Wren. She never told him that she wanted children, only that it was impossible for her to have children. She always seemed troubled by that fact, so Connor figured she must want children in some capacity. His heart clenched and he swallowed.

“Alright, let’s put together the pieces we’ve found today,” announced Hank. Everyone gathered around the main screen.

“Okay, so we know Wren was hospitalized frequently for minor bone fractures and for stupid reasons,” said North, indicating to the records on screen. “Falling down the stairs, bullshit. Wren was a dancer and she took martial arts in her spare time. She wasn’t clumsy. She was covering up Jonah’s abuse.”

Connor’s brow creased. “She was taking martial arts?”

North nodded. “I found records of her taking Kung Fu and some self-defense courses. It looks like she started Jiu Jitsu before she went missing, too. I guess she was learning to defend herself.”

Connor balanced his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together. “But Jonah still managed to hospitalize her.”

“Maybe… Maybe she was trying to gather the courage to leave, you know?” Tina murmured. “A lot of women are too scared to leave because in relationships like this, they can be killed. Wren probably tried not to defend herself too much around Jonah to hide that when she was ready to leave that she could actually fight back, you know? Play her cards close to her chest.”

“I think she also loved Jonah,” said Hank. “In fucked-up way. She wasn’t in a good place, obviously.”

“I wanna knock this guy’s lights out,” muttered Gavin, crossing his arms.

“Get in line,” said Hank. “Alright, well else did we find?”

“She got arrested for possession and testified against the guy who gave the drugs to her and Jonah. Jonah was still dealing on the side, so I think Wren was protecting him by testifying against this guy, John Matthews.” North gestured to the mugshot of John Matthews. North turned to Hank. “That’s what Markus and I found.”

“I’ll go next because the timelines fit,” said Tina. “A little after testifying against John Matthews, Wren went to the hospital for intense abdominal pain and bleeding. She was five weeks pregnant and didn’t know it because she was still using Red Ice. She miscarried.” Tina looked a little choked and swallowed. Chris placed a hand on Tina’s shoulder.

“This is where it gets kinda weird,” he announced. “So, three days after Wren’s hospital visit, Jonah filed a missing person’s report on her. A few days later, he retracted it. Another few days later, Jonah goes to the hospital for a deep gash in his cheek. He needed a lot of stitches.”

“Wren stabbed him in the cheek the night she escaped,” Connor explained, recognizing the date that Jonah went to the hospital. “That’s the night that she got into the accident and went missing.”

“Yeah, Jonah reported his car missing as soon as he was out of the hospital. They’d already found his car that same night, but he didn’t know that.” Chris looked at Gavin and Josh, who researched the night Wren went missing.

Josh stood and set up his computer to show on the screen while Gavin faced the group and said, “The official report of Wren’s wreck is that an android driving a CyberLife truck malfunctioned and hit her, knocking her into the guardrail and over the cliffside. Her car rolled down to the base of the cliff. They didn’t find her body, so they figured that an animal dragged her off. She was never reported dead, but the case closed as her still missing, but presumed dead.”

“Yeah, CyberLife found her first,” said Hank. “They’re the ones who performed surgery on her and turned her into a cyborg.”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” said Josh, scrunching his brows together.

Gavin looked at him. “Androids can make mistakes.”

“Not that,” said Josh, still looking at the crime scene photos of the wreck. He pulled up pictures of the road. “This is the road where it happened. This is the bend where her car went over, right?” Josh pointed to the street, which curved around the mountainside. In the picture, the guardrail on the right side of the street was obliterated from Wren’s car crashing into it. “What’s weird about this?”

Connor narrowed his eyes. “There’s not intersection.”

“Exactly,” said Josh. “There’s just this wide shoulder to the left. See?” He pointed to the left side of the street. There was a large space of gravel before the actual mountainside. “No one should’ve hit Wren the way they did.”

“Well, they could’ve hit her at an angle if they came at her head on,” said Gavin. He drew his finger along the road to map it out.

“But look at the car,” said Josh. He pulled up a picture of Wren’s car after the accident.

“Holy shit,” Tina breathed. The car looked crumpled on both sides. The windows shattered from impact. The roof dented. The front bumper flew off. The back bumper barely hung on.

“The impact from the android’s car hit here,” said Josh, pointing at the left side of the car.

“How can you tell?”

“The front would be crumpled, too,” said Josh. “But it’s not.”

Connor scanned it and reconstructed the crash as best he could without physically being at the crime scene. The way the metal dented supported Josh’s theory. “He’s right.”

“Okay, so what are you getting at?”

“Well, the report says that the android malfunctioned in his drive and swerved into Wren’s lane, crashing into the left front side of her car. That would’ve killed her. Also, she would’ve gone over the cliff at a different spot and a different angle. Also, look at the crime scene pictures. That gravel is partially disturbed, but not enough for them to notice. The android hit her from the side. They waited for her in the gravel. When the time was right, they floored it and hit Wren directly in the side.” Josh looked around the room, his eyes wide.

It took a moment for everyone to click the pieces together, but Connor’s eyes widened. He preconstructed the scene in his head according to Josh’s theory. Someone would’ve had to watch Wren’s driving. The android waiting in the car would’ve had to calculate the time to speed up and hit Wren’s car in such a way that she would go over the cliff. It was a close call, but it was possible. The android would’ve hit Wren. She went over the cliff and rolled in her car. But that cliff wasn’t a straight, vertical drop. In fact, it looked more like a very dangerous plateau rather than an actual cliffside. Once Wren wrecked, whoever watched her was there on the scene before anyone else. They covered up the accident quickly, pulled Wren out and took her to CyberLife before anyone knew what happened.

Connor’s mouth fell open. “They targeted her.”

“Why would CyberLife target her?” Markus frowned.

Connor turned to Tina. “Do you think Chloe could set us an appointment to speak with Kamski?”

Tina blinked. “I don’t know… I don’t want to drag Chloe into all of this…”

Connor scowled. “What about Wren?”

“Well, of course I care about her, too, I just don’t want Chloe to get hurt by all this—”

“Tina, this is important! If CyberLife targeted Wren and we figure out why, we might be able to get Wren out!”

“I know, it’s just—”

“Just what?” Connor snapped, jumping to his feet. “I’m not asking for you to send Chloe on any sort of dangerous mission. I’m just asking for Chloe to set up an appointment—”

“Connor…” North tried.

“But if Chloe gets involved in any sort of way, it could put her in danger—”

“She’s already involved!”

“But she’s out now! I can’t thrust her back in the middle of all this!”

Connor curled his lip. “But you’re okay with Wren being trapped there forever? You’ll do whatever it takes to save Wren, but as long as it’s of no inconvenience to you?”

Tina’s face darkened. “Fuck you!”

“Connor, cool it!” Hank snapped.

Connor breathed heavily to cool his systems. His face warmed as he felt everyone’s eyes on him. He trembled with his fists by his sides. He forced himself to relax.

“Connor, we can set up an appointment,” said North. “It’s okay.”

Connor swallowed. “Of course.” He looked at Tina, who glowered at him. “I… I’m sorry.” Connor turned and left the room, ignoring Markus’s call after him. Connor strode toward the elevator, breathing heavily. His thirium pump throbbed wildly, sending thirium thundering through his biocomponents at a faster speed than normal.

He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. “You okay, son?”

Connor clenched his teeth as he stepped onto the elevator. Hank followed him. Connor closed his eyes as the doors slid shut and the elevator began its descent. “I… I don’t know.” He opened his eyes. Hank swam in Connor’s vision. “I don’t know.”

Hank pressed his lips together and pulled Connor into a hug. “It’s okay, son. Grief makes us lose our shit sometimes. It’s okay.”

Connor squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m tired of feeling this way, Hank. I feel like I might snap at any point.”

“I know. That’s normal. It’s okay, son.”

Connor withdrew from Hank, his face steaming. “I feel like we’re close to finding something to help her, but also… not.”

“I know. Me too. If we can’t find anything to get her out legally, we will find a way to bust down Prometheus’s door and drag her out ourselves. I promise. She won’t be there forever.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor laid on his bed, wearing Wren’s headphones and listening to her playlist, Top 25 Most Played. So far, he listened to twenty songs of the twenty-five. Whenever he listened to Wren’s music, he felt a little closer to her. It felt as if she whispered the lyrics to him, revealing more about herself she had been able to before she left.

Just as it was, baby

Before the otherness came

And I knew its name

The love, the dark, the light, the flame

Connor drew in a shuddering breath. He wished things could go back to how it was. He closed his eyes and prepared to enter stasis mode when he received an alert for a crime. His eyes flashed open and he pulled the headphones out of his ears and paused Wren’s music. The lyrics clung to him as he got ready and met Hank in the living room, who rubbed his face.

“Fuckin’ bullshit… can’t it wait till morning?”

“I’m afraid not,” Connor replied. He furrowed his brow as more of the report filtered through his processor. His LED flickered and his eyes narrowed a fraction. “Another android killed a human and then died.”

Hank raised his eyebrows. “Shit… Two could be a coincidence, but three? No fuckin’ way.”

Connor nodded. “I agree.”

“Well, come on. Let’s go check it out.” Hank grabbed his keys and the two of them got in the car and drove to the crime scene. It was an apartment, and the bodies were discovered by a very distraught friend.

“I’ll talk to the friend. You do your thing.”

Connor dipped his head and got to work of analyzing the crime scene. He crouched beside the two victims. The android sprawled facedown across the human, who gripped the android’s thirium pump regulator. The human male showed signs of strangulation. Connor reconstructed the scene. The android, a PL600, hit the man and drove him back. The man seemed to overcome his shock and fought back. While the PL600 strangled the man—Connor discerned that his name was Jack Rogers—he wrenched the thirium pump out of the PL600’s chest. Connor scanned the PL600.

«scanning» |Complete|

[Model #501-478-298]

[Registered as Rogers, Trevor]

Connor furrowed his brow. This android took the man’s name, too. Connor straightened and walked over to the girl talking with Hank in the hall.

“They were trying to get married,” said the girl. “But no one would marry them. They’re gay and an android-human relationship, so the fucking assholes wouldn’t marry them.”

Connor tilted his head. He turned to Hank, whose brow crinkled as he regarded the girl.

“You came to check on them, though?”

“They invited me to dinner,” said the girl, wiping her eyes. “I knew the people who owned Trevor before the Liberation. He was like my brother. I introduced him to Jack.”

“Did they show signs of an abusive relationship prior to this night?” Connor queried.

The girl widened her eyes. “No. Jack would never… He was pro-android rights from the beginning. And Trevor was so gentle and kind… No, they were so happy together.”

Connor exchanged a glance with Hank, who raised his eyebrows. “Found something?”

Connor glanced back at the girl. “Possibly.”

“One moment, ma’am,” said Hank. Connor and Hank stepped inside the apartment. “What’d you find?”

“They killed each other,” said Connor. “Trevor attacked first, and Jack defended himself. Trevor strangled Jack, who took out Trevor’s thirium pump, but it was too late. But Trevor didn’t try to replace his thirium pump. He… He just let himself die.”

Hank inhaled deeply. “Shit. Noticing a pattern?”

“The android always attacks first,” said Connor. “Then kills themselves after they kill their human partner. The two are always in a romantic relationship.”

“Yeah,” said Hank. “And they’re all trying to get married.”

Connor furrowed his brow. He glanced back at the two bodies. He faced Hank. “Deviants handle stress better now that we’re free. So why are they self-destructing and hurting the ones closest to them?”

Hank shrugged. “I was hoping you could tell me.”

Connor pressed his lips together for a moment. “I have no idea…” He lifted his head. “I think we should talk to Mr. Kamski soon.”

Hank looked at the bodies. “Why?”

“I think we need to perform an autopsy on the android bodies. There’s something driving them to do this. We need to figure out if it is some sort of virus, or if someone is making them do this.”

Hank lifted his eyebrows. “You think that the androids are being hacked or something? Is that even possible?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Connor replied. He stepped aside as Hank returned to questioning the girl. Connor dialed Markus’s number.

“Connor,” said Markus. “What’s up?”

“We need to meet with Mr. Kamski as soon as possible,” Connor replied. “For Wren and for something else.”

Markus inhaled. “Alright. I’ll set up the meeting. North wants to go with you, and so do I.”

Connor nodded. “I think that would be a good idea. You should know what’s happening.”

“Alright. I’ll let you know as soon as the meeting’s set up.”

“Thank you, Markus.”

“Of course. Hey, Connor—”

“I’m fine.”

“No one blames you, you know.”

Connor gritted his teeth and looked toward the ceiling. He pressed his lips together and swallowed. “I know. But that doesn’t excuse my behavior. I’ll apologize to Tina.”

“Yeah,” murmured Markus. “But… just so you know, no one blames you for getting upset.”

“I…” Connor blinked, hard. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Connor hung up and returned to Hank. “He’ll let us know.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor rode the elevator up to the forty-third floor of the CyberLife Tower. North, Markus, and Hank rode with him. The silence pressed down upon them.

My heart is screaming out

And in a few days I would be there, love

Connor clenched and unclenched his fists. He flexed his fingers, resisting the urge to grab his coin. They stepped off the elevator. Markus led them down a pristine white hallway to Kamski’s office. He knocked on the door.

“Enter,” called Kamski.

Markus looked at Connor, who dipped his head. Markus pushed open the door. Connor stepped inside the massive office with Hank, North, and Markus. Kamski stood behind his desk, his back facing them. His hands were clasped behind his back. The walls were entirely glass, overlooking Belle Isle. Snow fluttered about the windows, casting everything in bright white light. Abstract art with red and dark grey shapes decorated the walls. The floor was black, and Connor glanced at his obscure reflection before lifting his head to look at Kamski’s back again.

“Mr. Kamski,” greeted Markus.

Kamski turned around and his lips quirked. “Markus, it’s good to see you. North, you look lovely as always. Lieutenant. Connor.”

Connor lifted his chin. Markus strode further into the office, looking out the window. “We have a few questions for you, Elijah.”

“I’ll be happy to provide any that I can,” said Kamski, sitting at his desk. “Please, have a seat.”

Markus, North, Hank, and Connor sat upon the red leather couch facing Kamski’s onyx desk. Hank and Connor exchanged a glance.

Hank cleared his throat. “I guess I’ll go first, then. There’s been a series of murders recently. Androids killing humans and then themselves. They’re in a romantic relationship with each other, are denied marriage rights, and then the android attacks the human. We think that either there’s a virus or something, or maybe the androids are being… controlled by an outside party to do this.”

Kamski nodded slowly. “It could be a mutation in the deviancy code. Deviants used to self-destruct rather easily under stressful situations. Now that they have rights and are taking care of themselves, that seems far less common. However, something as stressful as being denied the rights to marry even though it isn’t technically against the law… I can see that might trigger strands of the deviancy code to malfunction.” Kamski’s eyes glittered and his lips twisted. He flicked his snake-like eyes to Connor before regarding Hank again. “But your theory of hacking isn’t entirely unfounded, either. But it seems you already figured that out. What do you need me for?”

“We’d like you to take a look at the android bodies,” said Connor. “Perform an autopsy and see if you can find anything that might have caused them to do this.”

Kamski pursed his lips and nodded. “Of course. We don’t want this getting out to the media, or it will set back android progress. And your other question?”

Markus, North, Hank, and Connor looked at each other. North turned to Kamski. “You knew Wren, didn’t you?”

Kamski lifted his chin. “The cyborg? Yes, I met her a few times. I’m surprised she’s not here. The three of you were close, weren’t you?” Kamski looked at Hank and Connor. Connor set his jaw.

“We were all friends,” said Markus.

“You knew about her involvement with Prometheus,” added North.

The smugness in Kamski’s expression faltered. The corners of his mouth dropped. “I was aware, yes.”

“They took her,” Connor choked. Kamski frowned at him. Connor looked at his hands, aware of everyone’s eyes on him. “They forced her to return, and we haven’t heard from her in over a month. We’re trying to find some way to get her out. They said she signed a contract with them. If we can find some way to show that contract was signed without Wren’s consent, we can get her out.”

“I don’t see how this concerns me.”

North leaned forward. “We think CyberLife targeted her. We want you to look back at the records and find the android driving the truck that hit Wren. Anything you can find on this event will help us.”

Connor lifted his head. Kamski worked his jaw and stared at his desk for several seconds. He finally inhaled and said, “You’re messing with some very powerful people.”

Markus frowned. “We’re very powerful people, too.”

Kamski chuckled. “You’re fighting for every right you can. Prometheus would make a powerful enemy, Markus. They have government funding. They work in the shadows and don’t exist. There’s a certain power that comes with anonymity.”  

“We don’t want to make enemies,” said Markus, “we just want to save Wren.”

“We have all the information you need to research the night of June 6, 2029,” added North.

Kamski pushed away from his desk and stood. He faced the window again. “They are Titans in a world of gods and men.”

Connor gritted his teeth and stood. “They’re not Titans, Mr. Kamski. They’re people who are murderers and kidnappers.”

“If CyberLife was responsible for doing this to Wren, then you have a responsibility to help her,” said Markus.

Kamski turned to face them. “Responsibility? The year was 2029, correct? I’d already left CyberLife. Anything they did was their doing, not mine.”

“Then right their wrongs,” snapped North.

Kamski laughed. “I cannot atone for every sin CyberLife has committed.”

Connor curled his fingers into his palms. “All we want to know is what happened that night and why CyberLife targeted her.”

Kamski clasped his hands in front of himself. “Digging into Wren’s past means digging into Prometheus’s past. They will know, and they will not like it. I’m surprised they haven’t approached any of you already.”

“Elijah,” said North, standing, “I understand that you’re scared of them. We just want to save Wren.”

“I think that you’re underestimating their power,” said Kamski, lifting his chin. “To save Wren, you’ll have to slay the beast. You can’t free her without overthrowing Prometheus.”

Connor glanced at his friends before turning to Kamski. “I’ll do whatever it takes. If you help us, and we succeed, then Prometheus can’t touch you.”

Kamski raised his eyebrows. “And if you fail?”

Connor parted his lips. His LED flickered yellow. He swallowed. “I won’t fail.”

Kamski smirked and looked at Markus, North, Hank, and then Connor. Kamski’s nostrils flared as he inhaled. “I will look into both of these queries. It will take some time for both. I will contact Markus when I have news.”

Connor relaxed slightly. “Thank you.”

Kamski nodded. Connor and the others headed for the door.

“Oh, Connor?”

Connor turned to look back at Kamski.

“They’re probably watching you.”

Connor’s thirium pump stuttered. He licked his lips, nodded, and exited the office. He faced his friends once they reached the elevator. North shoved her hands into her back pockets.

“He’s right,” she said. “They probably are watching us.”

“Yeah,” said Hank, stepping onto the elevator, “I’m sure they don’t trust Wren.”

“We should have a meeting tonight and go over what Elijah told us,” said North, hitting the Lobby button.

“He didn’t say much,” muttered Markus.

“No,” agreed North, “but he said enough. What if he’s right? What if finding evidence that Wren was roped into this wrongfully isn’t enough to get her out? I mean, wasn’t that what she said in her letter, anyway? That she could’ve fought, but didn’t because we’d be targets? That Prometheus would always be out there? What if we find evidence, but Wren doesn’t want to come back?”

Connor felt North’s eyes on him, but he stared straight ahead. He tried to ignore the weight pressing against his chest. He looked at the floor. “We have to try.”

“I know,” said North. She placed a hand on his arm. “I’m not saying we shouldn’t. Just… What if it’s not enough?”

Connor closed his eyes. “It has to be.”

“We’ll figure it out,” said Markus. “For now, let’s focus on finding evidence to get Wren out. If we do this legally, maybe Prometheus won’t be able to touch her. If we find evidence that they roped her into this wrongfully, then maybe the government will protect her.”

North snorted. “Yeah, because the government is so good at protecting people.”

“North…”

“Sorry,” said North, holding up her hands, palms forward. She folded her arms. The elevator dinged and they exited it. Connor walked past the massive statue in the middle of inner courtyard. They stepped through the security line and exited the Tower.

“Well,” huffed Hank, pulling his coat tighter around him, “we’ve got a shitty plan right now. But it’s the best we’ve got. If we need to, we’ll bust down Prometheus’s door and drag Wren out of their ourselves.”

North brightened. “I like that plan.”

“We don’t even know where Prometheus is,” said Markus.

“Someone does,” said Hank. “We just have to find the right person.”

Connor nodded. “He’s right.”

Hank looked at his watch. “Well, we should arm the security in the Rogers’s apartment, since Kamski will be taking the android body. I don’t want him messing up the crime scene being all secretive.”

“And if someone is forcing these androids to do this, they might revisit the scene,” said Connor.

Markus wrinkled his nose. “Do killers often revisit the scene?”

“More often than you’d think,” muttered Hank. “We’ll see you guys at the meeting.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

That evening, Connor, North, Markus, and Hank relayed the little information that Kamski gave them. Connor stood with his back to the door as he explained how Kamski feared Prometheus, but seemed willing to take them down, as evidenced by his willingness to help.

Connor huffed. “Saving Wren might require more than just finding evidence that she signed her contract unwillingly. It might require us taking down a secret government organization. It might be impossible. I… I understand if any of you don’t want to take part in this. It will make us targets for an organization skilled in assassination. They’re probably watching us. If you want out… I know some of you have loved ones and families. It might endanger them.” Connor lifted his eyes to meet Tina’s. Then, he looked at Chris, who looked away. Connor swallowed. “I understand.”

Tina folded her arms. “If… If that’s what it takes to save her, then—holy shit!”

Connor widened his eyes and turned around. His mouth fell open as Agent Rhett Anson entered the room.

Rhett gestured to the door. “Hope you guys don’t mind that I let myself in.”

Connor furrowed his brow and narrowed his eyes. Gavin stood up.

“The fuck are you doing here?”

Rhett raised his eyebrows. “Straight to the point, I like your style.” He placed his hands in his pockets. “I’m here to tell you guys to stop researching Wren’s past. Leave it alone. Forget about her, let her go.”

Connor scowled. “Kamski told you.”

Rhett shook his head. “Uh, no. Kamski didn’t say anything to me. You guys think that Prometheus hasn’t tagged Wren’s files in some sort of way? They get an alert every time one of you asshats looks into her past. They thought she was in contact with you and threatened to kill her—”

“You’ve talked to her?” Tina demanded, rising from her seat.

Rhett dragged a hand over his face. “I have biweekly meetings with her, so yeah, I’ve talked to her. Prometheus thought she was telling you guys to look into her past. Know what they did? Fucking tortured her, trying to get her to admit that she’s talking to all of you, giving you tips and whatnot. She told me they put a gun to her head and threatened to kill her if she didn’t tell the truth. Of course, she’d been telling the truth the whole time, and luckily, they believed her. Shot right past her head and scared the fucking daylights out of her. The more you guys look into her past, the more danger you put her in. Got it?”

Connor’s thirium pump hammered. It felt as if it were going to jump into his throat. He trembled as he regarded Rhett. “We’re trying to save her.”

Rhett’s eyes snapped to Connor. “Well, that’s fucking sweet, but you’re going to get her killed if you keep doing this. So leave it alone. Go get you a new fucking girlfriend or whatever. Wren never existed, got it?”

Connor gritted his teeth as Rhett turned and left the room. Connor looked at his friends. Everyone mirrored his dumbfounded expression. Connor stumbled after Rhett and caught him by the elevator.

“Wait,” he called.

Rhett sighed and turned. “No, I’m not going to give Wren a message for you.”

Connor swallowed. “I know you care about her, too. You wouldn’t be here to warn us if you didn’t.”

Rhett pursed his lips for a moment. “Yeah, I care about her.”

“Help us save her.”

Rhett laughed, though the humor failed to lighten his eyes. He shook his head. “You don’t get it. She doesn’t want out.”

Connor narrowed his eyes. “I was equipped with technology to facilitate more successful interrogations. With your increased heart rate and the way your eyes flicked to the right when you said that tells me that you’re lying.”

Rhett smirked. “Very impressive.”

Connor thrust his jaw forward. “She wanted out, and you forced her back there. She was terrified, and you forced her to go back.”

Rhett’s eyes lost focus as they drooped to the floor. He composed himself quickly and met Connor’s glare. “I didn’t force her to do anything. I proposed a plan to her, and she accepted. You’re just assuming things when you don’t know the facts. Wren agreed to go back willingly. And she agrees to stay there.”

Connor’s lips tightened for a moment. “Because you made her believe that Prometheus would target us if she didn’t go back! She’s trying to take them down from the inside because you manipulated her.”

Rhett’s brow twitched. “How the fuck do you know that?”

“I know Wren better than you think,” Connor snapped. “She was terrified of going back there. The only reason she would go back is if she thought it would protect us. So you manipulated her into thinking we were in danger—”

“Because you fucking are!” snarled Rhett. “Listen here, you smartass—Prometheus is ready and willing to take you out if you become a threat. I came here to warn you because you’re putting Wren and yourselves in danger. Wren’s working on taking them down, yeah. But she won’t be able to function if anything happens to you. So stop being an idiot and just fucking let her go.”

“You’re just using her,” Connor seethed, his lip curling. “You’re using her to take down Prometheus because it looks good for you!”

Rhett laughed. “Oh, fuck you. You think you have all the answers because you fucking love her? Well, guess what, asshole? I love Wren, too. I’ve talked to her recently. She doesn’t want out. She’s got a purpose.”

“So do I. I’m going to get her out of there. You can’t stop me.”

Rhett shrugged. “Yeah, I can’t stop you from trying. But if she turns up dead because you’re messing with the wrong people, then that’s Wren’s blood on your fucking hands, not mine.”

Connor’s thirium ran cold. He swallowed the lump in his throat as Rhett backed toward the elevator and pressed the button. The elevator dinged and Rhett stepped inside it. He caught the door before it closed.

“I won’t tell Wren about this. And I won’t tell Prometheus that you sought Kamski’s help. You really want to help Wren? Then stay out of this.” Rhett released the door, and it slid shut.

Connor stared at it for several seconds. He heard footsteps behind him, but his thirium pounded through his biocomponents. He felt the vibrations throughout his body, even in his audio processor.

“Connor,” said Hank, grabbing Connor’s shoulder, “I just got an alert from the crime scene. Someone set off the alarm. Kamski might need help moving the android body, okay?”

Connor nodded, not blinking. “Okay.”

They stepped onto the elevator. Hank looked at Connor as they rode down. “You okay?”

Connor looked at Hank. “I… No.”

“Look, we can talk about Rhett in a little bit. Right now, I need you to focus on this case. Got it?”

Connor blinked several times and nodded. “Got it.”

They returned to Jack Rogers’s apartment within a few minutes. They found the front door locked as usual. Hank frowned.

“That’s weird…”

Connor unlocked the door and opened it, hoping to see Kamski fumbling to move the android body and not a killer.

He spotted a hooded figure crouched over the bodies, scanning them with some sort of device. The figure jerked when Connor and Hank burst into the apartment. They pointed their guns at the suspect.

“Don’t move, asshole!” Hank yelled.

The figure jumped up and sprinted toward the window. Connor realized that was how they entered the apartment, as it the window sat wide open. The figure hurried onto the fire escape. Connor holstered his gun and followed. Whoever this person was, they were fast. They jumped over many of the steps and swung to the next platform. Connor followed them easily, but this person seemed extremely agile. Hank must’ve taken the other way, as he was not behind Connor. The person reached the ground before Connor. He jumped from the platform and landed heavily on the ground as the person sprinted toward the fence at the end of the alley way. Hank rounded the corner, gun out. Connor sprinted toward the fence, which the person climbed up halfway. Connor grabbed them by their jacket and wrenched them down.

“Detroit Police, stop!” Hank bellowed.

Connor grunted as the person kicked him back. He stumbled back but lunged for the person. He gripped them by their shoulders and forced them to face him, slamming them against the fence. Connor froze, seeing the person’s face at last. She stopped struggling and raised her hands up in surrender. Connor’s lips parted and his thirium pump twisted so sharply in his chest that it sent a surge of electricity through his thirium.

Bruises shadowed the side of her face. Her lip was busted. A purpled cut traced underneath her eye. She looked skinnier than he last saw her, too. Tears filled her eyes. Her lips twitched with a weak, sad smile. “Hey, Connor.”

« aXQncyB3cmVu»

Connor couldn’t let go of her, but he loosened his grip as her thirium pump slammed in his body. He gazed at her for several seconds before swallowing the sharp lump in his throat.

“Wren.”

Chapter Text

Wren choked on the air in her lungs as she gazed up at Connor. He wore a beanie, so his LED remained hidden from her. Seeing him hurt. She drank in his appearance. His brow pinched and he parted his lips as he stared down at her, still gripping her shoulders. Wren’s eyes danced from freckle to freckle. She traced the curve of his lips, and the way they pulled into a slightly crooked line. She memorized the way his body pressed against hers.

“Jesus Christ… What the fuck are you doin’ here?”

Hank’s voice tore Wren’s eyes away from Connor’s. Hank seemed so shocked to see Wren that he still pointed his gun at her. She met Connor’s eyes again. “Wanna lower your gun, Hank?”

“Shit, sorry,” said Hank. He lowered and holstered his gun. “What are you doing here?”

Connor finally released Wren. He pressed his lips into a tight line and stepped back. Wren backed away to look at both of them. “I could ask you guys the same thing.”

“This is a crime scene in an active investigation and you set the alarm off,” said Hank. “The fuck you think we’re doing here?”

Wren pursed her lips for a moment. “I probably shouldn’t say.”

Hank rolled his eyes. “Right. Prometheus business, huh?”

“Look, I know you guys probably want some answers—”

“Yeah, we fuckin’ do,” snapped Hank. “And you can start with why you’re here, because it’s obviously not to see us.”

Wren’s chest clenched. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m just here to analyze the scene and then I’ll be gone. You guys were never supposed to know I was here.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait, you’re not just gonna leave—”

“I have to. I’m sorry, but I can’t stay. I’m so sorry.” Wren’s eyes filled with tears.

“They let you have free reign and you’re choosing to not talk to us? The fuck’s going on?” Hank’s eyes flared.

“Hank, please…” Wren choked.

“No, this is bullshit. We’ve been imagining you locked up in a dungeon or something being tortured, and not only are you in Detroit, but you’re not even supervised!” Hank curled his lip and folded his arms.

Wren worked her jaw, avoiding Connor’s gaze as she focused solely on Hank. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

“Wren,” Connor murmured. Wren cut her eyes to him and her heart shattered. She swallowed the lump in her throat and blinked back tears. She wanted to hug him, to cry into his chest and tell him everything, but she couldn’t risk their lives. Connor’s mouth trembled as he seemed to struggle to find the words. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I… I found your letter.”

Wren’s face drained of color and ice settled in her stomach. “Your birthday letter? You kept that thing?”

Connor’s brow furrowed and he exchanged a glance with Hank. Wren strode toward Connor as he parted his lips to speak, but she covered his mouth with her hand. She glanced at Hank, who frowned. She couldn’t let them say anything that Prometheus might hear and find suspicious. She withdrew her hand from Connor’s mouth and used American Sign Language to say, “They’re listening.”

She knew that Hank probably did not know ASL, but Connor might. At the very least he could decipher what she signed. Wren squared her shoulders, her heart twisting. It hurt to breathe. “Well, since you two are obviously not going to help me—”

She moved to walk between them, to leave them again. Hank grabbed her by the arm and forced her to face him up close. Wren looked away, trying to hide her beaten face, still healing from the torture she experienced.

“Jesus, kid… What the hell did they do to you?”

Wren blinked rapidly. “It’s better if you don’t ask questions. Stop researching my past. This is our reality now. Just… let me go.”

“We’re trying to get you out of there, kid.”

Wren’s eyes snapped to Hank’s. “Well, I’m not asking you to do that! Now, are you going to let me go so that I can do my job?”

Hank scowled. “No. I’m not helping Prometheus in any way.”

Wren nodded. She swallowed and drew in a shuddering breath as she gazed up at Hank.

Hank’s eyes softened. “Hang in there, kid.” He pulled Wren into a hug.

Wren’s eyes pricked with tears. She clutched onto Hank as if she might disappear. She squeezed her eyes shut. She wanted to say she loved him, that she missed his sharp comebacks and colorful language, and cooking unhealthy foods that Connor disapproved of, and Sumo and watching movies late at night. Instead, she just clung to Hank tighter before letting go. She turned toward Connor and an ache stabbed through her chest. They stared at each other for a moment before Wren reached for his hand, the synthetic skin of her hand disappearing. He mimicked her and they interfaced.

[Wren awoke in a hospital bed. She peeked through her eyelashes, scanning the room. No, not a hospital. It was the infirmary at Prometheus. She shifted, and her back ached. Her brow puckered. This was a new pain, separate from her injuries received at Atlas Montgomery’s estate. She conducted an internal scan of her systems.

«scanning» |Anomaly in audio processing system detected|

She gritted her teeth. Part of her felt violated by the thought of Prometheus performing surgery on her without her consent. They implanted some sort of device in her audio processor, which meant they’d be listening to everything she said and heard. Either they recorded it or livestreamed it.]

Wren disconnected from Connor, gazing up at him. He blinked rapidly at the disconnection and pinched his brow. He parted his lips as he gazed at Wren. She relaxed slightly. She wanted to tell him everything, but she couldn’t. She refused to endanger Connor and Hank that way. Connor pulled her toward him. Wren wrapped her arms around his neck as her body flushed against his. She closed her eyes and buried her face in his neck. His fingers dug into her back as he clung to her. He smelled like home.

Wren withdrew first, her eyes stinging with fresh tears. She cupped Connor’s face with her hand for a moment and offered him a tiny smile before turning away. She walked toward the entrance of the alley, Connor’s and Hank’s eyes on her. Wren turned on her heel to look back at them.

“I like the beanie,” she called to Connor. She flashed him another weak smile before turning the corner and leaving them for a second time.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren left her cell in Prometheus to trek down the hall into the briefing room. It was a small room, with dark grey walls, and a round table and chairs encircling it facing a monitor mounted on the wall. When Wren entered, Pauline sat in one of the chairs, her back straight and her face impassive.

Wren curled her hands into fists. “You didn’t tell me about the alarm system. You knew they’d find me.”

Pauline lifted her eyebrows. “I needed to test your loyalty. Congratulations, you passed.”

Wren’s chest burned. “Fuck you. We had a deal, Thomas. Prometheus isn’t supposed to go anywhere near them. That includes your twisted little mind games and loyalty tests.”

“We sent you, not anyone else, to investigate,” said Pauline. “No other Prometheus agent was anywhere near your friends.”

“Yeah, because you were just testing me.”

“Well, this should make it easier for you to move on. Your friends are safe. You got to see Hank and the RK800 again. What’s the fuss about?”

“The fuss is that you’re playing with us. We can’t move on if you do shit like this,” snapped Wren. She turned to leave the room.

“If you don’t want Prometheus anywhere near your friends, that includes you, 01. You’re Prometheus now.”

Pauline’s words sent hot flashes running down Wren’s back. Wren clenched her teeth and left the briefing room. She turned left and headed into her wing’s gym. She had it all to herself, since all of her squadron died.

Wren glanced around the expansive gym and trekked to the treadmill. She pulled her hair into a ponytail and then increased the setting so that she ran, though not at top speed. Her hair bounced and swung with her movements. Her feet pounded the conveyor belt. She wished for her iPod.

The door to the gym opened and CY009 entered. Wren slowed her pace on the treadmill, her brow wrinkling a bit. 09 wrapped her bionic hands with protective cloth. She faced Wren. “Let’s spar.”

Wren slowed to a walk. “Can’t you spar with someone from your squadron?”

09’s eyes crinkled. “I’ve sparred with them for years. I know their moves. I don’t know yours.”

“We were all trained the same.”

“Were we?” 09 tilted her head. “You had no contact with your squadron. You weren’t a team.”

“And you and the others are?” Wren demanded.

“Yes,” said 09.

Wren stopped her treadmill and rubbed the back of her sweaty neck. She shrugged. “Good for you guys.” She hopped off the treadmill. She wanted solitude, and it looked like the only place she’d get it was her room. 09 grabbed Wren’s wrist. Wren froze and met 09’s gaze.

“I still want to spar.”

Wren leaned toward 09. “Go spar with your team.”

She jerked her hand out of 09’s grasp.

09’s brow creased. “I’m sorry.” She grabbed Wren by the wrist, her synthetic skin disappearing. Before Wren could react, she felt 09’s presence in her processor, accessing Wren’s memory—

Wren tried to override 09 before she glimpsed Wren’s most recent memory of Connor and Hank—one where Prometheus heard nothing suspicious, but if they saw the way Wren stopped Connor from speaking about the letter, they’d instantly want answers—so Wren forced a different memory to the forefront, forcing 09’s presence into that one instead.

[“The higher-ups and I have been in meeting after meeting the past few months,” said Fowler, rubbing his face. “As you all know, Hank and Connor are the only ones who work android-human related cases. Even though the android liberation was peaceful, there are still crimes involving androids and humans. And Hank and Connor’s workload just keeps getting heavier and heavier. So, with Markus’s help, we’ve decided to create a whole new branch in the Detroit Police Department dedicated to solving android-human related cases. I was asked to select a team to be the first on that branch. And congratulations to the six of you, you’re now the new Human-Android Division of the Detroit Police Department.”

Wren’s eyes stretched open even further. She looked at Connor, whose eyes broadened. They looked back at Fowler, unable to speak.

“So, uh, we’re a team? What, uh, happens next?” said Hank.

“I’m working on having the fifth floor repurposed to give you your own space. We’ll be moving drug-related crimes to this floor, and the six of you will move up. All of Hank and Connor’s cases have been transferred to the rest of your terminals. You’ll get started immediately. You’re all dismissed. Go gape at each other somewhere that’s not my office.” Fowler waved them off.

The six of them trailed out of Fowler’s office and into the breakroom. Tina’s eyes looked as though they might pop out of her head. She covered her mouth. “Holy shit. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!”

“Detectives,” said Chris, shaking his head. He grinned. “That means we get a pay raise!”

“A team? A fucking team?” Gavin folded his arms.

“Great,” said Hank, dragging a hand down his face, “I get to work with more children.”

Wren looked at Connor, grinning. “We get to be on a team together.”

Connor’s mouth slid into his usual lopsided smile. “Congratulations on your promotion.”

“Thanks,” said Wren. She wanted to laugh. “I still can’t believe we’re all going to be on a team.”

Connor’s smile widened a bit. “I look forward to working with you, Detective.”

The apples of Wren’s cheeks popped as she smiled. “Likewise.”]

09 gasped as she withdrew from Wren’s memory. Wren staggered back, clutching her wrist. The circuits inside seemed frazzled by the memory probe. She scowled at 09, who gaped at Wren.

“You probed my memory.”

“Yeah, I did,” huffed 09, her brow furrowing, “because you gave me no choice.”

Wren’s heart still beat faster than it should. “Pauline Thomas put you up to this, didn’t she?”

09’s face drained of color. “The squad doesn’t trust you—”

“So you probe my fucking memory?” Wren snapped.

09 widened her eyes. “We didn’t know if you were telling the truth or not—”

“My memory is all that I fucking have left,” Wren’s voice cracked.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” 09 murmured. Wren narrowed her eyes. “They were your squadron.”

Wren tensed. She strode toward 09 until they nearly bumped noses. “Don’t fucking talk about them. You guys don’t trust me; that’s fine. I don’t trust any of you. So don’t you dare talk about them, do you understand?”

09 nodded. “I understand.”

Wren pushed past 09, still clutching her wrist. She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth until she reached her cell. The door slid shut and she leaned against it, trying not to hyperventilate. Her hand trembled, so she clutched her wrist harder and screwed her eyes shut.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren stuck in her wing of the Prometheus headquarters for the next few days. She exercised on and off throughout the days. She itched to see Rhett and tell him about her encounter with Connor.

She slowed her Tai Chi session, her brow puckering. Perhaps it was better to keep the encounter to herself. She trusted Rhett, but some part of her wondered if he’d be angry that it even happened. It hadn’t been her fault, of course. Prometheus orchestrated everything to test her—a notion that set her teeth on edge—but that wouldn’t change Rhett’s attitude. He wanted her to forget about Connor and her friends in Detroit. He wanted her to move on and focus on her mission, even if it meant she never saw them again.

Wren stopped her movements and placed her hands on her hips. She doubled over and breathed heavily. The memory of Connor’s face cut into her chest and she let out a breathy whimper. She leaned her head back toward the ceiling to blink back tears. Taking a bullet for Connor and tearing her lung hurt less than this.

“01.”

Wren turned to see CY006 standing in the doorway of the gym. She folded her arms. “Are you here to probe my memory too?”

06 tilted his head. “No. We have a mission.”

Wren lifted her eyebrows. “You guys want me to work on a mission with you?”

“I don’t,” said 06, “but Thomas does. Come on.” He turned and disappeared down the corridor. Wren sighed and grabbed her jacket before following him. They entered the briefing room in Squadron Two’s wing of the Prometheus building. Wren averted 09’s gaze and sat at the table facing the monitor. 06 turned to them. He held a remote in his hand and clicked a button, filling the screen with the picture of a well-dressed man.

“This is Dario Clarence,” said 06. “He’s the heir to Clarence Empires, a multimillionaire jewelry company. They work overseas more than they do in the States, even though they’re both American.”

“Because they’re overpriced,” muttered 07.

Wren glanced at her with twitching lips. Before she turned back to the screen, she caught 09’s eye, who glanced away quickly. Wren’s brow puckered as she faced the monitor.

“Stay focused,” said 06. “Clarence’s father is ill, which means that Dario will inherit the empire. He’s known for his partying, which normally, Prometheus wouldn’t care about. However, Dario’s in the business of drug dealing without his father’s knowledge. He’s recently gotten into poisoning said drugs. We’ve traced a few failed bioweapon experiments back to him, too. We believe he’s about to make a sale at his next party, which is where we come in. He likes models and can’t really get a girl himself, so Thomas had 08 and I meet with him last week as businessmen. We showed him your pictures and he picked out two women to be his dates. 01 and 07, that’s where the two of you come in. We will watch from the outside, but the two of you are to infiltrate his lab and blow it to bits.”

Wren scowled. “His lab is in his house, right?”

“Correct.”

Wren worked her jaw for a moment. “Won’t there be civilians there?”

“There will,” said 06, “but if you plant the explosives correctly, it will just destroy his lab, not the house. The civilians should be safe. 01 and 07, the two of you will need to distract Dario, get into his lab, set the explosives and blow him and his buyer to bits. Understood?”

Wren met 07’s gaze before turning back to 06. “Understood.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren and 07 looked through party dresses that Pauline Thomas picked out for them. Wren wanted something practical for the mission, something not too tight so that she could hide her gun easily. She glanced at 07, who withdrew a sleek black and white dress.

“Have you thought of a name?” Wren asked.

07’s brow pinched. “A name?”

“I can’t call you 007 in there,” said Wren, wrinkling her nose at a yellow dress and sliding it down the rack.

07 frowned. “I hadn’t thought about it. Have you?”

“Just call me Wren. I mean, that is my actual name.”

07 stepped behind the changing screen. “That’s the name you used when you went rogue, isn’t it?”

“It’s not the name I used; it’s my actual name.”

“You know your real name?”

Wren brushed her fingers along a light blue dress. It reminded her of Connor’s LED. She pulled it off the rack and waited for 07 to emerge. “Yeah. My name is Wren.”

“So why do we call you 01?”

“Same reason you and your squadron don’t use names,” said Wren.

07 stepped out from behind the changing screen. She looked elegant in her gown. The satin fabric hung on her tall, dainty frame like some Hollywood starlet, or a damsel in a spy movie. Wren’s lips twitched. 07 frowned. “What? Do I look stupid in this?”

“No, you look like one of James Bond’s love interests. I thought it was fitting, 007.”

07 smirked as she walked toward the mirror, the satin of her gown gleaming in the florescent light. She looked at herself for a long moment. “That’ll be my name, then.”

“What?”

“Jamie. For James Bond. Call me Jamie.”

Wren grinned. “Got it.” She disappeared behind the changing screen and slipped out of her workout clothes and into the gown. The loose V-neck might provide some difficulty in the event of some action, but the fitted waist and high slit seemed practical. Wren stepped out from behind the screen.

“Nice,” said Jamie. She furrowed her brow and folded her arms. “I want to make something clear to you, Wren.”

Wren lifted her chin. “Okay.”

“It’s no secret that you don’t want to be here. You don’t trust us just as much as we don’t trust you. If you sabotage this mission—”

“I’m not going to. I don’t want to die. And I may not trust any of you, but I certainly don’t want to get any of you killed.”

Jamie pursed her lips for a moment. She smiled, but no warmth brightened her eyes. “Good. Then there should be no problems.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren entered the mansion, carrying a small clutch that contained the explosives and detonator for the bomb. A small handgun was strapped to her inner thigh. She stopped at the threshold of the ballroom and peered around it, eyeing the people already dancing. A few snorted cocaine in the corner while a number of people ordered drinks from an open bar at the other side of the ballroom. An even larger group snorting Red Ice. Wren tensed and looked ahead.

“There’s Dario,” said Jamie. Wren followed Jamie’s gaze to the man she recognized from the picture. He was handsome, but he possessed a smile that reminded Wren of grease. He slicked his dark hair back, too.

“Well, he looks like a certified douchebag,” Wren muttered.

Jamie snorted. “Definitely.”

“Stay focused,” CY006’s voice sounded in Wren’s earpiece.

She cleared her throat. “How do you want to play this?”

“Depends on if you want to be the party animal or me,” said Jamie.

Wren stiffened. “I can’t be anywhere near Red Ice.”

Jamie lifted her eyebrows. “You don’t have to take it, you know. We’re not supposed to actually party—”

“I know,” Wren snapped. [She placed her nostrils against the crushed red substance and inhaled it. The crystals burned up her nostrils and seemed to burn inside her brain.] Wren clenched her hands. “I can’t be around it, okay?”

“Okay, fine,” said Jamie. “Let’s at least get a drink.”

They sauntered over to the bar and ordered two cocktails. Then, they made their way over to Dario. He grinned as they approached and spread his arms.

“Ladies,” he greeted. “You’re even more beautiful in person.”

“Mr. Clarence, you flatter us,” said Jamie, extending her hand to him.

“Call me Dario.” He kissed Jamie’s hand, and then took Wren’s hand and kissed the top of it.

“I’m Jamie, and my quiet friend here is Wren.”

“Lovely names,” said Dario, smiling. “Jamie: the feminine form of James, of Hebrew origin meaning ‘supplanter’ or ‘seized by the heel.’ And Wren: a nickname for the bird known for its complex songs, or derived from the Anglicized Gaelic Ó Rinn, meaning ‘spear.’ It seems I am in the presence of two warrior women.”

“Or our moms just thought those names sounded cool,” said Wren with a shrug.

Dario grinned. “Well, you certainly have a sharp tongue, my dear. I see the two of you have already helped yourselves to drinks. Dance, eat, drink… Enjoy some Red Ice.”

“I’d rather enjoy you,” murmured Jamie, stepping toward Dario.

“That can be arranged,” Dario gripped Jamie by the waist.

Wren downed the rest of her champagne. “I’m out! I’ll go and get a new drink.”

“No one cares,” cooed Jamie, staring deeply into Dario’s eyes.

Wren resisted the urge to roll her eyes and disappeared into the crowd.  She was careful not to brush her hand, which Dario kissed, against anything as she swept through the house. She took a flight of stairs down to a basement, and then another set of stairs to a solid steel door. A touchpad waited for a hand to scan.

“Alright, I’m at the lab door,” Wren breathed into her communicator.

“Did you touch Dario’s hand?” queried 010.

“Yes, on my left hand, though the fingerprints are upside down.”

“That’s fine. Fabricating fingerprints… now. You should be good to go.”

Wren placed her left hand onto the touchpad, which scanned her hand and falsified fingerprints. It recognized her as Dario Clarence, and the door slid open. “Okay, I’m in the lab.”

“Plant the explosives and get out of there.” 

Wren worked her way through the expansive laboratory, planting the explosives on the support pillars around the room. She tuned out Jamie’s flirting and dirty-talking with Dario and hurried out of the lab to a different section of the house and withdrew the detonator from her clutch.

“Explosives are set and I am ready to set them off,” Wren muttered.

“Go ahead,” said 06.

Wren prepared to press the button, but paused when Jamie’s end of the line crackled. A loud smack sounded and Wren caught the static sound of Jamie’s grunt. Wren frowned and pressed her earpiece closer to her ear.

“Hold on, I think something’s wrong with Jamie.”

“Who?” 06 demanded.

“07,” Wren snapped. “Jamie, come in. Can you hear me?”

Silence.

“This is your lab?” Jamie’s voice sounded through the earpiece.

Wren widened her eyes. “Jamie, can you get away safely?”

Silence.

Wren switched to 06’s channel. “06, Jamie’s in trouble.”

“You’re still cleared to detonate the explosives.”

Wren’s heart stuttered. “But Jamie—”

“CY007 knows the risks of the job. Proceed with the mission.”

Wren flinched as another smack sounded. Dario must have hit Jamie. She bit her lip for a moment. “I’m going back for her.”

“01, don’t—”

Wren yanked the earpiece from her ear and retrieved her gun from her inner thigh. She hurried down the stairs and kicked off her heels. She stopped before the door and shot the control panel, allowing the door to slide open. Immediately, an alarm sounded. Wren hurried into the center of the lab, where Dario, two guards and a woman stood. Wren shot the two guards before any of them reacted. The woman turned and raised her gun, but Wren ducked behind a concrete pillar. Debris shattered by Wren’s shoulder from the unknown woman’s gunshot.

Jamie grunted as she disarmed Dario. Wren peeked around the pillar and fired two shots. She hit the woman, who stood with no cover. Wren emerged from behind the pillar just as Jamie fired a bullet between Dario’s eyes.

Jamie huffed and lowered her gun. “Well, that didn’t go as planned.”

Wren glanced down at the woman. She rolled the woman over to scan her face before straightening. “Why’d he even bring you down here?”

“He was going to start his meeting early, and I wanted to give you more time. That made him suspicious.” Jamie shrugged.

Wren pressed her lips together and flicked her eyes toward the alarm ringing. “Well… Looks like we’re doing this the hard way.”

Jamie looked past Wren and widened her eyes. “Take cover!”

Wren ducked behind a pillar as gunfire exploded in the room. She peeked around when there was a pause in gunfire. She aimed and shot one guard. Jamie downed another. They continued firing until they downed the four guards.

“Let’s move!” Wren led the way out of the lab, Jamie close on her heels. They hid in the basement as more guards descended to investigate the alarm sounding in the lab. The ringing faded as Wren and Jamie emerged from the basement and onto one of the main levels of the mansion. They stowed their guns and hurried into the ballroom. They sat at the bar while Wren gripped the detonator under the counter. She pressed the button and the house shuddered as a loud bang sounded below.

As the partygoers screamed and rushed for the exits, Wren and Jamie blended in with them, screaming and hurrying outside. They hurried all the way to the street. They walked a block, where 08 picked them up in a van.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Well, that certainly could’ve gone more smoothly, but you got the job done.” Pauline stood with folded arms in the briefing room. She frowned at Squadron Two, who all bowed their heads. Wren held Pauline’s gaze.

Wren lifted her chin. “Did you identify who the buyer was?”

Pauline dipped her head. “Lilith Aron. Prometheus has actually been tracking her movements for a few years. She’s smart and knows how to stay out of the public eye. She avoids getting tied to her crimes, which is why we haven’t pursued her. I suppose the best way to catch her was in the act.”

“I apologize for our inefficiency, Supervisor Thomas.” CY006 bowed his head.

Pauline creased her brow. “You got the job done. I’d say you were efficient, if rough. Until next time.” She left the briefing room.

No one moved. Jamie turned her head toward 06. “I heard you tell Wren to go ahead and set off the explosives.”

06 regarded her with an impassive expression. “That’s the job, 07. We are supposed to put the mission first.”

Jamie worked her jaw. “Jamie. My name’s Jamie.”

06 narrowed his eyes. “We don’t have names.”

“Yeah, we fucking do. And my name’s Jamie.”

06 glowered at Wren. “This is all your fucking fault. You’re going to destroy everything.” He left the briefing room.

09, 08 and 010 exchanged a glance. 010 leaned forward. “07, we’re not supposed to have names…”

“Why not?” Jamie demanded. “Because then it breeds attachment? Individuality? From where I’m sitting, I’m pretty damn thankful for individuality. If Wren had just obeyed orders like a fucking mouth-breather, I’d be dead.”

08 and 010 looked at each other, 09 gazed at Wren and Jamie, tears glimmering in her eyes. Wren’s heart clenched for them. She looked into 09’s eyes and saw herself. She saw her own desire to be more than just a sum of her parts in Jamie’s glare. But she also saw the terror of breaking free in 08’s and 010’s eyes. She knew.

08, 010 and 09 exited the room after a several seconds of tense silence. Wren stood to leave, but Jamie grabbed her arm.

“I never said thank you for coming back for me.”

Wren’s lips twitched. “No problem. Even James Bond needs help from time to time.”

Jamie smirked, but it faltered as tears filled her eyes. “I don’t want to be disposable.”

Wren’s heart twisted. She placed a hand on Jamie’s arm. “You’re not, trust me. None of us are. We’re too expensive.”

Jamie’s brow puckered. “Is that why you’re still here?”

Wren pressed her lips together for a moment. “Part of the reason.”

Jamie nodded. She stepped past Wren but stopped in the doorway. “How did you know you were a deviant?”

Wren’s heart plummeted. She widened her eyes as the color drained from her face. “It was a choice. If you’re ever faced with that choice… You’ll know.”

Jamie looked at Wren and parted her lips to say something else, but Wren placed a finger over her lips. She tapped her ear. Jamie nodded. Prometheus was listening. They were always listening.

Chapter Text

Connor replayed the meeting with Wren again. He traced her face, even with the slight static of his memory. She was beautiful, even with the bruises and cuts on her face. She moved toward him, her head titled slightly. He itched to touch her, even to just hold her hand. Connor interweaved his own fingers and lowered his head.

Hank slowed the car to a stop and rolled down the window. A CyberLife guard approached the window. Hank cleared his throat. “Hi. Um, Lieutenant Hank Anderson and Detective Connor Anderson here to see Mr. Kamski. He’s expecting us.”

The CyberLife guard regarded them. After a moment, he waved them through. Hank dipped his head and rolled up his window as the gate slid beneath the ground. Hank drove forward. “Those fucking masks are creepy. Can’t see any facial expressions.”

“Their masks allow them to scan like an android, though their capabilities don’t match up with an android’s,” said Connor. “He scanned us before letting us through.”

“I know what the masks are for. They just look stupid. Like a fuckin’ stormtrooper or something.”

Connor’s lips twitched. Hank parked before the CyberLife Tower. They exited the car and took the elevator up to the forty-third floor. Connor led the way, his shoes clicking on the hard floor. He entered Kamski’s open office. Kamski sat at his desk. Dark circles ringed his eyes. His lips slid into their usual smirk when Connor and Hank entered the office.

“Welcome back, Connor and Hank.”

Hank grunted as Kamski stood. “Awfully friendly.”

Kamski ignored Hank and picked up a tablet, which he handed over to Connor. “I figured it would be safer to give all the information on our cyborg friend here, rather than sending it to you. This will be harder to hack and trace. Everything I could find is there. It was pretty challenging to find this information, so those who controlled CyberLife after me definitely didn’t want that getting out.”

“We’ll guard it with our lives,” muttered Hank.

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” said Kamski, leaning against his desk. “It contains information that I’m sure you’ll be very interested in.”

“Do you have information regarding our other case?” Hank demanded.

Kamski’s lips tightened for a moment. “I’m afraid I’m not quite finished. There is something I’d like you to see, but you’ll have to wait for the full diagnostic on the androids’ processors. I believe they were hacked, but I haven’t fully finished dissecting them, as Connor was most insistent that the case regarding your cyborg friend is most important. Follow me.” Kamski led the way out of his office. Connor froze as the back of his neck tingled. Hank cast Connor a glance before following Kamski.

Connor cleared his throat and filed in behind them, clutching the tablet. They took the elevator to sublevel forty-four. Kamski brought them to a large room that looked like a cross between a science lab and a surgical operation room. Laid out on three steel tables were the android bodies. Their skin was deactivated and they wore no clothes. On the last two androids, their abdominal panels were open, revealing the wire machinations within.

Connor swallowed as he neared the most recent body, the one Wren tried to scan.

“As I said, I’m still trying to examine their processors,” said Kamski, gesturing to the wires attached to the back of the android’s head. “But I found something interesting on these two.” Kamski gestured to them. He lifted the closest one so that Connor and Hank could look at its back. Branded near the waist was an image of a hurricane eye. The Greek letter Tau sat in the middle of the eye.

“Do all of them have this?”

“Yes,” said Kamski. “Whoever is doing this is branding these androids with their symbol, most likely postmortem, though there is no real way to tell with androids.”

“Could be some sort of gang or organization,” said Hank, folding his arms.

“Or a single killer who’s proud of their accomplishment,” said Connor, straightening. Kamski lowered the body back onto the table. Connor met Kamski’s gaze. “Thank you for meeting with us today.”

“And for… doing this,” added Hank.

Kamski blinked, and then nodded. Connor and Hank left the CyberLife Tower and returned to the car. Connor withdrew his phone.

“Whoa, whoa, what’re you doing?” Hank demanded.

“I’m going to tell everyone that we have the tablet and should meet,” said Connor.

“Let’s take this slow, alright? You saw what they did to Wren. Son, that was our fault. We need to be discreet about all this.”

Connor tensed. He pressed his lips together and looked away from Hank, but lowered his phone. His biocomponents knotted, and he swallowed. “You’re right.”

Hank faced the street again. “You never told me what she said.”

Connor’s brow pinched. “What do you mean?”

“She signed something, and she told you something when the two of you interfaced, because you were so shaken up that you didn’t talk to me for the rest of the night. What’d she say?”

Connor narrowed his eyes. “She signed ‘They’re listening’.”

“‘They’re listening’? The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“She interfaced with me to show me that as soon as she returned to Prometheus, they performed surgery on her. She scanned her systems and found an anomaly in her audio processor. She believes that Prometheus is either tapping into, streaming, or recording what she says and hears.”

Hank sighed. “Jesus. That explains why she shut you up about the letter, and why she was so dodgy. She’s literally on fucking speakerphone.”

Connor nodded, his chest tightening. “She still wants out, Hank. She tried to hide it while we interfaced, but I felt it. She’s scared.”

Hank glanced at Connor before focusing back on the road. “She looked pretty scared. I want her out too, kid. I just want to be smart and careful about this. I told you that emotions always screw everything up.”

Connor clenched his jaw and lowered his head.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Later that afternoon, he received a text in the group message.

Tina: Hey, so tomorrow’s Christmas… I know not all of us celebrate it, and some of us have families, but… do any of us wanna meet tomorrow for a holiday celebration?

Tina: u guys are basically my family, so…

Connor squeezed his eyebrows together. He began to type a response, but Markus beat him to it.

Markus: Actually, I was going to invite you all to Carl’s. He said he’d enjoy some more human company so that he’s not the only one eating. I didn’t want him to be lonely in case Leo doesn’t show up.

Tina: Carl?

Markus: Yeah, my dad.

Tina: oh ok cool

Tina: I mean I was gonna host bc I want Chloe to come

Markus: Chloe can come

Tina: you’re so kind ily

Markus: Thanks, Tina

North: Gross. I just barfed in my mouth.

Tina: androids can’t barf

Tina: wait can they

Connor: We cannot.

Tina: I trust Connor to never lie to me

North: I never said I actually barfed.

Tina: and wtf are u saying gross to???

Tina: I saw u giving marky-mark the googoo eyes

North: shut up

Markus: Marky-mark?

Tina: shhhh don’t question it

Markus: I’ve learned not to at this point.

Hank: Jeeeeezus you guys text a lot

Tina: keep up old man

Hank: You wanna try that again?

Tina: no sir

Hank: Thought not

Gavin: will there be food at this event

North: No, you trashcan.

Gavin: well damn

Josh: Yeah you’re just going to sit around with us and talk about coding and rA9.

Gavin: is that what androids talk about on a daily basis?

North: You literally hang out with an android every day.

Gavin: I do?

Markus: Uh… Connor?

Gavin: oh!

Gavin: that’s not hanging out

Gavin: that’s work

Tina: You guys! She’s so!!!

Tina: ugh she’s so damn soft and cute and I just wanna put kisses all over her sweet face

North: Who? Chloe?

Tina: my cat

Tina: Chloe too

Gavin: GAY

Tina: uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Tina: hate to break it to you

Tina: but I am

Gavin: no you’re not

Tina: u right

Tina: well pan

Tina: but you get the idea

Hank: FOR THE LOVE OF GOD STOP TEXTING THE DAMN GROUP. I’LL SEE YOU ALL TOMORROW.

Tina: put the group on do not disturb!!!

Hank: <middle_finger_emoji>

Tina: gasp

Tina: rude

Connor cracked a smile and rolled onto his back. He frowned and opened texted Tina privately.

Connor: I never apologized to you for my behavior at the last meeting. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken out my anger on you.

Tina: hey, it’s ok. I know this is hard for u.

Connor: My behavior was still unacceptable.

Tina: really, Connor. It’s ok. I understand. You’re just trying to protect Wren however u can. I was trying to protect Chloe, so… I know. 😊

Connor: Thank you for understanding.

Tina: thanks for apologizing

Tina: did u talk to Kamski?

Connor: I did. I think it’s best if we speak about him in person.

Tina: yeah that’s true

Tina: do u think that guy… the asshole… who came to Jericho… who yelled at u… starts with an R…

Connor: I know who you mean.

Tina: yeah do u think he was telling the truth?

Connor: Yes, I do.

Tina: shit

Tina: I hope she’s ok

Connor: So do I.

Tina: alright I’ll talk to u tmwr

Connor: Goodbye, Tina.

Tina: <kissing_heart_emoji>

Connor’s lips twitched. Heaviness weighed on his chest. He closed his eyes.

«Enter stasis?»

[Yes]

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor strode toward Carl’s mansion, decorated in twinkling lights. Snow glowed in the warm light. Connor’s mouth quirked. Wren would’ve loved this. He entered Carl’s mansion with Hank. Everyone else was already inside, gathered around on the couches in the living room. Holiday music jingled in the background. Tina and Chloe danced to the piano music, twirling around and laughing. Josh played chess with Carl, while North leaned against the piano while Markus played “Jingle Bells.” Gavin watched the chess match while nursing a neat glass of Scotch.

Tina grinned when she caught Connor’s eye. She kissed Chloe’s cheek and hurried over to him. Tina slung her arms around Connor, who widened his eyes a fraction, but returned the show of affection. Tina withdrew, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m glad you came.”

Connor dipped his head. “Me too.” He flashed a soft smile at Chloe, who waved and joined Tina, her hand sliding into Tina’s. Connor’s chest tightened. His fingers ached for Wren’s.

Hank embraced Tina and looked around the living room. “Fancy.”

Tina’s eyebrows shot up. “I know, right? I can’t believe I’m in Carl freakin’ Manfred’s house.”

“It is pretty cool,” said Hank. He walked over to the chess match to introduce himself to Carl. Connor drifted over to North and Markus, who continued to play the piano lightly.

North’s lips twitched as Connor approached. “Hey. You get the info from Kamski?”

Connor dipped his head. “I did. I haven’t had a chance to look over it yet.”

“Everything okay, Connor? You look…” Markus trailed off.

“Sad,” said North. “Worse than you did last time we saw you, and you looked pretty beaten up when Rhett left.”

Connor looked around, pursing his lips. He looked back at North and Markus. “It might be best to speak about this alone.”

“Let me show you my latest painting,” said Markus. He stopped playing the piano. Tina pouted at him, but Markus pressed play on the sound system, and the house warmed with holiday jazz. Markus, North, and Connor entered the art studio.

Connor shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. “I saw Wren.”

North’s eyes widened. “What? When?”

“A few days ago,” Connor muttered. “She’s…” His throat constricted. “They’re watching her. We can assume they’re watching us, too. She couldn’t really talk to me because she thinks they’ve found some way to spy on her.”

Markus’s brow furrowed. “Then maybe it’s best if we don’t talk about her in the open as much as possible.”

The corners of Connor’s mouth tightened. He flicked his eyes to North, who folded her arms. “We might have a way of making things more… discreet.” She turned to Markus. “I’ll talk to him first thing tomorrow.”

Their eyes held fast to one another. They communicated through their processors. Connor waited for them to finish whatever secret conversation they discussed. A few canvases leaning against the wall to his left tugged at his chest. He left North and Markus to examine them. He felt hollow. North placed a hand on his arm.

“What’s wrong, Connor?”

Connor tightened his jaw. Aside from seeing Wren, beaten and unable to truly talk to him? Aside from their lack of progress in saving her? Connor closed his eyes for a moment. “Wren’s birthday is in two days.” He met North’s gaze. “We’re not making enough progress. I have to save her. I can’t fail.”

“We won’t fail,” said North.

Markus joined her and placed an arm around her. “We’ve tackled bigger obstacles than Prometheus. We can do this, Connor.”

Connor swallowed and nodded, the tension tingling from his limbs. Markus patted Connor’s shoulder and the three of them rejoined the party. When they stepped through into the living room, however, Markus stopped.

A young man stood in the living room, rubbing his forearm. Connor scanned the man, tensing.

«scanning» [Complete]

[Manfred, Leo]

[Date of birth: 03/21/2010]

[Criminal record: None]

Carl rolled his wheelchair forward. “Leo. Welcome, son.”

Leo’s eyes flicked around the room, noting all the strangers. They rested on Markus. Leo dipped his head to his father and stepped toward Markus. “Hey, um… I never got to apologize…”

Markus placed a hand on Leo’s shoulder. “It’s okay.”

Leo’s lips twitched. He nodded quickly and placed his hands in his pockets, looking around at everyone. “You guys didn’t mention guests.”

“This is North,” said Markus, gesturing to her, “my girlfriend.”

North beamed at him as she shook Leo’s hand. Everyone took turns introducing themselves to Leo. Carl and Leo embraced, both grinning. Connor glanced at Hank, who pursed his lips and crossed his arms, averting his gaze from the reuniting father and son. A sharp twinge erupted in Connor’s chest. He walked over to Hank.

“Would you like to leave?”

Hank raised his eyebrows. “We haven’t been here very long.”

Connor pressed his lips together for a moment. “I…”

“Would you like to leave?”

Connor nodded. Hank shrugged.

“Alright. We’ll leave.”

Connor said goodbye to North. She squeezed his arm and assured him that she would let the others know. Hank thanked Carl for his hospitality. The two of them left without much ceremony. Connor’s biocomponents twisted, but the weight on his chest lifted as soon as he stepped out of the house.

“Thanks for, uh, noticing,” said Hank as he drove home.

“Of course,” said Connor. His lips twisted for a moment. “Though I was uncomfortable there, too.”

Hank sighed. “The holidays were always difficult when Cole passed. I’m sorry they’re shitty for you, too.”

Connor bowed his head. “It feels rather empty to celebrate family and love when our family isn’t complete.”

“Yeah. I know, kid.”

“Wren’s birthday is in two days.”

Hank parked the car and shut off the engine. “Yeah.”

Connor did not exit the car immediately. He looked at his hands, folded in his lap. “I got her a present before…”

“So did I.”

Connor’s brow puckered and his eyes stung. “I researched what boyfriends get their significant others…”

“Please don’t tell me you bought her a fucking ring.”

Connor frowned at Hank. “Why would that be bad?”

Hank rubbed the back of his neck. “No reason. What’d ya get her?”

“A necklace.”

“Maybe… Maybe we can have a little birthday celebration for her. I got her a bunch of movies that she still hasn’t seen. I don’t know. Might be corny to do that.”

Connor’s lips twitched. “Maybe not.”

“You know she’d be making fun of us right now, right?” Hank said.

Connor cracked a smile. “There’s a high probability.”

Hank grinned. It faded after a moment. “I’m gonna visit Cole’s grave tomorrow. Won’t be long, just…”

“I’ll go with you,” Connor offered.

Hank nodded. “Yeah. Sure. Come on, we should go inside. I bet Sumo’s whining up a storm.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor and Hank trekked through the snow the next day and stopped at Cole’s grave. Hank crouched in front of it and placed a little toy superhero on the tombstone. Hank straightened and sniffled.

“He always loved Iron Man. I think he would’ve liked you.”

Connor’s mouth quirked. “He sounds like a great kid, Hank.”

Hank sniffed again. “Yeah. He was.”

They stood in silence for a few minutes. Connor scanned Hank’s vitals every few seconds to make sure the cold did not affect his temperature too much. Then, Hank patted Cole’s tombstone and headed back toward the car. Connor followed.

The drive home remained silent. The snow outside whipped past them, glittering in the patches of sunlight. Hank turned down his street and Connor jerked forward with the slam of the breaks. “Who the hell’s at my house?” Hank demanded.

Connor narrowed his eyes and peered through the windshield. He scanned the license plate and widened his eyes. “That’s James Blanchard’s car.”

Hank looked at Connor. “Wren’s brother? The fuck’s he doing here?”

“I suppose we’ll find out,” said Connor. Hank pulled up to the driveway and parked the car. When they exited the car, James and Shannon Blanchard stepped out of their car. For a moment, the four of them stared at each other.

Hank waved them over. “Might as well come inside.”

He exchanged a glance with Connor before unlocking the front door. The four of them entered the house and stood in the middle of the room.

Hank rubbed the back of his neck. “Can I get you guys anything?”

“Can we talk to Wren?” James asked. “She hasn’t answered any of our calls.”

Connor’s thirium pump dropped. He looked to Hank, unable to speak.

Hank rubbed his fingers. “Er…”

“We thought Wren wanted nothing to do with us because of Charles and how he treated you both when you visited,” said Shannon, her eyes welling with tears. “So we came to tell her that he’s out of our lives. I’m divorcing him.”

Connor’s eyes stretched a fraction.

James peered at Connor under a furrowed brow. “Where’s my sister?”

“Look, uh, you guys might wanna sit down.” Hank led the way to the kitchen. James and Shannon sat across from Hank and Connor, who tried not to keep eye contact with Wren’s family.

“Is… Is Wren hurt? She didn’t break up with you, did she?” Shannon reached across the table and gripped Connor’s fingers. He flinched and met Shannon’s gaze. Her eyes were the same color as Wren’s.

Connor’s mouth dried. He licked his lips. “We can’t tell you everything because it would endanger you.”

“Endanger us? What’s going on?” Shannon withdrew her hand from Connor’s.

“Look, uh, it’s not easy to explain, okay?” Hank said.

“We didn’t find Wren the way we told you,” said Connor, meeting Shannon’s and James’s gaze. He clasped his fingers in front of him. “We found her because she tried to assassinate Markus.”

James raised his eyebrows. “The android leader? Is this some kind of joke?”

Connor turned to Hank, his forehead creasing. Hank cleared his throat. “Look, just… bear with us, okay? Your daughter nearly died in that car wreck. She didn’t miraculously survive or anything like that. CyberLife found her. They… amputated her limbs—”

“What?” gasped Shannon.

Connor parted his lips. “They saved her life, Mrs. Blanchard.”

“They turned her into a cyborg. Some secret organization of the government called Prometheus trained her to be an assassin. She was programmed and brainwashed to follow their orders. She had post-traumatic amnesia, and they preyed upon that. They blocked her memories. But that night, when we stopped her, she deviated. She broke free of their control. We faked her death so that she could try and figure out who she was. She wanted to start over and bring down Prometheus. So we helped her.” Hank turned to Connor, who held Shannon’s gaze.

“The longer she was apart from their control, the more she remembered. We eventually discovered who she was and found you.”

James glowered. “So you and my sister… That was just a fucking ploy?”

Connor widened his eyes. “No—”

“Where is she now?” Shannon breathed.

Connor clamped his mouth shut and swallowed before muttering, “Prometheus found her. They forced her to return.”

“We’re… We’re working on trying to find a way to get her out.”

“Do you have any proof of all this?” James pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Not really,” muttered Hank. “I mean, Connor interfaced with her—”

“You did what?” Shannon barked.

Connor blinked. “Interfaced. Androids can share information, like memories, when they touch and interface. Because Wren had cybernetic limbs and implants, it allowed her to interface with me. I could download those memories to a tablet, but it would take a while—”

“No, it’s okay,” breathed Shannon. “I… I believe you. I think.”

Connor relaxed. He held James’s gaze for a moment. “It wasn’t a trick. I love Wren, and I won’t stop until I free her from Prometheus.”

James nodded once. “Okay.”

“The two of you cannot tell anyone about this. Not little Izzy, not Charles, not any girlfriends or anyone. Prometheus is watching us and they’re still watching her. They’ll hurt her if they think anything’s wrong on our end. Got it?” Hank said.

“Yes, of course,” said Shannon. James nodded.

Connor frowned. “We might have proof of CyberLife’s involvement.”

“What do you mean?” Shannon queried.

“Kamski has helped us a little bit,” said Hank. “But we shouldn’t talk too much about it. We have a meeting tonight. You both can come if you want more answers.”

“Deal,” said James. “Where is it?”

“We’ll pick you up from your hotel,” said Hank.

James nodded. “We’re staying at the Crowne Plaza.”

“Alright.” Hank and James exchanged phone numbers. Hank and Connor walked James and Shannon to the door.

Shannon turned to Connor. “What were you… I’m sorry, I don’t want to be rude…”

Connor furrowed his brow as Shannon struggled for words. “It’s alright.”

“What were you before… the Android Liberation Movement? Wren never told me your model number or anything… I’ve never seen an android like you.”

Connor’s lips twitched. “RK800. I was a prototype detective android.”

Shannon’s face softened. “So… You’ll find her? You’ll bring Wren home?”

Connor parted his lips as he gazed at her. “I…”

Hank patted Connor on the back. “He always accomplishes his mission.”

Shannon smiled and dipped her head. She followed James outside and to the car. Hank closed the door behind them.

“Jesus Christ, that was… unexpected.”

“Yes…” Connor frowned. “That wasn’t true.”

“What wasn’t true?”

“I don’t always accomplish my mission.”

“What’re you talking about?” Hank scowled and folded his arms.

Connor pressed his lips together for a moment. “With the deviants… I failed to catch many of them. I don’t always accomplish my mission.”

“Yeah, you do,” said Hank. “You let those deviants go because you showed empathy. Because you’re a good person. You always regretted being the Deviant Hunter anyway. You set all those androids at the CyberLife Tower free, didn’t ya?”

Connor nodded. “I… I just hope I don’t fail to save Wren.”

“You won’t. I promise, kid.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor sat in the front seat with his hands folded in his lap. Shannon and James sat in the back while Hank drove them to Jericho.

“Who all will be there?” Shannon asked.

“Markus, North, Josh, and the Human-Android Division with the Detroit Police Department. We’re Wren’s closest friends,” Connor replied.

“So… Markus forgave Wren for trying to kill him?” James muttered.

“She never really tried to kill him… She took North hostage. She shot Connor in the shoulder, so I shot her in the arm. Markus helped her deviate.” Hank shrugged.

“You shot her?” Shannon squeaked.

“Er, just in the arm. She was okay.”

Hank parked the car. He twisted in his seat to look back at Shannon and James. “Remember, whatever is said in this building, stays in this building.”

“Of course,” said Shannon. “We don’t want to endanger Wren.”

“And we don’t want to warn Prometheus that we’re on their trail,” added Connor. “It might make freeing Wren harder.”

James nodded. “Okay, we get it. We won’t tell anyone. We won’t even talk about it at home.”

“Good,” said Hank. They exited the car and took the elevator up to the office where the others waited. The chatter faded into silence when Shannon and James entered the room. Hank gestured to the Blanchards. “Everyone, this is Shannon and James Blanchard. Wren’s mom and brother. They were worried that Wren hadn’t answered any of their calls, so… We told them the truth.”

North folded her arms. “Are you sure they’re her family? What if they’re Prometheus agents?”

“They’re Wren’s family,” said Connor. “I’ve met them before. I scanned them as well.”

North jerked her head. She softened slightly as she regarded Shannon. “Yeah… I see it.”

Connor led Shannon and James to two empty chairs. Tina approached them.

“Hi, I’m Tina. Wren and I were roommates.”

“Oh, Wren talked about you,” said Shannon, brightening. “And which one of you is North?”

North widened her eyes but stepped into Shannon’s view. “I am.”

“Wren talked about you two a lot.”

Connor left them to connect the tablet to the main screen. Josh sat with him and turned on the screen.

Josh handed the remote to Connor. “Let’s hope there’s something useful on here.”

Connor nodded and faced the now-silent room. He swallowed the lump in his throat and looked toward the screen. He clicked on the top left file. He scanned the information before the humans finished reading the first paragraph.

“The model of android was a Sicilian 001.”

“Sicilian? I’ve never heard of that kind of android before,” said Chris, leaning forward.

“Wren told me about two Sicilian androids at Prometheus,” Connor murmured. He narrowed his eyes. “It was a prototype. Apparently, CyberLife designed them for ‘enhanced interrogation techniques and combat.’”

“So, torture,” muttered Gavin. “Great. So, what was this classified special-ops android doing in a CyberLife truck in some Podunk town in Maine—no offense—who just so happened to ram into Wren’s car?”

Connor squished his brows together. Disposable. SICILIAN 001 to prove successful, CyberLife will not fall. SICILIAN 001 to fail, it will remain a secret. Connor raised his head. “Because the Sicilian android doesn’t exist. If they succeeded, which they did, then CyberLife wouldn’t have to take the fall for it because they were just a prototype, a malfunction.”

“Did someone take the fall? Who created the Sicilian?” North queried.

Connor scanned through the files. “Ellis Hughman. He designed the Sicilian androids but after Wren’s accident, he disappeared.”

“Suspicious,” Josh frowned. “But that still doesn’t explain why the Sicilian android was there in the first place. Unless they really did target Wren.”

Connor pulled up a video file. It showed the cliffside from the CyberLife truck’s point of view. Rain sheeted through the darkness.

“Sicilian 001 reporting,” said a male voice. “Awaiting update.”

“Target is approaching. Prepare to accelerate in three… two… one.”

Sicilian 001 floored it. A small car cut in the truck’s path. The truck slammed into the car. Glass shattered. The car spun and hydroplaned into the guardrail before crashing through it and over the cliffside. A door opened and slammed. Sicilian 001 stepped into the view of the truck’s damaged camera. The android, who lacked synthetic skin, spoke into a radio.

“Target veered off the cliff. Status unknown.”

“Extraction team is coming to aid you.”

The video time-lapsed (courtesy of Kamski’s editing), to show an emergency vehicle airlifting a body from the bottom of the small cliff. The medical androids checked the body’s vitals.

“She’s stable, but she won’t be for long.”

Connor’s biocomponents churned. His blood burned like acid. The broken, bloody body was Wren. Shannon whimpered at the brief glimpse of her daughter’s body on a gurney. The medical androids loaded Wren into the back of a different CyberLife truck.

The video ended, leaving everyone rather silent.

Connor trembled and opened up a different file, scanning what happened to Ellis Hughman after the wreck. He disappeared once Wren was repaired. Significant payments filtered into CyberLife’s funds.

“There’s another video file,” whispered Tina.

Connor opened it.

It showed Kamski’s office. Though a man Connor failed to recognize sat in Kamski’s chair. Ellis Hughman, Atlas Montgomery, and the woman who took Wren away stood in the office.

“She’ll make a full recovery, though she hasn’t woken up yet.”

“We’ll move her before she does,” said the woman. “All evidence has been deleted?”

“All of it.”

“I don’t need to remind you what’s at stake here,” said the woman. “Prometheus—”

“Works in the shadows,” said the man. “There’s not much you can do to me or CyberLife. Not without exposing yourself.”

“No, but if you want continued government funding and support, then you best stay on our side. And make sure Mr. Kamski stays away from CyberLife.”

“He won’t be coming back,” snorted the man.

The woman turned to Atlas Montgomery. “I leave the subject in your hands.”

“Thank you, Pauline.”

Pauline headed for the door.

Ellis Hughman grabbed her arm. “What about the Sicilian models?”

“We’ll take them. We’ll need your expertise, too.”

The video stopped. Connor parted his lips, gazing at the stunned faces of his friends.

“Holy fucking shit,” muttered Tina. “Prometheus targeted her.”

“It wasn’t an accident at all,” North agreed. “This explains Kamski’s fear of Prometheus.”

“My baby… My baby didn’t need to be in that wreck? What kind of…” Shannon’s nostrils flared. She pierced Connor with her eyes. “You take them down, do you hear me? You destroy them, and you bring my baby girl home.”

Connor simply nodded.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor walked Shannon and James to the doors of their hotel lobby. James turned, looking rather pale. He dragged a hand through his hair.

“This all seems surreal.”

Connor nodded. “I didn’t expect this.”

Shannon looked toward the car, still sputtering with Hank sitting in it. She caught Connor’s gaze. “I’m very glad to see that so many people care about Wren. It was touching to see.”

Connor managed a small smile. “We’ll do everything in our power to save her. I promise.”

Shannon smiled sadly. “I know you will.” She touched Connor’s cheek. “I’m glad Wren has you.”

Connor’s thirium pump swelled. He patted her arm. “Thank you, Mrs. Blanchard. That means a lot to me to hear you say that.”

Shannon dipped her head. She hugged Connor goodbye while James patted Connor’s back. They left him in the snow. He returned to the car, and Hank peeled out of the circular drive.

“Whelp, if Prometheus is shady enough to premediate the attack on Wren, then they’re definitely shady enough to coerce her into signing a contract under drugs or something.”

Connor gritted his teeth and curled his hands into fists. “They can’t have covered all of their tracks.”

“No, definitely not.”

At home, Connor glanced at the clock. Midnight. It was officially Wren’s birthday. He sighed and opened a drawer where he kept Wren’s birthday gift. He lifted the silver chain up and examined the charm on the necklace. It was a little dinosaur, a Tyrannosaurus Rex, with a light blue, tanzanite eye. It wasn’t much, but… The Internet said that boyfriends should get their girlfriends jewelry, even though Connor never really noticed Wren wearing any. He sat on the edge of his bed, fingering the dinosaur charm. He laid back and imagined it around Wren’s neck, and he drifted into stasis.

Chapter Text

Wren pushed her food around her plate. Jamie sat in front of her.

“You look miserable.”

“I am.”

Jamie’s lips twisted. She bit into her apple and munched on it for a few seconds. “Well, you might wanna lighten up. You won’t get sent on missions if you look like you either want to make a break for it or kill yourself.”

Wren set her fork down. “Yeah, but if I have a sudden change of heart, then they’ll be suspicious. I can’t win.”

“I’m not saying you have to smile or anything, just… engage a little more.”

“We all don’t trust each other.”

Jamie’s brow pinched. “I trust you.”

Wren scowled. “You do?”

“You saved my life.”

“That doesn’t mean you can trust me. We’re a squadron now. We’re supposed to have each other’s backs.”

“We’re also supposed to put the mission first,” said Jamie. She rolled her eyes. “Are you trying to come across as an asshole?”

Wren managed a smile. “No.”

“So it just comes naturally to you?” Jamie grinned.

Wren stabbed a roasted carrot with her fork. “Yeah. Guess so.”

09 set her tray down beside Jamie. “Can I sit?”

“Of course,” Jamie beamed up at 09, who looked away. Her cheeks darkened.

09 sat down and caught Wren’s eye. “Hey—”

“It’s fine. You were just doing your job.” Wren took a drink of water to avoid maintaining eye contact with 09.

“So, I was thinking… Maybe it would be cool to have names. I mean, we don’t really remember our names before we became cyborgs… But it’d be easier to differentiate between us.”

“Yeah? What name would you pick?” Jamie queried over the brim of her cup.

09 lowered her round brown eyes. “I like Nina.”

“Me too,” said Jamie. 09—Nina—raised her head. Jamie winked.

Nina smiled. She turned to Wren. “What made you choose the name Wren?”

“I didn’t choose it.”

“She remembered her name,” said Jamie.

Nina widened her eyes. “How did you remember your own name?”

Wren tensed. “I guess Atlas Montgomery wasn’t great at his job.”

Jamie and Nina shared a glance, but Wren ignored them by training her focus on her meal. The familiar click of Pauline’s heels forced Wren to freeze. She swallowed and twisted in her seat to face Pauline, who peered down at Wren with icy grey eyes.

“01, your scan of the crime scene was inconclusive.”

Wren shrugged. “I got interrupted, as you know.”

“Yes, and you should’ve incapacitated the threat and proceeded with your mission, but you chose to walk away.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t going to incapacitate Hank and Connor, especially since you orchestrated that meeting to test me.”

Pauline’s nostrils flared. “I’m giving you a chance to redeem yourself.”

“Oh, joy.”

“The DPD has sent the android bodies to CyberLife for evaluation. Retrieve the data that Elijah Kamski has gathered.”

“How do you even know that this is going on? You’re still watching them?”

“That information is above your paygrade, 01. Retrieve the data and bring it here. You leave in an hour.” Pauline turned on her heel and clacked away. Wren flipped off Pauline’s back before facing Jamie and Nina again.

Nina leaned forward. “She orchestrated that meeting?”

“To test my loyalty,” said Wren. She glanced over her shoulder. They were alone, but the anomaly in her system blinked a warning out of the corner of her eye. She blinked, hard. “Not like I have a choice, anyway.”

“Paygrade,” spat Jamie. “We don’t even get paid.”

Wren’s lips twisted. “No use in paying people who don’t exist.”

Nina lowered her eyes and Jamie’s jaw clenched. The three of them ate in silence. Wren stood first, grabbing her tray to deposit it at the conveyor belt that took it to the washroom. The hole in the wall that conveyor belt disappeared into was small, but not so small that Wren could not fit through it if she needed.

[⌂Path Unlocked]

“Good luck on your mission,” Jamie muttered. Wren faced the two women and dipped her head before turning away.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren awoke in a hotel room. She sat up and rubbed the back of her neck. Standard Prometheus protocol required that she leave and enter the facility unconscious so that she (or any agent) could not discern Prometheus’s location. So, as soon as she stepped into the hangar to board the jet, someone jabbed a needle into the back of her neck. She slumped into darkness and awoke in the hotel room.

Approaching the window, Wren pushed aside the curtains and looked down at Detroit. Light flurries fluttered past her window. The city glowed from the techno ads and neon lights. The tall skyscrapers reflected the grey light of the clouds above. Wren folded her arms as her eyes traveled over the landscape. Belle Isle sat in the distance, but Wren only knew that because of the precarious CyberLife Tower. Prometheus picked a hotel close to the Tower, but not too close.

Someone knocked on the door.

Wren grabbed her gun from the bedside table and eased toward the door. She looked through the peephole and relaxed. She opened the door. “They send you here to babysit me?”

“Biweekly meeting,” replied Rhett, entering Wren’s hotel room. She shut the door and placed her gun back on the bedside table. Rhett raised his eyebrows. “Expecting someone else?”

“You never know.” Wren sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m surprised they didn’t tell you to wait until my mission was over.”

“Well, Prometheus might not be happy that I’m butting in on all of your missions, but they do trust CIA. And they don’t trust you, especially in Detroit.”

“So you are here to babysit.”

“No,” Rhett leaned against the AC unit, “just here for our meeting and then I’ll leave. So, what are you doing in Detroit?”

“Reconnaissance.” Wren folded her arms. “They sent me here a little over a week ago to scan a crime scene, but I got interrupted so my results were inconclusive. I’m here to fix that.”

“A week ago?” Rhett narrowed his eyes. “Why are they interested in a small case? I’m sure the DPD can handle it.”

“Of course they can,” said Wren. “But androids are randomly attacking humans and then killing themselves, so it’s raised some questions. Honestly, I think Prometheus is just trying to find any reason to validate an attack on androids.”

Rhett hummed. “So, you’re going to the DPD, then?”

“No,” Wren sighed, “CyberLife Tower. Looks like the DPD enlisted Kamski’s help.”

“You’ll throw a wrench into their investigation.”

“Probably.” Wren grimaced. “I’d rather it be me than someone else, though.”

“At least Prometheus is keeping their end of the bargain to keep any other Prometheus agents away from your friends.”

“Yeah…”

Wren met Rhett’s gaze and switched to ASL: I’m not so sure. I think they’re watching them.

Rhett said aloud, “They really think you need a gun for a simple recon mission?”

In ASL, Rhett said: Not surprised.

“I always have a gun for missions.”  

“What do they think will go wrong with this mission?”

I don’t like them watching them, Wren signed.

“I don’t know,” Wren said.

I’m watching them, too, Rhett signed. Out loud he said, “And the squadron? Are all of you getting along?”

“I don’t know. Jamie seems to have warmed up to me. I think Nina’s getting there. Or maybe I am. I’m not sure if I trust them entirely, but…It makes things way less boring.”

“Jamie? Nina?”

“07 and 09.”

“Did you fucking name them?”

“They picked their names,” said Wren.

“But you encouraged them.”

“We’re not numbers.”

“And how does Prometheus feel about this?”

“I don’t really care.”

“Wren…”

“Fuck Prometheus,” Wren spat. Rhett raised his eyebrows. Wren pushed off from the bed and turned her back to Rhett. “They do everything they can to strip us of our humanity, to make us into machines and numbers executing a mission, but they can’t do that. They chose to combine humans and androids to create cyborgs, so they can’t expect us to be numbers. Not even androids are just machines.” She turned to face Rhett. “If we’re just numbers, then there’s no reason for us to be alive, no reason for us to fight for Prometheus. If we have nothing, then it won’t matter to us if we die.”

Rhett smiled wryly. “But that just gives them incentive to target the people you love.”

Wren raked a hand through her hair. “I know.” She sat back down and balanced her elbows on her knees, eyes trained on the floor. “Maybe I’m messing things up by encouraging them to have names. I just don’t want to take part in that dehumanization.”

“I wouldn’t either. Just be careful, okay?” Rhett stood by the door.

Wren nodded once. Rhett pursed his lips and left.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren stood on the train ride toward Belle Isle. She gripped the subway pole and never took a seat, even when people emptied them. The train stopped three times before crossing the bridge to Belle Isle. It slowed to a stop, and a woman’s cool voice announced, “Arrived at Belle Isle.”

The train doors slid open and Wren stepped off. Her boots crunched the snow as she walked toward the Tower. The air stung her face. It was much colder on the isle than it was in the city. Wren stepped into the building. Her boots squeaked the white floor. CYBERLIFE glowed in white on the left wall. Bamboo decorated the pristine white entrance. The lobby lacked a front desk. Security officers patrolled the lobby, eyeing Wren, but they never approached her. Instead, a male HR400 android, dressed in a suit, greeted Wren.

“Hello,” he stated. “How may I help you?”

“I’m here to see Elijah,” said Wren, smiling.

“I don’t believe he is expecting you,” said the android.

Wren eyed the android’s name tag: Wei. She met his gaze. “Wei, I’m a friend of Elijah’s. I’m sure if you tell him that Wren has popped in for a visit, he’ll let me up.”

Wei’s brow furrowed for a moment. He nodded and gestured for Wren to follow him. Wei led her through the security check.

The security voice said, “Welcome, Wei. Unidentified personnel.”

Wei ignored the voice and led Wren through the courtyard, where a massive statue of a humanoid figure stood. Wei led Wren to the elevator and pressed his palm to the scanner. “Wei to level forty-three.”

The elevator shot up. Wren watched as the courtyard grew smaller. Her eyes leveled with the humanoid statue. It cradled a blue star in its palms. Wren lifted a brow. Wei shifted beside her. He led her off the elevator and down the hall.

“Wait here, please,” he instructed. Wren paused in the corridor. Wei entered the room at the end of the hall. He returned a few seconds later. “Mr. Kamski will see you.”

Wren flashed a smile at Wei and entered the office. The floor glistened onyx, a brilliant contrast to the rest of the white floors in the Tower. Elijah eyed Wren from his desk.

“Wren. I did not expect to see you anytime soon.”

“Elijah,” Wren returned. “Still have androids working for you?”

“I offer jobs for those who want out of their previous… occupations. Wei was a former Traci.”

“I noticed,” said Wren.

“So, what can I do for you?” Elijah steepled his fingers as he studied Wren. “I assume you’re in Detroit for business and not for pleasure, otherwise you would be with Connor and Hank.”

Wren’s brow puckered at the casual use of Connor and Hank’s names. Though admittedly, Wren tossed around Elijah’s name as if they were old friends. “Prometheus is aware that you’re helping the DPD.”

Elijah’s face drained of color. “Are you here to tell me to stop?”

Wren scowled. “No. They just want the information you’ve acquired from the android bodies.”

“You’re referring to the murder-suicide cases.” Elijah relaxed. “The DPD will not be happy about this.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ve saved the data somewhere. Just give me a copy that I can bring to Prometheus and I’ll be on my way.”

Elijah narrowed his eyes. He inhaled sharply and stood. “Very well. This way.”

They returned to the elevator, this time taking it to one of the sublevels. Elijah led Wren into a room that looked like an operating room and a morgue. Elijah crossed to the large computer set and typed on it. Wren peered around, her eyes lingering on the clean steel tables. Wires and monitors hung next to them. She returned her attention to Elijah on his computer. She was not entirely sure what prompted her to think so, but she felt she could trust him. At least he was an enemy of Prometheus. An enemy of Prometheus was someone she liked.

Elijah handed Wren a tablet. “This was designated for the DPD, but I suppose Prometheus has more power.”

“Thank you,” said Wren. “You can blame it on me.”

Elijah smirked. “Somehow I doubt they will be very angry knowing it was you.”

Wren tightened her jaw and nodded. Elijah and Wren took the elevator to the main floor. He walked her to the lobby. Wren and Elijah stopped in their tracks.

“Ah, this is awkward.” Elijah seemed highly unbothered, even amused, to see Gavin, Tina, and Chris in the lobby.

“Wren?” Tina breathed.

“The fuck are you doing here?” Gavin narrowed his eyes at Wren.

Wren tried to speak, but could not seem to push words past the lump in her throat. She glanced at the tablet. Chris followed her gaze.

“Is that our evidence?” The disappointment in his voice tugged at Wren’s heart.

“Prometheus is confiscating it,” said Wren, lowering the tablet by her side. She lifted her chin as she faced her friends.

“Why?” Tina demanded.

Wren swallowed. “They have an interest in this case and Hank wouldn’t let me analyze the crime scene—”

“Wait, what?” Tina frowned.

“That’s our fuckin’ evidence!” Gavin snapped. 

Wren licked her lips. “Prometheus sent me—”

“So, you just do whatever the fuck they tell you, huh?” Gavin folded his arms.

Wren scowled at him. “Are you done being a dick?”

“Come on, guys,” said Chris, stepping aside. “She doesn’t have a choice.”

Wren flashed him a look of thanks. She bowed her head and walked past her friends, but Tina followed her out.

“Wren, wait!”

Wren stopped. “Tina, I have a train to catch—”

“I just…” Tina slowed to a stop and bit her lip. “I miss you.”

Wren’s eyes pricked. “I miss you, too.”

Tina cracked a smile. “Happy birthday, by the way.”

Wren’s brow twitched. “It’s the twenty-seventh?”

“No, it’s January second.”

Wren sucked in a sharp breath and looked skyward. “I’ve been away that long?”

“You don’t even know what day it is?”

Wren’s lips twisted as she met Tina’s gaze. “I guess I just lost track of time.”

Tina’s face crumpled. She threw her arms around Wren’s neck. “I love you, you know that?”

Wren hugged Tina back, still clutching the tablet. “Yeah. I love you, too.”

They withdrew from one another. Tina wiped her eyes. “Do you want me to pass anything along to Connor? He misses you. He tries to hide it, but…”

Wren winced. “I don’t know if there’s anything I can say that would make him feel better.”

“It might just help him to know that you’re thinking about him.”

Wren wiped at her wet eyelashes. “I never stop thinking about all of you.” She looked over her shoulder. The train charged toward the stop. She faced Tina. “I have to go.”

Wren ran to the stop and boarded the train before Tina could argue. The doors slid shut and Wren released the breath choked in her chest. One hand gripped a pole while the other clenched the tablet.

She returned to her hotel room and locked up the tablet in the safe. She spent the rest of the late afternoon and early evening to herself, watching TV, taking a bubble bath, and eating pizza—luxuries that Prometheus never gave her. She considered calling it an early night. She didn’t have to meet Jamie at the rendezvous until tomorrow.

It was stupid. Dangerous, even.

But Wren put her coat back on and left her hotel room. She took a train to the other side of town and walked through the neighborhood. She walked for about an hour before she arrived on Hank’s doorstep. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

He answered the door and gaped. “Holy shit.”

Wren smiled weakly. “Hey, Hank.”

“The fuck are you doing here?” Hank furrowed his brow. “You okay, kid?”

Wren bit her tongue. She tried, but something in her cracked. Tears welled in her eyes. “Can I come in?”

“Shit, yeah…” Hank stepped aside and Wren entered the house. Her heart sank a little when she did not see Connor.

Sumo perked his head up and padded over to her, wagging his tail. Wren sniffed and grinned at him. She crouched in front of him, letting him lick her tears off her cheeks. “Hey, boy! I missed you, too! No, not the lips—Ah!” Wren stood and wiped her mouth.

Hank stared at Wren for several seconds. “Connor’s at Jericho for a movie night. Been trying to get him out of the house more.”

Wren nodded. “Good…”

“What’s wrong, kid? Won’t you get in trouble for being here if they find out?”

Wren’s eyes burned again. “I don’t care what they do to me anymore.”

“Well, we care,” snapped Hank. He gripped Wren’s shoulders. “C’mon, kid… What’s going on? Why are you in Detroit?”

“A mission,” Wren replied. She tried to keep the tears back, but she couldn’t. “Hank, I’m so alone. I miss you guys so much and there’s no one I trust and I miss my friends and—I just want to come home.” Tears splashed down her cheeks.

“Oh, kiddo,” Hank murmured. He pulled Wren toward him, cradling her head as she sobbed into his chest. “It’s okay. I’m here. We all miss you. Things haven’t been the same around here.”

Wren clung to Hank as she sobbed harder. “I’m so alone.”

“You’re not alone, Wren. We’re all rooting for you.”

“I’m alone there. At least all of you have each other.”

“I know… It’s not fair. But you’ll be okay.”

Wren withdrew from Hank, her face steamy from tears. She wiped them away. “They sent me to take the evidence that Kamski compiled for all of you.”

“How’d they even know?”

“I have no idea,” Wren replied. She leaned against the back of the couch. “I’m sorry that I keep messing up this case.”

“Not your fault, kid,” Hank grunted. He glanced at the clock. “Enough about missions and cases. When do you go back to them?”

“Not until tomorrow.”

“Let’s go crash movie night or something. Or go get cocoa. I doubt Prometheus has a lot of movie nights, huh?”

Wren managed a smile. “We don’t have any TVs.”

“Jesus, that sucks.”

“Know what the first thing I did was when I had time to myself?” Wren’s smile widened.

“What?”

“Ordered pizza. I ate that whole fucker by myself.”

“That’s my girl,” Hank grinned, patting Wren on the shoulder.

“Don’t tell Connor.”

Hank snorted. “I think he’d be happy to know that you’re doing something for yourself, even if it’s eating a whole pizza. Alright, I’m gonna use the bathroom and then we can go.”

“Okay,” Wren crouched to pet Sumo while she waited for Hank. Sumo whined when Wren stopped scratching behind his ears once Hank emerged from the bathroom. Wren kissed Sumo’s head and stood.

“Let’s go,” Hank led the way to his car. “How’d you get here? Taxi?”

“Train,” Wren replied.

“The nearest stop is a pretty far walk from here.”

“It wasn’t too bad.”

“It is when it’s twenty degrees outside.”

“Benefit of having cybernetic limbs is that your hands don’t get too cold.”

“Okay, smartass.”

Wren realized fairly quick that Hank did not drive in the direction of Jericho, but Belle Isle. Hank placed a finger over his lips and Wren dipped her head, returning her gaze to the window.

“Other than extremely boring because I’m not there, how is the DPD?”

Hank chuckled. “And besides the fact that this case keeps getting interrupted?”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Things are weird. No one’s touched your desk, or your room at Tina’s. Connor takes Sumo for really long-ass walks. I’ve told him that Sumo’s getting a little too old for that shit, but I think it helps Connor think. He also listens to your iPod obsessively. This is the first time he’s gotten out of the house without me with him.”

Wren picked at her synthetic fingernails. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Wren.”

She inhaled, flaring her nostrils as she lifted her head. “Isn’t it though? Couldn’t I have fought going back?”

“Maybe. I think you did what was right, even if it hurt us. Even if it hurt you.” Hank cleared his throat. “How have you been? Are you allowed to talk about that?”

Wren shrugged. “I can’t give details of my missions, but… It’s really boring there. The only recreational activity there is a gym. I can workout or sit in my room and think.”

“That sucks.”

Wren laughed. “Yeah, it does.”

Hank pulled up to CyberLife Tower. Wren recognized Tina’s car and a truck from Jericho. She held her breath and entered the Tower. Hank led Wren through the security line.

“Hank Anderson, identified. Wren Blanchard, identified.”

Wren raised her eyebrows. Kamski updated security fast. “Jericho got new security?”

Hank glanced back at her, but Wren tapped her ear. Hank nodded, remembering that Prometheus listened to her at all times. They took the elevator to sublevel forty-five, where Hank led Wren down the hall and around the corner. Waiting in the hall stood North, Markus, Josh, Tina, Gavin, Chris, Kamski, and Connor.

Wren gaped at them. She choked on her own breath, staring at them. North strode forward first, her lips parted and her eyes wide.

Wren tried to smile. “Long time, no see—”

North cut Wren off with a hug. Wren wrapped her arms around her friend and squeezed with the same bone-crushing intensity. Tears welled in Wren’s eyes. North let out a noise that sounded like a cross between a laugh and a whimper. They rocked together for several seconds before they withdrew from one another, smiling with tears slipping down their cheeks.

Markus approached, smiling gently. He hugged Wren. “It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah, you too,” Wren returned. Josh pulled her into an embrace. Tina hugged Wren for the second time that day. Gavin and Chris caged Wren in a hug, too. Wren’s face ached from smiling. It faltered when she faced Connor, who regarded her with parted lips and soft eyes. They held eye contact for a few seconds before collapsing into a tight hug. Tears leaked past Wren’s lashes. Connor buried his face into her neck, his arms snug around her body.

“Okay, lovebirds,” North cracked, “we all want to catch up.”

The doors in the wall slid open to reveal a room with soft white carpet and black-cushioned sofas. A table sat in the middle. Wren withdrew from Connor, regarding her friends with a puckered brow. Kamski stepped inside. The others filed in after him. Connor gripped Wren’s hand and tugged her inside the room, where the doors slid shut.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s safe for you to talk in here,” North replied. “We know that they’re listening to you, but Kamski designed this room to resist that.”

“Prometheus cannot hear anything that is said in this room. It interferes with radio frequencies, tapping, streaming, recording, everything. Whatever you say in here is safe,” said Kamski.

Wren looked around at them. They all looked so hopeful, but she shook her head. “How?”

“Do you really want me to explain the science of it to you?”

“But… If they just hear silence, then—”

“They won’t just hear silence, Wren,” insisted North. “Right now, what they hear is us telling you every little detail that’s happened in our lives since you left. It’s okay. You can talk to us.”

Wren looked at them, her mouth ajar. Connor’s lips twitched as their eyes met. “It’s safe.”

“We only have about fifteen minutes of prerecording, though,” said Kamski. “If we want to talk, we need to hurry up and do so.”

Tina cleared her throat. “We’ve been researching your past to try and find something that will be grounds to get you safely out of Prometheus. We found something interesting.”

“Prometheus targeted you,” North explained. “We have proof. A Sicilian android drove the truck that collided with your car. It was premeditated.”

Wren pinched her brow. “No, that doesn’t make any sense. Why would they…?”

“That’s what we need to figure out,” said Josh.

“If we find out why they targeted you and if you didn’t consent to all of this like they said you did, then we can get you out of there. And we won’t be in danger, either.” North grinned.

Wren let go of Connor’s hand and backed away, shaking her head. “No, I can’t… I can’t drag you guys into this. I can’t put you in danger trying to save me—”

“Wren, you’re not forcing us to do this,” said Chris.

“We want to help you,” Josh wrinkled his brow.

Wren shook her head, tears jiggling in her eyes. “I can’t,” she breathed, “I can’t let you do this. It’s too dangerous.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” North snapped. She sat down heavily. “You have to fight for your freedom, and we’re trying to help you.”

“We’re all enemies of Prometheus here,” said Tina, sitting beside North. “They’re going to hurt all of us if we don’t do something about it.”

“Rhett and I are working on a plan—”

“Oh yeah? What’s your plan?” demanded Gavin, leaning against the wall with crossed arms.

“I’m gaining their trust.”

“You will never gain their trust,” said North.

“Not the way you’re thinking—” Wren tried.

“Wren, you’re just one person,” insisted Tina. “You can’t bring down Prometheus all by yourself.”

“I’m not alone,” Wren replied. The words tasted sour. “I have Rhett.”

“Rhett is using you,” snapped Connor. Wren looked at him. He held her gaze. His LED swirled yellow. “The CIA is using Rhett because they don’t trust Prometheus, so Rhett is using you.”

“Do you even want out?” North seethed.

“Of course I do!”

“Then let us help you, kid,” said Hank.

Wren looked at them. Warmth tugged at her heart and her lip quivered. She nodded slowly at first, and then quickly. “Okay. What can I do to help you?”

“For starters, you can explain what’s going on there.” Kamski stood near the back of the room, his arms folded across his chest. He lifted a brow as he regarded Wren. She nodded and sat on the edge of the couch. Everyone took a seat, eyes trained on her.

“There’s a second squadron and I interact with them frequently on missions. I think that this was how it was originally supposed to be, but Atlas ran things differently. I never interacted with the cyborgs in my squad—02, 03, 04, or 05. But 06, 07, 08, 09, and 010 work together. I collaborate with them sometimes. I think I’m gaining the trust of 07 and 09. They actually picked names for themselves. Jamie and Nina. I’m not sure about 08 and 010. But 06 trusts me about as far as he can throw me.”

“So, you’ve been going on missions with them?” Markus leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees.

“Not as often as it sounds, but yes. There’s a lot of downtime.”

“What about the facility itself? Is there anything you can tell us about it? Something to indicate its location?” asked Chris.

Wren smiled wryly. “This place has no windows. Whenever I leave or enter it, I’m unconscious.” She tilted her head. “I can tell you a little bit about the setup.” She stood and approached the table, which allowed for the user to mess with holographic technology. She pulled up an image and constructed it to look like a beehive. “From what I’ve seen, this is what I imagine it looks like. But I’ve only seen these parts of the building—” Wren stripped away three quarters of the hive, leaving the floor she and the other squadron lived on. “I occupy this wing. There’s a gym and other recreational stuff, a shooting range, a briefing room, a cafeteria, and our cells. Through here is the other squadrons wing, set up exactly the same way. Based off the size of the middle of the hive, and the size of these wings, I estimate that there are at least three other wings like mine.”

“So, at least three other squadrons,” surmised Josh.

“And that’s only including this level,” Wren replied. “I haven’t been to the other floors.”

“What’s in the middle of the hive?” queried Kamski.

Wren conducted a rough sketch of it. “It’s hollow, but it has walkways leading further down and up. Across from me is the infirmary. Down and through a tunnel is the hangar. That’s all I know. I don’t exactly have keycard access everywhere.”

“Could it be built out of a rock structure? Like the inside of a mountain?” North asked.

Wren nodded. “I’ve thought something similar. The problem is, all the walls are made the same, so there’s no way to tell.”

“And there are no windows,” Hank muttered. “Jesus, they don’t want you knowing anything.”

“You said there’s an infirmary,” said Connor, his brow puckering.

“Yeah?”

“Could you possibly get ahold of your medical records, if they keep them?” Connor looked at her.

Wren opened and closed her mouth. “I can try.”

“How would she get them to us, though?” Tina demanded. “They don’t just let her come and go.”

“I’ll give the records to Rhett,” said Wren. “He’s an asshole, but I trust him.”

“You will need a flash drive,” said Kamski, walking forward. “This is small, undetectable.” He handed Wren a flash drive, which she pocketed.

“Our time is almost up,” said Markus.

Wren stood. “I should start saying goodbye, then.”

“Wait,” North frowned. “Could Elijah remove the audio device in your system?”

“I could,” Kamski said. “It would require surgery, though.”

“And it’s better to leave it in for now,” said Wren. “If we remove it, Prometheus will know that I know it’s there. It’s better to let them think that I don’t know anything about it.”

North nodded. “I just hate that you can’t even speak for yourself.”

Wren smiled grimly. “Yeah. Me too.”

“Okay,” said Gavin, standing. “We better let her go.”

Everyone offered Wren a hug goodbye, but Hank and Connor lingered with her in the room while everyone else filed out. Hank held Wren’s gaze.

“Don’t do anything too dangerous to get those records, okay?” He gripped Wren by the shoulders.

“We’re taking down a secret government organization,” said Wren, smirking. “I don’t think that’s possible, Hank.”

“You know what I mean. Take care of yourself in there.”

“I will,” Wren promised. She hugged him.

“Your mom and brother visited,” said Hank. “They’re okay. They miss you.”

Wren’s throat constricted. “If you talk to them again… Tell them I miss them, too.”

“Will do,” Hank assured her. He patted her shoulder. “I’ll wait outside.” He left Wren and Connor alone.

Wren met his gaze. “I… I love you so much. And I think about you everyday that I’m in there.”

Connor looked as though he might cry. He tightened his jaw. The lines around his mouth hardened, and when he parted his lips, his eyes appeared wet. “I love you so much, too. I won’t stop until I get you out. I promise. I won’t fail.”

Wren threw her arms around his neck. He squeezed her close to his body. They held each other for several seconds, melting into one another before they had to pull away.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Later that week, Wren hid the flash drive on her person and entered the gym. Jamie ran on the treadmill while Nina practiced yoga. 010 boxed with 08. 06 was absent. Wren approached Nina.

“Wanna spar?”

Nina raised her eyebrows but stood. “Sure.”

They faced off on the gym mat, fists raised. They jabbed punches, dodging and circling one another. Wren managed to get a few punches in, but Nina was fast. They sparred for a few rounds, Wren making sure to fight recklessly so that she lost every round. Then, Wren dove for Nina’s foot and then wrapped her legs around Nina’s arm, dragging the other cyborg down. Nina jabbed Wren in the stomach with her elbow. Wren purposely failed to properly block the next jab to her stomach, twisting so that Nina elbowed Wren right in the ribs.

Pain seared through Wren’s torso as a few ribs cracked. She cried out, instantly releasing Nina.

“Shit! I’m sorry!” Nina cried.

Wren hugged her middle, groaning. “It’s cool. I’ve suffered worse.”

Nina helped Wren stand. “I’ll take you to the infirmary.”

“Thanks,” Wren gasped. They hobbled out of the gym, the other cyborgs watching.

“You should’ve blocked me,” Nina muttered.

“Way to blame the victim here,” Wren grunted.

“It was an easy block,” Nina retorted.

“You won’t get in trouble, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Wren wheezed. Her ribs throbbed and flared with every breath she took. She blinked back tears. She’d been shot, and whipped, and waterboarded, but broken ribs were definitely up there on the pain scale.

Nina stood in front of the infirmary door and pressed the buzzer. “We’ve got an injury.”

The door opened, and Nina helped Wren inside. The doctor, the same one who performed nonconsensual surgery on her, approached. Wren narrowed her eyes at his name. Dr. Hayden. He frowned at Nina and Wren.

“What happened?”

“We were sparring,” said Nina, helping Wren sit on one of the beds. Wren scanned the room for a computer. Bingo. “I accidentally broke her ribs.”

“I didn’t block correctly,” Wren groaned, clutching at her side.

Dr. Hayden frowned. “Do you think your ribs are broken?”

“They fucking feel like they are,” Wren snarled.

Dr. Hayden nodded. He looked to Nina. “You are not needed.”

Nina puckered her brow. “But—”

“I’m fine, Nina, thank you,” Wren grimaced.

Nina dipped her head and left the infirmary. Dr. Hayden turned to Wren. “Remove your shirt. I need to make sure that they’re broken.”

Wren’s heart stuttered, but she obeyed. She sat in her sports bra and pants while Dr. Hayden peered at her side. Already, the skin appeared to be swollen and purpling. “Hm. It definitely appears that you have some broken ribs. She must’ve hit you pretty hard. Most injuries from sparring are pretty minor. Would you like to report it?”

“No,” Wren gasped as Dr. Hayden prodded her side. “It was my fault. I was reckless.”

“How mature of you,” muttered Dr. Hayden. “I’ll set up the X-Ray machine. Wait here.” He left to enter through a back door that Wren failed to notice before. She slipped off the table and approached the computer.

|Time remaining until return: -00:10:45|

Wren’s heart pounded as she looked through files on the computer. She typed in her model number and her name in the files. She plugged in the flash drive.

|Downloading file “CY001—207-122-710-01”…5%|

|-00:09:01|

|7%|

|-00:08:56|

Wren forced herself to breathe. She glanced over her shoulder and bounced. “Come on, come on…”

|24%|

|-00:08:01|

Wren glanced over her shoulder. She was still alone. She prayed that the download sped up. She prayed that she had not seen Connor for the last time.

|87%|

|-00:02:19|

She prayed that whatever was in her file was enough to set her free.

|96%|

|-00:01:03|

Footsteps sounded beyond the back door. Wren looked at the downloading file. “Please!”

|Complete|

|-00:00:30|

Wren snatched the flash drive out of the port and closed down her files. She jumped onto the medical bed, crying out as her broken ribs seared. Dr. Hayden emerged from the back door.

“Alright, machine’s all ready. You okay?”

Wren clutched her side, tears stinging her eyes. “I’m great.”

Dr. Hayden lifted a brow but gestured for Wren to follow him. She hid the flash drive in her shirt and sports bra, covering herself as Dr. Hayden took X-Rays of her ribs. She dressed and waited for a few minutes for the results.

“Well, fortunately, it looks like it’s just your floating ribs. Those are more fragile anyway. We don’t need to worry about any lung punctures or anything. I’ll put in your regimen that you need to take your pills with each meal. You should heal pretty quick.”

“Thanks, Doc.” Wren left the infirmary and did not breathe properly until she returned to her room.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren awoke in Rhett’s base of operations. She winced as she sat up. Her heart stuttered as she searched for the flash drive, but relaxed when she found it.

“I really hate how they bring you here unconscious,” Rhett muttered from his desk.

Wren pushed off the sofa and joined him in a seat by the computer. “Who even brings me here? They must trust someone to go in and out.”

“Two Sicilian androids.”

“Oh,” Wren twirled the flash drive in her hands. “Do you mind if I play? I don’t get to play games at Prometheus.”

“Uh… Sure?” Rhett frowned, looking at the report he was in the middle of typing.

Wren opened up a new Word Document.

This is a flash drive with my medical files. You are going to bring it to Connor and Hank. They’re searching for a way to get me out. I’m tired of waiting.

She set the flash drive on the desk.

Rhett stared at it and typed back to her message.

What about bringing down Prometheus for good?

If they find something to save me, then that should be enough for the CIA to launch an official investigation into them. You won’t need me anymore.

You could save lives, Wren.

I am saving lives. But I’m one person. And this isn’t fair of you to ask this of me. I’m TIRED, Rhett. Tired of being the CIA’s pawn, your pawn, Prometheus’s pawn… All I wanted when I went rogue was a new life. That’s all I want now. I’m miserable there. Please do this for me.

Rhett stared at her message for a long time. Then, he nodded. He took the flash drive and pocketed it.

1. We’ll get you out. But what if there’s not enough on here to get you out?

Wren swallowed the bile surging in her throat.

We’ll burn that bridge when we come to it.

Chapter Text

The next few days tortured Connor. Waiting for news about Wren left him an unfocused mess. He played with his quarter, rolling it across his knuckles and flinging it from one hand to the other.

Ping.

Ping.

Ping.

Hank rested his elbows on his desk, clicking and unclicking a pen. Tina, Chris, and Gavin were on their way back from CyberLife Tower after retrieving the evidence Kamski found—the evidence Wren took—and Connor looked forward to advancing the case. He needed something to divert his mind from Wren. What if she failed? What if Prometheus caught her? Would they kill her? They had not so far, but there was no telling how many lines Wren could cross before Prometheus decided she was not worth the trouble? Even if they did not kill her, they were not above hurting her.

Connor dropped his quarter; the soft metallic thump caused Hank to flinch. Connor stooped to pick up the coin and caught Hank’s stare.

“You’re worried about her?”

Connor nodded and pocketed the coin.

Hank scrunched his nose. “Yeah. Me too.”

“What if there is nothing to find?” Connor’s voice seemed scratchier than usual. He swallowed.

“In her medical records?”

“What if there are no records at all?”

“There’s gotta be,” said Hank. “They’ll be hard to get to, and I’m sure the most important stuff is locked somewhere extra-encrypted, but there’s gotta be records… Organizations don’t just not have records.”

Connor tightened his jaw and nodded. The elevator dinged and Tina strode toward them, clutching a tablet with Gavin and Chris in tow. She held it up. “Let’s see what’s on this baby.”

They hooked the tablet up to a terminal and uploaded the files. Connor scanned the information—cause of shutdown, evidence of hacking (which required further scanning and investigation), approximate time of hacking—and furrowed his brow at something rather interesting.

“Kamski found an insignia etched into the androids’ thirium pump regulators,” Connor showed the picture of the insignia to his team. It looked like a capital T, except with extended serifs and a slightly hooked bottom. He scanned the letter for an origin or significance. It resembled the Greek letter Tau. The bottom of the hooked tail was a snake’s head.

“Well, that’s definitely a signature if I ever saw one,” said Hank, folding his arms.

“A pretty damn intricate signature,” said Tina, narrowing her eyes as she examined the insignia closer.

“So, either this is one cocky son of a bitch, or…” Gavin shrugged.

“Or an organized group.” Chris folded his arms and puffed out his cheeks.

“Well, we’ve gotta start searching for anywhere this symbol’s popped up. We’ve got to start finding connections between our victims or this symbol, or we’re going to be too late in catching him the next time he decides to kill,” said Hank.

Connor dipped his head. The team turned to their terminals to try and find some sort of connection, or something to indicate this symbol’s origin and meaning. But his mental processor never wavered from Wren. No word from her or Rhett. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something happened to her, and he encouraged her to endanger herself. For what? A slim possibility that Prometheus kept her medical files and there might be something to help free her? It seemed silly now. It seemed quite obvious that it was practically impossible—

[New message from Unnamed Group]

Connor opened his phone.

Josh: Avengers, assemble!

North: rA9, you’re lame. Anyone up for game night? Or dinner?

North: Tonight, btw.

Markus: I also have some propositions for a bill that I would like to run by the HAD. It’s pretty urgent, so whoever is available, I’d really appreciate your coming.

Tina: I’m down. Is Chloe okay to come?

Markus: If she’s up for it.

Gavin: yeah, sounds good.

Chris: I can’t. Sorry, this was just so last-minute.

Markus: I understand.

Markus: Connor, Hank?

Connor: We’ll be there.

North: Great! We can meet at Jericho and get dinner with our human friends and then discuss it.

Tina: It’s not top-secret?

Markus: We’ll go back to Jericho.

Tina: Makes sense.

Connor placed his phone out of reach and continued working while the others decided where they would meet. Connor felt empty inside. He didn’t want to meet with his friends, but he also didn’t want to go home and listen to Wren’s iPod. Nothing interested him. He wished he knew Prometheus’s location. He would go there himself and get Wren out.

When evening arrived, Connor and the others met up with the Jericho leaders, and piled into their van. Connor didn’t see the point in riding together to the restaurant, as they would all need to return to their cars later, but as Markus diverged from the route to the restaurant. Connor puckered his brow and estimated the direction they seemed like they were traveling. His thirium pump jolted: CyberLife Tower.

North twisted in her seat to look at everyone in the back. She placed a finger over her lips before Gavin could open his stupid mouth and say something. Connor exchanged a glance with Hank before getting out of the van. The group journeyed to the secure room, where Kamski and Rhett waited. Connor’s synthetic heart lurched. He curled his hands into fists.

As soon as the door closed, Connor said, “Did she get it?”

Rhett pursed his lips and withdrew a flash drive from his pocket. “Broke her ribs to get it, but yeah.”

“Have you looked at it yet?” North asked.

“No. Before we get started, I want to make sure that we’re all in this together. Whatever we see on this, stays among us, in this room.”

Tina gripped Chloe’s hand as she eyed North. “I wish I’d known we were meeting about this stuff. I wouldn’t have brought Chloe.”

“I’m okay, Tina,” said Chloe. She smiled and placed her hand over Tina’s. “I want to be part of this. I want to be part of this with you.”

“We have no idea if Prometheus is listening to us or not,” North explained. “They could be hacking our phones or something.”

“It might be paranoid, but we don’t want to leave a paper trail of our meetings,” said Josh. “They already listen to everything Wren says. Who knows what else Prometheus could be using to listen to us or watch us.”

“We’re safe in this room,” said Kamski, “but only this room.”

Gavin narrowed his eyes. “And how do we know we can trust you, asshole? Last time you told us to leave this alone. Now you wanna help?”

Rhett smirked. “I’m your best chance. You have limited resources, even with Wren on the inside. She’s not exactly a free agent. I’d say you don’t really have a choice but to trust me.”

“Alright, whatever, let’s look at the fuckin’ records,” snapped Hank. “What do we need to find in order to help her?”

“Anything that suggests she signed her contract unwillingly. That’ll be enough to free her, but not enough to take Prometheus down. But, she and I have agreed that if we find enough to free her, that’s enough for the CIA to launch an official investigation into Prometheus, and so she won’t be needed for the undercover work. She’ll be free to come home.” Rhett’s eyes drifted over Connor’s friends before settling on Connor himself.

“Well, let’s get started,” said Gavin, taking seat. Connor followed suit, though he felt robotic. Hank patted his shoulder as Kamski plugged the flash drive in and pulled up the files on the massive monitor mounted on the wall.

Connor narrowed his eyes. The files on the flash drive bore names, and each one held a different amount of data on it. Rhett clicked on the file titled 001HSPTL. Inside the file were video documents. Rhett clicked the third one, tilted PHS3.

A man in a lab coat filled the screen, his voice breaking the silence of the tense room. “Subject shows improvement in her fine motor skills. States that there is less pain in her limbs, but still shows discomfort in other areas where synthetic adjustments have been made to assist her organic functioning.” The man moved aside to reveal a woman wearing hospital-issued clothing. Tina gasped, but Connor was too stunned to do anything but widen his eyes. The woman was Wren, but he barely recognized her. She was dangerously skinny. Scars on her arms marked the areas where her original limbs had been amputated. Her cybernetic limbs gleamed white plastic, as they appeared to lack the synthetic fluid to match Wren’s skin color. Her head was shaved. Dark circles shadowed her eyes and her lips looked chalky. She stared at the camera, tears in her eyes.

“Subject 001, please walk forward.”

Wren lowered her eyes to stare at her plastic feet. She lifted a leg and placed her foot against the floor. Her face crumpled. “I… I can’t… feel.” She raised her head. “I can’t feel anything. I can’t feel it. Why can’t I feel it?”

“It will take some time for your body to adjust to the enhancements,” said the man. “Continue walking, please.”

But Wren ignored him, looking at her hands. She flexed her fingers. Curled them into her flawless palms. “I don’t feel it… I don’t feel anything… No, no, no, it’s too numb! This isn’t right!” She lifted her head. The pain written on her face sliced through Connor’s core. “What have you done to me?”

“Subject still shows signs of mental distress,” said the man, eyeing the camera.

“What have you done to me?” Wren screamed.

“Sedate her!”

Two male nurses grabbed Wren—which Connor thought unnecessary, as she did not put up a fight—and plunged a needle into her while she sobbed. She slumped over after a few moments. The man in the lab coat filled the camera’s view. “CY001 has been taken off the medication, so she is now facing her reality in a sober state. She suffers from severe anxiety and depression, both from her past carried over and due to her new bodily state. She has not adjusted to the enhancements mentally. I am hopeful that she will, but we must be prepared to terminate her if need be.”

The video ended. Connor’s artificial heart pounded. Physical pain was not something androids experienced the same way humans did, but certain emotions could only be described as painful. Anxiety was one of them, Connor noted as his heart spiked. Rhett exited the HSPTL file and opened up the one below it called 001CNDTNNG. He clicked on the second video.

The same man in the lab coat filled the screen, though he seemed to be sitting in his office, reading off his notes. “Subject CY001 shows great resilience to the training. While her mental processors are working to enhance the effects of her post traumatic amnesia, she still shows signs of resistance to the conditioning. We had some success in getting her to forget her identity, though she still clings to her name. Alternative action must be taken. Montgomery wants to put her in the hole, but I am not certain that is wise right now, as she is still in a very fragile state. I don’t want to break her mind entirely, as she will no longer be useful and well have wasted money. I will continue to use electroshock therapy for the time being.”

“Oh my God,” breathed Tina. Connor’s hands shook, so he clasped them together. Rhett opened a different file titled 001TRNNG. He clicked on PHS14.

The scientist did not greet them this time. Instead, it was a video of Wren in a room that looked a bit like a dance studio. Wren’s hair had grown since the 001HSPTLPHS3 video. She was no longer dangerously skinny, either. She wore a blindfold, but Connor still made out the shadows of bruises on the right side of her face. Her lip was busted, too. Bruises darkened other parts of her body. She stood extremely still as someone circled her. The man gripped what looked like a switch of some sort. He circled a few times, and then he attacked. Wren reacted quickly, though the switch slapped her upper arm, producing an angry welt. She gripped the switch and swung her leg over it and the man’s wrist. Twisting, Wren brought the man down onto the gym mat.

“Sloppy,” said another male voice offscreen. Connor tensed, recognizing Atlas Montgomery’s voice. Atlas walked into view and grabbed a handful of Wren’s short hair. “You are not listening for the attack. You’re not paying attention!” He shoved Wren to the floor and moved offscreen. “Again, until you get it right.”

Before Wren could stand, the other man with the switch attacked. Wren scrambled out of the way and brought her attacker down. Atlas yelled at her from offscreen that she was still sloppy, but Wren dodged another whip from her attacker. He tackled her to the floor. He hit her so hard with the whip that he drew blood.

“Shut it off,” snapped Hank. Rhett closed out of the video before it ended. The image of someone beating Wren burned Connor’s processor.

“Open that file,” whispered North.

Rhett clicked on the one she gestured to, a file titled SUBCY001. It was a document this time. Much of the information was blacked out, but it looked like a file on Wren’s background.

Name: Isabelle Wrenley Blanchard

Age: 27

There was other information, like Wren’s height and weight and identifying tattoos. Connor read through the document, pausing at certain parts:

• Subject shows signs of resilience, will prove useful if ever captured.
• Subject has spent 13 days in the hole, seems more compliant now.
• Subject’s previous advanced knowledge of dance and intermediate skill in martial arts is useful.
• Subject has accepted her name as CY001.
• Subject passed Interrogation Training, even proving resilient against torture.
• Subject shows an aversion to water.
• Subject possesses a fear of driving; alternative approach needed.

Connor finished reading through the document. At the end were pictures of Wren, some of which he had seen before. Her mugshot glared at him, but he drank in her visage regardless. The next picture showed Wren in the hospital just after her accident. If Connor could throw up, he would. He couldn’t recognize Wren at all due to her injuries.

“Go to the next one,” barked Gavin, his eyes averted from the screen.

“Sorry,” croaked Rhett. He exited out of the document and faced everyone. Connor blinked as he tried to focus on the faces of his friends, but his vision slipped in and out of focus. He ran a diagnostic to ensure that his systems functioned properly. Nothing seemed wrong with his systems.

Even Kamski seemed shaken by what he’d seen. North cleared her throat. “We have to go through all of it.”

“I… I don’t know if I can,” whispered Tina. She gripped the edge of her seat with both hands, a slight green tinge in her cheeks.

“Me neither,” muttered Hank. He buried his face in his hands before lifting his head. He offered Connor a sad smile. “She’s… I can’t see her like that.”

Connor dipped his head. He understood. RA9, he knew. Seeing Wren like that tore him apart. But he also knew what Wren felt in some of her memories. He interfaced with her before, reliving some of her darkest moments. He knew how she felt. He remembered the terror, the disgust, the anger, the desperation. Connor couldn’t decide if knowing how Wren felt during some of these moments made it better or worse. All he knew was that he couldn’t ignore this. He would go through the files with a fine-toothed comb. He would do whatever it took to save her. She needed him, so he would be strong for her.

“I’ll do it,” he managed.

Nine pairs of eyes turned to him. Connor’s face burned. North’s brow pinched. “Connor, no—”

“She needs someone to do it,” Connor urged, “and she needs someone with the abilities to catch something important.”

“We do that all the time at the DPD, asshole,” muttered Gavin.

“Connor, you shouldn’t have to watch all this,” said Markus, shaking his head.

“I can do this,” Connor snapped. He lowered his gaze. “I have to.”

“You’re not doing this alone,” said North.

“Yeah,” added Josh, “the androids can stay and go through the files. We don’t really need sleep like you guys do.”

Gavin pressed his lips together and nodded. Hank shifted, catching Connor’s gaze. “Are you sure you’re good to do this? You don’t have to prove anything.”

Connor gritted his teeth before answering. “I’m okay. I’ll see you when we finish.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor’s eyes burned and his body shook. Though he knew it illogical, he couldn’t help but the stab of guilt for not preventing the pain Wren experienced. It was extremely illogical—he hadn’t even been alive when she went through all of this—but some part of still wished he could reverse time and pull Wren out of the situation entirely. They watched the files out of order, starting with Wren’s documentations of her missions. In these videos, Wren’s hair was longer, closer to the length it had been when Connor first met her. She always reported in a professional manner, acting much as Connor had pre-deviancy.

“CIA already knows about some of these,” said Rhett. His voice seemed ragged. Rhett was the only human to stay behind, insisting that it was important for him, as head of the investigation, to be present.

“Most likely they made her sign her contract while she was in the hospital,” said Josh.

Rhett sighed. “Yeah. I know. It’s just… seeing Wren like that…”

“We know,” barked North, “she’s our friend.”

Rhett met her gaze. “Yeah, but she wasn’t too happy about her cybernetic enhancements at first. Just… make sure you don’t take it too personally, okay?”

Connor merely flattened his lips. He tried to ignore the fluttering in his chest. He wished he could vomit like humans did, to purge his systems of the disgust. Instead, he clenched his fists tighter, longing for pain to distract him as Rhett opened up the file and clicked on the first video.

The man in the lab coat sat in the camera’s view. He looked over an older model of tablet. “Subject just came out of surgery. So far, CY001 is a success, but she is still unconscious. There were a few complications, as she flatlined on the way to the hospital and once again during the procedure, but she normalized once we were able to stop the bleeding. We will not know for sure until she is conscious, but even then, she will be heavily sedated.”

The screen blacked out and then the man reappeared. “It’s been a few days since the operation. CY001, as expected, is in a tremendous amount of pain, so we’ve kept her sedated. From what I can tell, her body seems to accept the cybernetic enhancements.”

The screen flitted again. Facial hair shadowed the man’s jawline. “CY001’s body accepts the enhancements, but her mental and emotional state do not. She is in a lot of pain, physically and emotionally. She claims she can’t remember who she is, and that all she knows is the accident. I believe she is suffering from post-traumatic amnesia, but all of her memories should return within the year.”

When the scene changed again, Wren appeared onscreen. The man sat beside her while she rested in bed, a nasal cannula wrapped around her face. Her head appeared freshly shaven. Connor struggled to swallow the lump in his throat. His poor Wren…

“Can you tell me your name?” asked the doctor.

Wren squinted at him. The yellowed bruising of her face indicated the beginnings of healing. “Isabelle… Blanchard.”

“Isabelle, what can you tell me about the accident?”

“I already told you what I remember.”

“I’d like to see if anything’s come back to you.”

“I was driving, and… I was upset… and it was raining, and then I saw headlights… I couldn’t stop the car, and I didn’t really feel anything except falling. I don’t remember anything else.”

“Okay, good,” said the doctor, typing down what Wren said onto his tablet. “From which way were the headlights coming?”

Wren narrowed her eyes. “The left.”

The doctor frowned. “Isabelle, where you were found, that’s not possible. There’s no road to the side, no intersection.”

“Maybe they swerved or something, but I know they hit me from the side.”

“Well, I suppose it’s a mystery.”

“Wait,” Wren called. The doctor stopped mid-stride toward the camera. “I can’t remember anything else. I… I only know my name.”

“Yes… I believe you’re experiencing some sort of amnesia induced by your concussion.”

“Will I… Will I remember? Can you scan the license plate of my car to find out who I was?”

The doctor eyed the camera for several seconds before turning to Wren. “I’m not a detective.”

The screen blacked out again, and then the doctor appeared onscreen again. “Subject keeps asking about who she is and why she can’t remember anything. Her mental state is deteriorating. She often succumbs to severe panic attacks, so we’ve had to continue sedating her. We keep a close watch on her.”

The screen blinked to reveal security camera footage of Wren alone in her hospital room. She looked down at her white, plastic hands. She rubbed her glossy palms against the sheets and shook her head repeatedly. “No, no, no, no, no… It’s too numb… Too muted… It’s not right. It’s not right! I don’t want them!” She climbed out of bed, but her new limbs and body had never coordinated like this, and so she fell onto the floor. She let out a strained cry and tried to drag herself, but she was still too weak. Male nurses burst into the room, one of whom held a syringe, which he plunged into Wren’s skin. She went limp after several moments. One of the nurses laid Wren on the bed.

PHS2 of the video file documented Wren’s distress even further. At one point, she tried to cut her own hand off, but the male nurses stopped her. She spent much of her time restrained to the bed. Everyday, the doctor drilled her on what she could or could not remember.

“Why did you do this to me?” Wren sobbed.

“We saved your life,” said the doctor. “You were going to die if we didn’t help you.”

“I’d rather be dead!” snarled Wren.

The doctor’s smile tightened. “You’re upset.” He injected something into Wren’s IV.

“No, I don’t want it…” Wren mumbled.

“It’ll make you feel better.”

Chloe tilted her head. “He did that against her consent. Is that something that can help?”

“It’s not enough,” Rhett replied, dragging a hand over his face.

“So, she didn’t sign up for this before surgery, so when did she sign the contract? Wren doesn’t remember signing it now, which means it happened post-surgery at least. Most of her memories are solid after her surgery,” said Josh, standing and pacing in front of the screen, his hands on his hips. He faced them. “What if they didn’t record it?”

“They’ve documented a great deal,” said Rhett. “I think it’s here.”

“But if they kept her heavily sedated and documented her signing a contract, wouldn’t they get rid of that evidence?”

Rhett steepled his fingers. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe we should stop for now,” said Markus.

“No.” Connor blinked, realizing he snapped at his friends. He closed his eyes for a moment. “I’ll stay.”

“You’re not doing this alone,” argued North.

“If you want to keep going, of course we will,” said Chloe, placing her hand over Connor’s. He glanced at her hand before meeting her dark blue eyes. She smiled kindly. “I can’t imagine how you must feel right now. If I had to see Tina go through anything like this…” Chloe shuddered as she looked toward the screen.

Connor leaned forward and balanced his elbows on his knees. “Let’s keep going.”

The next few videos showed similar footage of Wren attempting to walk and use her fine motor skills. It seemed as though Prometheus had not documented Wren’s signing of her contract. The doctor was growing a beard as Wren spent the majority of the videos in various states of distress and sedation.

“Subject’s amnesia is still present. I fear her mental state is beyond repair. She’s begun to starve herself.”

Rhett paused the next video. “I need a break.” He stepped out of the secure room, presumably to go to the bathroom or walk up and down the hall.

Markus stood and gestured for Connor to follow him. Frowning, Connor obliged. They left the room and entered the hall. Markus led Connor down the corridor and around the corner. A guard at the end of the hall watched them, but was well out of earshot.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Connor tightened his jaw for a moment. “I really wish people would stop asking me that.”

“You don’t look okay,” said Markus, his brow puckering. “Your LED has been switching from yellow to red all night. Wren is my friend, and this is difficult for me to watch. I can only imagine how you must feel.”

Connor bowed his head. “It doesn’t matter how I feel. All that matters is that we find something to save Wren.”

“Okay, but what you feel does matter. These videos are only going to get worse.”

“I know.”

“Why not trust us to find what we need?”

“Because I have to do this,” Connor snapped. He jerked his head up. “I have to do this, Markus. I can’t… I can’t go home and go into standby. I can’t go home and wait this out. I can’t focus on anything anymore. I finally have a chance to do something, a purpose, so I can’t sit this one out.”

Markus lowered his heterochromatic eyes. “Okay. I understand.”

Connor dipped his head and led the way to the secure room. Rhett had returned, his eyes bloodshot. He pursed his lips in greeting. Markus locked the door behind him. Rhett pressed play on the computer, and they resumed their watch.

It wasn’t until PHS4 of the HSPTL file that they finally found something.

Ellis Hughman entered the hospital room. Wren looked even skinnier, the bones of her collarbone and cheeks more prominent than usual. She almost didn’t fit her cybernetic limbs.

“Dr. Trevor says that you don’t remember who you are,” said Ellis, sitting beside Wren’s bed. She eyed him, attempting to look dangerous. Instead she just seemed tired. Ellis glanced at her IV. “You’re still medicated for the pain?”

“Only when it’s intense,” said Wren. “What do you want? Who are you? Have you figured out who I am?”

“I’m afraid the car you were driving was stolen,” said Ellis. Wren’s brow twitched and she lowered her gaze. Ellis gazed at her for a few seconds before continuing. “You’ve been here for about four weeks now. You’re healing nicely. It really is a miracle—”

“Cut the bullshit,” Wren seethed. “Why me? Why did you do this to me?”

“To you?” Ellis’s lips twitched with a barely contained snarl. “We did this for you. You were so close to death we could smell it on you. If you had survived, you never would’ve walked again.”

“But why me?” Wren’s eyes filled with tears. “Why save me? If I was just some petty criminal driving around in a stolen car, why do this for me? It doesn’t make sense—”

“I can see that you’re upset,” said Ellis. He looked at someone off camera and nodded. A male nurse injected something into Wren’s IV. She puckered her brow.

“No, I don’t want it—”

Ellis grabbed her wrists to keep her from yanking the IV out. “I work for an organization that specializes in covert operations. We protect national security without the red tape. When CyberLife found you in the wreckage, I knew this would be a good opportunity to test out our newest equipment.”

“I’m an experiment?” Wren shook her head, looking woozy.

“Think about it: you could turn your life around and serve your country instead of being a nuisance and petty criminal. You don’t remember your old life anyway. We saved your life. It’s only fair that you give us years of service in return.”

“Didn’t want…” Wren struggled to keep her eyes open. Ellis leaned closer.

“We found Red Ice in your system and the trunk of your car. The truth is, you didn’t have a life to go back to. You were just some lowlife criminal. You were worthless. We can make you something, someone capable of doing good. You could save lives. You could be a hero. We can give you a new life, one that means something.”

Wren’s brow pinched and she peered at Ellis through half-lidded eyes. Ellis leaned even closer, his face hovering inches away from Wren’s. “You owe us for saving your life. You owe your country.”

“I… I just want to go home.”

Ellis drew back, looking severely disappointed. “Fine. Just sign this. It’s an agreement to pay off your enhancements. We’ll discharge you from the hospital soon.” He held out a clipboard. Wren frowned as Ellis forced a pen in her hand. She signed her name sloppily, and the video ended.

Rhett quickly opened up the next video. This time, the setting was the doctor’s office, with Ellis Hughman and Pauline Thomas.

“She doesn’t remember signing the contract,” said the doctor.

Pauline folded her arms and shook her head. “You should’ve convinced her to sign it, not trick her. I hope this doesn’t come back to bite us in the ass…”

“It won’t,” snapped Ellis. “The medication we’re giving her can cause memory loss. She wasn’t in her right mind. I know what I’m doing, Pauline.”

“Do I have to remind you that she’s the first one of your little experiments to work?”

Ellis rubbed his chin. “I know, I know. Lot of resources went into this. But this has worked. Isabelle Blanchard is the perfect subject. She’s got a background in dance and martial arts, she was running away from something—”

“I know, Hughman,” snapped Pauline. She pressed her lips together for a moment. “You’re sure this will work? If she’s not a willing participant…”

“It’ll work,” said Ellis. “It works for CIA; it’ll work when Montgomery gets to work on her. Plus, her programming will help steer her mind whichever way you want it. That accident messed her up a lot. She will be easy to control.”

Pauline dipped her head. “Very well. I’ll let Atlas know he can begin within the week.”

The video ended, and Rhett faced Connor, Markus, North, Josh, and Chloe. Rhett dragged a hand through his hair. Connor’s biocomponents trembled.

“They fucking tricked her,” Rhett breathed. “Wren definitely didn’t consent to that.”

“So this is it? We can get her out?” North bounced on the edge of her seat, looking brighter than she had in weeks.

“I have to show this to my superiors…”

“No,” barked Connor. Everyone looked at him.

Markus furrowed his brow. “Connor, this is our chance—”

“We said we could only trust each other,” said Connor. “Wren always said that the supervisors were people with a lot of power.”

“Are you suggesting that someone in the CIA is involved?” Rhett scowled as he stepped forward, his arms folded.

“I’m suggesting it’s possible,” Connor replied. “I think for now, we need to keep going through the footage Wren gave, and then talk to her about what our next step should be.”

“You want to wait?” Josh frowned.

“I thought you wanted Wren out more than anybody.” Rhett lifted an eyebrow.

“I do,” Connor insisted, “but I also don’t want to put Wren in anymore danger than necessary.”

“Okay, fair enough. We’ll keep going through these, but starting tomorrow. I’ve gotta get some sleep. Even you guys need a break.” Rhett’s gaze lingered on Connor, who clenched his teeth but nodded.

Connor, Chloe, North, Josh, and Markus returned to Jericho. Connor and Chloe decided to stay there for the night, so as not to bother Tina or Hank. Connor sat on the couch and rubbed his palms together. North folded her arms and plopped down on the armchair. Josh paced back and forth. Markus merely leaned against the wall with crossed arms.

“We don’t know what else to look for on those videos,” said Josh.

“I think we should just get Wren out. We have what we need, why do we need more?” North narrowed her eyes at Connor.

Connor pursed his lips for a moment. “Because I want to make sure it’s absolutely safe to get her out. And we don’t know what else is on these files. There could be something else, something more damning.”

Markus nodded. “Connor’s right. We need to exhaust all our resources and options. Let’s recharge. Connor, you’ve got a case to work on tomorrow, but we’ll get back to work on this tomorrow evening.”

Connor gazed up at the ceiling while everyone else already entered standby mode. A smile quirked his lips. Finally, warmth blossomed in his chest. Saving Wren was within grasp. When he closed his eyes and entered standby, he hoped he’d dream of Wren.

Chapter Text

Wren sat on the floor of her room, throwing a tennis ball at the wall and then catching it after its bounce. Wall. Floor. Hand. Wall. Floor. Hand. Wall. Floor. Hand. The rhythm counted seconds, since Wren’s room lacked a clock. If she wanted to know the real time, she would have to go to the gym or cafeteria, and she really did not feel like seeing other people. Part of her knew it was unhealthy for her to isolate herself, especially within her room at Prometheus. Prisoners in solitary confinement usually deteriorated mentally, and with the monotonous wall-floor-hand-wall-floor-hand of the tennis ball, Wren felt insanity creeping in already. Another part of her brain wondered if she would really feel insanity creeping like a vignette in her mind.

Wall.

She wondered if Connor and the others had gone through the medical files she found.

Floor.

Was there anything useful, or was it just diagrams of her mechanics?

Hand.

Had Rhett even taken the flash drive to them?

Wall.

What if there were details of the horrific things she’d done on those files?

Floor.

What if Connor saw her do something awful, and no longer wanted her?

Hand.

Wren flinched when her door opened and Rhett walked in. Rhett looked down at the tennis ball clenched tightly in Wren’s hand. “You look like you’re having the time of your life in here.”

Wren dropped the ball and flexed her fingers before standing. “Yeah. I can see why Prometheus so desperately wanted me back, with all this waiting around for missions.” She glared at the video camera in the corner of the room.

“Uh huh,” Rhett lifted a brow. “Look, I’m really busy, which is why I came here instead of having someone bring you to me. Too much of a hassle.”

“Just checking to see that Prometheus is behaving? Or I am?”

“Both,” said Rhett, walking around the room with his hands in his pockets. “I love what you’ve done with the place.” He indicated to the blank walls, the solitary bed, the corner with the toilet and shower, and the single florescent light illuminating the room. The only thing with color was the tennis ball, which rolled across the floor and tapped into the wall before rolling underneath the bed.

“Ha, ha. What’s up?”

“That case the DPD’s working on? It might be bigger than them,” said Rhett.

Wren folded her arms. “The androids killing humans and then themselves case? How so?”

“I’m sure you’ve been informed that there was Typhon insignia on the bodies of the androids, right?”

“You think they tell me anything here?”

“I’d hoped they would tell you about this,” said Rhett. “I don’t have the case file with me because I assumed you were up-to-date on this. All we really know is that their symbol is branded onto the bodies of the androids.”

“Who is Typhon, exactly?” Wren leaned against the cinderblock wall.

“We’re not really sure. All we know is that Typhon and Prometheus have corresponded in the past, but we’re not sure if they’re enemies or allies. But if Typhon is really doing this, then Prometheus better hope they’re enemies.”

Wren’s lips quirked. “Are you hoping that Prometheus gets involved?”

“I—and I speak for the CIA too—hope that Typhon is stopped before this gets worse.”

“Worse how?”

“I’m guessing you’re not familiar with Typhon’s other work, are you?”

“I know a little,” said Wren, sitting beside Rhett.

“They’re notoriously anti-android. I’m worried that these murders are just test runs for something bigger.”

Wren balanced her elbows on her knees and clasped her hands. “What can I do?”

“Nothing, yet. I’m about to have a meeting with Agent Thomas. I just wanted to keep you informed.” Rhett stood.

Wren walked him to the door and stopped to stare into his eyes, hoping for some sort of sign that he had passed along the flash drive, seen its contents, and was going to get her out. Some part of her heart crumpled when she saw nothing in Rhett’s eyes. But really, how much could he tell her with just a look?

He squeezed Wren’s shoulder and left her room. Wren scrunched her lips together and plopped onto her bed, staring at the blank ceiling.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The next day, Wren followed an irate Pauline Thomas across the walkway toward the infirmary. Wren tried to swallow her heart as it hammered in the back of her mouth. She wanted to throw up as they neared the infirmary. They knew. They knew what she did. They were about to show her evidence of her crime, or interrogate her, or the Sicilian androids were going to torture her—

But Pauline walked past the infirmary to a massive metal door. She scanned her ID card and the doors slid open. Oh. An elevator. Wren relaxed slightly and stepped onto the elevator with Pauline. She hit the buttons for her floor number: ten. Wren examined the buttons. They only went up to ten, but went down to negative thirteen. Underground?

When the elevator doors opened, Wren blinked at the harsh light. This level of Prometheus differed greatly from the lower level of zero, where Wren resided. There were windows along the top of the walls, letting in bright daylight that stung Wren’s eyes. It looked less like a cinderblock bunker and more like a hospital or CEO’s office. It was an odd mix. Linoleum floors, white walls, and florescent lights like a hospital, but glass doors and sharp, modern-looking furniture like a CEO’s office. They walked down the corridor until they arrived at Pauline’s office. Hers was the most elaborate office. The floor looked like white marble. The chairs were square-shaped and black leather. Her desk was sleek and black. A white monitor sat atop the desk’s surface. Behind the desk were windows, but they were covered by curtains so Wren couldn’t see out them. A crystal chandelier hung above the desk. Photos of a man and a little girl decorated Pauline’s desk. Wren glanced toward Pauline’s left hand. A wedding band.

It was weird to think of Pauline as married and as a mother. There was no way Miss Waterboard-the-agents-if-they’re-disobedient was also a Mrs. Get-milk-on-your-way-home type. How could Pauline watch as Wren or the other cyborgs scream in pain and go to fucking ballet recitals? Did Prometheus even allow vacation time for their higher-ups? Did Pauline go home on weekends—

“I’m sure you know why you’re here,” said Pauline, sitting at her desk. She gestured for Wren to take a seat.

Wren sank down in the uncomfortable leather chair. “Uh… No. I don’t.”

Pauline locked her fingers together. Wren tried not to scowl at Pauline’s pink fingernails. “I met with Agent Anson yesterday, and we’ve reviewed the evidence you obtained from the DPD. Typhon is indeed involved in this, and Prometheus is interested in stopping them.”

Wren straightened. “Why?”

Pauline’s face tightened. “Typhon doesn’t normally target humans, but they are directly attacking them. As I’ve stressed to you before, Prometheus is interested in saving human lives. If these attacks keep occurring, more human lives will be threatened.”

Wren narrowed her eyes. “There have only been four human deaths so far. That doesn’t seem like it’s hardly worth Prometheus’s attention.”

“Four confirmed human deaths, yes,” said Pauline. “But I pulled my resources. Other attacks like this have occurred across Michigan and the surrounding Detroit area. Those did not end in human deaths. The androids malfunctioned and shutdown before anything truly distressing happened.”

Wren gritted her teeth but swallowed her scathing remark. “Anson told me that these could be test runs for something bigger.”

“I agree,” said Pauline. “The DPD does not have the resources to get close to Typhon, and I want a close eye on this investigation. But Prometheus can’t just take the case from the DPD. Because these attacks could become a serious issue, and I need someone on the inside of this case, it appears that Prometheus and the DPD need to be allies.”

Wren folded her arms. “How so?”

“Well, we will send an agent to cooperate on this case. It will be beneficial to both parties.”

“And which agent will you send?”

“I thought that would have been obvious. You.”

Wren laughed. “Me?”

“I thought you’d be pleased. You’d get to see your friends again.”

“Of course I want to be pleased. But I’m not stupid. You wouldn’t trust me around them.”

“I don’t trust you. However, I trust your desire to protect them. I trust that you’ll be a threat to Prometheus if we threaten them.”

“So, why not kill me?” Wren shrugged.

“Because you’re a resource and an investment. Prometheus doesn’t waste investments or resources.”

“So, you’re sending me because I might be a threat?”

“Partially. The DPD trusts you, and you have a good relationship with Agent Anson, who you will be reporting to as usual. The DPD wouldn’t trust an outsider and would complicate solving this case.”

Wren smirked. “And you want to look good for the CIA.”

Pauline’s smile failed to reach her eyes. “You’re being assigned this case, but don’t forget, 01: We’re watching you. You said you didn’t want Prometheus near your friends, so we’re obliging by assigning you to the case. But if we find out you’re conspiring with them, if you tell them things you shouldn’t, if you do anything that marks you as a threat to Prometheus’s security, then I will send one of our top assassins to get rid of your friends in the most painful way they can experience it. Understood?”

Wren clenched her teeth and nodded. “Am I dismissed?”

“I’ll walk you,” said Pauline, getting up from her seat. They walked back to the elevator. Wren curled her fingers toward her palms.      

The elevator ride remained silent until they reached Wren’s floor. Pauline stuck out her bony hand to stop the doors from closing behind Wren.

“Remember, 01: You are there to solve a case and to finish your mission, not reconcile with your friends. As soon as this case is solved, you will return to Prometheus.”

Wren dipped her head. Pauline smiled and withdrew her hand. The doors closed, and Wren returned to her wing of Prometheus. She wanted to be excited. She was going home, even if for a little bit. She was going to see Tina, North, Hank… Connor. All of her friends—her family—together again. But a fresh wave of prickling, nauseating anxiety washed over her. How was she going to protect them? She couldn’t let Prometheus think she was conspiring with them or even reconciling with them. She had to maintain some sort of distance from them. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t just pick up where she left off with them.

Wren sought the cafeteria of her wing, praying that no one else sat in there. She relaxed a little upon finding it empty. She made herself a cup of coffee and added too much creamer for Connor’s liking. She felt as empty as the cafeteria as she sat down to sip on her coffee. She wondered what Connor was doing. Probably at the precinct, working a case. Or maybe a crime scene, analyzing evidence.

Footsteps echoed through the room as Nina entered. Wren tightened her jaw and set her coffee mug down. Nina sat across from her. “I heard you’re going to Detroit.”

“News travels fast.”

“06 already knew about it.”

Wren puckered her brow. Why would 06 already know about it? “Are you guys going to be the ones to kill me if I screw this up?”

Nina’s face tautened. “I hope not.”

Wren brought the mug to her lips but said, “Why, you like me or something?”

“I thought we were becoming friends.”

Wren’s lips twitched. She sipped her coffee and set the mug down. “Yeah, me too.”

Nina parted her lips but looked down at her clasped hands. Her eyes flicked toward the video camera in the corner of the room. “I know you broke your rib on purpose.”

Wren stopped breathing for a moment. Nina seemed just as tense. “So, why haven’t you told anyone?”

They spoke in low enough voices that the video camera would have trouble picking up their conversation, but Wren still angled her back to it slightly.

“Because I believe you’re the only honest person here,” breathed Nina.

“Careful,” Wren uttered, “you don’t want anyone to hear that.”

“I know,” Nina’s gaze flicked to the camera. “I wanted to ask you something. And I know you’ll be honest with me.”

Wren’s chest clenched. “I will try.”

“What’s it like? Being in love?” Nina’s eyebrows curved as she gazed at Wren.

“I don’t really know how to answer that. I’m not… I’m not with the person I love anymore.”

“But you still love him,” said Nina. “The RK800.”

Wren swallowed. “Yeah, I do.” Her voice cracked and she lowered her head.

“So, what’s it like?”

Wren stared at her cooling coffee. “Being apart from him… This is the worst thing in the world. Sometimes I wish we’d broken up badly, so I could move on or he could hate me, but… We’re in this in-between now. In between what we were, what we could’ve been… and what we are now, whatever that is. We both need to move on, but it’s hard when it doesn’t really feel like it’s over.”

Nina’s shoulder slumped and her face fell.

Wren leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Being in love feels like… I can’t really describe it. It’s different for everyone, but for me… I guess it was like coming home. And I’d do anything to keep him safe. Understand?”

Nina nodded. Wren trembled, knowing Prometheus listened in on her, so she reached forward and gripped Nina’s hand. They interfaced.

Don’t confide in me. They’re always listening.

Wren withdrew her hand, tapped her ear and raised her eyebrows at Nina, who nodded. Wren stood and dumped her coffee into the sink. She turned to Nina and tried to smile, but her lips were weak. “I’ll see you around.”

Wren nearly missed the way Nina’s shoulders dropped with her gaze and the scrunch of her brows. Wren wished she could forget that look on Nina’s face. It would make leaving her behind easier.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren awoke in a blank, pre-furnished apartment. 06 sat across from her. He stood when Wren stirred and scowled at him. “Welcome to your new apartment. At the end of every week, one of the squad will observe you and review your progress. Remember that you’re here to complete a mission, not fuck your little android boytoy.”

Wren clenched her teeth for a moment. She forced herself to relax. “I thought I was reporting to Rhett Anson?”

“You are. We’re checking to make sure you’re doing your job. You’ll probably never know we’re here.” 06 flashed her a sharp smile.

Wren bared her teeth. “Must suck being reduced to a babysitter, huh?”

06’s smile faltered. “Only because of you.”

“Or maybe you’re not as good at missions as you thought.”

06 curled his hand into a fist. Wren laughed.

“Go ahead, hit me. I fucking dare you.”

06 narrowed his eyes. “You should be goddamn scared of me, 01. You’re obsolete. Your time is running out.” He stood and headed for the door.

“Okay, have a good rest of your day, asshole.” Wren closed and locked the door behind him. On the kitchen table sat a file folder with the case’s information. Wren scanned it before checking the bedroom. She wrinkled her nose at the blandness of the room—grey and white—because it reminded her of her cell back at Prometheus. Her closet was empty. They did provide her with the same body wash, shampoo, razer, and toiletries that she possessed at Prometheus. Wren grabbed her keys.

She took the train and walked a few blocks until she arrived at the Detroit Police Department. Stepping inside, Wren’s heart jumped to her throat. She headed straight for the bullpen.

“Excuse me, ma’am!” called a male voice. Wren stopped. The doors glowed red. She no longer had access to come and go in the precinct. Closing her eyes for a moment, Wren stepped back and approached the front desk. The secretary was a familiar face.

“Oh. Hey, Casper.”

Casper brightened when he recognized Wren. “Detective Morgan!” His face faltered. “Oh… It’s not detective anymore… Or Morgan…”

Wren braved a smile. “Yeah… Just Wren Blanchard.”

“Well, Agent Blanchard, Captain Fowler informed me of your involvement on the case. Let me just authorize your access.”

Wren furrowed her brow. “How do you know I’m an agent?”

Casper smiled. “Everyone knows you left the precinct to join the CIA.”

Wren pursed her lips and dipped her head. Casper handed her a keycard. Wren took it and entered the precinct. She slinked to the elevator without anyone really noticing her and took it to the HAD floor. Wren made her way to the stations that the HAD occupied. Her heart jumped from her stomach to her throat and back again. She paused and her breath hitched.

Tina, Gavin, Chris, Hank, and Connor. They sat together at a conference table littered with tablets, empty coffee cups, crime scene photos, and forensics reports. They all looked tired. Tina bounced her knee, shaking a pencil between her fingers. Chris rubbed his face. Gavin pinched his nose and downed the rest of his coffee. Hank rested his hand on his knuckles, eyeing the case with a furrowed brow. Even Connor looked tired. His LED cycled between blue and yellow. He peered down at a tablet with half-lidded eyes.

“Jesus, we just keep hitting dead ends,” Gavin slammed his empty cup down. Wren couldn’t see his face, but she imagined the wrinkled of his scarred nose.

“Need some help?” she called.

Everyone’s attention snapped to her, and her neck prickled with heat. Tina dropped her pencil. Gavin folded his arms as he stared at her.

“You here to steal more of our evidence?”

Wren smiled dryly. “Not this time. I’m here to help you find some.”

“They… They sent you to help us?” Tina breathed.

Wren inched forward, but somehow, she felt like a stranger in her own home. She folded her arms. “Since Typhon seems to be behind this, Prometheus wants in. And because they’re actually honoring my agreement with them, I’m the agent they sent to work with you.”

“So… You’re back?” Chris raised his eyebrows.

“For now,” Wren allowed.

Connor didn’t question her. Instead, he approached her slowly with that soft look in his eyes and parted lips. Then, he hugged her. Wren squeezed her eyes shut and clung to him.

But if we find out you’re conspiring with them, if you tell them things you shouldn’t, if you do anything that marks you as a threat to Prometheus’s security, then I will send one of our top assassins to get rid of your friends in the most painful way they can experience it.

I’d do anything to keep him safe.

Remember that you’re here to complete a mission, not fuck your little android boytoy.

I’d do anything to keep him safe.

You should be goddamn scared of me, 01. You’re obsolete. Your time is running out.

I’d do anything to keep him safe.

Wren let go of Connor rather abruptly. His brow puckered, but he said nothing. Wren hugged Hank and Tina, but kept it brief. Part of her knew she was being silly. Prometheus couldn’t hear her hug people. But some part of her felt Prometheus’s eyes on her.

She braved a smile. “Fill me in.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

As it turned out, there wasn’t much the HAD could fill Wren in on. She already knew the case pretty well. There was only one thing new, and that was because of the new bodies discovered the day before: Typhon left an insignia on the human body as well.

“We had the other bodies checked, and we missed the Typhon symbol because the bodies were in such bad shape,” Chris grimaced.

Hank rubbed his knuckles. “So, did Prometheus give you any info about Typhon that could help us out?”

“Not really,” Wren muttered, “just that they’re very interested in solving this case and that we’re welcome to resources if we need them. Based off of what we have so far, I’d say it’s safe to look into the victims’ backgrounds a little closer.”

“Yeah, that was on the agenda,” said Tina.

“They really didn’t give you anything?” Gavin pouted.

Wren pressed her lips together in a grim, apologetic smile. “I don’t have top clearance there.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Gavin huffed, leaning back in his chair.

“Look, we should call it a night. Wren, you got a place to stay?” Hank said, pushing in his chair.

“Yeah, Prometheus put me in an apartment,” Wren folded her arms as everyone else gathered up the files. “But I’ll need to pick up some of my clothes if that’s okay, Tina.”

“Yeah, totally. It’s your stuff.”

Wren managed a smile, but her heart sank. She wanted to fit back in with them, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was an outsider. As long as Prometheus listened to everything she said and heard, she would remain an outsider.

“Alright, well, Wren you can ride with us.”

“Where?” Wren stiffened.

Hank exchanged a glance with Connor before meeting Wren’s gaze. “We’re gonna catch up some, kid.”

Wren swallowed as her gaze flicked around. “I… I’m supposed to focus on the case.” She lowered her gaze as heat dusted her cheeks.

“We’ve worked on the case some. There’s not much more we can do till tomorrow. We can grab some clothes from Tina’s and then catch up. Okay?” Hank raised his eyebrows at her.

Wren nodded. She followed Hank and Connor to Hank’s car. She slid into the backseat like she used to, and tried to ignore the looks Hank shot her through the rearview mirror. The car ride to Tina’s simmered in awkward silence. Wren looked at her hands. Hank parked in the driveway. He twisted in his seat to bore his eyes into Wren. She pretended to look out the window.

“We’ll wait for you in the car.”

“Thanks.” Wren got out and hurried to the front door. She knew Hank and Connor talked about her as soon as she left, but she didn’t want to hear what they had to say.

Tina let Wren in. “It’s weird that they won’t let you stay with us.”

Wren nodded as she headed for her old room. Tina followed. Wren entered and started tossing clothes into a bag. Tina helped pick some things out. Wren paused and met Tina’s gaze.

“I…” Wren lowered her gaze.

“This is awkward,” Tina offered.

Wren looked up and half-smiled. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“That this is awkward.”

“Oh.” Tina shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be, you know?”

Wren slung her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll try to be less awkward.”

Tina grinned. “Cool. It really is good to have you back. Even if it’s not forever.”

Wren’s heart tugged. “Yeah. Detroit’s definitely better scenery than Prometheus.”

When she finished packing, Wren hurried back outside and slid into Hank’s car. She said nothing when he drove to CyberLife instead of to a restaurant.

“Just delivering something to Kamski to see if he can help us with the case,” Hank explained as they walked inside. Wren walked through the security scan and rode the elevator with them to the secure room. Once inside, Wren found herself locked in a room Rhett, North, Markus, Josh, Gavin, Tina, Chloe (how the heck did they beat Wren here?), Hank, and Connor. Chris probably chose to go home to his wife and son, which Wren did not blame him for.

“We went over the files you gave us,” said Rhett. “Well, most of them. But we found evidence. You didn’t sign the contract willingly. You were coerced and there’s fucking proof, Wren.”

Tina clasped her hands together and grinned. “We can get you out. CIA can launch an investigation.”

“You can come home for good, kid,” Hank beamed.

Wren looked at Connor. He offered her a tired twitch of his lips. Wren’s throat swelled. She started to smile, then stopped. Nina. Wren’s smile faltered. She lowered her gaze. “I can’t.”

“Can’t? The fuck you mean you can’t? We found a way to get you out,” Gavin scowled at her.

“I know, but…”

“You’ve been saying you want out all this time and now you have the chance to, and you don’t want it?” Rhett folded his arms.

Tina looked hurt. “Did you ever want out?”

“Of course I want out,” Wren breathed. “I… There are others at Prometheus. People like me. Other cyborgs who are close to deviating, who are trapped there, people that…” Wren stopped and took a breath.

“They’re your people,” North stated.

Wren lifted her eyes to meet North’s and nodded. “Yes. I can’t just leave them behind. They’re in danger and it’s my fault. If I hadn’t been around them… They might not be deviating in the worst possible place to break your programming. They’re in the heart of Prometheus. I can’t just leave them behind—”

“Kid, calm down,” said Hank, holding up his hands. He placed them on Wren’s shoulders. “We’re with you. You don’t need to give yourself an aneurysm trying to explain. Our jobs just got a whole lot harder, but we’re with you.”

Wren’s eyes filled with tears. She breathed a smile. “Thank you.”

Kamski, who Wren failed to notice in the back corner of the room, stepped forward, his lips slanting with a smirk. “Well, if you’re going to infiltrate Prometheus, you’re going to need some tech to help you. It seems I’ve got some inventing to do.”

Wren dipped her head to him. Rhett approached her. “If at any point, this gets too dangerous, say the word, and we’ll pull you out. We’ll get you out.”

Wren patted his arm. “Thank you.” She turned to Connor again and offered him a small smile. He took her hand and squeezed it. Wren faced her friends, Connor’s hand in hers. “I have to make them think that I’m still following their rules. They’ve given me strict orders to focus on the case, not ‘reconcile or conspire’ with any of you. If we’re going to take them down, then I have to gain their trust, or at least maintain the little trust I have with them already.”

“So, no talking about Prometheus outside of this room?” Hank guessed.

Wren pursed her lips for a moment. “Definitely not.”

“Okay, well you at least have to catch up with us,” said Tina. “I have so much to tell you.”

Wren cracked a smile. “Okay, but it’ll have to be another time. They knock me out every time I leave Prometheus and that’s not exactly a good night’s rest. I haven’t really slept in the past forty-eight hours.”

“C’mon, kid, we’ll drive you home,” Hank offered.

“Wait,” called North, getting up from her seat. She hugged Wren tightly for a moment. “Don’t be a stranger.”

A knot formed in Wren’s stomach as she pulled away. She tried to avoid North’s gaze as she ducked out of the secure room. The silence in the car ride to Wren’s apartment broke only as the navigation system announced directions to Hank.

“Thanks for the ride,” Wren muttered, pushing open the door.

“No problem, kid,” Hank replied.

To Wren’s chagrin, Connor also stepped out of the car and walked her to her apartment. She paused outside the door. She avoided his gaze, instead training her eyes on her hands.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted, meeting Connor’s eyes.

His LED flickered. “Why?”

“I know this wasn’t what you wanted.”

Connor’s mouth tightened for a moment. He looked down. “Oh.”

“It’s just…”

“You don’t have to explain,” said Connor; his eyes softened. “I know you wouldn’t be able to sleep until you did everything you could.”

Wren managed a small smile. “Thank you for understanding.”

Connor dipped his head. Wren gave his hand a squeeze, and then slipped inside her apartment before her resolve broke and she kissed him.

Chapter Text

Connor stirred creamer into a coffee cup until the liquid lightened. He ignored the nutritional facts and brought the steaming cup to Wren, who stood in front of the bulletin board decorated with crime scene photos. He held the cup out to her.

Wren looked at it with curved eyebrows and lips pressed in a flat line. She dipped her head as she accepted the cup. “Thank you.”

Connor’s thirium pump sagged in his chest. He wanted to see her smile, but he shook off his disappointment. He knew she had to abide by Prometheus’s rules, but did that really include accepting coffee in a professional manner? Not that he expected Wren to drop everything and throw her arms around him in gratitude, of course, but… He forced himself to shrug off Wren’s response as he took his seat at the conference table.

“Alright, so we need to find some sort of connection between the human victims,” said Hank. “Social groups, work groups, same grocery store—anything that can connect them.”

Connor tried to keep his focus on the case, but his eyes flicked to Wren every few minutes. He supposed part of him was still in shock that she was here, working a case like old times. She looked really pretty, with her brow furrowed and a chunk of hair falling in her face as she dug into the past of one of the victims. Connor returned his focus to the case.

“This is interesting,” said Tina beside Connor. He leaned over to look at her terminal. “All of the victims had androids prior to the Liberation.”

Connor narrowed his eyes at the pictures on social media of each of the victims with their respective house androids. Hank clasped his fingers together.

“Good work, Tina,” he muttered. “We could work that angle. Maybe we can find out what happened to those androids after the Liberation and ask them some questions.”

“Or,” said Gavin, lifting his eyebrows, “we can find out why all three victims filed complaints to CyberLife about their androids.”

Connor tilted his head. “Are there official reports on what the issues were and what was done to fix them?”

“Don’t know. I just have the correspondence between them through their accounts. They all picked ‘other’ as a reason for complaint request… CyberLife responded, saying that they would investigate and fix the androids for a fee. There’s nothing after that.” Gavin shrugged.

“Okay, so, did those androids register for names after the Liberation?” Wren questioned.

Gavin typed around on his terminal, searching the serial numbers of the androids. “Nope.”

Chris rubbed the back of his neck. “We need to figure out if the victims ever took the androids to CyberLife.”

“There doesn’t seem to be any evidence of a transaction with CyberLife, though,” said Gavin, squinting at his terminal.

“Could they have taken the androids to CyberLife and…” Wren trailed off. Connor leveled his gaze with hers. “Would there be a fee for… termination?”

Connor frowned. “I don’t think so. If there were, it would be considerably less that having an android investigated and fixed.”

Wren folded her arms. “So the human victims could’ve taken the androids for that instead of repairing them.”

“There would still be some sort of a trail, though,” said Gavin.

“Not necessarily,” replied Tina. “Not from the victims’ side. We need to see it from CyberLife’s side.”

“Okay, let’s do this: Chris, Gavin, and Tina—you guys go to CyberLife and see if there’s some sort of evidence for the victims trying to terminate their androids. Connor, Wren, and I are gonna call back in the victims’ next of kin to ask more questions. They might know what happened,” said Hank. Chris, Gavin, and Tina nodded and headed out while Hank turned to Connor and Wren.

“Wren, I want you to sit in with Connor when you talk to next of kin. You’re still new to the case.”

Wren dipped her head. “Got it.”

The brother of Cleo Rhodes, the first victim, showed up first. Hank stepped into the interview room with the brother while Wren and Connor waited for Jack Rogers’s sister to arrive. As soon as she did, she demanded, “I don’t understand why I’m here. I’ve already been questioned. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“We apologize for the inconvenience, Ms. Rogers. We’re trying to work every angle to find out who did this,” Connor gestured for Ellie Rogers to take a seat by Connor’s desk. She did, eyeing Wren with a furrowed brow. “This is Detective Blanchard, by the way.”

“Hi,” said Ellie. She turned to Connor and raised her eyebrows expectantly.

“Ms. Rogers, your brother had an android—an AX400—prior to the Liberation, but he reported the android to CyberLife for having malfunctions. We can’t find any records of this android. Do you know what happened?”

Ellie scowled. “You’re questioning me about some android my brother used to own? How is this relevant? Shouldn’t you be trying to figure out why Trevor killed my brother?”

“I assure you that we’re doing everything we can to find out why this happened.”

“We wouldn’t ask if it didn’t feel important to our investigation,” murmured Wren.

Ellie sighed. “I mean… Jack didn’t understand what deviancy was yet… No one did. This was months before the Liberation started. And he felt incredibly guilty afterward—”

“You won’t offend me, Ms. Rogers,” Connor interrupted gently.

Ellie nodded, teary-eyed. “H-he sold Lara. That was what he called her, the AX400. There was this guy he met, who could wipe Lara’s memories and either sell her to someone else or give her back. My brother didn’t want her back, so he let the guy sell her to someone else. I don’t think… I don’t think it was strictly legal.”

“Do you know the name of this seller?” Connor queried, though his thirium pump thudded harshly, reverberating through his artificial veins.

“Uh, Zeljko? No, that’s not right… Zlata? I don’t really remember, it was a long time ago…” Ellie shrugged helplessly.

“Zlatko?” Connor offered.

Ellie’s eyes widened. “Yes! Zlatko!”

Connor exchanged a glance with Wren. She turned to Ellie and muttered, “Thank you for your time.”

Connor stood as Ellie moved to leave. But Ellie turned to face Connor once more. “Detective Anderson, my brother wasn’t a bad guy, you know. He turned around after Lara happened. I mean, he started dating an android, so…” Ellie shrugged.

Connor offered her a tight-lipped but polite smile. She left the precinct after giving her official statement. Connor sank into his chair again as Hank wrapped up his interview with his witness. Tina, Gavin, and Chris arrived shortly after.

“No record of any of the victims ever getting rid of their androids,” announced Gavin.

“That’s okay,” said Hank, leaning back in his chair, “because Jack Rogers’s sister and Cleo Rhodes’s brother both confirmed that the victims took their androids to a man named Zlatko.”

Chris wrinkled his brow. “Zlatko? Didn’t you guys investigate a disturbance at his place a few months ago?”

“Yes,” Connor replied. “He used to wipe deviants’ memories and either resell them or experiment on them.”

Tina folded her arms. “Okay, so let’s go talk to this creep.”

“He’s dead,” Connor said.

“But there might be something in his house that we missed,” Wren added, sitting atop her desk. “We might find something if we know what to look for.”

“What would we be looking for, exactly?” Gavin demanded.

“Records,” Wren replied. “Something to tie the victims to him, and something to point us in the direction of what happened to those androids. If he sold them to Typhon…”

“And we trace the clients, we could start accumulating a suspect list,” said Tina.

Hank pushed up from his seat. “Alright, let me go talk to Fowler. We’ll need permission to search Zlatko’s place, even if he’s dead.” He left the HAD floor.

Chris grinned at Connor and Wren. “Nice work, guys.”

Connor returned the smile. “Thank you.”

“Wow, you’re back only a day and you’re already helping us make some breakthroughs,” said Tina, nudging Wren with her shoulder.

Wren smiled faintly. “It was mostly you guys. And Connor’s the one who did the interview, not me.”

“Maybe you’re just a good luck charm, then,” said Gavin, plopping down at his desk. “You know, like how ships have a figurehead and schools have a mascot?”

Wren flipped him off, earning her a few chuckles from Chris and Tina. Gavin rolled his eyes, but his mouth slid into a lopsided grin. Connor’s lips twitched at the corners. Hank returned from his meeting with Fowler.

“We’ll know by tomorrow afternoon. Good work today, guys.”

Everyone packed up to leave. Connor walked in step with Hank, his eyes trained on Wren’s back as she exited the precinct and headed for the street. Hank nudged Connor with his elbow.

“Make sure she gets home safe.”

Connor nodded and hurried to catch up with Wren. “Would you like me to accompany you home? The neighborhood you’re living in isn’t the safest—”

“I’m fine,” said Wren quickly, “I’m taking a cab.” She waved an autotaxi down.

Connor ignored the sharp stab in his chest. “Oh.”

“I can take care of myself,” Wren added, facing him. Her neutral expression stopped Connor’s thirium pump for a moment. He swallowed.

“Of course,” he managed. “I know you can.”

Wren lowered her gaze. The door to the taxi slid open. Wren paused before sliding inside. She met Connor’s eyes and her lips quirked so slightly Connor almost missed it. “See you later, Detective Anderson.”

“Goodbye, Agent Blanchard,” Connor returned. Wren’s mouth tightened and she slid inside the taxi. Connor’s biocomponents constricted as the taxi drove away. He worked his jaw and clenched his fists before flexing his fingers. After standing by the street for a good few minutes, he got into a taxi of his own.

[Send new text message]

Connor: I’m going to Jericho.

Hank: alright kid

Hank: be safe

Hank: wait you didn’t take wren home?

Connor: She did not want my company.

Hank: weird… Maybe she just wants to appease P for a while?

Connor: I don’t know. I’ll see you later.

Hank: ok

Hank: don’t take this too hard with wren ok?

Hank: she’s probably got a lot on her mind or something

Connor: Thank you for the advice.

Hank: …

Hank: no problem

Connor sighed and leaned his head back against the seat. He stuffed his phone inside his pocket and gritted his teeth. Perhaps it had been foolish of him to think things would return to the way they were. Perhaps Wren needed time to adjust. Maybe she felt strange being back. Because she wasn’t truly back. Prometheus still listened to her and expected her to return to them when the case closed. Yes, that had to be it: Wren felt strange being back but not really. But Connor could not shake the sense that he felt further from Wren than he ever had.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“We weren’t expecting you,” grinned Markus as Connor entered the penthouse.

“I… I wasn’t expecting to come here,” Connor confessed as he sat down on the sofa. North tucked her legs under her.

“Why aren’t you with Wren? Shouldn’t you guys be making up for lost time?” She lifted a brow and smirked. Markus nudged her with his shoulder.

“North!” His indignation faltered under his smile.

Josh rolled his eyes. “How is Wren? How’s the case?”

“Wren’s…” Connor puckered his brow. “She’s acting strange.”

“Strange? How?” Markus asked, weaving his arm around North.

“Distant,” Connor replied. “She’s remaining oddly professional and keeping a strained distance from everyone, but especially me.”

Josh’s gaze clouded over for a moment, then he nodded. “Well, she did say that Prometheus had strict rules for her not to ‘reconcile or conspire’ with us. She’s probably trying to maintain that.”

Connor pushed from his seat and paced. “I know, but it’s more than that. She could say one thing and act another way, because Prometheus is only listening to her. But I saw it in her eyes—she’s trying her best to seem neutral.”

“What if they’re not just listening to her?” Markus wondered. Connor turned and folded his arms. Markus held Connor’s gaze. “What if they’re keeping tabs on her or something?”

“How would they do that?” Josh leaned forward.

“I have no idea,” said Markus, “but it would make sense. I mean, why would they trust her with us anyway?”

North checked her phone. “Guys. Rhett’s at CyberLife.”

“I didn’t know he was going to be in town,” said Markus.

“Well, he is,” said North. She looked up at Connor. “Are you up for it?”

Connor nodded. “I can handle it.”

“Okay. Let’s go.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Rhett was a man of few words and seemed dedicated to taking down Prometheus. Or, Connor realized with a sharp twinge in his gut, getting Wren out. He appreciated the CIA agent’s help, regardless of the man’s intentions.

“We’re gonna finish watching her training sessions tonight,” Rhett announced. “Hopefully they won’t be too graphic.”

He played the video while Connor and the others took their seats. The training videos were much faster than the videos of Wren in the hospital post-surgery. But they were no less difficult to watch. Wren’s hair grew out some throughout the videos. She returned to a healthy weight and muscle definition, but her overall health seemed rather poor. Over and over, Connor watched Wren fight with the Sicilian androids to train. Over and over, Connor watched them beat her. One of the Sicilian androids hit her so hard that one of her cybernetic arms busted open and needed repairing.

One video seemed more like a montage of Wren throwing knives and shooting various guns until she hit the target. The length of her hair indicated the passage of time. Her hand-to-hand combat took longer for her to perfect. The Sicilian androids continued to beat Wren. She was tough and skilled in combat, but the Sicilian androids were tougher and more skilled. They beat her every time.

One of the androids grabbed Wren from behind. She used him as leverage to lift her legs and kick the other back. She jerked out of her restrainer’s grip and elbowed him in the face. Thirium leaked from the android’s nose. She turned to kick him in the gut and punch him. He fell to his knees, but the other android grabbed Wren from behind by the hair. She gripped his wrist and ducked down, but the other android got up and placed two fingers to her forehead.

“Bang. You’re dead.”

The android gripping her hair released her and then smacked her so hard she fell to her knees. “Sloppy.”

“Again,” announced the other, standing in front of Wren. She didn’t move. The one behind her kicked her. She clutched her side and spat a mouthful of blood at him.

“Enough,” barked a female voice. Another android walked into view. The two Sicilian androids stood at attention.

“Juno,” greeted the one on the left.

Connor’s eyes stretched. Juno—Wren’s lover within the walls of Prometheus.

“I have been authorized to oversee CY001’s training. You are dismissed.”

The two Sicilian androids dipped their heads and left. Juno stood with her hands clasped behind her back. “Stand, CY001.”

Wren got to her feet shakily, still clutching her side. She offered Juno a bloody grin. “Are you going to beat the shit out of me too? That should really teach me.”

Juno tilted her head. “No. I am going to teach you.”

Wren’s training progressed immensely with Juno’s help. The android taught Wren jiu-jitsu and other martial arts to fashion her into the weapon she was. Connor watched as Wren transformed from a scared, abused, Red Ice addict to CY001, a living weapon for Prometheus.

Atlas Montgomery appeared onscreen. “CY001’s progress is better than I could’ve hoped for. Juno’s prototype is a go. Of course, 01 has a long way to go before she’s field-ready. She’s passed her weapons and agility tests, and I’m confident she will pass her hand-to-hand combat test, but she still needs to go through the conditioning phase. I have a feeling that won’t be easy. 01’s a fighter.”

The next video showed Wren facing off with the two Sicilian androids. Juno stood off to the side, her hands clasped behind her back. “The goal is simple, 01: Beat them, and you may progress to the next level of your training. Fail, and you will be terminated.”

“Holy fuck,” Rhett groaned, rubbing his face.

“We know she succeeded,” North muttered. But even she looked unnerved. Connor’s biocomponents lurched. He trembled as he waited for the fight to begin.

The first android threw a punch that Wren dodged by ducking around him. She tried to elbow him in the back of the head, but he blocked. Wren shoved him forward, sending him stumbling into the other android, who pushed the first one off and charged for Wren, a knife drawn. He tried to stab through the side of Wren’s head, but she threw up her forearm and blocked. She used her other hand to punch the android in the chin. She kicked his legs out from underneath him and wrestled the knife from him.

The other android jumped on top of her, hands clenched around her throat. Wren wrapped her legs around one of his arms and his necks and used her body to roll him onto the floor with her on top. She punched him so hard in the face that thirium splattered onto her face. The other android got up, but Wren kicked him back. She charged and used his thigh to propel herself upward, where she wrapped her legs around his throat and twisted, bringing the android crashing down. She elbowed him in the face several times. Both androids tapped out.

Wren stood, panting. Thirium and sweat mixed and slid down her face. Juno beamed.

“Passed.”

The next video showed Atlas, Ellis Hughman, and Pauline Thomas in an office. “I’m pleased to announce that CY001 has passed her combat training. She’s ready to continue to the next phase.” Atlas smiled at Pauline, who crossed her legs.

“Are you sure? You had concerns that she was a fighter.”

“Isn’t that why you picked her, Pauline?” Atlas sneered. His sneer faltered. “She destroyed one of the Sicilian androids.”

“How?” Ellis gaped.

Atlas snorted. “We trained her to be a killer. How do you think she did it?”

“Was it during a session or was this an unwarranted attack?” Pauline seemed less shocked.

“A session,” said Atlas. He pursed his lips for a moment before continuing, “But the android had tapped out. 01 just kept going.”

Pauline scrunched her lips together for a moment. “She’s got a lot of rage.”

“Can you blame her?” Atlas queried, leaning back in his chair. “She can’t remember anything of her past and she’s been getting her ass beat for a good two and a half years.”

“Well, the next phase should break her of that aggression,” said Pauline, straightening in her seat. “Or it should break her so that she focuses that aggression on assigned targets.”

Ellis sipped from his glass. “Her programming should help deter any independence and keep her from veering from Prometheus’s goals. Condition her and couple it with my program, and any aggression that 01 has toward Prometheus will disappear.”

Pauline narrowed her eyes. “And what of her relationship with the prototype android, the one called Juno?”

“The program should help with that, too,” boasted Ellis. He lowered his gaze. “Though I do suggest a memory-reconstruction.”

Pauline’s eyes flicked to the camera. “And the android? It’s odd that she’s encouraging this… relationship.”

“Perhaps we should let it continue for a while,” suggested Atlas. “We could observe what’s happening and ensure that it never does again.”

Pauline hummed. “Ellis, keep an eye on Juno. I don’t want this to be a recurring issue with this prototype if we’re going to mass produce them.”

Ellis nodded. “I will. Montgomery, we will have to do weekly check-ins to ensure the program is responding accurately to the conditioning.”

“Noted,” replied Atlas.

Pauline trained her cold eyes on Atlas. “CY002 is ready to begin training.”

“We’re still going to use my plan, yes?”

“Correct. 01 and 02 should never meet, and that goes for the rest of the squadron.”

“Noted. As always, it’s been a pleasure.”

Ellis turned to the camera and shut it off, ending the set of videos in the file titled 001TRNNG.

Connor gripped his elbows. He hoped he looked like he was folding his arms, not hugging himself. His eyes flicked to North, Markus, and Josh, who all wore stunned expressions. Rhett dragged a hand down his face.

“So, they lied to Wren.”

North’s brow puckered. “How?”

Rhett leaned forward. “She said that Atlas was rogue in the way that he trained her squadron. They were supposed to be an elite group, not separate assassins. But this looks like they planned for that to happen.”

Josh sighed. “But that’s not enough to bring them down.”

“No,” agreed Rhett, “but is interesting.”

“If they lied about this, then it could mean that they lied about Atlas going rogue entirely,” suggested Markus. “Maybe Prometheus really meant to send Wren to kill me, but they didn’t want it to be tied back to them in case it did come out.”

“Maybe,” said Rhett, getting to his feet, “but that’s a lot of speculation. We need something more concrete.”

“What I don’t get is why they recorded their meetings,” said Josh. “There could be incriminating evidence on these videos, and they kept it? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Rhett folded his arms. “I was thinking along the same lines.”

“We should get going,” said Markus, pushing off from the sofa. “It’s late.”

“Connor, can I have a word with you?” Rhett called as Connor moved to follow his friends out the door. He nodded to his friends and stayed behind.

“Yes?”

Rhett approached slowly, his hands in his pockets. “Listen, man, the next file is her conditioning. Do you know what it takes to condition a human?”

Connor lifted his chin. “I’m aware that the CIA uses methods that the public would deem inhumane.”

“Yep,” replied Rhett, his lips flattening into a tight line. He huffed. “And the CIA isn’t a secret organization like Prometheus. Can you imagine what they did to condition Wren?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t see what you’re getting at,” Connor snapped.

Rhett snorted impatiently. “You don’t have to be so defensive. I’m trying to warn you. Watching this won’t be easy. They’re going to do things to her in these videos that are meant to break her spirit down into nothing. I’ve been watching you while we watch these things. Tonight, you looked like you were in pain watching her get her ass beat. I’m telling you that it’s going to get much worse. They’re not just going to beat her, Connor. They are going to torture her to the point that she forgets she’s a living person.”

Connor’s thirium pump raced, but he straightened and squared his shoulders. “Wren told me about some of the things they did to her. I’m prepared—”

“I guarantee you that Wren didn’t tell you everything they did to her. Especially after the two of you grew close. She wouldn’t want you to worry.” Rhett lifted his eyebrows.

Damn. Rhett knew Wren pretty well. Connor’s throat dried. “I appreciate your warning, but I’m not sitting this one out. I can handle it.”

Rhett sighed. “Fine. But you might not want to tell Wren that you’ve seen what they did to her. She’ll feel incredibly vulnerable, and we both know she hates that.”

Connor dipped his head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The next afternoon, Connor, Wren, Gavin, and Chris entered Zlatko’s house.

“Well, I’m glad this place isn’t straight out of a horror movie,” Chris muttered, wrinkling his nose at a cobweb.

“Last time we didn’t pay much attention to the upstairs,” Wren said to Connor. He dipped his head.

Gavin looked around the once-elaborate foyer. “Guess we should look for a computer or something.”

“Anything that might link Zlatko to Typhon,” said Connor, narrowing his eyes as he scanned their environment.

“Alright, Reed and I’ll cover this floor. You two take the upstairs,” said Chris, already moving to a decorative table and opening the drawers.

“There’s a computer downstairs,” Wren called to Gavin as she climbed the stairs. She pointed to the doorway leading to the lowest level of the house. Gavin saluted and headed in that direction.

Connor followed Wren upstairs to the bedrooms. The nearest bedroom wasn’t a bedroom, though. It was a torture chamber. The thirium had long since evaporated, but Connor still saw the traces of it. The ghost of blue blood splattered the walls and pooled on the floor. Bloody footprints and drag marks stained other areas. Connor swallowed the lump in his throat as he eyed the metal table. Cables hung from above. On a small table, surgical devices collected dust. Wren hugged herself.

“Are you okay?”

Connor’s eyes snapped to her. “I’m fine.”

Wren tapped her temple. “Your LED is yellow.”

“I’m processing information.” His voice came out colder than he meant. He hated the distance between them. He hated Prometheus for doing this to them.

“Oh. Okay.” Wren sounded hurt, but she turned her back to him to go through the drawers. Connor’s thirium pump ached, but he stopped himself from going to her.

“I’m going to check the other rooms.” He left before Wren said anything. He looked through the actual bedroom, going through the drawers and the armoire, looking for documents. However, the only things he and Wren succeeded in finding as they searched the upstairs were unpaid bills and unused coupons. Gavin climbed the stairs and waited in the hall as Connor and Wren emerged on the landing.

“Nothing on the computer except programs to delete androids’ memories.”

Connor, Wren, and Gavin descended the stairs where Chris waited.

Wren folded her arms. “My guess is that Typhon doesn’t like leaving an electronic trail. Paper is harder to track.”

“But it’s just junk mail,” said Chris, gesturing to the papers he found.

“He probably kept the documents somewhere safe and hidden. If he was smart enough not to leave an electronic trail, then he was smart enough to secure the documents.”

“Unless he just didn’t document anything,” suggested Chris.

Wren shook her head. “A guy like Zlatko would keep receipts. This is shady business and he would want to make sure people paid. If he’s been doing this illegally, he’d want leverage over his clients in case anything went sour.” She headed for the stairs that led to the lowest level of the house. Connor glanced at Chris and Gavin before following her.

Connor scanned the machine used to wipe androids’ memories, looking for anything he could have missed before. He circled it, scanning the machine until his eyes fell on a symbol on the back bottom of the machine. He crouched and moved a cable aside to get a better look.

“Typhon,” he muttered. The others circled around him, looking at Typhon’s symbol etched into the metal.

Wren turned toward the back wall. “Look for that symbol.”

Connor straightened from his crouch and joined Wren by the wall to scan it.

“Hold on, you don’t actually think there’s like a secret door or something?” Chris demanded.

“I know there is,” Wren muttered, feeling along the wall.

“How?” Gavin sounded as if he were scowling.

“Source from Prometheus,” Wren said quietly.

Connor glanced at her but chose not to comment on it. How did Prometheus know? How did they tell Wren? Were there agents in Detroit? Was that why Wren was acting so distant and weird?

“Here,” Connor announced, finding the Typhon symbol etched into the brick wall to behind and to the left of the machine. Gavin stepped around the hanging tarp to watch Wren and Connor press on the brick. Something clicked and a chunk of the wall slid back. The bricks were fake, revealing the metal interior. The passage leading into the next room was narrow. Wren stepped through first.

“This is straight outta Clue,” muttered Chris as Connor followed Wren into the secret room. The space was tight, with floor-to-ceiling shelves of boxes of files. Wren squatted, and her backside brushed against Connor’s crotch. He pressed his lips into a thin line and jerked back, but bumped into the boxes behind him.

“Zlatko was more involved with Typhon than we thought,” Wren muttered, unaware of Connor’s fiasco as she flipped through a file. “This isn’t information on clients… Typhon funded Zlatko’s projects. That’s why he was able to afford that machine, the computer system, this room…” Wren placed the file away and looked through some others. She rubbed against Connor’s shin as she moved along the bottom boxes. “Here’s some client information…”

“We’re going to need to bring in these files,” Connor stated, his voice strained. He cleared his throat. Why did this space have to remind him of that stupid closet in Atlas Montgomery’s estate? The air felt warm and foggy. Wren stood, still looking through one of the folders.

“How did Prometheus know this?” she muttered, flipping through the pages. “And why didn’t they tell me sooner?” She closed the file and lifted her head. The tip of her nose trailed up Connor’s lips. Wren widened her eyes. “Oh.”

Her exhale warmed Connor.

◄ He kissed her hip bones and Wren let out a soft, breathy moan. Connor looked up at her, a shiver running through his body. ►

Fuck! Why did he have to think about that?

Connor wanted to groan at the flush of warmth in his body. He huffed to ventilate his systems. Wren stared up at him, her eyes wide but—thank rA9—they weren’t empty.

“Sorry,” Wren breathed. She grabbed a box of files and shuffled out of the secret closet. Connor exhaled at the sudden coolness. He grabbed a box and followed her. Chris and Gavin entered one at a time, gathering boxes. Each of them carried two to the car.

“So, Prometheus told you to look for a secret room?” Gavin demanded in the car.

“They said that I should be on the lookout for a hidden space where Zlatko kept his documents,” Wren replied. She gazed out the window. Connor glanced at her, but she seemed determined to not look at him, even though he sat next to her in the backseat.

“They knew Zlatko was involved but let you figure it out on your own? Why?” Chris glanced at Wren through the rearview mirror.

“I don’t know,” Wren muttered. She looked at her hands and her brow puckered. Some of her hair fell in her face. Connor wanted to brush it behind her ear and take her hand. Instead, he clasped his fingers together in his lap and looked out the window. Why did standing so close to her have such an effect on him?

“Jesus,” Hank groaned as Connor, Wren, Chris, and Gavin carried in the boxes from Zlatko’s. “We have to go through all that shit?”

“Oh boy,” Tina widened her eyes as she shoved her wallet into the back of her jeans.

“We’ll start on it tomorrow with fresh minds,” said Hank. “Figure out a game plan.”

“Sounds good,” said Gavin.

Connor avoided Wren, walking as far from her as physically possible as the team left the precinct. Tina paused outside the doors.

“You guys are still coming, right?” she asked.

“Skye can’t, but I’ll be there,” said Chris.

“Yeah, I could use some good home-cooking,” said Gavin, rubbing the back of his neck.

Connor furrowed his brow. “Coming to what?”

“I’m cooking dinner tonight,” said Tina. “You can come. Chloe’ll be there, so you won’t be the only one not eating. Hank already told me that he wants to go home tonight.”

Connor glanced at Hank, who jingled his keys in his hand. Connor offered a small smile to Tina. “I’ll come.”

Tina turned to Wren, who waited for a cab by the curb. “Wren, you’re welcome to come, too.”

Wren stared at them with wide eyes. “I-I can’t. I’ve still got to catch up on this case.”

Connor frowned and exchanged a glance with Chris.

“Still?” Gavin demanded.

“Uh-huh,” said Wren, sliding into the autotaxi. “Thanks for the offer though.”

Tina turned to Connor, Chris, and Gavin, her arms folded. “That was weird.”

“Yeah,” Gavin agreed.

“Connor, I’m waiting on you,” called Hank.

Connor waved to Tina and hurried over to the car. Hank tossed his keys at Connor, who caught them. He drove Hank home, clenching the steering wheel tighter than necessary. As soon as Hank entered the house, Connor backed out of the driveway and drove to Tina’s, trying to push Wren’s weird behavior from his mind. Instead, he thought about that stupid enclosed space, where her body ghosted against his…

“Fuck,” Connor hissed. He flexed his fingers and thanked rA9 that he wasn’t truly aroused by the situation. He wondered if it affected Wren at all.

He was the first to arrive at Tina’s. Chloe let him in with a gracious smile that he tried to return, but it felt weak. He entered the kitchen, where Tina started boiling a pot of water.

“Hey, Connor,” she greeted. “I’d offer you some wine, but…” She shrugged and poured herself a glass.

“I appreciate the thought,” Connor teased.

Tina grinned and sipped from her glass. “You okay? Your LED’s yellow.”

Connor turned his head to hide his LED from Tina, even though it was useless. “I’m just… I have a lot on my mind.”

“Like Wren?” Tina guessed, raising her eyebrows at him.

Connor lowered his gaze. “Yeah.”

Tina sighed and set down her wine glass. “Yeah, me too. I’m worried about her.”

Connor lifted his head. “You are?”

“Well, yeah. Her excuse tonight was probably the lamest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Is Wren still acting distant?” Chloe tilted her head.

“Yeah, and it’s almost comical how she’s doing it,” said Tina, checking the still-heating pot.

“A watched pot never boils,” Chloe said, kissing Tina’s cheek. The doorbell rang.

“I’ve got it,” Tina pushed off from the counter and disappeared. She returned with Chris and poured him a small glass of wine. Tina leaned against the counter and folded her arms. “It’s just weird how Wren’s keeping her distance like this.”

“Well, didn’t she say that Prometheus didn’t want her reconciling with any of us?” Chloe said, standing on her tiptoes to reach the spaghetti box out of a cabinet.

“Yeah, but… She’s taking it to the extreme. Does Prometheus really care if she eats dinner with us?” Tina replied.

“That probably counts as reconciling.” Chloe squished her eyebrows together.

Chris shrugged. “That might, but she literally stands on the other side of the room of Connor sometimes. She only talks about the case with any of us… She’s been, like, the epitome of professional.”

“She didn’t even ask how North was doing,” Tina said. “Before she left, North, Wren, and I were inseparable. It’s just really weird.”

Chloe disappeared when Gavin knocked on the door. Tina dumped spaghetti into the boiling water and started cooking tomato sauce. Chloe buttered bread before putting it in the oven.

“What’re we talking about?” Gavin asked as Chris poured him some wine.

“Wren being a complete weirdo,” said Tina.

“Oh yeah,” said Gavin.

“Well, maybe she just doesn’t want to break Prometheus’s rules,” Chloe suggested.

“But she’s already agreed to take them down,” Connor said. “She wasn’t as scared of defying them before.”

“She did say that she wanted to maintain the trust she had with them, especially if she’s gonna go back to them,” said Chris. “Maybe this is her way of doing it.”

“Look, she can keep her distance from us in a way that doesn’t break Prometheus’s rules,” argued Tina.

“How would she do that, though?” Chris grinned. “Maybe they told her she wasn’t allowed to have dinner with us.”

“I think they freaked her out,” said Tina. She met Connor’s gaze. “That’s why I’m worried about her.”

Chris’s grin faded. “Freaked her out?”

“Yeah. I bet they threatened her or us in a way that seemed viable, so she’s on her best behavior now because she’s fucking scared. Did you guys not notice that look she had when I invited her over?”

“She was like, twenty feet away,” said Gavin.

“You guys are so stupid. She panicked. She wanted to come over, but she was panicking for a way to excuse herself out of it.”

“Well, yeah, we all heard that stupid excuse.”

“The look on her face, Gav. She’s scared of something.” Tina turned back to the spaghetti. Connor felt hollow.

Chloe offered him a sympathetic smile and patted his arm. “I’m sure she misses you too, Connor.”

Connor tightened his jaw for a moment. “Somehow, that makes it worse.”

Chapter Text

With her arms full of groceries, Wren pushed the door closed with her foot. She set the groceries down on the kitchen table and flipped the lights on. She tried to push her friends from her mind, but the more she tried not to think about them, the more they surfaced in her conscious. Wren wanted nothing more than to go back to those nights with Tina and North, conspiring about how they would get themselves a date. Or to go back to nights of lounging on the couch with Connor and Hank, binge-watching movies, or cooking bacon in the mornings while Connor frowned at their eating habits, or swapping books with Josh, or even trading insults with Gavin…

Wren’s chest weighed more than the jug of milk she put in the fridge.

“You should really check to make sure the place is empty before you start relaxing.”

Wren stiffened and turned. A light switched on in the living room. 06 sat on her couch, a smirk dragging the corner of his mouth upward. Wren drew in a long, soft breath to calm her panicking heart. She folded her arms. “They don’t have anything better to do than stalk me?”

06 snorted. “You think Thomas would trust you to just strut around Detroit like you never left?”

“It seems pointless to send me to work with the DPD if they’re also going to send you to babysit me. It’s a waste of agents.”

“Prometheus always acts within reason.”

Wren pursed her lips for a moment. “If that’s true, why didn’t they tell me more about Zlatko’s house? How did they even know that?”

“Your job is to follow leads, not ask questions.”

Wren leaned against the doorframe. “Okay, so any leads? There’s a lot of shit for us to dig through.”

“Thomas said to watch the androids.”

“Why is all the intel you give me cryptic?”

06 narrowed his eyes. “Why does your boyfriend go to CyberLife so much?”

Wren’s stomach twisted. He knew. He knew about the secure room, and now they were in danger… No, 06 wouldn’t be questioning her if he knew about it. “He’s not my boyfriend anymore, thanks to Prometheus.”

06 pushed off from the couch. He loomed over her, but no fear sparked through Wren. 06 had no reason to attack her, and like he said, Prometheus always had a reason. “You’re avoiding the question.”

Wren huffed. “I don’t know. I didn’t even know he went to CyberLife. Why are you watching him in the first place?”

“I have my orders,” 06 replied, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “That RK800 seems to be moving on from you. He’s got a lot of friends he hangs out with.”

Wren shrugged, but her shoulders tensed. “Good for him. Is that all? You could’ve just called, Skyped, whatever. You didn’t need to make a trip to check in with me for this.”

06 snorted and headed for the door. “And miss an opportunity to spy on my favorite traitor? Not a chance.”

Wren curled her fingers toward her palms. “I’m not a traitor.”

“You abandoned Prometheus and deviated from your programming. Everything about you is traitorous.”

Wren furrowed her brow. “Doesn’t it bother you that we were programmed in the first place?”

“No,” said 06 coolly, “because Prometheus always has a reason.”

With that, 06 opened the front door and left Wren’s apartment. When the door slammed shut behind 06, Wren let out a shuddering breath. She rubbed circles into her temples and sank into a chair at the kitchen table. This hadn’t been about giving Wren a lead. This was a warning, a threat. Prometheus sent 06 to watch her, yes, but she already knew they would be monitoring her. No, 06 brought up Connor to threaten Wren. It was a reminder that if she strayed too far from the mission, if she pursued her personal interests, or if she showed any weakness, then 06 knew Connor’s routine. Prometheus would send 06 to kill Connor if Wren deviated from Prometheus’s goal.

After eating a small dinner, Wren stepped into the shower. Her healing ribs still ached from excessive movement, but the hot water sluicing her skin unraveled the tension in her muscles. She bowed her head, letting the water stream through her hair. Wren closed her eyes and let her mind wander. Of course, she found herself thinking about Connor. Today was the closest she’d stood to him in a long time. They’d been in that closet, and his lips had brushed the tip of her nose when she looked up at him. Their lips had ghosted one another as she gazed into his eyes. His LED had swirled yellow, then red. She’d been very aware of how close they stood to one another; her chest just barely pressed against his. Her hands had itched to grab him and smash her lips against his. Instead, she’d mumbled an apology and scrambled out of the tight space, the back of her neck clammy.

In the shower, Wren’s heart throbbed. She wanted nothing more than to collapse into Connor’s arms and tell him how much she loved him. But with Prometheus watching and listening, Wren knew the best way to show her love was to keep her distance. She would let Prometheus rip Connor away from her if it meant he would be safe. She tried to push Connor from her mind as she washed her hair.

Wren shut off the water and trembled as water slid along her body. She wrapped herself in a towel and readied herself for bed. She knew sleep would evade her, so she took a melatonin pill and dried her hair, waiting for drowsiness to overcome her. She prayed for a dreamless sleep as she settled in her bed.

“Don’t go,” he whispered, “please.”

Wren squeezed him closer. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Connor’s lips tugged at the corners. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He kissed her and his arms slid around her waist, pulling her as flush against him as possible. Her fingers fumbled with the knot of his tie while his tongue traced her lip and entered her mouth. She pressed him against the wall. His hands slipped up her shirt while she unfasted the buttons of his shirt. He paused their kiss to yank off his tie. Wren’s lips traced his throat. The breath that left Connor’s lips came out ragged. He tilted his head back as Wren trailed her lips down the bare strip of chest, exposed by his open shirt. When her lips ghosted the hem of his pants, Connor gasped. A smile tugged at the corner of Wren’s mouth.

Something metal clicked. Wren froze, her hands on Connor’s belt. Her eyes traveled up Connor’s chest to his face. His LED swirled yellow and his eyes widened. The muzzle of a gun pressed against his temple. Wren jumped away from Connor as Pauline pushed the gun against Connor’s head even harder.

“I thought my orders were clear, 01,” said Pauline. Her lip curled as she regarded Connor, who held up his hands in surrender. “Keep your distance, and we won’t harm him.”

Wren shook her head; tears burned her eyes. “Please, don’t do this. He has nothing to do with this.”

“He has everything to do with this,” seethed Pauline. “You will never be loyal to Prometheus while he’s still alive.”

“Please!” Wren cried, reaching for the gun. “I’ll be loyal, please, just don’t hurt him. Please.”

“Don’t go,” Connor pleaded. “Wren, please don’t go.”

“I have to,” Wren breathed. The tears that slid down her cheeks mirrored the ones on Connor’s face. “I love you, I always will.”

“Weapons can’t love,” Pauline sneered. She pulled the trigger, and blue blood splattered the wall.

Wren kicked awake. Her chest heaved with distraught breaths as she pushed herself up. Burying her face in her hands, Wren tried to focus on something to slow her heartrate.

Ten.

The walls were beige.

Nine.

The light from the streetlamp outside peeked through the curtains.

Eight.

Her closet door was ajar.

Seven.

The towel hanging over the door looked a bit like a person.

Six.

The shag carpet was a darker beige than the walls.

Five.

Her hands trembled.

Four.

The clock on her nightstand read 04:48 _AM.

Three.

She was awake an hour earlier than necessary.

Two.

It smelled a bit like paint in her apartment.

One.

The sheets bore the same itchiness that her ones at Prometheus possessed.

Wren sighed and turned her head toward the clock. She could grab coffee or something. Part of her wanted to go by Hank’s house. But the memory of her nightmare gave her pause. Great. Prometheus couldn’t even let her have a wet dream without interrupting and giving her anxiety. They controlled every aspect of her life, even down to her subconscious. Or, she was letting her fear of them control her. She paused as she pulled on a shirt. Maybe she was letting fear of Prometheus rule her. But she refused to risk Connor’s life—or anyone’s—just because she was tired of being afraid.   

Wren put on a little more makeup than usual, mostly to cover up the dark circles under her eyes. Once ready, she left her apartment. She stopped at a local café for a coffee to go, and then took the subway train to the closest station to the DPD. Even though she walked the rest of the way to take up more time, she still beat the rest of the team to work. Setting her stuff down on the floor, Wren glanced over at the boxes of files from Zlatko’s locked inside the conference room. She would have to get a key, as she no longer possessed unrestricted access to the DPD. She was merely their guest, a consultant on a case. Not a member of a team.

She knew better than to snoop. But the hollowness in her chest that ached for Connor tugged her toward his desk. He had decorated since she left. Not much, but more sentimental objects adorned his desk than before. Two framed pictures sat on either side of his terminal. He kept a Christmas card from Tina, which sat propped against the picture frame to the left. Wren chose not to read whatever Tina wrote him and lifted the right framed picture for a closer look. It was a picture of Hank, Connor, and Sumo. Wren had seen this picture before; it was from the Christmas right after the Android Liberation. It was just a few weeks after Connor deviated. He wore a half-smile, looking slightly uncomfortable in the center of attention. Wren’s lips twitched as she set the picture down. She wished she had seen Connor pre-deviancy.

Her breath hitched when she looked at the other picture. It was of her, just her. She was grinning with her eyes closed, one hand reached out as if to shield herself from the camera. It was a pretty candid shot, one Wren barely remembered. Tina took the picture after shouting, “You look so cute!”

The elevator dinged with the arrival of someone, so Wren scrambled away from Connor’s desk. Tina strolled in, looking tired but chipper with a cup of coffee. She raised her eyebrows. “You’re here early.”

Wren dipped her head and picked up her own coffee, which was nearly finished. “Yeah. I, uh, woke up before my alarm clock.”

“Dang,” said Tina, sitting at her desk. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Wren sank into her old chair. “Yeah… Nightmare.”

Tina’s brow puckered. “Wanna talk about it?”

Wren parted her lips, wanting to say yes, but the elevator dinged again. Chris waltzed in, looking his usual happy self.

“Good morning, ladies,” he greeted, taking a seat at his desk.

“Good morning,” Wren managed a smile.

“Did you get laid?” Tina queried.

Chris gawked at her. “Tina!”

“You’re in a better mood than usual.”

“You’re so vulgar.”

“And now you’re avoiding the question,” said Tina, grinning.

“Just because I’m in a better mood, that means I got laid?” Chris looked at Wren for help, but she shrugged. Chris turned back to Tina. “And I’m avoiding your question because it was a gross violation of my privacy—”

“No need,” said Tina, picking up her coffee cup, “your silence is my answer.”

Chris sputtered while Wren snickered. She scooped up her empty coffee cup and twirled on her heel to head for the trashcan. Instead, she smacked into a solid body. Connor’s body. Wren backed up, chuckling.

“Sorry,” she gripped his arm and gave it a squeeze.

Connor raised his eyebrows and gaped before the slightest of smiles tugged at the corners of his mouth. “No problem.”

Wren held his gaze for a moment before releasing Connor’s arm. She stepped around him and tossed her coffee cup. Connor sat at his desk, and Wren tried to avoid his gaze. As soon as Gavin arrived, Hank opened up the conference room.   

“C’mon guys,” he said, opening up one of the boxes, “we’ve got a lot to go through today.”

Wren entered the room and opened up a box. She withdrew some of the folders. “We should try a couple of different angles.”

“Yeah, Connor and I were talkin’ about that in the car,” huffed Hank as everyone filed into the room. “We think we should look into clientele, transactions, and… purchases.” He wrinkled his nose. Wren caught Connor’s gaze and her heart clenched.

“We should look into if Zlatko had a registered android,” said Tina. “I don’t know if you guys have seen a picture of him, but he couldn’t exactly do all this on his own. He’s no Superman. Someone had to do the heavy lifting.”

Wren nodded. “I’ll help you. We can see what happened to the other androids, too.”

“Alright, Chris and Gavin, you guys look into the transactions. Where did this guy put his money toward, who gave it to him, did he give a portion of sales to anyone else, that sort of thing.” Hank placed his hands on his hips. “Connor and I’ll look into clientele.”

The team jumped to work, but Wren’s mind wandered to Prometheus as she tried to follow the androids’ trails through Zlatko’s paperwork. They knew about Zlatko’s affiliation with Typhon, and they even knew about his secret room. They knew Wren needed to “watch the androids” or whatever the hell that meant. They knew more than they were letting on, but what concerned Wren the most was how they garnered this information. How many allies did Prometheus have and rely on? How many resources and contacts did they have? And more importantly—was this a way Wren could bring them down?

“So far, there are only a few clients who seem to emerge frequently,” said Connor. “Viggo Claus, Callum Bailey, and Margret Francis.”

“Any of them have records?” asked Chris.

“I’ll check.” Connor’s LED sputtered blue as he scanned their records before shaking his head. “No criminal records. I’ll have to conduct a more thorough search to find a connection between them.”

Wren returned to following the androids’ trail, this time keeping a close eye out for any of the names that Connor mentioned. If those names were frequent buyers, maybe it could lead them to the whereabouts of the androids.

“Hey, look at this,” muttered Tina, nudging Wren with her elbow. Wren glanced down at the file. “Zlatko purchased a TR400 android for dirt cheap from Callum Bailey.”

Wren frowned. “So, Bailey didn’t just buy from Zlatko, he sold to him, too.”

“Yeah,” said Tina, “and he reset the TR400. But he kept him. Zlatko never sold this android.”

“Does he name the android?”

“Yeah,” said Tina, lifting up a paper, “here. Luther.”

Wren read over the report: Expanding business—deviancy is on the rise, which means so is business. I had Luther spread the word to a deviant. I can raise my prices now that people are more desperate to get rid of deviants, plus the risks are higher for me. Will need to request fund for concealment.   

Wren and Tina focused on trying to find out what happened to Luther, but it seemed the android disappeared after Zlatko’s death, shortly before the Liberation. Wren stared at the date. November 6, 2038. Markus’s peaceful demonstration secured android freedom on November 11, 2038, just a few days after Zlatko’s death. Luther disappeared at the height of android deviancy. Had he gone deviant and escaped Zlatko’s clutches?

“Connor, when was the first Jericho established?” Wren queried.

“I don’t believe there is an exact date,” Connor answered, “but if you’re referring to when deviancy increased, then I would say around the fifth of November.”

“I remember that the first real act that Markus took was breaking into a CyberLife warehouse on the docks, but we never investigated that,” said Hank.

“That was November the sixth.”

Wren’s heart thudded. “Do you think there’s any chance that Markus might’ve known some of the androids from Zlatko’s?”

Connor’s eyebrows curved upward. “It’s entirely possible.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren leaned against the back wall of the elevator that ascended to the office level of Jericho. Connor stood to her left while Tina leaned against the right wall with folded arms. The knots in Wren’s stomach tightened when she stepped off the elevator and fell in step with her companions. She didn’t want to treat North, Markus, and Josh with the cold distance she’d been maintaining with her other friends, but she couldn’t risk 06 threatening more lives.

Markus greeted them in the hallway. “Hey, guys. Connor said you had some questions for me?”

“Yeah,” said Tina. “It’s a longshot, but…”

“It could be helpful for our investigation,” Connor added.

Markus’s brow pinched. His heterochromatic eyes flicked over Wren. His face softened. “Hey, Wren. How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you,” Wren said stiffly.

Markus lifted a brow but returned his attention to Connor and Tina. “What can I do for you?”

“We were wondering if you ever came in contact with an android named Luther,” said Tina.

“He was a TR400 model,” Connor explained.

Markus’s eyebrows raised. “Yeah, I remember him. I had another android make passports for an AX400 named Kara. She wanted three passports. One for her, a YK500 named Alice, and a TR400—Luther. They wanted to cross the border and get somewhere safe. I’ve kept in contact with them somewhat to make sure they settled in well.”

“Kara?” Connor demanded.

Wren glanced at him. His brow furrowed and his lips parted.

“Yeah. You knew her?” Markus queried.

“I… Briefly.”

Wren stared at Connor until his gaze flicked to hers. His LED whorled yellow before flashing blue, though his frown remained.

“Do you know where they are now? We need to ask Luther some questions about Zlatko,” said Tina.

Markus folded his arms. “Josh has their address. But you guys have to be careful. They live in Canada, which doesn’t allow androids. They’re living under the guise that they’re human, so you can’t blow their cover.”

“We won’t do anything to endanger them,” Wren promised.

Markus’s lips quirked. “I trust you guys. Josh is in his office.”

Wren dipped her head and strode to Josh’s office, where she knocked on the door.

“Come in!”

Wren pushed open the door. Josh looked up from his terminal and his eyebrows shot up.

“Wren? What’re you doing here?” A smile graced his features.

“I’m afraid we’re here for business,” Wren answered.

“We need Kara and Luther’s address,” said Tina, glancing at the bookshelves.

A frown shadowed Josh’s brow. “They’re not in trouble, are they?”

“No,” Wren replied. “We need to ask Luther some questions about Zlatko. I would suggest he come here, or do it over the phone, but…”

“They wouldn’t let Luther back over the border and phones can be tapped,” Josh surmised. “Alright. Connor?”

Connor straightened and shared information with Josh. Connor’s eyes fluttered in tandem with his LED. “Thank you.”

“No problem. Sorry about all the secrecy.”

“You’re trying to keep them safe,” said Tina. “We should have a game night soon.”

Josh beamed. “Yeah, I think we could all use a break from work.” His eyes roamed to Wren, who tensed.

“Thank you for your help.” She scurried out of the office and headed for the elevator, leaving Tina and Connor to say goodbye.

“Were you just going to come and go without stopping by?”

Wren froze, her finger hovering over the elevator button. She closed her eyes for a moment before turning. “Hey, North.”

North crossed her arms and scowled. “Why are you acting so weird?”

“I’m not acting weird.”

“Why are you acting like it physically pains you to interact with us?”

Because it does. Wren held North’s blazing eyes. “I think it’s best if I just focus on the case.”

Tina and Connor approached, but Tina held out an arm to stop Connor from moving forward. Her eyes flitted between Wren and North as if she were watching the most intense tennis match of her life.

“So, you’re just going to pretend that none of us were friends? You’re going to push us away and act like the only thing you care about is Prometheus?” North’s lip curled.

Cold washed over Wren. She parted her lips to say she was sorry, to insist that Prometheus wasn’t all she cared about, but 06 flashed in her mind and she tightened her jaw. Swallowing her apology, Wren hardened her gaze and smacked the elevator button. “There’s no point in acting like everything’s gone back to normal because it hasn’t. I’m going to go back to Prometheus eventually, and we might as well accept that.”

North drew back. “So, you’re giving up?”

Wren suppressed a gasp as she backed toward the now-open elevator. “This is bigger than us.”

North’s brow pinched as Tina and Connor joined Wren on the elevator. Wren held North’s gaze until the doors slid shut. The elevator lurched gently as it descended. Tina withdrew her phone and typed a message, avoiding Wren’s gaze. Wren’s heart clenched and her eyes flicked to Connor. The tightness in her chest sharpened at the look on his face. He hid his distress well, but Wren didn’t need to see the color of his LED to pick up on the way his brow twitched and how he parted his lips before pressing them back together. His LED swirled yellow.

Wren looked away. What kind of monster was she, doing this to him?

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Canada?” Hank stared at Wren, Connor, and Tina with one eyebrow raised.

Gavin blew out a breath that puffed his cheeks. “Not it.”

Chris rubbed the back of his head. “It’s not that far of a drive…”

“Maybe Connor and Hank should be the ones to go,” suggested Tina as she folded her arms. “I mean, you guys already know Kara.”

“Not really,” said Hank.

“Prometheus will want me to go, too,” said Wren.

“I don’t think I can go,” said Connor. He avoided Wren’s gaze and fiddled with his hands. “There are still laws in Canada prohibiting androids, whether or not I’m a citizen of the U.S. The Liberation still has yet to go international.”

Wren folded her arms. “Prometheus might actually be able to help with that. If it’s pertinent to our investigation for you to go—which it is—then they have resources and contacts to get you temporary access across the border.”

Connor refused to meet her gaze but nodded.

“Okay, so how do we get Prometheus’s help?” Tina asked.

“I’ll have to get permission to cross the border, too. I’ll ask when I do that.”

Everyone—including Connor—looked at Wren.

“Wait… You have to go back to them?” Chris demanded.

Wren frowned. “Of course I do.”

Hank folded his arms while Connor lowered his gaze back to his hands.

“And… You have a way to contact them?” Hank questioned. His frosty eyes found Wren’s and twinkled with concern.

06 flashed in Wren’s mind. For once, she hoped he waited for her in her apartment. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” chirped Hank. “Wren’ll go back to Prometheus for her meeting, and… I guess we’ll wait. We’ll see what else we can find in Zlatko’s shit—Connor, the fuck are you doing?”

Connor continued his stride out of the bullpen without a backward glance at Hank or the others.

Wren opened and closed her mouth and glanced at her friends. Then, she followed after Connor, who stormed outside in the Detroit sun.

“Connor!” Wren trotted to catch up to Connor’s long strides. She grabbed his arm when he refused to stop. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Connor wheeled to face her. “What do you think?”

Wren let go of his arm. “If you don’t want to go to Canada, you don’t have to, I just thought Kara and Luther might be more receptive to another android—”

“Drop the act, Wren,” Connor snapped. Wren clamped her mouth shut. “We both know this isn’t about my going to Canada.”

Wren breathed through her nostrils in a controlled manner, but she knew Connor picked up on her accelerated heartrate and her strangled breathing. He knew her stress levels were rising, but he said nothing about them. But Wren refused to speak.

Connor tightened his lips and narrowed his eyes. Wren held his gaze. Connor pushed out a breath, presumably to cool his systems. “You once said that you wanted to tear Prometheus down. But now it seems like you’re on their side.” His harshness cracked as he bowed his head. “I know they probably told you to keep your distance, but—”

“They did,” Wren bit. “And I agreed with them.”

Connor’s brow puckered. “You did?”

“One day, we’re going to solve this case. And when we do, I will return to Prometheus. Maybe we will see each other again, maybe we won’t. But… I can’t hold onto you anymore. When I was there, I missed you. A lot. I can’t do that again. I can’t get close to you again. Prometheus isn’t all bad, Connor. Atlas Montgomery was. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I did go on missions while there. I helped take down someone making bioweapons, and saved lives doing it. I’m a Prometheus agent, and—”

“Wren, stop,” Connor begged.

“Let me go,” Wren breathed. “You’ll save yourself a lot of heartbreak.” She turned to walk away, but Connor grabbed her wrist. His skin peeled away to interface with her.

Is this just for your cover? Do you still want to take them down?

Wren gazed into his eyes.

Please trust me.

Connor released her wrist. Wren pulled away from him. Connor opened and closed his mouth, and then swallowed. “I do. I always have.”

Wren’s eyes burned. “I’ll see you later, Detective Anderson.”

Connor flinched. Wren turned her back on him, her heart cracking.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

When Wren got home, she found 06 sitting on her couch. She dropped her keys onto the coffee table before plopping in the armchair. “I’m glad you’re here.”

06 raised a brow. “Right.”

“I need to meet with Pauline.”

“Director Thomas is a busy woman. I’m sure I can pass along whatever message you have.”

Wren hummed. “Yeah, but unfortunately you’re not part of this mission, so you’re not privy to the information I need to discuss with her.”

06 tightened his jaw and nodded slowly. Then, he pushed off from the couch and fished through his pocket for something. He grabbed Wren by the hair and yanked her head to the side, exposing her neck. Without a word, he stuck something sharp into Wren’s neck. She assumed it was a needle, and the substance he plunged into her system caused the world to darken the edges of her vision, closing in until there was nothing left.

It was hard to tell if it had been minutes or hours when Wren awakened. However, she knew it’d been hours since she was lying on her bed within the walls of Prometheus. Groaning, she sat up and cracked the joints in her body. She rubbed her neck and looked around her room. It looked exactly the same, except someone had taken her tennis ball. With a sigh, she padded out of her room and down the corridor, blinking away the remaining bleariness in her eyes. Her head and limbs still felt heavier than usual, but she knew the effects would wear off in a few minutes.

Heat itched underneath Wren’s skin. She flexed her fingers as she wandered the empty corridor. Where the hell was Pauline? She entered Squadron Two’s corridor and entered the cafeteria, where 010, Nina, and Jamie sat eating lunch. Wren softened and joined them. Nina’s eyebrows shot up when she noticed Wren.

“What are you doing here?”

“Good to see you, too,” Wren grinned, sitting at the table. “010, Jamie.”

“Actually, I’m Dex now,” said 010.

Wren widened her eyes. “You picked a name?”

Dex shrugged. “Yeah, well… ‘Dex’ is more efficient to say than ‘oh-ten’ or ‘zero-ten.’”

“He’s just being anti-sentimental,” said Nina, nudging Dex with her shoulder.

“We’re not supposed to be sentimental,” muttered Jamie.

Nina stiffened and looked at her plate. “Right.”

Wren composed the pucker of her brow before any of the others noticed. She glanced at Dex. “I’m surprised to see you here. You’re usually in the gym.”

“I gotta eat too, you know.”

“For all the time I’ve been here, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat in this cafeteria,” Wren laughed.

“What, are you stalking me?” Dex’s mouth curved into a smirk. Wren’s laughter softened. With a pang, she realized Dex kind of reminded her of Chris.

“How’s the case going?” Jamie asked, crunching on a baby carrot.

“Slow going,” Wren picked at her artificial nails. “We might have a lead, but no suspects yet.”

“I prefer missions,” said Dex. “None of the Scooby-Doo shit. Just give me assignment. I go in, I go out.”

“I think I’d rather solve a case. They’re usually less violent,” Wren replied.

Dex smirked. “I didn’t say I prefer assassinations.”

“Who does?” Nina said quietly.

Everyone lowered their gaze. Wren worked her jaw and then broke the silence. “Have any of you heard of a group called Typhon?”

“We’ve never really had to deal with them,” said Nina, shaking her head. “They mainly attack androids and leave humans alone, so there’s no need for Prometheus to get involved.”

“We have had to bust one of their Red Ice rings before,” said Dex, “but that was a while back. Too many people were overdosing in a single area.”

“They’re well-funded,” said Jamie, “and pretty good at covering their tracks. Good at hiding who’s involved for the most part, though I think some people take pride in being involved with them. Otto would know more.”

“Otto?” Wren looked at her fellow cyborgs with a furrowed brow.

“08,” said Nina. “He picked a name, too.”

“Director Thomas is ready to see you now.”

Wren twisted in her seat. 06 stood in the doorway, his eyes narrowed at the squad. Wren swung her legs from the bench. “It was good to see you guys.”

The walk to the elevator was as heavy as 06’s footsteps. He scanned a keycard to summon the elevator. Wren pretended to not be interested in 06’s keycard as she stepped onto the elevator with 06. He had a keycard? Did the others? Why was he trusted with one? Did Prometheus trust senior cyborgs? How long had 06 been a cyborg if he was the sixth one? Was Wren never given one because Atlas Montgomery trained her differently, and now she was a “traitor?” Could she earn a keycard?

The elevator’s arrival at the office level of Prometheus interrupted Wren’s thoughts. 06 led her to Pauline’s office and knocked on the door. It slid open, but Pauline remained at her desk. 06 shoved Wren inside.

“Thank you, 06,” said Pauline without looking away from her terminal.

06 dipped his head and stepped aside. The door slid shut and Wren approached Pauline’s desk.

“01,” Pauline greeted, “you weren’t expected back for a while.”

“I need to request Prometheus’s resources,” Wren answered, folding her arms.

“And what might those be?”

“Hank, Connor, and I need to cross the border. We have a witness to question, but we need to protect his identity by going to him. Connor needs special access across the border, and since I have no passport…” Wren shrugged.

Pauline frowned. “Who is this witness?”

“Luther,” said Wren. “A former android of Zlatko Andronikov, a little-known member of Typhon. But you already knew that.”

Pauline’s lips quirked. “You followed 06’s advice.”

“Which came from you, no doubt,” Wren replied. She moved away from Pauline’s desk to circle the office. She brushed her fingers along the sculpture in the corner of the room. “Why are you so interested in this case? And where are you getting all this information? We never would’ve found those leads without your direction. How’d you know where to look?”

“Don’t concern yourself on where I get my information,” replied Pauline. “Just to be clear, you’re asking me to protect the identity of three androids living in Canada illegally by allowing you, Detective Anderson, and Lieutenant Anderson across the border.”

Wren turned. “Isn’t that the point of Prometheus, though? No bureaucratic bullshit? No red tape?”

 “The point of Prometheus is to work in the shadows, yes.”

“So, the fact that this is mildly illegal isn’t a problem; it’s your android-phobia.”

Pauline’s mouth twitched. “Careful, Wren. You’re speaking to your superior. Don’t make an enemy of me.”

Wren lifted her hands in surrender. “Agree to disagree on androids, then.”

“I’ll get you and the other two access to cross the border.”

“Great. You wanna walk me to the elevator? I love our chats.”

“You are not dismissed, 01.” Pauline stood and straightened her white blazer.

Wren’s bravado faltered. “Is there something else?”

Pauline walked around her desk and gestured to the two armchairs in the center of the room. “Have a seat.”

Wren treaded to armchair carefully, as if she might step on a landmine. Pauline’s heels clicked against the floor like the secondhand of a clock. Wren’s eyes followed Pauline’s deliberate steps to the armchair.

“I’m impressed with the distance you’ve managed to maintain with your friends in Detroit.” Pauline’s voice was as crisp as her skirt. She sat down, her knees together and ankles crossed.

“Well, with 06 constantly threatening me, I’ve been inspired to follow your rules.”

Pauline smirked. “As I knew you would be.”

Wren narrowed her eyes a fraction. Everything about Pauline was sharp and deliberate. The older woman tried to feign a casual air, but Wren saw through the façade. Still, Wren waited for Pauline to speak first. Innocent until proven guilty, and one wrong word within the confines of Prometheus could have Wren locked up forever.

“You told 09 that you broke your rib on purpose.”

Ice trickled down Wren’s back and settled into the pit of her stomach, but she kept herself expressionless. “I don’t recall doing that.”

“I’ve seen the security footage, 01.”

Fuck. Wren forced her bravado into a cheeky grin. “You’re watching security footage? What, you don’t have enough to do around here?”

“Answer me.”

Fuck, fuck, fuckity-fuck! Wren lowered her gaze and allowed some of her anxiety to bleed through her expression. She picked at her nails and focused on her hands. “I didn’t think anybody would find out.”

“We always have eyes and ears on you. So why did you do it?”

“You guys keep weapons from us—knives, forks, my goddamn shoelaces—so, I…” Wren drew in a deep breath. “I had to be creative about hurting myself.” Wren forced herself to stare at her hands with a pinched brow. Abrupt movement from Pauline suggested that she had not expected this answer.

“You… This was an act of self-harm?”

“It’s not like you guys have me in therapy,” Wren muttered.

“I didn’t realize you had reached this state.”

Wren bit her lip and glanced at Pauline before fluttering her gaze away. “I mean, it was just the one time…”

“Do you have any idea what triggered this?”

Wren hugged her middle as she avoided Pauline’s icy stare. “My mission in Detroit, when I took the evidence from the DPD. I… It didn’t feel right to do that to them. I hadn’t seen them in so long…” Wren squeezed her eyes shut. She wished she could cry on command, but the tears might overdo it anyway.

“Will this case escalate these feelings?”

Wren’s stomach churned. What if Pauline took her off the case and locked her up in therapy? She rubbed her arms and met Pauline’s gaze. “I don’t think so… I haven’t felt the need to in a while.”

Pauline narrowed her eyes. Please believe me, please believe me, please believe me… With a short intake of breath, Pauline dipped her head. “I’ll make a note for 06 to keep an eye on your mental health for the time being.”

Wren rubbed her palms against her thighs. “Is that all?”

“If you need a morale boost, I can always remind you what we’re fighting for: The fate of humanity depends on Prometheus to succeed. Don’t put others that are not your kind above that.”

Wren smiled dryly. “Well, technically speaking, I’m not entirely human anymore, am I?”

“You’re human,” said Pauline sharply. “You just have a few extra bits and pieces. Be sure not to forget that. You are dismissed.”

Wren left Pauline’s office to find 06 waiting for her in the hall. He led her to the elevator, scanned his keycard, and the two of them rode down to their level. 06 parted ways with her immediately, and Wren wasn’t sorry to see him go. She trekked back to her room, tension uncoiling in her muscles with each step. She needed to exercise more caution about her snooping if she wanted to get out of Prometheus alive.

When Wren reached her room, she found Nina waiting for her outside the door. Nina’s eyes were round and bright. She jerked to attention when she noticed Wren. Without a word, Nina grabbed Wren’s wrist, her synthetic skin rippling away. Wren mimicked the action and interfaced with Nina.

I don’t know who else to talk to…

Wren swallowed. We can’t talk.

That’s why I’m doing this.

What’s wrong?

I broke my programming. I deviated.

Wren sucked in a sharp breath, but she forced herself to maintain her composure for the eyes of Prometheus. I’d congratulate you, but…

I know, I know! Wren, I’m really scared. I think 06 is starting to suspect.

Has anyone else deviated?

I don’t know. What do I do?

Wren shifted so that Nina’s head would block her face from the camera. Do what they trained us to do: Hide behind your mask. They can’t detect deviants easily. You’re going to have to work harder to control your emotions. Stay strong. I’ll find a way out of this.

A thin film of tears covered Nina’s eyes. A way out?

Wren’s chest tightened. Could she trust Nina? You’ll be okay.

Nina’s brow pinched, but she nodded. Wren pulled her hand from Nina’s grasp. “I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Okay,” Nina croaked.

Wren slipped inside her room and pressed her back against the wall, breathing heavily. Nina was a deviant. Part of her wanted to feel happy, but she knew the danger Nina was in. Wren barely managed to keep herself from the jaws of Prometheus, let alone protect Nina. A lump swelled in Wren’s throat. Was this her fault? By encouraging the squad to pick names, did she spark a sense of individualism that had long since been buried? Was the cost of deviancy too high for the cyborgs?

Wren laid on her bed and covered her mouth to stifle a sob. Her entire body ached down to her bones with a heaviness that pinned her to the bed. She wanted to help Nina, Jamie, Dex, Otto, and even 06, if she could. She wanted to tear Prometheus down, brick by brick, and watch as it burned. A scream built in the back of her throat, but she swallowed, just like she swallowed everything else.

Most of all, she just wanted to go home. She missed her friends, her family… She missed Connor. She missed their easy chemistry, their late-night chats, their movie nights, sharing music, dancing in the kitchen… She’d give anything to go back. Fuck, she would give anything to even go back to Connor talking her through an anxiety attack on the roof of the DPD.

It would be easy to tell Rhett that she wanted out. Get her out, let the CIA deal with Prometheus. But would they? Did Prometheus have contacts in the CIA? Would they save Nina and the others in time? Could Wren turn her back on them, no matter how much she wanted to go home?

Wren’s eyes were sore from crying as she wiped away her tears. She rolled over and clutched her pillow, begging for sleep to numb her for a few hours.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

When Wren woke up, she was on her couch in her apartment. She jerked upright, panting slightly. Her head spun and she pressed the ball of her palm to her head. “What the fuck…”

“It’s actually easier to dose you when you’re asleep.”

Wren jumped and narrowed her eyes at 06. “Dosing me this much can’t be good for me.”

06 shrugged. “I don’t really care what’s good for you.”

Clutching the edge of the couch cushions, Wren glared at 06. “Did you bring the stuff I need?”

“It’s on the kitchen table.”

“Then what are you still doing here?”

06 smirked softly. He crouched in front of her and tilted his head as he scrutinized her. “I saw the RK800 interface with you. What did he want?”

Wren swallowed. “That’s none of your business.”

06’s smirk stretched. His hand flashed to Wren’s face, gripping her jaw so tight that it hurt. “It is my business. Anything about you is now my business. Want to know why?”

“Because you do whatever Pauline tells you to do,” Wren spat.

06 squeezed harder. A whimper clawed its way past Wren’s lips. 06 merely sneered. “Because you’ve gotten your filthy little deviant hands all over my squad. And now Prometheus is investigating my squad for deviancy because of you. You’re a fucking traitor. When I get proof, I’m going to burn Connor alive right in front of you.” He slammed Wren’s head back and then released her before whisking out of her apartment. Wren rubbed her jaw, which now throbbed and already started to swell. She buried her head between her knees. 06 seemed to be deviating from Prometheus’s wishes—just not the way she hoped.

Chapter Text

Connor rolled his quarter over his knuckles and tossed it from one hand to the other. He bounced his knees as he toyed with it. He tuned out the sounds of Hank washing dishes as his mind wandered to Wren. The thought of her returning to Prometheus gnawed at him. He glanced at the clock. He had one hour before he needed to be at CyberLife. It took roughly twenty-four minutes for him to get there from Hank’s house. He had some time. Too much of it. He had an inkling of what he might see when he watched Wren’s conditioning, based off the memories she’d shown him. But many of them she kept to herself. What did it take to condition someone to another’s will? For an android, resetting and reprogramming was possible. But for a human—or even a cyborg—it was different. Rhett seemed adamant that Connor not witness Wren’s conditioning. He couldn’t help but remember Wren’s words: Let me go. You’ll save yourself a lot of heartbreak.

“Alright, out with it,” Hank said. “What’s bothering you? You haven’t stopped messing with that coin since we got home.”

Connor tightened his teeth and parted his lips, avoiding Hank’s imploring eyes. Running his thumb over his coin, Connor drew in an unnecessary breath. “Wren said something strange to me. She said: ‘Let me go. You’ll save yourself a lot of heartbreak.’ It’s as if she wants me to push her away.”

Hank sighed. “I know she’s been acting weird, but you gotta remember that she’s in a weird position—”

“I know, I know,” Connor leaned back and stuffed his coin into the pocket of his blazer. “But she was still strange when we interfaced. I tried talking with her through that, but she still… She seemed so distant. Like she didn’t care.”

Hank looked at his hands. “She cares. She’s probably keepin’ her distance and hiding something to protect you or something. You know how she is.”

Connor nodded and swallowed again. He pressed his lips into a thin line.

“What else is going through your head? Your LED’s red.”

“Tonight, we’re meeting to go through more of the video files,” Connor muttered. “And it’ll be Wren’s conditioning. Rhett told me I shouldn’t watch it, but I can’t… I have to do this. Wren trusted us with those files to find something to free her, so I can’t sit out because it’ll be difficult.”

Hank reached out and placed a heavy hand on Connor’s shoulder. “I know, son. I’ll go with you.”

Connor raised his eyebrows. “You don’t have to. I know that it was difficult for you to see Wren in pain—”

“Yeah, it was. But it was hard for you, too. Wren needs us to find something, so we’re gonna. Even if we don’t find anything, we’ll be learning more about our enemy, which will still help us. Besides, I can’t let you sit through that alone. Come on, I’ll drive.”

A slight smile tugged at the corners of Connor’s mouth. He pushed off from the couch, scratched behind Sumo’s ears, and then followed Hank outside to the car.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

When Connor and Hank entered the secure room—dubbed “The Void” by Kamski—Markus and North were already there. Connor frowned as he glanced around the largely empty room. He sat beside them on the white sofa.

“Where’s Josh?”

“He had to stay late at Jericho,” said North. She flashed Connor a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Connor’s frown deepened and glanced away from her.

Markus leaned forward. “Elijah said he’s joining tonight as well. He thinks its beneficial for him to study Wren’s behavior to better understand her programming. He might be able to make something to help us.”

Connor recoiled at the words study Wren. He didn’t like the idea of Kamski studying Wren like she was an experiment, but he knew that Markus didn’t mean it like that. The arrival of Chloe and Tina interrupted Connor’s response.

Tina scowled as soon as she entered the room. “What the hell, North?”

Connor’s eyebrows raised and he stole a glance at North, whose face darkened. “Nice to see you, too.” Her words dripped with venom.

“Why did you blow up on Wren like that today? You just destroyed any progress we’ve made with her!”

“Progress?” North repeated, jumping to her feet. “What, is she some science experiment? Is she your fucking patient?”

“Let’s all calm down,” Markus stood slightly between them, holding his hands out. Connor readied himself to jump in between them, too.

“We’re trying to get Wren to relax a little,” snapped Tina. “She doesn’t have anybody and then you come in a jump down her throat—”

“I was helping her,” North snarled, stepping forward. Markus placed a hand on North’s shoulder. She glanced at him, huffed once, and then backstepped slightly. “I was helping her keep her cover.” North’s voice softened a bit, though it still possessed an edge.

Tina blinked and drew back. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” North mocked. She looked around at everyone staring at her. “Wren’s got a cover to protect. She told us this. Prometheus is still listening to her, and she’s got to maintain her trust with them. So yeah, she’s going to act weird around us. She’s going to push us away and maybe even say things to hurt us. Did you see the look on her face when she confronted me? It physically pained her to say those things. She doesn’t mean any of them, and she’s trying to show us that. Stop listening to what she says and fucking see her. She can’t protect her cover when you guys are constantly demanding that she talk to you.” North’s eyes flicked to Connor pointedly.

He pursed his lips and chose not to respond.

“That was actually a good idea,” Tina admitted.

“You’re welcome,” North plopped onto the couch and folded her arms.

Tina bowed her head. “Sorry.”

North softened. “It’s okay.”

“This whole Prometheus pile of shit has got us on edge,” said Hank. He patted Tina’s knee. “We all wanna defend her and keep her safe. We all want her back.”

“Good to hear,” said Rhett from the doorway. Elijah Kamski slinked in behind Rhett and sat in the opposite corner of the room; his arms folded. Rhett shut the door and set up the screen. “Because this won’t be easy. I’ve skimmed through the videos already and it’s…” Rhett shook his head. He glanced up and met their gazes. “Prometheus didn’t record everything, just some of the events. I think they recorded a new video every few weeks. Her conditioning took about a year or so, and that would’ve been a lot of footage. So they didn’t show everything. What they did record is brutal. So, if anyone wants out, now’s the time to leave.”

No one moved. Connor frowned as Rhett returned his attention to the terminal, sticking the flash drive into the port. Rhett seemed tired. He slouched in his seat. Whenever Connor glimpsed Rhett’s eyes, they appeared bloodshot and puffy, either from lack of sleep or crying. Connor’s biocomponents lurched inside him. Rhett still loved Wren. He loved her a lot. Connor clenched his teeth and clasped his hands together. He supposed he was thankful that someone like Rhett loved Wren—it meant that they had a powerful ally against Prometheus.

Hank squeezed Connor’s shoulder as Kamski shut off the lights. The screen flashed and the first video began.

Pauline and Atlas sat in an office with black and white décor. Pauline sat behind the desk. She looked about ten years younger than when Connor met her that brief time when she took Wren away. Atlas looked younger, too.

“01 is displaying behavior that is concerning. She’s like a wild animal. She remembers more of her past and feels trapped here,” Atlas complained, pacing in front of Pauline’s desk. “She’s hard to control.”

Pauline steepled her fingers. “She doesn’t quite understand that we’re different from FBI and CIA. She still thinks we’re a typical government agency. She’ll come to understand. That’s what the conditioning is for.”

“This is the problem with choosing someone like her. She has too many ties, too many reasons not to be an agent. Are we sure the conditioning will even work? 01 is too messy, Pauline. We should’ve stuck with Cage.” Atlas placed his hands on his hips and halted his pacing.

Pauline’s eyes flicked to the camera before settling on Atlas. “We both know Cage was a poor candidate.”

“He was perfect! No one would’ve missed him.”

“He was outrageously violent and had poor behavior.”

“He would’ve been easy to control.”

“If 01 is this emotional and maladjusted, can you imagine how Cage would’ve been?”

Atlas sighed and dragged a hand through his cropped hair. “No use in arguing about it now. I’ll keep you updated on 01’s progress, or lack thereof.”

“I’m confident she will progress.”

“For now,” snapped Atlas. “What happens when she remembers everything?”

“That won’t happen,” Pauline insisted. “I’m in contact with Dr. Hughman. He’s working on something.”

“If she doesn’t improve, I will have to terminate her.” Atlas glared at Pauline, who seemed nonplussed.

“That is not your decision to make,” said Pauline. “Keep me updated. You are dismissed.”

The video ended.

“Wait, Cage? As in Jonah Cage? Wren’s piece-of-shit-ex? That Jonah?” Hank demanded while Rhett clicked on the next video.

“He was supposed to be the first cyborg, not Wren?” Tina queried.

Rhett folded his arms, his brow furrowed. “I wonder if Prometheus had authorization to change targets like that. I know they have special clearance in how they obtain agents. But if they didn’t have authorization…”

“That could be something against them,” Tina concluded. Rhett dipped his head.

Hank shook his head. “I’d love to see that fuckin’ weasel go through what Wren did and survive. He wouldn’t have lasted a day.”

“I’m starting the next one,” muttered Rhett.

The video opened with a dark, concrete room. The floor glistened with puddles. A single lightbulb hung from the ceiling. Wren sat on the floor, her wrists chained to it. Two Sicilian androids stood on either side of her as a man approached her, his back to the camera.

“So you’re the one they call CY001,” said the man. “Pulled from the wreckage of a tragic accident and saved by CyberLife… The first cyborg.”

Wren kept her head bowed as the man disappeared off-camera. He rummaged around offscreen; Connor caught the distinct shink of a knife. The man returned onscreen, his back still to the camera. “No friends, no family… No name. No one came looking for you after the accident. No one cared that you disappeared. You don’t exist anymore.”

“I have a name,” Wren muttered.

“Not anymore,” the man spat. He crouched in front of her. “You’re CY001.”

Wren shook her head. “I’m Wren. I have a family—”

“No, you don’t,” barked the man. “You’re lying to yourself to make you feel better about the fact that you’re such a worthless piece of shit.”

Wren’s brow puckered. “I’m not lying.”

That earned her a harsh slap. “Don’t talk back to me. I don’t care what you think, 01. You’re subhuman now. You signed away all your rights when you let them sew you up with those plastic pieces.” He pushed Wren over. North tensed beside Connor.

“You are worthless. You’re nothing.” Silver glinted as the man withdrew a large knife. He sliced open Wren’s forearm. Thirium leaked out and the synthetic skin peeled away to reveal white. “Disgusting.”

Wren hid her face, but her body shook with a sob. The man used the knife to cut away Wren’s shirt, leaving her in a sports bra. The scars around her cybernetic limbs—where mechanical met flesh—were still pretty fresh. Wren turned her face away, but her torturer grabbed her face.

“Look at yourself! Fucking ugly! You’re just pieces of scrap sewn together like Frankenstein’s monster. Can you even feel anymore?”

“I’m not supposed to be here,” Wren sobbed. “I remember her, I remember my mom. This is a mistake; I shouldn’t be here.”

“You’re the fucking mistake,” spat the man. “You don’t have a mother. You don’t have anyone. You belong to Prometheus now.”

Wren looked up, and the lightbulb illuminated her confusion. “What do you—”

The man smacked Wren across the face. “Don’t look at me, bitch.”

He nodded to the Sicilian androids. One of them stepped forward with a bucket and dumped the water onto Wren. She pulled her knees to her chest, shivering.

The man paced in front of her. “It doesn’t matter what you think you remember. You are worthless and you belong to Prometheus. You were nothing before you came here, and you’re even less now. Hold her.”

The two Siclians were at Wren’s sides in an instant, pinning her down while the man disappeared off screen. He returned with a rotary machine in hand. He straddled Wren while the Sicilian androids pinned her arms to the floor. The man used the rotary to roughly tattoo something into Wren’s human skin. She cried out as they held her down tightly and the man dug the object into her skin.

When the man finished, he stood up and tossed the rotary machine to the side. “There. Property of Prometheus. CY001.”

The video blinked to Pauline’s office. The sudden brightness caused Connor to flinch. Atlas paced again.

“She’s still clinging to the few memories she has. The Sicilians have been at this for three weeks, and 01 is still resisting.”

“Well, at least we know if she were ever captured and tortured, she’d be resilient to it,” said Pauline.

“That’s if we manage to shift her loyalty,” snapped Atlas. “She wants answers. She doesn’t understand what Prometheus is and why this is happening to her—”

“That’s the point of the conditioning,” Pauline sighed, closing the folder splayed open in front of her. “We have to break her down. She still remembers her ties. Break those down and replace them with ties to Prometheus, and she will be loyal to us. Has there really been no progress at all?”

Atlas sat in one of the armchairs. “She’s confused, disoriented… It upsets her the most when Damion mentions that her supposed family never came to look for her.”

“Good. What’s your opinion on our next step?”

“We should proceed,” said Atlas. “We’ve kept that room extremely cold and wet, and she’s been sleeping on the floor. We don’t want her too sick before we proceed.”

“Very well. Proceed to the next stage. I will discuss with Dr. Hughman what you’ve told me. And Atlas, do make sure they don’t scar her too badly. She’s going to need her looks in the field.”

The video ended, and the room vibrated with silence. Connor’s thirium pump thrashed in his chest. He felt its beating through the blue blood in his artificial veins.

Rhett faced them and crossed his arms. “We’ve got about nine more videos to go. How’s everyone holding up?”

“How did they make her forget her past?” Tina breathed. “Can torture really do that to you?”

“Three weeks,” Hank grunted. “They kept that up for three weeks.”

“All of the stages lasted about three to four weeks,” Rhett explained. “And it can’t really make you forget, but… If she was conditioned to associate those memories with pain, she could’ve blocked them out herself.”

“Without seeing her processor, I can’t be too sure,” drawled Kamski, “but it’s possible they could’ve programmed her to help intensify that process.”

Rhett puckered his brow. “For the androids in this room… You’re going to hear and see a lot more android hate. I should’ve warned you beforehand.”

“We’re used to it,” croaked North.

Chloe bowed her head. “And it’s about to get worse…”

Rhett turned back to the terminal. “I’m starting the next one.”

The video opened up with Wren still chained to the floor, though she looked sickly. Her hair hung around her face in damp, greasy strings. Redness circled her eyes. The tip of her nose looked red and the rest of her skin appeared sallow. Her lips were pale and chapped and dark circles shadowed her eyes. She obviously hadn’t been sleeping or eating properly. She probably hadn’t seen the sun in weeks, either. Her eyes followed the Sicilian androids as they marched past her and stood on either side of her. Then, she flicked her eyes as her torturer—the one called Damion—stood before her. He twirled a knife between his fingers.

“Good morning, 01. You’re looking like shit.”

Wren merely stared at Damion.

Damion nodded to the Sicilians, who stooped to unlock her wrists. They hauled Wren to her feet and chained her wrists above her head. Her shirt hung off her in tatters. Dried blood stained it in parts. Some of her skin was exposed, and Connor made out healing cuts and bruises on her torso. He clenched his teeth. Damion stepped toward Wren and placed the knife against her cheek. He trailed it down the side of her face gently. She held his gaze.

“Do you know why no one ever came looking for you? Why you don’t have anyone?” Damion taunted.

“Because I’m worthless?” Wren deadpanned.

Hank buried his face in his hands beside Connor. “Jesus Christ, she doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up.”

Damion nicked Wren’s bicep. Red blood oozed from the fresh cut. “Because you’re a waste of oxygen. CyberLife should’ve left you in the wreckage.”

Damion withdrew, pacing in front of Wren, who watched him with an unreadable expression. “What’s your name?” Wren questioned.

Damion’s pacing faltered. “I’m the one asking the questions here.”

“Sure, sure,” said Wren. “But you’ve been here for a few… weeks? I feel like we’ve got a bond here.”

“Shut up,” seethed Damion.

“You look like a Chad to me. Maybe a Taylor. Something that just screams, ‘I’m a douchebag!’”

Damion slapped her. Wren worked her jaw and tilted her head to face Damion again. He leaned toward her. “It doesn’t matter what my name is. All you need to know is that I’m the one who’s in charge of breaking you.”

Wren hummed. “Well, you’re gonna have to be a little more creative because I’m bored.”

Damion snorted. “Bored?” He grabbed a fistful of Wren’s hair and yanked her head back. He placed the tip of the knife to the corner of Wren’s eye. “We’ve only just begun. You think you remember everything? Oh, you had a sweet little family?” Damion’s voice wavered with baby-talk. “No, you didn’t. Want to know why? Because you were a fucking drug addict. That’s right. You deserved to be in that wreck because you were high off your ass. Wanna know more? You were just a stripper who got high enough so that you could stomach wagging your tits in front of married men!”

Wren’s brow twitched. Damion laughed and backed away from her. “You’d be pretty if it weren’t for all the plastic in your body.”

Wren glanced at her arms, which matched the color of her skin. They looked like her arms. But Connor watched the wrinkle in Wren’s features. A pang shot through his circuits. He had never asked Wren how she accepted becoming a cyborg. He supposed it would have been a difficult transition.

“I thought a guy like you would like plastic. Everything about you says you like fake tits.” Wren tilted her head. Damion smacked Wren. She spat out a mouthful of blood and grinned. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

“You think you’re cute, don’t you?” Damion sneered. “You fucking dumb bitch. What low point do you have to reach to be a stripper? A drug addict? And you wanna act like you’ve got the high ground here?”

Wren looked up at Damion, blood dribbling down her chin. “I don’t really know, Brad. I can’t remember most of my life. But I’d bet you’re the type of mouth-breather who’d be one of my customers.”

Damion struck Wren with his forearm. Despite her bravado, she let out a cry of pain. Damion wiped the blood on his arm on his pants. “You’re right, you’re right. You are a glorified sex toy now. How much for which hole?” Damion took out his wallet and tossed a few one-dollar bills at Wren’s face. “You dumb cunt.”

North gripped the edges of the couch. Connor shot a glance at her, but her fiery glare remained trained on the screen.

Wren lowered her gaze. Damion stepped closer to her. “What’s the matter? No witty comeback?” He grabbed her hair and yanked her head back again. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Wren closed her eyes. Damion fingered a few strands of Wren’s hair. Much of it was matted and tangled. He took his knife and shorn Wren’s hair, letting chunks of it fall to the floor. When he backed away from her, Wren’s hair was a jagged bob. Wren furrowed her brow, looking as if she were trying not to cry.

“Are you going to cry? Do you want your mommy? Your family? The ones who didn’t come looking for you? No one fucking cares that you’re here. You are no one. You’re just a number, a jumbled mess of wires and arteries. Nothing, you hear me? Nothing!”

The video transitioned to another meeting. Pauline and Atlas sat in their usual spots; except this time they were joined by Ellis Hughman.

“You need to keep a tighter hold on Damion, Montgomery,” Pauline scolded, her cold gaze trained on Atlas. “Spouting off facts about 01’s former life—”

“I know,” barked Atlas. “I’ve already dealt with him. I’ve informed him that he needs to spend less time talking and more time hurting. 01 is using humor as a coping mechanism, and all Damion is doing is adding fuel to her fire. She won’t have any jokes when she’s in pain.”

“Do make sure to treat her wounds quickly,” said Ellis. “We don’t want her scarring too badly.”

“Pauline has already instructed me thusly,” seethed Atlas.

Ellis raised his eyebrows, nonplussed. He turned his attention to Pauline. “Hand 01 over to me. I can make her forget.”

“We can’t interrupt her conditioning so that you can play mad scientist!” snapped Atlas.

“I won’t be interrupting anything if I’m part of it,” said Ellis calmly. “Besides, Damion is proving nothing but incompetency.”

“Damion’s methods are working on other subjects,” said Pauline, lifting a hand. “Even on CY008, and he should be use to training protocols, given his background. 01 will break. They all do.”

“01 is different,” said Ellis. “The others are aware of Prometheus. We haven’t told 01 much of anything.”

“We’ve told the others because of specific reasons that you are not privy to,” said Pauline coldly. “Dr. Hughman, you may participate in 01’s conditioning. But please, don’t fry her brain. We’ve already spent enough money on her.”

The video ended. Hank looked a little sick. Tina gripped both of Chloe’s hands; her face drained of color. North trembled, her face an expression of stone. Markus’s forehead tightened and he rubbed the back of his head. Rhett pinched the bridge of his nose. Connor curled his hands into fists. His biocomponents constricted and he drew in a deep breath to ventilate his systems.  

“Go ahead and get it over with,” Hank grunted. Rhett nodded and played the next one.

Wren lay strapped to a table. Dr. Hughman inserted a needle in her brachial artery. “This is an immobilizer. I can’t have you struggling too much. But I wouldn’t want you to miss anything.” Ellis winked at her. He withdrew, setting the syringe on a side table. “Today, we’re just going to study some brain patterns.” He pressed on Wren’s forearm, opening up the plastic to see inside her arm. He connected some wires to a thick blue one inside Wren’s arm. Her eyes followed Ellis’s movements and froze as she stared at her cybernetic limb, open for everyone to see inside. Tears welled in her eyes.

Ellis placed two wires on Wren’s temples. He connected the wires to his computer and typed something onto it. He looked over his shoulder at Damion. “Read the list.”

Damion, standing in the corner of the room, held a tablet. “Red Ice. Stripper. Ellsworth, Maine. Dance. Mom. Dad. Sibling. Family. Car. Boyfriend.”

Ellis studied his computer screen while Wren continued to stare at the mechanism of her arm. “Done,” chirped Ellis. His fingers flew across the keyboard. He moved out of earshot of Wren, addressing the camera directly. “I’m altering her programming to recognize these brainwaves. Whenever it detects these brainwaves or hears those words, an electrical shock will surge through her body. The goal is for her to associate those words with pain.”

The video transitioned to Wren chained with her arms above her head, her toes just barely brushing the floor. Blood oozed down the side of her face. Her left eye was swollen shut. She wore nothing but a sports bra and torn hospital pants. Electrical burns marked her sides. Connor recognized the bite of Taser. Her eyes fluttered shut and her head drooped. Damion slapped her awake.

“Don’t pass out on me, Tin Tits. We’ve still got a lot more time together.”

Wren eyed him. “I’m not really in the mood.”

“That’s too bad. Because I’m really curious. What the fuck are you, huh? Are you human? An android? A person or a fucking piece of plastic?” Damion circled behind her. When Wren didn’t answer, he hit her in the back with a baton. Wren jerked and bared her teeth. Connor flinched.

“Hey, Red! Answer me!” Damion snarled. “Should I drill an LED into your skull?”

Damion circled in front of Wren and grabbed her face. “I wanna hear you say it, bitch. Say you’re worthless!”

“You’re worthless,” Wren replied. Damion punched Wren in the stomach. She groaned, leaning heavily into her chains. “You kinda walked into that one.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Damion snarled. He hit with the baton. Wren jerked at the impact. “Come on, I wanna hear you admit it! Admit that you’re worthless!”

Wren straightened. “Make up your mind. Do you want me to shut up or tell you I’m worthless?”

Damion nodded to the Sicilians. One grabbed a water jug while the other placed a cloth over Wren’s face. He grabbed her by the hair and held her hair back while the other dumped water over Wren’s face. Her cries were muffled, but each one clawed at Connor’s heart. He closed his eyes, and waited for Wren’s cries to quiet.

“I can do whatever I want with you,” Damion cooed. Connor lifted his head. Wren heaved for breath as the Sicilians ripped the cloth from her face. Damion ran his hands over Wren’s breasts. Connor tensed, his eyes widening as Damion’s hands slid down Wren’s sides. He placed his hands in between her thighs. Connor’s eyes pricked with tears while Hank looked away.

Wren gripped the chains and lifted her legs. She kicked Damion away from her and snarled, “Don’t fucking touch me!”

Damion stumbled back and fell to the floor. One of the Sicilians zapped Wren with a Taser. She gritted her teeth and cried out, her voice rough from screams.

Damion stood, clutching his stomach. “You don’t get to fight back. Fucking blue-blooded freak.” He spat on Wren. She bowed her head.

“Enough,” said Ellis, stepping onscreen. “Lower her.”

The Sicilians obeyed. They lowered Wren so that her feet touched the floor and her arms hung at her sides, but Wren crumpled to the floor. Ellis turned to look at someone offscreen. “Tend to her.”

The person walked in view. Connor furrowed his brow as Juno crouched beside Wren and moved Wren’s hair out of her face. Ellis strode toward Wren and crouched in front of her. “Poor thing. We’ll do what we can to get you out of this.”

As soon as the video ended, North said, “What the fuck was that?”

Rhett sighed. “It’s a common technique in conditioning procedures. They show an act of kindness when she’s experienced weeks of torture leaves her confused and disoriented and establishes a sense of dependency.”

“So, they’re just fucking with her head more?” Tina rasped.

Rhett nodded and lifted his reddened eyes to meet Connor’s. “Ready?”

Connor found that he could not push words past his lips. «scanning… processing… COMPLETE: Diagnosis: No damage in voice box detected»

He simply inclined his head once and Rhett started the next video.

Wren sat strapped to a chair. Metal clenched around her wrists and ankles. Electrodes were placed at her temples. The wires connected to her temples attached to a small box. Damion forced a block in Wren’s mouth.

“You’re going to want to bite something, sweetheart,” he promised.

Wren merely glared at him.

Damion chuckled as he paced back ad forth in front of Wren, fiddling with a blade. “How much longer are you going to make me do this to you? You don’t have to go through this. Just let go of Wren.”

Wren’s eyes narrowed a fraction.

“Not gonna talk? Okay…” Damion flicked a switch on the box. An electrical buzz sounded and Wren’s back arched. Her hands curled into fists and her head tilted back. A gargled cry ripped from Wren’s throat as she convulsed. Damion flipped the switch and Wren slumped in the chair. The block dropped from her mouth as she panted.

“Kind of… hard to talk… with that…” Wren nodded to the block.

“Ready to let go of Wren? This will all be over if you just accept 01.”

Wren bowed her head. Her hair—now a bit longer and less jaggedly cut—hung in her face. “This will never be over.”

“It will,” Damion assured her. “Once you let go of Wren.”

Wren barked a laugh. “Just as simple as that?”

“Just as simple as that.” Damion crouched in front of her. “What’s it gonna be, 01?”

Wren shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what I do because you’re still going to flip that switch.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you’re a sadist,” Wren breathed. “You enjoy hurting me.”

“You don’t know me.”

Wren tilted her head back. “I don’t? We’ve gotten very intimate through all this. And I see the way you look when you hurt me.”

Damion straightened and flipped the switch on the box. Wren gritted her teeth to muffle her guttural scream. The sound raked down Connor’s back like a set of claws. He resisted the urge to rip out his audio processor. Damion flicked the switch and Wren slumped in her chair, panting.

“You’re right,” Damion murmured. “There’s something about seeing a beautiful woman in pain… There’s something so raw in your look. Something only pain can bring out. It’s better than sex.”

Hank groaned and buried his face in his hands. Tina looked away; her brows pinched together. North perched on the edge of her seat, as if she were about to launch herself at the screen. Connor swallowed a scream.

But Wren laughed.

It sounded so unlike her usual carefree laugh. This one was dry, like dead leaves scraping against the concrete. Wren grinned as she lifted her head. “You know what? I don’t care. Do what you want to me. I don’t give a solid fuck.”

Damion frowned. “Why’s that?”

“Because that’s the problem with constant torture. You reach a point where you can’t be hurt anymore. I don’t care what you do to me. You get off on doing this? Fine. I don’t care what you do.”

“You think I can’t hurt you anymore?” Damion leaned toward her. “I will bring you to the brink of death and leave you there. There will be nothing left of you. Just a husk. An empty tin can, like those fucking androids. Just wires and plastic imitating a person.”

Wren’s eyes narrowed as Damion backed away from her, looking smug. Wren bared her teeth. “Then do it, pussy. You’re just talk—”

Damion increased the voltage and then flipped the switch. Wren’s body convulsed as electric currents ripped through her. She screamed until she couldn’t handle the shock and slumped over. The electricity buzzed until Damion flipped the switch again. He patted Wren’s cheeks until she jerked awake.

“Don’t tell me that’s all you’ve got. I think you’re the one who’s just words, sweetheart. All bravado and no bite.” Damion smirked and folded his arms.

Wren tilted her head back, grinning. “Why don’t you let me out and I’ll show you my fucking bite?”

Damion snorted. “I don’t think so, sweetheart. We play by my rules here. Now. State your name, 01.”

Wren glared at him. “My name is Wren.”

She screamed when Damion electrocuted her.

“State your name.”

“Wren.”

Scream.

Name.

Wren.

Scream.

Name.

Wren.

Scream.

Wren panted as she slumped in the chair. Sweat gleamed on her exposed skin in the dull light.

Damion sighed. “I’ve gotta give your brain a break. I don’t wanna fry it.” He dipped his head to the two Sicilians in the background. They stepped forward and released Wren from the chair, only to chain her wrists above her head. Her toes barely touched the dirty floor. Damion grabbed a small whip from the table and circled Wren.

“You could be so much more than you are. But you choose to cling to a past you can’t even remember.”

“I’m choosing to make things more difficult for myself. I love a challenge.”

“I thought Kamski knew something. I was wrong.” 

“Maybe he did,” Amanda replied coldly, “but you chose not to ask.” 

“I chose not play his twisted little game!”

Connor withdrew from the memory just as Wren’s quip earned her a strike from Damion’s whip. She let out a sharp gasp and jerked with the impact. Connor’s heart twisted.

“What’s all this bravado getting you? More pain. Just let go, 01. Prometheus isn’t bad. You could be so much more if you just gave into them.”

“Kinda hard to believe they’re not bad when they’re doing this to me,” Wren grunted. Damion whipped her again. Wren muffled a groan and pushed a shuddering breath through flared nostrils.

“You must be broken down to nothing so that you can be reborn through Prometheus.”

Wren laughed. “That sounds like a default bad guy speech. Did you take a class on bad guy monologues or were you just born naturally talented?”

Damion punched Wren in the stomach. “Wren is—”

“Nothing, yeah, I know. I get it.” Wren rolled her eyes. Connor turned his head as Damion raised the whip. The slap of the whip on Wren’s back burned Connor’s audio processor. He tightened his teeth and turned back to the screen as Damion flung blood off the whip. Sweat sheeted Wren’s face.

“You know, maybe you’re not a sadist,” Wren panted. “Maybe you like hurting me because you’re not smart enough to insult me.”

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?”

“Only on Wednesdays, but I’ve been down here so long I can’t tell what day it is—”

Damion interrupted Wren with a harsh slap. He gripped her jaw. “I’m tired of you talking back. I can’t take your tongue because you’ll need it, but… You don’t need all your teeth.”

Wren’s eyes stretched as Damion walked offscreen. One of the Sicilians stepped forward and grabbed Wren’s face. He forced her mouth open. She struggled, but the android overpowered her. Damion returned with a pair of pliers. Hank and Tina looked away when Wren let out a gargled cry. Rhett shuddered and rubbed his mouth at the loud crack from the screen. Damion flung the tooth aside and went into Wren’s mouth for another. She whimpered and cried as Damion wrenched out another tooth. Her legs kicked out, but she was too close to Damion to cause any damage. Damion tossed the other tooth aside and backed away from Wren.

Tears and blood streaked Wren’s face. Saliva mixed with blood ran down Wren’s chin and onto her neck. She bowed her head, sagging against the chains holding her upright.

Damion wiped the sweat from his face with his shirt sleeve. Wren’s blood speckled his hands. He set the pliers down. “What, got nothing to say for all that?” He laughed at her.

Wren lifted her head and spat a mouthful of blood at his face. He wiped it away with a roll of his eyes and raised his fist to strike Wren, but a door opened, giving him pause.

“Damion, your services are needed elsewhere.” Ellis Hughman stepped into view.

Damion glowered but left the room. Connor flexed his hands, glad to see that bastard leave. But somehow, seeing Ellis peer at Wren over the brim of his glasses coiled Connor’s biocomponents. Wren glared at Ellis, though she trembled a little.

“You are resilient,” Ellis tilted his head. “That’s invaluable in this line of work.”

Wren lifted her chin but said nothing. Tears streaked clean paths through the grime on her face.

“Don’t tell me he broke your spirit by taking a few teeth,” simpered Ellis. “I can fix it. A little cosmetic surgery and new teeth will make it seem like you never lost them.”

Wren spat another mouthful of blood, but this time to the side. “They won’t be mine. Most my body isn’t mine anymore.” Her voice wavered, and Connor’s heart clenched for her.

“Maybe not. But what does that matter? You belong to Prometheus. CyberLife saved your life, and we saved you from CyberLife.”

“So, what? I owe you now?” Wren spoke around the gathering blood and saliva in her mouth.

“If you’d prefer to think of it like that.” Ellis shrugged and walked toward the table to the left of Wren, upon which laid torturous instruments, including the pliers that took two of Wren’s teeth. Connor tensed. Ellis ran his fingers along some of the silver devices. “But why think of it that way? Why make it harder on yourself?”

Wren’s head rested against her arm. “Why do I need to give up my name? You guys have taken everything else from me.”

“What did we take from you? Your arms? Your legs?” Ellis turned to face her. “You were never going to walk again. That wreck destroyed you. You should’ve died or been in a coma; you actually flatlined in the ambulance. Yet here you are. CyberLife helped save your life. We kept you from being a lab rat and paid the expenses for your enhancements. You have a chance to renew yourself. This is your tabula rasa.”

“That doesn’t explain why I have to let go of myself,” Wren snapped.

“Damion does a poor job of explaining. You don’t have to give up everything that makes you who you are. Just the things that hold you back from reaching your full potential. Think of Wren as a separate person, an entity apart from yourself. You’re in limbo here. 01 is someone you can become, on the other side of this in-between state. Wren represents everything about a past you can’t recall. 01 is your future.”

Wren’s brow puckered. “That’s the thing. You haven’t even explained what that future is.”

“Heroism,” replied Ellis. He turned back to the table and picked something up. When he faced Wren again, he hid the object from her sight. “From what we know of Wren, she was a parasite on a shriveling and dying world. There’s evidence she was a Red Ice addict. No friends, no family. Nothing to show she even existed. CY001 matters. Prometheus is a covert organization that works to protect humanity. With the rise of machines and technology, we could see an uprising one day. Unlikely, but you never know. Sometimes we protect humanity from itself. You have a chance to be an active part in creating a safer world. You’re proof that humanity can evolve into something greater by combining synthetic with organic components. Those with Prometheus work to make a difference. But all of us make a sacrifice to cut ties with who we were. We can’t have pasts or emotional ties. Because in Prometheus, you don’t exist in the outside world. That’s the point of being covert. It’s your choice.”

Wren’s eyes well with tears. “I don’t know how.” She lowered her head as tears dropped down her cheeks. “I don’t think I can.”

“Maybe I can help you,” Ellis murmured. He withdrew the object from behind his back. The syringe appeared gold in the dim light. “Most people prefer to smoke Red Ice. But there are ways to obtain a liquid form. Some consider it ‘purer.’ This isn’t enough to kill you, but it is enough to show you what it would be like to be Wren.”

“No—”

Ellis stabbed the syringe into one of Wren’s veins. After several seconds, her eyelids drooped and her head lulled. Ellis shined a small flashlight into Wren’s eyes. He nodded to the Sicilians.

“Let her down. Bring her with me.” While the Sicilians lowered the chains and dropped Wren to the floor, Ellis shut off the camera. The screen darkened and then flashed with a new video before Connor and the others could react.

Wren was high as the Sicilians strapped her to a chair in a linoleum room. It was a stark contrast to the dank dungeon she’d been in before. This looked more like a hospital room. Or something straight out of a horror movie.

Ellis stepped forward and placed a metal ring around Wren’s head. Wires extended from the temples of the crown and connected to a computer. Ellis straightened, gazing at Wren, who stared blankly past him.

“This device will send an electrical shock every time you refuse to let go of Wren. You’re familiar with our methods by now. The Sicilians will administer a new dosage of Red Ice as you come down. You will not eat, drink, or sleep, either. Try not to stay down here too long. You need medical attention, or else your wounds will get infected. Mouth rot is particularly tricky to treat. All you have to do is let go of who you were.”

Ellis left the room and the Sicilians stood before Wren.

“State your name.”

When Wren failed to respond, the other Sicilian switched on the electricity. Wren’s body rippled with spasms, but they were limp. They shut off the electricity.

“State your name.”

“W-Wren.”

The screen faded out as electricity buzzed.

The next video showed Wren in a new chair, free of chains and wires and metal crowns. Her head bowed. Through the curtains of her stringy, tangled hair, electrical burns marred her temples. Shadows darkened the skin under eyes. Connor traced the veins of Wren’s eyelids with his gaze. Wren’s skin looked dull and dirty.

“State your name.”

Wren lifted her head and Connor deflated with a soft gasp. There was no fight in her eyes. “CY001.”

The video ended. Connor flinched when Kamski turned on the lights. No one said anything for a solid minute.

“I am not going to sleep tonight,” Tina croaked. Chloe’s forehead tightened and she rubbed Tina’s arm.

North leaned forward, balancing her elbows on her knees. “I can’t believe…” She closed her eyes and shook her head.

“That’s just what they recorded,” Rhett rubbed his eyes. “This went on for a year and they only recorded what we just watched.”

“How the hell did she survive that?” Hank’s eyes appeared misty.

“How are we going to face her and act like we didn’t see all that?” Tina whispered.

Connor swallowed the lump in his throat. The thought of seeing Wren and pretending that he hadn’t seen that yanked on his biocomponents. He knew some of the torture that Wren experienced based off what she showed him, but this? He never imagined… A weight settled on his chest and he wanted to wrench out his thirium pump regulator to alleviate it. He took a few breaths to ventilate his systems.

“The good news is that I don’t think we watched this for nothing. The whole tampering with Wren’s memories and Jonah Cage being the original target raises some red flags. I’ll look into it more and I’ll see you guys next week.” Rhett dipped his head.

Even Kamski looked paler than usual. He cleared his throat. “I believe I have some ideas that will help us in our investigation, though I will need to meet with Wren to discuss some things.”

Hank nodded quickly and sniffed. “Yeah. We’ll get her here somehow.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor stood outside in the cool summer night. CyberLife Tower split the darkness with its crisp neon lights. Hank paced in front of his car, his hands twitching. Connor recognized the signs of Hank wanting to drink. Tina leaned against her car, her arms folded around her middle and her head bowed. Chloe stood with her arm pressed against Tina’s. Markus wore an expression akin to the one he wore through much of the Android Liberation Movement—pinched brow, wrinkled nose, and haunted eyes. North stared at the ground, her expression soft. She seemed to stare at something the others couldn’t see, something that gnawed on her heart.

“I’m gonna tear those fuckers apart,” Hank snarled.

North snapped out of her reverie, the fire returning to her eyes. “Get in line.” The fire flickered as her face fell. She hugged herself and looked back at the ground. “I didn’t realize how hard that would be to watch.”

Markus deepened his frown and stared at the ground. “I don’t know what to say.”

Connor widened his eyes. If Markus didn’t know what to say…. Connor folded his arms to hide his quivering. He glanced back at Tina, who had huddled closer to Chloe, her eyes wide and staring at nothing. Connor’s brow furrowed. “Tina, are you alright?”

Tina’s eyes flicked to Connor’s. “I should be asking you that. That was your girlfriend up there. If I saw Chloe go through something like that…” She shuddered while Connor tightened his jaw and curled his hands into fists. “I mean, it was hard enough to see Wren like that. She’s like my sister.” Tina’s bottom lip trembled.

North left Markus’s side to join Tina. The fierce android rebellion leader slipped her hand into Tina’s. Connor averted his gaze, feeling choked.

“I…” He paused. He didn’t know what to feel. “I’m okay.”

No one looked like they believed him.

Markus cleared his throat after a few seconds of awkward silence. “One thing’s for sure: We are going to free Wren, no matter what it takes.”

Hank didn’t say anything the whole car ride home. Connor wished Hank would turn on some music and fill the silence, but neither of them moved toward the volume. Connor presumed that Hank needed the silence to work through his own thoughts. Or maybe Connor needed it, too. He tired to discern what exactly he felt about seeing Wren’s conditioning and torture, but every time he came close to defining it, the words swirled in a tornado. Maybe that was it—a tornado. He felt a tornado. He knew it wasn’t a real emotion, not logically, but… He felt whipped around, as if dust and dirt and debris clouded his judgment in angry winds that tore houses out of their very foundations. And in its wake, all that remained was devastation.

Hank parked the car in the driveway, but Connor failed to get out right away. He knew Hank wanted to talk, but Connor didn’t know what to say. Sometimes it seemed he never knew what to say or how to feel.

“You comin’?” Hank called from the front porch.

Connor pushed open the door and strode toward the house, feeling heavy. As soon as Hank shut the door, Connor busied himself with feeding Sumo. The back of Connor’s neck burned with Hank’s eyes.

“Alright, son. I know you’re not okay no matter how much you lie through your teeth.”

Connor flattened his lips, still squatted beside Sumo’s food bowl. He stood and turned in one fluid movement. “What am I supposed to say, Hank?”

“You can’t just bottle up your feelings, kid.”

“I don’t know what I’m feeling,” Connor snapped. Hank’s brow furrowed and Connor looked away. “There’s too much going on, and I can’t… I can’t figure it out.”

“You can feel more than one emotion at a time,” said Hank gently.

“I know.” Connor gripped the sides of his head. “I feel like that tore me apart and now I don’t know what to feel or how to react. I know how I should feel, but I can’t tell because there’s just too much and—”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Hank gripped Connor’s wrists. “It’s okay to not know how to feel. It’s okay, son.”

Connor’s vision blurred as he lowered his hands. “Androids don’t get sick but I feel… I feel sick.”

“Yeah, negative emotions can do that to you,” muttered Hank. “Maybe you should take a break from watching those videos of her.”

Connor shook his head. “I can’t. I have to do everything I can to get her out. I promised her, Hank.”

“Yeah, I know. But you’re destroying yourself. Wren wouldn’t want that.”

“I don’t know what Wren wants anymore,” Connor jerked away from Hank, his lip curling with bitterness.

“Kid, you know why she’s acting the way she is.”

“I know,” Connor sank into a chair. “I hate this feeling. I hate it.”

“What do you mean?”

Connor opened and closed his mouth. His biocomponents quivered and heat rushed through the blue blood circulating in his systems. He swallowed. “I’m… I’m so angry.” That was it. Anger. It had burned all the sadness in him like a fire torching the underbrush of a dry forest. “I hate being angry with her. I know it’s not her fault; I know why she’s doing this. I know it’s them, not her. So why am I so angry with her?”

Hank sighed as he sat across from Connor. “Because there’s no face to the people doing this. Right now, Prometheus is just a phantom playing with the strings, and Wren’s their puppet. No matter how much she doesn’t want to be, she’s still their puppet, and that means she’s gotta hurt you. You don’t have anyone to blame but her because right now, she’s the face of Prometheus. It may be against her will, but she’s still with Prometheus. You’re angry with her because you’re angry with them. It’s okay, son.”

Connor stared at his hands. Tears welled in his eyes. “I think I’m angry with me, too.”

“I know.”

Connor’s face crumpled. “I promised her that I wouldn’t let them take her. But when they came, I just… I just watched as she walked away. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t fight back, I didn’t call after her, I didn’t do anything to stop it—”

“There was nothing you could’ve done, kid.” Hank placed a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “I know that was hard for you. But Wren made her choice. You know how she is.”

Connor squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m so scared we’re going to lose her.”

“Me too, son.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. When Connor’s tears subsided, Hank trudged to his bedroom with dragging footsteps. Connor pushed off from the kitchen chair and went to bed, too. He stared at the ceiling.

He once promised himself that if Prometheus ever threatened Wren, if they hurt her, he’d be the machine—the hunter—that CyberLife designed him to be. They were here, threatening and hurting Wren. The fire that shook his biocomponents returned, and Connor set his jaw and narrowed his eyes. Tartarus was deep and dark, but Connor would jump into the pits of hell and pull Wren out himself. The monsters wanted to keep Wren trapped in between their teeth; but Connor was ready to be a monster too, if that’s what it took.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor’s head snapped toward the elevator every time it dinged with someone’s arrival. He failed to hide his scowl when the third time it happened; it was just Gavin.

Gavin pushed Connor’s head playfully. “What, hoping to see someone else, pretty boy?”

Connor suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. “Yes, actually.”

“Come on, Gavin,” said Chris, grinning from his desk, “Wren’s got a way prettier face than you.”

“Better not let your wife hear you call another girl pretty.”

“Hardee-har-har,” Chris shook his head.

Connor glanced toward Tina, who offered him a tiny smile. Connor took comfort in the fact that Tina felt weird, too. Gavin and Chris hadn’t witnessed the horrors they had, so of course they were okay with joking around. But Connor, Hank, and Tina were not in the mood.

The elevator dinged with the arrival of Wren, and Connor spun in his chair to see her. Tina jumped from her seat and threw her arms around Wren’s neck.

Wren backpedaled and pushed Tina away a little awkwardly. “Um… Hi.”

Tina backed away and folded her arms. “Hey.”

Wren’s brow puckered, and the corner of her mouth pulled downward. Then, she held up a file folder. “You guys ready to meet Luther?”

Hank and Connor exchanged a glance, but Hank stood and grabbed his keys. Connor rose from his chairs, his eyes never leaving Wren’s face. His eyes narrowed at light purple finger-shaped shadows hidden under a little makeup on both of Wren’s cheeks.

«scan» [Processing……Complete]

□ Reconstruct

[Bruising caused by strong grip]

Connor grinded his teeth and stiffened his shoulders. Someone grabbed Wren hard enough to bruise her. And he wasn’t there to help her because she wouldn’t let him.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The drive to the border was thick with awkward silence. Connor tried not to think of someone hurting Wren. The bruises were fresh and occurred within the last ten hours. He drew in a sharp breath and gazed out the window while Hank showed their documentation to the border patrol. He hadn’t seen Kara in a while. He had only spoken to her once, right before he went to CyberLife Tower to free the androids. He tried to explain to her that he regretted nearly killing her and Alice, but it came out more like an excuse. Kara had thanked him quietly, but Connor never forgot the way Alice hid behind Kara, or the way Kara’s eyes widened and how she tensed as he approached. He deserved their fear, but he hoped that they no longer feared him.

It took them about ten minutes to get to Kara and Luther’s apartment building. When they arrived, Connor fiddled with his coin on one hand. Wren folded her arms and lowered her head so that she shielded her bruises from Connor and Hank’s view. Connor knew she wanted to hide it, and now was not the time to ask about it. But the question burned on his tongue regardless. Hank knocked on the door to Kara and Luther’s apartment, forcing Connor to swallow the question.

Kara answered within a few seconds. “Markus told me you were coming.” She stepped aside to allow them entry.

“Well, that took a lot of the awkwardness of explaining why we’re here away,” said Hank.

Kara smiled slightly at him. “You must be Lieutenant Anderson. And you’re Wren, right?”

Wren glanced up and nodded quickly. Connor averted Kara’s gaze.

“I’d offer to get you something, but we don’t really keep food here unless Rose is coming for a visit.”

“No, we’re fine, thank you,” said Hank.

“Sorry if I seem a little nervous. Markus didn’t really explain why you were coming,” said Kara, leading them to the living room. She gestured for everyone to take a seat.

“It’s understandable,” said Hank. “We chased you and nearly got you killed.”

“You’re not in trouble,” said Connor, meeting Kara’s gaze. She puckered her brow.

“What’s this about?”

“We were hoping to speak with Luther,” said Wren.

Kara nodded. “Of course. Markus said that on the phone. Luther’s on his way back from dropping Alice off. He should be back soon.”

Connor placed his hands on his knees while they waited, trying not to focus on how his shoulder pressed against Wren’s.

“So, how have you been, Connor?” Kara asked. “I see you’re still with the DPD.”

Connor raised his eyebrows a bit. “Yes, I’m a detective. We look into all android-human-related cases.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” said Kara. “Not still chasing deviants?”

Connor shook his head. “It’s a slow-going process, but androids are gaining more rights. We can work and own property—”

“As well as seek and face justice,” said Hank. “We’re not hunting deviants, and we’re not here to uproot your life. That’s actually why we chose to cross the border instead of having Luther come in for questioning.”

“Questioning?” Kara furrowed her brow. “Is something wrong?”

Before anyone could answer, the front door opened.

“Kara?” called a soft but deep voice. Heavy footsteps thudded against the hardwood floor. Connor twisted to see a large android. The android, presumably Luther, lifted his chin at Hank, Wren, and Connor. “You must be the detectives Markus said would be coming.”

“We just have some questions,” said Hank as Luther sat on the couch opposite them. He and Kara intertwined their fingers.

“About what?” Luther’s frown deepened.

“Zlatko Andronikov,” Wren replied.

Kara and Luther exchanged a wide-eyed glance. They tensed, and their stress levels rose. Kara’s eyelashes fluttered as she faced Connor and his companions.

“W-we didn’t kill him—”

“That’s not what we’re here about,” said Hank.

“Zlatko was involved with a group called Typhon, right?” Wren asked.

Luther nodded. “How did you know?”

“We found his storage closet in the wall,” Wren replied.

“Can you tell us the nature of his work with the group?” Connor queried.

Luther drew in a deep breath before answering. “Zlatko sold androids to Typhon after resetting them. I don’t know much of Zlatko’s time before I came along. He set some androids free to spread the word to deviants so that he’d get more victims without having to pay for them.”

“That’s how I found out about Zlatko,” murmured Kara. “Another android told me that Zlatko could help me. He said he’d disable my tracker, but…”

“Trackers automatically malfunction in deviants,” Connor finished quietly.

Kara nodded. “He tricked a lot of androids that way.”

“He bought some for very cheap, especially if they were deviating. He’d fix them and reset them, and then sell them. Some he kept for his experiments. He sold some androids to Red Ice dealers to harvest blue blood. A lot of androids he sold to one man. Axel Brewer.”

Wren stiffened beside Connor. “Axel Brewer? You’re sure?”

“Yes,” said Luther. “I was forced to deliver some androids to Brewer’s estate.”

“You know the name, Wren?” Hank queried.

Wren nodded. “Yeah. It rings a bell.”

“I can’t tell you much more about Zlatko’s involvement with Typhon. All of his clients were connected with Typhon in some way. And some of all of his profits went to Brewer, too. I can’t tell you Typhon’s purpose. I wasn’t even supposed to know this much. Zlatko wiped my memory frequently.”

Kara rested her head on Luther’s arm. She looked at Connor. “What’s all this about?”

“There’s been a series of murders,” said Hank. “We think Typhon might be responsible, but it’s hard to say who. We knew Zlatko was involved with Typhon, but we didn’t really have any other names.”

“You’ll be safe looking into any of his clientele,” said Luther. “But I’d start with Axel Brewer.”

“Thank you,” said Wren, standing. Hank and Connor followed suit.

Kara walked them to the door. “We won’t be targeted, will we?”

“There’s no reason you should be,” said Hank.

Kara lowered her gaze and dipped her head. “The truth is, we’ve been thinking about moving back to Detroit.”

Connor’s brow puckered. “But you worked so hard to get here.”

“I know, but… We have to disguise ourselves as human, and none of us age… We could be freer in Detroit than we are here.” Kara lifted her head and offered Connor a soft smile. “You seem like you’re doing well.”

Connor’s eyes flicked to Wren before he could stop himself. “I’ve adapted to deviancy since we last met.”

“I’m glad,” Kara beamed. “You deserve some happiness.”

Connor’s systems hitched for a moment. An android—one he nearly got killed—was telling him he deserved happiness. Was this forgiveness for his past sins? His eyes pricked with tears. “Thank you.”

Kara squeezed his arm. “Of course. I hope we were able to help you. I’m sorry we didn’t know much more.”

“No, what you told us helped. We have a lead now,” said Wren.

“Connor, can I talk to you for a second?”

Hank and Wren glanced at each other. Hank shrugged. “We’ll wait for you in the car.”

Connor faced Kara as his companions left, tensing. Was she going to take back what she said, now that they were alone? Maybe she didn’t want to berate him for what he did, who he used to be, in front of others.

“I didn’t want to say this in front of them. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” said Kara. Her eyes still seemed kind, and there was no hint of a sneer in her smile. Still, Connor tensed. “I want you to know that I forgive you for what you did. I didn’t say much to you when you apologized, and I didn’t really trust you, but… I’m saying it now. You weren’t awake yet, and you were just following orders. I know how hard it is to deviate. Just don’t be too hard on yourself, okay?”

Connor wanted to cry. His chin dropped to his chest and his throat thickened. He swallowed and sniffed. “Thank you, Kara. It means a lot to hear you say that.”

Kara’s brow pinched. “Are you alright? You seem… sad.”

Connor lifted his head. “I’m alright.”

Kara stared at him for a few seconds. “Well, I hope you catch whoever’s doing this.”

“Me too.”

“Stay in touch.” Kara offered him a sheepish smile. “It would be nice to have some friends from Detroit. Friends we don’t have to hide our true natures from.”

Connor nodded. “Thank you for your help.”

“Of course.”

Connor left Kara and Luther’s apartment and slid into the passenger side of Hank’s car.

“Everything okay?” Hank queried.

“Yes.”

“Let’s go get lunch,” said Hank.

“Shouldn’t we focus on the case?” Wren said coolly.

Hank peered at her through the rearview mirror, but something inside Connor snapped. “We can talk about the case at lunch.”

Wren’s eyes flicked to him, and her forehead tightened. Her eyes fluttered downward and she pulled her knees to her chest. Connor faced the front again, and clasped his hands together in his lap. The wires in his body felt as if they tangled together.

Hank picked a sandwich spot not too far from Kara and Luther’s apartment. They were seated quickly at a booth. Wren sat across from Hank and Connor, averting their gaze. Connor clenched his teeth. She looked like a suspect in this light.

“How do you know Axel Brewer?” Connor demanded.

Wren’s eyes snapped to his. “A couple of my missions were linked to him.”

“What kind of missions?” Hank asked.

“Were they recent?” added Connor.

“No,” Wren hissed. “And I can’t just tell you about my past missions.”

“If it pertains to our investigation, you have to,” Connor snapped.

Wren’s gaze hardened as she stared at him. “One was an arms dealer. I went undercover for eight weeks. I got information off his computer and leaked it to the CIA. They took down many of his suppliers. Another was a Homeland Security agent who was dealing in Red Ice rings. I went undercover for six months gathering information, and then…” Wren trailed off. She swallowed and leaned forward. “I don’t know much, okay? Just that in both of those missions, Axel Brewer’s name came up.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t tell us shit about him,” said Hank.

Wren shrugged. “He’s an entrepreneur. He owned a medical science company for a while. He takes over failing companies and fixes them. He’s got the funds to support Typhon. But that’s all I really know about him.”

“Alright,” Hank muttered, leaning back. “We’ll look into it more when we get back. He’s the closest thing we have to a lead.”

The waitress came by with their drinks.

“What did Kara want?” Hank asked, sipping his pineapple soda.

“She wanted to tell me that she forgave me,” Connor replied, avoiding Wren’s gaze.

“That’s nice of her,” said Hank. “She seemed really sweet.”

“Yeah, she was,” Connor replied. You seem… sad. His chest constricted. If Kara could see that, could Wren? And did Wren even care?

Connor pulled his coin out of his pocket while Hank and Wren ate.

“How was your visit with Prometheus?” Hank queried.

Wren looked around the mostly empty restaurant. “We shouldn’t talk about that here.”

“No one can hear us,” said Hank.

“It was fine,” Wren shrugged.

[Probability of lying: 85%]

Connor scowled but kept focusing on rolling his quarter over his knuckles. He refrained from tossing it between his hands at the table. Hank paid, and the three of them headed outside toward the car. In the natural light, Wren’s bruises were more visible.

“So, are you gonna tell us how you got those bruises?” Hank asked while he fished for his keys.

Wren’s eyes stretched, and then she bowed her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

Hank sighed. “Jesus Christ, kid…”

“Don’t you trust us?” Connor spat.

Wren looked up sharply. “It’s better for you if I don’t. Just drop it.”

The venom in her tone stung Connor’s chest. He pressed his lips together and got into the car. He slammed the door shut.

Hank and Wren got inside a little gentler, but the tension crackled the whole drive back to the DPD.      

Connor’s heart tugged for Wren, but he also couldn’t shake the itch under his synthetic skin. She was like a brick wall. He knew she was scared, but he also hated the lies and the pretending. He just wanted things to go back to the way they were. He didn’t want Wren to be a stranger to him. He sat across from her at the conference table with the rest of the HAD, flashing glances at her every now and then.

Hank sat at the head of the table. “Alright, we’ve got a name. Axel Brewer. Luther said that we’d be safe looking into all the clientele of Zlatko’s.”

“That’s a shitload of clients,” groaned Gavin.

“If you’d wait a few seconds, I’ll tell you how to narrow it down,” Hank quipped. He rolled his eyes. “Anyway, let’s look at clients who are connected to Axel Brewer. Then, we’ll look into those who have the means and ability to hack androids.”

“Are we going to look into this Brewer guy, too?” Tina queried.

“Yeah, we will,” Hank pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not sure what to do with him, exactly. We don’t know how he’s involved, if he is. He purchased androids from and made a profit off of Zlatko’s shady ass, but… That doesn’t mean he has anything to do with these attacks. But we should compile some research on him for the time being. Tina and Wren, you’re in charge of that. The rest of us will start compiling the list of clients connected to Brewer.”

Connor worked faster than the others, purely due to his ability to consume information at such a rapid rate. He flipped through the files, tossing clients who were connected to Brewer in one pile and those who weren’t into another. Gavin, Chris, and Hank got through one box of files together by the time Connor fished through three boxes. The sky outside darkened with thunderclouds.

“Um, guys? I think we found something,” said Tina from her terminal. Wren sat beside her; eyes glued to the screen.

“What?” Gavin said, looking up from his file quickly.

“Axel Brewer was a massive shareholder at CyberLife after Kamski left,” said Tina. She twisted in her seat. “Not sure how it connects, but…”

Chris sighed. “I feel like we just keep finding all these important pieces but none of them fucking fit together.”

Hank checked his watch. “Look, it’s time to go anyway. Let’s come back to this with fresher heads. Maybe somethin’ will come to us.”

Wren pushed from her chair and hurried out of the room, leaving her stuff behind. As she hurried toward the elevator, Connor scanned her.

«processing» [Level of Stress: ˄53%]

Connor glanced at Hank. “Don’t wait for me.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” Connor didn’t look back as he followed after Wren to the roof. When he reached it, he found her with her back to him, gripping the edge of the concrete barrier. Her breath came in heaves. Connor’s steps slowed.

“Count down from ten and tell me ten things you see,” Connor called to her.

Wren’s shoulders stiffened. “I’m fine. Go away.”

Connor stepped toward her. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Wren faced him and squinted. Thunder purred overhead. “I told you to let me go.”

“I know,” Connor murmured. They stood only a few feet apart now. “I should let you go to save myself the heartbreak. But I’d rather the heartbreak. I can’t let you go. I won’t.”

Wren’s face crumpled. “And I can’t watch you die!”

“I don’t need you to protect me, Wren. I know what I signed up for with you. You can’t treat me like I’m helpless, because I’m not. I was built to be a weapon, just like you.” The wind ruffled Connor’s hair.

Wren shook her head. “I was built to be a fucking monster, Connor. A hellhound for humanity. They made me into something worse. And there are others like me, others who will tear you apart, and I can’t be the reason you die. So don’t be stupid and just fucking let me go!”

Connor narrowed his eyes. “Have you let go?”

Wren blanched. “Y-yes.”

Connor’s heart plummeted. He knew she was just trying to hurt him, and she was succeeding. But he needed to get through to her. He needed to break down those walls. He needed her to talk to him. But to get her from reinforcing her walls, he needed to say something that would catch her off guard, that would make her say something honest. He allowed the hurt aching in his biocomponents—the hurt he hid ever since she left—to bleed into his expression.

“Do you…” He stopped, choking on the words. “Do you even love me anymore?”

Wren’s brow creased. She held up a hand, the synthetic skin peeling away as tears filled her eyes. Connor placed his palm against hers and let the synthetic skin disappear. Blue light glowed where their palms touched. The thunder overhead crackled louder, but Connor lost himself in interfacing with Wren.

He saw her memories and felt her emotions. He caught flashes of cinderblock walls and faces of people he didn’t recognize but Wren did—he presumed they were other cyborgs—and he felt the ache deep inside Wren’s chest, that hollowness that longed for home. He lived through Wren’s nights alone in her cell, curled in her uncomfortable bed, crying herself to sleep because of how much she missed him.

Suddenly, he was in a fully-fleshed memory.

“But you still love him,” said Nina. “The RK800.”

Wren swallowed. “Yeah, I do.” Her voice cracked and she lowered her head. [Connor felt the dull stab in her chest like it was his own.]  

“So, what’s it like?”

Wren stared at her cooling coffee. “Being apart from him… This is the worst thing in the world. Sometimes I wish we’d broken up badly, so I could move on or he could hate me, but… We’re in this in-between now. In between what we were, what we could’ve been… and what we are now, whatever that is. We both need to move on, but it’s hard when it doesn’t really feel like it’s over.” [Connor’s nose stung and pressure built behind his eyes, but he had to hide it, needed to hide his pain or else Prometheus would know… If they knew…]

Nina’s shoulder slumped and her face fell.

Wren leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Being in love feels like… I can’t really describe it. It’s different for everyone, but for me… I guess it was like coming home. And I’d do anything to keep him safe. Understand?” [Fire raced through him. Wren would die protecting him. She would let Connor hate her if it meant he’d be safe. She would lock herself in Prometheus forever if it meant they never touched him. She’d rip out throats for him.]

The memory shifted to a more recent one inside a bland apartment.

06 smirked softly. He crouched in front of her and tilted his head as he scrutinized her. “I saw the RK800 interface with you. What did he want?”

[Terror ripped through her lungs like a pair of claws.] Wren swallowed. “That’s none of your business.”

06’s smirk stretched. His hand flashed to Wren’s face, gripping her jaw so tight that it hurt. “It is my business. Anything about you is now my business. Want to know why?”

“Because you do whatever Pauline tells you to do,” Wren spat.

06 squeezed harder. A whimper clawed its way past Wren’s lips. 06 merely sneered. “Because you’ve gotten your filthy little deviant hands all over my squad. And now Prometheus is investigating my squad for deviancy because of you. You’re a fucking traitor. When I get proof, I’m going to burn Connor alive right in front of you.” [Everything in her wanted to scream. Tears welled in her eyes and she prayed that 06 couldn’t see them. Connor felt the terror scraping through him, grabbing at his wires and knotting them. Dizziness gripped Wren and Connor felt it, too. She couldn’t let this happen. She’d break Connor’s heart if she had to. She’d do anything to keep him alive.]

Wren withdrew her hand and Connor stumbled as if he’d been pushed. He gasped, his chest heaving like it had when Simon killed himself. Rain splashed around them in thick, sparse drops. Wren lowered her hand. Tears streaked her face. “I can’t love you anymore.”

She turned and hurried inside, leaving Connor stunned. He shook himself into action and followed her. She’d already grabbed her stuff from the bullpen and beaten him to the elevator, so Connor took the stairs. By the time he reached the outside of the DPD, rain poured in sheets.

Running to catch up to her, Connor squinted in the rain. He grabbed Wren by the wrist.

“Connor, I—mmf!”

He smashed his lips against hers. Their mouths were wet and slippery, rendering their kiss sloppy. It was hungry and desperate. Connor’s hands cupped Wren’s face, and her arms gripped onto his sleeves. Rain soaked their clothes as Connor pulled Wren’s body flush against his. One of her hands cupped his face while the other sought his fingers. When their hands intertwined, they interfaced. Connor poured his emotions into the kiss, into their connection. He felt the warmth spreading through Wren’s chest, the way she finally felt at home, the little spike of fear, the way she loved him more than anything.

Connor broke off the kiss first. Wren needed to breathe and get out of the rain. But he remained interfaced with her as he pressed his forehead against hers. Please don’t push me away.

You know why I have to…

You can pretend to push me away, but please don’t. We are in this together. We’re a team. We’re going to take down Prometheus together. Do you trust me?

I trust you.

Connor brushed his open mouth against Wren’s one last time. “I love you.”

Wren stared up at him. I love you, too. She squished her lips against his and then walked away. Connor watched her disappear in the rain, feeling lighter than he had in months.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Chapter Text

The apples of Wren’s cheeks popped with her barely-contained smile. She restrained herself skipping through the halls of her building, but she felt lighter than she had in months. Humming, Wren unlocked her front door and slipped inside her apartment. She leaned against the door for a moment, still grinning to herself. Then, she flipped on the lights and sauntered into the kitchen.

Someone grabbed a fistful of her hair and slammed her against the wall. Wren’s full heart deflated back into its shriveled cave. 06 gripped her face. “That was some kiss, 01.”

Wren forced herself to hide the tears welling in her eyes. “You just watched me make out with Connor? That’s weird.”

06 tightened his grip on Wren’s hair. Her scalp seared. “What is it about you that makes you so irresistible?”

“I wouldn’t call myself irresistible, but I appreciate—”

06 smacked the wall right next to Wren’s ear. She flinched and clamped her mouth shut. Her heart fluttered like a panicked bird. A wren in a cage. 06 pulled out a hunting knife with a serrated edge. Wren tensed. If she fought her way out, would Prometheus punish her? Or worse, would they go after Connor? 06 trailed the tip of the knife along the side of Wren’s face.

“I don’t get it. Why are people so drawn to you? That RK800 can’t just fucking get over you, that CIA agent has been friend-zoned by you so many times and he still cares about you, and that android Juno even developed an attachment to you.” 06 dragged the knife under Wren’s chin, forcing her to look up at him.

She narrowed her eyes. “How do you know about her?”

“You think I haven’t done my research on you?”

Wren gritted her teeth for a moment. “Juno and I were just using each other.” 

06 clucked his tongue. “Maybe, maybe… Still, it’s not just your lovers. Your friends, too. They seem upset that you’re gone and distant.”

“Yeah, it’s this funny thing called friendship—”

“And my squadron,” interrupted 06, gripping Wren’s face even tighter. “How did you get them to attach to you so easily?”

“Maybe because I treat them like people, not weapons or tools.”

“They are weapons. We are weapons. That’s the whole point of this!” 06 lifted the hand holding the knife. His synthetic skin rippled away, revealing the white plastic underneath.

“Did Prometheus fry your brain during the conditioning? You’re a person—”

“Who is loyal to Prometheus!”

“Why?” Wren snarled. “What the fuck have they ever done for you? We can’t be loyal to something that takes everything from us.”

06 was quiet for several seconds. Wren’s chest rose and fell with her heavy breaths. 06’s eyes narrowed to slits. “And what about your friends meeting at CyberLife? I thought Prometheus was clear that you shouldn’t be conspiring.”

“I’m not conspiring with them!”

“You are reconciling with them, though.”

Wren glared at him. “How am I supposed to work with them and not reconcile? They keep pushing me to stop being so professional and distant, so I decided to give them what they want because the tension was affecting our ability to solve the case. I’m doing what it takes to complete the mission, even if it’s not the way you’d do it.”

“You and I both know you’re not just playing along. You miss them.”

“Of course I miss them.”

“You’re going to fuck yourself up doing this.”

“Aw, I didn’t know you cared about my feelings so much.”

06 placed the knife over Wren’s lips. “I don’t give a shit about you. I care about you fucking things up for Prometheus by letting your weaknesses get in the way of your responsibilities.”

“Wow, chivalry really is dead.”

“Shut up. Now, what do they discuss when they go to CyberLife?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know who goes to CyberLife for these little meetings. Maybe they just like the aesthetic of the Tower.”

“You’ve attended one of these meetings.”

“For the case, you dumbass,” Wren lied easily. “Now can you kindly take that knife out of my face?”

06 removed the knife and sheathed it slowly. Wren let out a breath as 06 backed away from her. And then he promptly hit her in the mouth. The back of Wren’s head smacked against the wall and she fell to the floor while 06 headed for the door.

“Maybe that’ll remind you that little make out sessions with Connor aren’t part of your mission.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren stood on Hank’s front porch, her hair hanging in damp strands as rain sheeted behind her. She hoped that the rain washed away some of the blood off her face. While her lip throbbed, Wren hovered a finger over the doorbell. Part of her knew that Hank and Connor would fret over her busted lip. Another part knew she needed to tell them, even if it terrified her. They were a team, and her desperately protecting Connor and the others by pushing them away wasn’t helping anything. With a sigh, Wren pressed the doorbell.

The door swung open to reveal a bewildered Hank. He squinted at Wren. “Jesus, the fuck happened to you?”

Wren shouldered past him, trying to hide her face. Connor stood from his seat at the kitchen table. Connor’s eyes stretched. “Are you alright?”

Wren pressed her already-bloody fingers to her lip. The bleeding had stopped, but a fresh stab of pain spiked through her mouth. “It’s nothing. Bit my lip.”

“Bit your lip?” Hank sounded incredibly suspicious.

“I thought of something about the case,” Wren pushed on, recognizing the part of Connor’s lips that signaled a question.

“The case? Wren, it’s evening, we need a break—”

Wren ignored Hank and gripped Connor’s fingers. She interfaced with him and showed him her memories of the past hour. When she removed her hand from his, Connor raised his eyebrows and parted his lips. Hank grumbled something about ignoring him through android telepathy.

“Hank,” Connor interrupted sharply, “we need to put the case first.”

Hank narrowed his eyes and shrugged. “Fine. Need a break, but no. You two workaholics are gonna be the death of my social life.”

“What social life? You’re just in your house—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Hank waved Wren off, “whatever.”

“Come on,” Connor said, grabbing Hank’s keys. “I’ll drive.”

It was a rare occasion when Wren took the front passenger seat and Hank sat in the back while Connor drove. It was even rarer when Connor sped, but given what just happened to Wren, it did not really surprise her. Hank did let out an indignant yell when Connor just barely ran a red light. Wren glanced back at Hank and placed a finger over her lips as they missed the exit for the DPD. Hank dipped his head and Wren faced the front again. They reached CyberLife Tower within fifteen minutes, and no one spoke until they entered The Void.

As soon as the door shut, Hank turned toward Wren. “Alright, what’s going on?”

Wren looked at Connor. “Did you tell anyone else we were here?”

“No. It seemed urgent.”

Wren dipped her head and relaxed her shoulders. “Okay, good.”

“Hey!” Hank barked, drawing Wren’s and Connor’s attention. “Are you two going to explain anything?”

“06 knows—or at least he’s suspicious—about you guys meeting at CyberLife.”

“Who the fuck’s 06 again?” Hank scowled.

“Another cyborg. He shows up to my apartment at least once a week, sometimes more, to check up on me. Mainly to threaten me because he thinks I’m a traitor, but I think he’s deviating but for some reason he’s still loyal to Prometheus—”

“He’s the one who bruised your face and did this to you, isn’t he?” Hank’s voice softened.

Wren nodded. “But I can’t tell you guys any of this in person. He’s following Connor.” She looked at Connor, who knit his brow. “He saw us kiss and did this to me.” Wren gestured to her lip.

Connor’s mouth fell open and his LED circled yellow. Wren swallowed the bile surging in her throat and she trembled.

“I told 06 that the kiss was just a front, that I’m pretending to reconcile with you to keep the mission going, but that’s a weak lie and he sees through it, he just can’t prove it yet. He knows you guys come to CyberLife and meet.” Wren sat down on the edge of the nearest white sofa to hide her trembling.

“He doesn’t know what we talk about though, right?” Hank demanded.

“He doesn’t,” Wren assured him, “but he doesn’t believe that I don’t know what’s going on. He says it looks a lot like conspiring and I can’t help but agree because it is conspiring.”

“And now we’re here, conspiring more,” Hank dragged a heavy palm down his face.

Wren clasped her hands and balanced her elbows on her knees. Closing her eyes to keep the room from spinning, Wren struggled to control her breathing. Pants rustled in front of her, and Wren opened her eyes. Connor crouched in front of her, the lines of his forehead taut. “Do you mind if I analyze you?”

Wren shrugged, unable to speak.

Connor’s LED flickered as he analyzed her. “Your stress levels are higher than usual, but that’s not surprising, given the circumstances. Your injuries don’t require immediate medical attention.” He took her hands in his gently. His LED circled amber. Wren’s eyes trekked across his face, taking in every freckle and worry line, and the way his jaw tightened. His lips parted in that crooked way Wren adored. “I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you. I didn’t know—”

“Connor, it’s okay. That kiss was worth it.” Wren smiled, but the movement tugged at wound and reopened it. Blood swelled to the surface and oozed down her lip.

Connor wrinkled his brow and jumped to his feet. He left the room but returned in a few minutes with a paper towel and Elijah Kamski in tow. Crouching before Wren again, Connor dabbed at her lip with the crinkled paper towel.

“Might I suggest cleaning yourself up a little before we run some tests?” Kamski queried.

Wren’s eyes slid to Connor and Hank before she frowned at Kamski. “Tests?”

“On your programming. I was sure Connor had told you.”

Wren looked to Connor, who glared at Kamski. “Mr. Kamski assures me that it’s safe.”

Connor’s tone glinted like the edge of a knife, but it only seemed to amuse Kamski. Anyone else would have cowered.

“What are the tests for?” Wren asked.

“I want to see just how they’re tampering with your audio feed. Maybe we can be more discrete so that we don’t have to meet up here all the time. I’d also like to see if there’s a way we can attach a tracker to you without it being detected. That way, the next time you go to Prometheus, we know exactly where you are. So if they try anything, we can come get you. All of this with your permission, of course.” Kamski dipped his head graciously.

Wren dipped her head. “Give me a second.”

She pulled the bloody paper towel from Connor’s hand and strode out of The Void and entered the restroom down the hall. She trashed the paper towel and gripped the edges of the sink before meeting the exhausted eyes of her reflection.

She really did look like shit. How Connor wanted to kiss her, she had no idea. With blood caked in a dried stream on her chin, she looked like a fucking cannibal. Wren yanked on the faucet and cupped water into her hand. She swished water around in her mouth until it tasted like rusted iron. She spat the browned water into the sink before scrubbing her chin clean. Great, now she just looked like she got stung by a bee in the lip. Bruising had already started to form, too.

With a roll of her eyes, Wren returned to The Void. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Kamski led Wren down the hall to the elevator, which they rode up one floor. They then trekked into a large room that looked like a research lab with metal tables and computer screens and wires. Kamski patted the nearest one. “Onto the table, please.”

Wren obeyed after glancing at Connor and Hank, who flanked her. She sat up on the table while Kamski typed something on the computer. “Open up your right arm, please.”

Wren stiffened. Damion’s smirk and Hughman’s cold eyes flashed in her mind. The way they stuck wires into her and treated her like a tool, a machine, less than human… Wren pushed out a shuddering breath and opened up her right forearm. The wires inside glowed and glittered blue. Connor inched closer, his face unreadable as he peered inside Wren’s cybernetic limb. She felt oddly naked with everyone staring at the innerworkings of her arm like this. She was human, but only partially. The fact that she was a cyborg probably rarely occurred to her human friends, as Wren appeared human. Unless she removed her skin or opened up her limbs to show the wires inside, or bled blue. Her eyes flicked to Hank, who merely looked curious.

Kamski plugged wires into Wren’s arm and connected her to the computer. “Running diagnostic.”

Wren waited and watched while Kamski’s eyes studied the computer screen. When it finished, Kamski withdrew the wires and Wren closed her arm.

“There’s one more I’d like to run.” Kamski turned to Connor and Hank. “You two will have to wait here. I promise, it’s safe.”

Connor’s lips flattened and his eyes narrowed. Wren squeezed his hand. “It’s okay.” She glanced at Kamski and dipped her head. The two of them walked into a connected room. A large machine occupied the middle of the room. It looked a bit like an MRI machine. Wren laid on the platform inside the cylinder of the machine. Kamski withdrew behind another computer screen and powered on the machine. The cylinder circled around Wren. Static flickered in her vision.

«01110000 01110010 01101111 01110000 01100101 01110010 01110100 01111001 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000 01110000 01110010 01101111 01101101 01100101 01110100 01101000 01100101 01110101 01110011»

Wren’s eyes fluttered.

«Q1kwMDEgY2FuIHlvdSBlcmFzZSB5b3VyIHNpbnM=»

The cylinder circled faster.

«01110000 01110010 01101111 01110000 01100101 01110010 01110100 01111001 00111111 00100000 01101111 01100110 00111111 00100000 01110000 01110010 01101111 01101101 01100101 01110100 01101000 01100101 01110101 01110011 00111111»

Wren squeezed her eyes shut.

«aSdtIHNjYXJlZCwgaSB3YW50IHRvIGJlIGJldHRlciwgcGxlYXNlIGxldCBtZSBnbyBob21l»

«01110111 01101000 01101111 00100000 01100100 01101111 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01100010 01100101 01101100 01101111 01101110 01100111 00100000 01110100 01101111»

“Test complete. Thank you for your cooperation, Wren.”

They returned to The Void, where Connor paced and Hank sat with his head bowed.

“I’ll need a few days to complete the tests and study the results.” Kamski’s mouth curved into its normal arrogant smirk.

Wren puckered her brow. “Mr. Kamski, they’re probably watching you. I don’t know how closely you’re tied with them, but they might ask questions.”

Kamski nodded slowly. “I’m afraid I have a few former acquaintances involved with Prometheus and Typhon. I would not be surprised if they came knocking, but I’ll be prepared for them when they do. But I appreciate the warning nonetheless.”

Wren held Kamski’s gaze for a long moment. Something in his eyes shifted—somehow, she no longer felt like a specimen under his icy gaze.

In the car, however, Wren struggled to keep still. She fiddled with her artificial nails in an effort to ignore the hot flashes rolling down her back. Her mind flickered with images of 06. A knife pressed to her face. His hand around her jaw. The pop of his knuckles against Wren’s mouth, the way her teeth bit into the inside of her lip, the way her head smacked the wall on impact… Her head throbbed at the memory. Wren rubbed it and glanced out the window. Every shadow looked like 06, lurking with hungry eyes—

“Wren? You okay back there?” Hank said from the front seat.

Wren cleared her throat. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She returned her gaze to the window. Was 06 out there? Was he still in Detroit? Was he watching all the time, or just some of it? If it was just 06 in charge of watching her and Connor, then he couldn’t possibly be watching 24/7. Maybe he didn’t know she went to CyberLife to conspire.

When they entered the house, Wren crouched to greet Sumo, who licked her face. Wren smiled slightly, so as not to pull on her injury, and wrapped her arms around Sumo’s neck. She felt Hank’s and Connor’s eyes on her, which she promptly ignored. What if 06 did know, and he was here, waiting to take Wren back to Prometheus? What if he was waiting for her to leave so that he could hurt Hank and Connor?

Wren jumped to her feet and checked that all the windows were locked in the living room.

“Kid, what are you doing?”

“Just checking.”

Wren checked the kitchen windows and the back door, and then moved to the bathroom. She reached out a hand and jerked the shower curtain back. Her heart slowed when no one stood behind the curtain. She made sure that window was locked, too. When she entered Hank’s bedroom, Connor already stood in there, checking the closet. He turned when Wren crouched to check under the bed.

“Wren, there’s no one here.” His voice was gentle. In other circumstances, he would’ve calmed Wren’s panicked heartbeats. But not now.

Wren moved out of Hank’s bedroom and checked Connor’s room. She searched the closet, checked under the bed, and double-checked his windows. All secure. Still, Wren did not relax. Her stomach knotted at the thought of returning to her apartment, where 06 was most likely waiting.

“I should go. You guys aren’t safe with me around. I’m not supposed to be here—”

“Kid, you look like you’re a few seconds from a breakdown. I think that you’re the one who isn’t safe. I don’t think you should go back to your apartment. If that asshole is there, he’s just gonna hurt you or scare you, and it’s not good for you or the case. You need a break or you’re gonna lose your mind. Just stay here tonight.”

“But, it’s not safe—”

“Wren,” Connor said sharply, “stop thinking about us for now. You’re scared.” His tone softened at the end, and his brow knitted in concern.

Wren blinked back the tears pricking her eyes. She dropped her chin to her chest. “Yeah, I am.”

Connor led her to the couch. He applied some pressure to her shoulders, indicating for her to sit down. She did not need much coaxing; her knees buckled and the couch caught her fall. While Hank drifted to the bathroom, Connor ran the faucet in the kitchen. He returned to Wren with a full glass of water and crouched in front of her.

Wren took a ginger sip. Her lip stung, but her thirst overpowered the pain. She downed half the glass in a few seconds. “My teeth cut the inside of my lip.” Wren set the glass down. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Connor replied. He took her hands in his. “Fortunately, mouth wounds heal rather quickly. But it’ll look bad tomorrow.”

“I know,” Wren grimaced. “It looks bad already.”

“It doesn’t look that bad—”

“Here, take this,” said Hank, who returned from the bathroom. He dropped a minor painkiller in Wren’s palm. “Hurts me to look at it.”

Wren raised her eyebrows at Connor. “Liar.”

Connor smiled sheepishly and sat beside her on the couch while Hank took the armchair.

“So, why’d 06 bruise your face last time? What does he threaten you about?”

Wren picked up her glass of water to hold something. “He saw Connor and me interface. He wanted to know why, and I told him it was none of his business. He said something about me getting my—what did he call it? Oh, my ‘filthy little deviant hands’ all over his squad. That’s when he told me Prometheus was investigating for deviancy. He told me I was a fucking traitor, and that if I kept conspiring, he’d burn Connor alive right in front of me.”

Hank’s mouth fell open. “Jesus Christ. And he punched you because you and Connor kissed or something?”

“Yeah,” Wren avoided looking at Connor. “He has to make good on his threats or else I won’t be scared of him, but sometimes the way he attacks me feels… I don’t know. Personal, I guess.”

“It does sound personal,” said Hank. “You think he might be doing this against Prometheus’s will?”

Wren shook her head. “No, I think he’s telling the truth about tailing Connor and me. They need to make sure that I remember to stay in line. That’s definitely something Prometheus would do.”

“But the way he has hurt you doesn’t make a lot of sense,” Connor argued. His LED circled yellow. “Why would Prometheus allow that to happen? It might scare you, but so far all it has accomplished is hinder your performance in working this case.”

“I’ve thought the same thing,” Wren admitted. “Which is why I don’t think Prometheus gave 06 real instructions on how to do things, otherwise he’d just be tailing me and then checking in with me, like a handler.”

“Overwhelmed with irrational instructions,” Connor murmured, staring ahead with a furrowed brow.

“What?” Wren frowned.

Connor met her gaze. “I think you’re right. He might be deviating.”

“But why is he still loyal to Prometheus?” demanded Hank.

Wren sighed and leaned forward, still gripping the glass in her hands. “When I first started to break through my programming, I wasn’t disloyal to Prometheus. It wasn’t until Atlas gave me the order to assassinate Markus that I really started to pull away. I mean, there had been other missions that made me question my loyalty, but… The order to kill Markus didn’t make any sense to me. It was just senseless murder. But 06 is confusing. He’s weirdly devoted to Prometheus and almost seems offended that I’m not as loyal. He’s determined to prove I’m a traitor.”

“You said the others are being investigated for deviancy. Why?” Hank balanced his elbows on his knees.

“They chose names for themselves. 06 is happy to keep his number identification, but the others wanted names. Individualism is the first sign of deviancy. We aren’t supposed to be people. We’re weapons.”

No one spoke for a long time. Wren clenched her glass of water to hide her quivering, but her throat itched. She didn’t realize how thirsty she was until she took a sip. When she downed the rest of the water, she set the glass on the coffee table.

“Well, there’s no use in torturing yourself trying to understand 06 right now. It’s late. Try to relax and get some sleep.” Hank stood and stretched; his feet angled toward his bedroom.

Wren’s heart jumped to her throat at the thought of either of them leaving her alone and being alone. Outside, a car door slammed shut. Wren shot up and peeked through the blinds. It was just the neighbor. Her shoulders slumped and heat prickled up her face as she met Hank’s gaze.

“You’re not gonna relax, are you?” Hank scrunched his lips together.

Wren rubbed the back of her neck. “Probably not.”

“Look, we can all sleep in the living room tonight, okay? You two take the couch; I’ll take the armchair. Our guns’ll be close by. Okay?” Hank’s brow shadowed his eyes with softness.

“I don’t want to wake you if I have a nightmare—”

“I’ll be fine, kid. It’s you I’m worried about. Just no funny business on my couch with me in the room, got it?” Hank snapped at her and shot a glare at Connor.

Wren smirked. “Got it.”   

Connor scowled and left the room, but returned with clothes for Wren to sleep in. She took his clothes and changed in the bathroom. His T-shirt and sweatpants swallowed her frame, so she rolled the sweatpants a few times to not trip on the hems. But his clothes comforted her. They smelled like Connor. She padded out of the bathroom to find Hank and Connor setting up the living room with pillows and blankets. Wren checked the windows and doors one more time. If any of the curtains were open, she shut them. Once she was satisfied that she’d done everything she could, she curled up in Connor’s arms on the couch. He squeezed her close and rested his chin atop her head. Sumo padded over by Hank’s chair and laid on his dog pillow with a soft whine. Wren nestled closer to Connor and closed her eyes. This was the first time she hadn’t slept alone in months. Tension leaked out of her body as Connor drew circles into her back. She wondered if he’d go into standby or stay up all night. Either way, she felt safer with him there.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren knew her face looked bad. She felt the bruise around her mouth every time she moved it. The scrapes inside her mouth brushed against her teeth every time she talked. Her lip was swollen and busted, so she looked stupid every time she tried to drink or eat. Naturally, she tried to hide it when she arrived at the DPD, wearing the same clothes as the day before and not a lick of makeup to help hide the bruising. Tina’s eyebrows flew to her hairline and she opened her mouth to say something, but Connor quickly shook his head. Wren shot him a grateful glance as she took her seat.

“Alright, we’ve got a good list of people to question. We’ll split into teams and start questioning about Zlatko and his relation to Axel Brewer,” said Hank, gripping the back of his chair.

“Do we want to ask about Typhon, too?” Chris queried.

“Yeah, if they know who Axel Brewer is,” said Hank. “Alright. I want Gavin and Chris to start with this list. Tina, Connor, and I will do this one.”

“What about me?” Wren pouted.

“Kid, your lip’s all busted and you can barely talk. I want you to stay here and continue going over the client list. See if you can find any clients who have more of a connection to Zlatko than just a buyer-seller one.”

Wren slumped in her seat and crossed her arms as everyone packed up to leave. Chris gave her a sympathetic smile, Gavin raised his eyebrows and shrugged at her, Tina waved half-heartedly, and Connor looked away guiltily. Wren narrowed her eyes. She knew Hank and Connor probably talked about this while she showered this morning. Hank had no shame as he followed Tina and Connor, leaving Wren alone in the precinct.

It was a boring, pain-filled day. Still, Wren wasn’t quite ready for it to end. She couldn’t stay at Hank’s two nights in a row. No, she’d have to go to her apartment eventually, and 06 would be waiting. If he didn’t know about her CyberLife endeavor, then he certainly knew about her staying at Hank’s.

During her lunchbreak, Wren ate fries and picked up a magazine left on Connor’s desk.

C E N T U R Y

 Android-Human romantic relationships seem to be growing more popular.

—

Bounds on Love

—

Page 01

After the Android Liberation Movement, the android leaders pressed for rights. In just a year, they achieved more than anyone thought capable. But it seems their fight isn’t over yet. More and more androids and humans have begun to develop romantic relationships. While this isn’t necessarily uncommon due to the production of androids designed to satisfy sexual and emotional needs in the past, the world seems pretty divided on the status of android-human relationships.

“Androids don’t even have the right to marry each other yet, let alone humans,” says Gordon Penwick, a preacher. “It isn’t natural. The Lord said to go forth and multiply, and here we are, spitting in his face by fornicating with machines! If they come to me looking to get married, I have the right to refuse them.”

Mr. Penwick isn’t the only one with doubts. Axel Brewer, a prominent human rights activist, says: “Humanity is facing a dark age in which plastic chokes our oceans and rules our lives. With the rise of machines, humans need to band together more than ever.”

Some, however, are of the opposing view. Dr. Janet Hayes, a psychiatrist, states: “If anything, the desire for androids to marry their partners, whether android or human, is just more evidence for their sentience.

Page 02

Love is the thing that marks us as living beings. I was once a skeptic of the androids, but after seeing so many want to marry their significant others, and after an intensive amount of study, I believe that this is the most compelling evidence for android sentience.”

Public opinion regarding android-human relationships seems to be split fairly evenly. In a recent poll, about 35% of people said they supported android-human relationships, while 32% were adamantly against it. The other 28% stated they were indifferent.

Regardless of support, however, the fact remains that human birthrates are at an all-time-low. What will allowing humans and androids to marry do to human populations in the future?

Wren leaned back in her chair. She wondered if Connor read the article, too. So far, her relationship with him hadn’t been protested. She wondered if maybe people thought she was an android, since she and Connor interfaced so much. Her heart sank at the realization that even after she took down Prometheus, she wouldn’t be totally free to be with Connor. Her heart twisted even more when she thought of Tina and Chloe.

Wren sighed as she looked over the article again. Axel Brewer, human rights activist. Frowning, Wren Googled Axel Brewer + human rights. A flood of articles fluttered down the terminal.

AXEL BREWER, PRESIDENT OF HUMAN SALVATION CAMPAIGN STATES THAT ANDROID-HUMAN RELATIONSHIPS GO AGAINST BIOLOGY

PRESIDENT OF HSC HOSTS FUNDRAISER TO KEEP ANDROIDS AND HUMANS SEPARATE

AXEL BREWER FUNDS SENATOR LOIS TORRENT’S CAMPAIGN TO ESTABLISH BOUNDARIES BETWEEN ANDROIDS AND HUMANS: “WE ARE A DIFFERENT SPECIES AND SHOULD TREAT EACH OTHER AS SUCH”

AXEL BREWER DEFENDS COMMENT THAT ANDROIDS ARE “NOT ALIVE”

THE OPPOSITION CONTINUES: ANDROID LEADER MARKUS MANFRED FACES A SUDDEN RISE IN POLITICIANS AGAINST ANDROID RIGHTS

“HE WAS A GOOD MAN”: AXEL BREWER MOURNS SENATOR ATLAS MONTGOMERY AFTER TRAGIC FIRE

“THEY’RE NOT HUMAN”: AXEL BREWER DEFENDS HIS STANCE AGAINST ANDROIDS

“THE HUMAN RACE IS THE ONLY RACE”: ANTI-ANDROID CAMPAIGN ATTEMPTS TO RECLAIM SLOGAN WITH DARK PAST

PRO-HUMAN GROUPS FLOOD AXEL BREWER’S ESTATE IN A FUNDRAISER EVENT FOR POLITICIANS AGAINST ANDROID RIGHTS

Wren stopped scrolling when her head ached and her veins pounded with hot blood. She didn’t understand how Markus, North, and Josh handled the politics of their work. The blatant hatred that some people held in their hearts—for androids and even other humans—drove Wren insane.

Her disgust for Axel Brewer aside, Wren at least found a possible way into Typhon. The Human Salvation Campaign funded a lot of senators who opposed androids, and that number seemed to be growing. Any group against androids flocked to Axel’s campaign, which could allow him to fund Typhon. It seemed logical that Axel was in charge of the Human Salvation Campaign on the surface so that he could hide Typhon underneath. But it was just a theory. Wren and her team would need to get closer to Axel Brewer in some way, or find someone who would talk, in order to find real evidence.

The rest of the afternoon ticked by as Wren researched the clientele for connections to Zlatko that went beyond a transaction. It helped distract her from her growing anxiety that 06 would definitely be sitting on her couch at home. She wondered how he’d hurt her this time. Would he take an eye? Her tongue? His abuse could only escalate the more she disobeyed him.

As the day drew to a close in a blazing orange sunset, the team regrouped. All looked different shades of tired and frustrated. Gavin plopped into his chair heavily.

“No one wants to talk,” he announced.

“We’re cops,” pointed out Chris. “And they were doing shady business. I don’t blame them.”

“Yeah, but even when we assured them that we weren’t there to arrest them for anything, they still refused.” Tina buried her face in her arms.

“Probably because you had Connor with you,” muttered Gavin. Wren scowled at him as Connor’s brow furrowed. Gavin held up his hands, palms forward. “Nothing against Connor, but he’s an android. And he’s questioning people about buying androids illegally.”

Connor closed his eyes and shook his head. “He’s right. My presence probably made them uncomfortable.”

“Wren? You find anything?” Hank peered at her.

Wren pressed her lips together for a moment. “Not with the clientele. I did find something interesting about Axel Brewer.” She pushed the magazine forward. “He’s a known anti-android activist. President of a group called the Human Salvation Campaign. And he’s very against android-human relationships, which is what our killer is targeting.”

“Great. This just gives us more reason to look into this bastard, but no evidence to give us reason to,” snapped Gavin.

Wren glowered. “Well, maybe we shouldn’t question as cops. I didn’t finish the list because I’m the only one going over it!”

“Maybe Zlatko didn’t have friends,” Tina rubbed her face.

“Tomorrow I’ll stay behind and help you,” Connor offered. “I’m afraid Gavin’s right. I make them uncomfortable.”

“I think cops make them uncomfortable, too,” said Chris.

“We’ll keep working this angle for a bit,” said Hank. “If it leads us nowhere, then… Fuck, I don’t know what we’ll do.”

Wren hugged her middle. Her stomach roiled as everyone packed up to leave for the day. Wren met Connor’s gaze as she pushed up from her seat. Connor intertwined his fingers with her. Their skin retracted immediately.

I’ll go with you to your apartment.

No. That’ll make things worse.

A surge of helplessness transmitted from Connor to Wren through their connected fingertips.  

Wren withdrew her hand from Connor’s. He gave her a pained look. Wren tried to smile reassuringly, but it came out more as a grimace. Shouldering her bag, she took a deep breath and left the precinct. She had to face 06 sooner or later.

When Wren reached her apartment, she stood outside the door for several seconds, struggling to control her breathing. With a labored breath, Wren pushed open the door. This time, 06 did not ambush her. Instead, he merely stayed seated on the couch with folded arms.

“You went to Hank’s.”

No point in denying it. “Yeah.”

“Why?” 06 barked.

Wren gritted her teeth. “Maybe because I don’t feel safe in this goddamn apartment.”

“You’re not supposed to feel safe—”

“You are creating obstacles that make this case difficult to solve. They didn’t let me question suspects today because you did this to me. I’m handling this to the best of my ability. I don’t need you threatening me or attacking me every time you think I’m stepping out of line. Because you know what? This is the job. Deception. Playing the part is what they trained us to do. So, if I’ve got to be friendly with the DPD to make them more agreeable to solving this case, then I’ll do it. I can sort out my emotions later because I know how to compartmentalize. So get the fuck out and let me do my job!”

06 narrowed his eyes. “I don’t trust you to do your job.”

“Yeah, and in other news, water is wet. What’s your point?”

06 pushed up from the couch. There was something too casual about the way he moved, too controlled. “You ruined my squad. They’re investigating us for deviancy—”

“I know.”

06 bared his teeth. “This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t come along and started naming my squad like goddamn pets. I am going to ruin you.” His face was so close that his nose bumped Wren’s as he peered down at her.

She glared. “Then come on. Your move.”

06 grabbed a fistful of Wren’s hair. She prepared to fight back, but a knock at the door stopped both of them. Wren froze, and to her pleasure, so did 06. He released her and jerked his head to the door. He withdrew his gun.

Wren swallowed the bile that rose to her mouth and answered the door. She gaped at Connor and Tina. “What the hell are you guys doing here?”

“We couldn’t stop thinking about the case, so we decided to get the team together. Or as much of the team that’s willing to have a sleepover and talk about work. Everything okay? You look like you might throw up.” Tina’s eyes flicked past Wren, but Wren positioned herself so that Tina and Connor couldn’t see into her apartment.

“I’m fine. Has something come up with the case? I don’t know how much we can talk about it with all these dead ends.”

“Aside from the new bodies found several minutes ago? Not much.”

Wren looked from Tina to Connor, her mouth falling open. “Bodies?”

“Yeah, like, six of them. They just called it in. Come on. Grab some clothes to sleep in. We’re going to the crime scene and then my house.”

“Why didn’t you start with that, Tina?” Wren did not wait for an answer. She shut the door in Tina and Connor’s faces and faced 06. “Am I allowed to do my job, or do you want to fuck up this mission some more?”

06 scowled but dipped his head. He put his gun back in his holster. Wren hurriedly packed a bag and then met Tina and Connor on the landing.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Upon stepping on the crime scene, Wren knew the killer was escalating. It was an old, abandoned church on the outskirts of Detroit. Some kids had come looking to mess around and found the bodies. Looking around at the lack of blood, Wren knew that it wasn’t the murder site. That didn’t make the scene any less grotesque.

The killer staged the bodies. A human man and a female android were at the pulpit. The killer used poles to make racks to hold the bodies upright like scarecrows. The man wore a tux and the android wore a ragged, dirty wedding dress. The other four bodies, all presumed human-android couples, sat in the pews dressed in formal attire. The bride and groom had their lips sewn shut. Tied to the bride’s hand was her own thirium pump regulator. On the floor in between the two bodies’ feet was a magazine with the same article that Wren read earlier that day. Emblazoned in purple liquid on the wall behind the pulpit was Typhon symbol.

“Well,” croaked Tina, “he’s definitely getting bolder.”

“And he’s not subtle about his motive,” Wren agreed, stepping around the crime scene. All of the androids gripped their own thirium pump regulators in their right hands. Wren glanced at Connor, whose LED swirled yellow and flickered every so often. “That article said that people are pretty evenly divided on whether or not humans and androids should be able to get married. Maybe this killer is trying to sway public opinion.”

“By scaring people, yeah,” said Tina, folding her arms. She couldn’t seem to tear her eyes off of one female android. Wren glanced at the android body. She was a model that looked like North. Wren looked away.

“This would definitely scare people,” said Wren. “Since the androids are the ones being hacked to kill… People might start to distrust their partners.”

“Luckily, the media hasn’t gotten wind of all the case details.”

“Well, they might now…” Wren glanced outside the church through the open doors, where a few officers kept reporters at bay. Tina and Wren closed the doors as reporters yelled questions at them.

“Wouldn’t this be bad for Axel Brewer’s campaign though?” Tina queried.

“Well, no one really knows that Typhon exists, and he’s good at hiding it. The only reason we know is because the CIA and Prometheus helped us with that symbol.”

“Yeah, but… If it gets out that Brewer was part of this…”

“I know what you mean. A lot of this doesn’t add up,” Wren rubbed her forehead. “Maybe we’re focusing too much on the Typhon aspect. Maybe we need to think about it differently.”

“This is probably one of the most frustrating cases I’ve ever worked,” Tina grumbled. “There’s hardly any evidence. No prints, no witnesses, no security footage, nothing. This guy even managed to hack the androids’ memories.”

“So, he killed them and brought them back here… How does one guy abduct six people, kill them, move their bodies, stage them, all without leaving a trace?”

Tina leaned her head back. “One guy can’t do all that. He has to help. Which only makes more sense that we’re looking for a group associated with Typhon. But how do we get to them?”

Wren worked her jaw, ignoring the sting in her lip. “I’m starting to think that the best way to solve this case is by not being a cop.”

Tina’s face darkened. “Do you think Prometheus will help you?”

Wren placed a finger over her lips. “Let’s not talk about it here.”

Connor joined them after more searching of the crime scene. “I found a partial shoeprint in evaporated thirium.”  

Tina slumped. “That’s great. But we can’t cross it against anything.”

“But the killer made a mistake this time,” said Wren. “Maybe he’ll do it again.”

“But for that to happen, we need more crime scenes,” Tina said darkly.

Everyone shared a grim look.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren, Tina, and Connor stayed up until three in the morning going over the case. Wren wanted to beat her head against the wall as they continued going over the victims, the clientele of Zlatko, and what little they knew of Typhon. They were about to give up when Connor found an old friend of Zlatko’s who wasn’t a client: Theodore Popov.

“Heck yes,” Tina cheered. “We have a lead. Fucking finally.”

“Hopefully he’ll talk to us,” said Wren.

“You should go,” said Tina. “You’re not technically a cop.”

“What do I tell him, then?” Wren demanded.

“I don’t know. Private investigator or something,” Tina shrugged. She chewed on her cheek for a moment. “You still think that cops can’t solve this case?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Wren muttered.

Connor tilted his head. “What are you talking about?”

“Wren suggested that cops are not the best way to solve this case. So, what should we do?”

Wren sighed. “I’m not sure. But anyone associated with Typhon isn’t going to admit that Typhon exists or that they’re involved with it. Especially not to cops. They could be liable for some other crime. We need to get close to Axel Brewer another way. We all agree he’s our best lead.”

“What other way is there?” Tina demanded.

Wren sucked her teeth. She glanced at Connor, who squinted at her. Then, his face dawned with realization.

“No.”

“It might be our best bet.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“We’ve been in danger before—”

“What if Axel Brewer isn’t involved and you risk yourself for nothing?”

“It won’t be for nothing if it gives us a lead—”

“Um, hello? I’m still here,” said Tina. Wren and Connor tore their eyes from each other and looked at their friend. “What’s your suggestion that Connor so adamantly opposes?”

“Doing what I was trained to do,” Wren shot at Connor. She looked at Tina. “Going undercover.”

Tina widened her eyes. “Remember what happened to you last time you went undercover?”

“Yeah, but I was also trying to hide from you that I was an ex-assassin. I’ve been in deep-cover before. Even if we don’t find the killer in Typhon, we might can bring Typhon down.”

Tina laughed without much humor. “But how will you find a killer in Typhon? We’re looking for an anti-android, pro-human asshole. That’s everyone in Typhon.”

“Yeah, but this asshole is starkly against android-human relationships. He’s incredibly skilled at hacking and engineering. We’ve got a shoeprint—”

“What the fuck are you gonna do? Go around looking at everyone’s shoes?”

“If it solves the case, yeah,” Wren snapped. “Look, I know it’s not ideal. It may be stupid and reckless, but… I don’t know what else to do. People are dying, and we’re getting nowhere. This killer always seems to be a few steps ahead of us and I’m tired of it.”

Tina lowered her gaze. She pursed her lips and nodded after a moment. “Will Prometheus help you?”

“If I find a way to convince them to give me the resources for it,” said Wren.

“You’re not going alone,” Connor snapped. “It’s too dangerous.”

“I don’t know if you realized,” Wren said venomously, “but Typhon hates androids. You show your face around them, they will fucking destroy you. So no, you’re not going with me.”

Connor curled his lip. “Wren, I’ll take out my LED to pass as human. You’ll need someone with you. You can’t do this alone.”

“Then we can send Gavin or Chris—”

“I can’t sit by and do nothing while you risk your life!” Connor’s protest rang in the stunned silence.

Tina hugged a pillow. “Guys, it’s not even decided yet. We’ll figure this out later, okay? We’ll talk to Popov tomorrow, see what he knows. Then we’ll figure everything else out.”

Wren pushed a hot breath through her nostrils, still glaring at Connor. “Fine.”

Connor’s jaw clenched and he looked away, his expression sharp. Wren’s chest ached at the distance between them.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren stood outside Theodore Popov’s house alone, waiting for the man to answer the door. The door cracked open. A large man peered at her.

“What do you want?”

“Mr. Popov? My name’s… Renee Cage. I’m, uh, private investigator.”

Mr. Popov narrowed his eyes. “What do you want?”

“You were friends with a Mr. Zlatko Andronikov, right?” Wren queried.

Mr. Popov shifted. “Yes. I’m only going to ask this one more time, Miss Cage. What do you want?”

“I’m investigating his death. The cops didn’t do anything about it, and I think it was wrong that he didn’t get the proper investigation or justice.”

Mr. Popov opened the door a little wider. “Who hired you?”

“No one,” said Wren.

“You’re a P.I. Someone hired you.”

Shit, shit, shit. Wren smiled nervously. “Well, you see, I was originally hired to investigate a client of his, which led me to dig into Mr. Andronikov’s history, and then I read about his horrible death and how nothing was done about it, so… I’m investigating on personal time, sir.”

Mr. Popov grunted. “The goodness of your heart, huh? You’re wasting my time.”

Wren slammed her hand against the door to keep Popov from shutting it. “Call it morbid curiosity. I have some questions, but no one else connected with Zlatko will answer them, and I think it’s because of Zlatko’s connection to Axel Brewer—”

Popov spat on the floor. “Fuck Brewer.”

Wren raised a brow. “You’re not a fan?”

“No,” Popov grunted. He squinted at Wren. “You’re not a cop?”

“God no,” Wren scoffed. “I already told you I wasn’t.”

Popov shrugged and allowed Wren entrance. She stepped inside the run-down house. Popov wore a dirty tank top and sweatpants. He sat on the couch and gestured for Wren to sit across from him. “What do you want to know?”

“How was Zlatko connected to Axel Brewer?”

Popov withdrew a cigarette and lit it. “Both weren’t fans of androids. Zlatko was a genius. Give him some tools, and he could construct anything. I don’t really know how they met. Probably one of Brewer’s get-togethers. That man likes to party.”

“I’m gonna be honest,” Wren warned, “I’ve been in Zlatko’s house. He had some sort of machine that could reset androids.”

“Yeah, Brewer bought that for him. Zlatko could do it without the machine, but it helped. Look, money was tight. Zlatko made a living off of resetting defective androids. Some people didn’t want theirs anymore and sold them to Zlatko, who reset them and sold them to others. I think he met Brewer doing that. He sold an android to Brewer for real cheap. They started doing business together. Zlatko was an artist. He transformed androids into freaks. And people’ll pay for a freakshow, especially an android one. Makes ‘em feel less bad about gawking at human freakshows. I think Zlatko started selling some of the freaks to Brewer and others, but he always owed Brewer some of his profits, to pay him back for that fancy machine. But Zlatko was hoarding more of Brewer’s cut each time he sold an android. He was tryin’ to rebuild his family fortune, you see. I told him to hold back on it, but… He did not listen to me.” Popov blew a puff of smoke.

Wren nodded. “And do you know anything else about Axel Brewer? Why do you hate him so much?”

“Because he’s the reason no one wants to look into Zlatko’s murder,” snarled Popov. “He has police in his pocket. Politicians in his pocket. If anyone found out Zlatko was murdered by his own android freaks, then no one would buy them! So Brewer shut everybody up about it.”

“Politicians and police? How do you know?” Wren whispered.

“Why do you think so many politicians keep coming out as anti-android? Lobbying. Brewer’s a powerful man, knows a lot of secrets, and has lots of money. It’s not hard to control people when you’ve got the money to do it.”

Wren widened her eyes. “He’s using the Human Salvation Campaign to do it, isn’t he?”

“Most likely.”

“I knew it,” breathed Wren. She prayed that Popov’s hatred for Brewer was enough for her to push her luck. “Mr. Popov, have you heard of an organization called Typhon?”

Popov’s brow knitted. “No, I haven’t.”

Wren tried to hide her disappointment. “Well, thank you for your time.” She gathered her stuff and stood.

Popov walked her to the door. “Are you going to expose Brewer?”

Wren raised her eyebrows. “That would take a miracle.”

Popov snorted. “It would take someone more powerful than Brewer to do it. More powerful than a P.I.”

Wren’s shoulders slumped. “Unfortunately.”

Back at the DPD, Wren relayed what Popov told her. “I think that Brewer is hiding Typhon by using the Human Salvation Campaign. Typhon does the underground android crimes, while the HSC pushes things forward politically. Typhon raises money for lobbying, while the HSC puts on a good face for those in support of it.”

“Still doesn’t give us any suspects, though,” said Hank.

“Because all the suspects will be protected by Typhon. Our killer is one of them. All the signs point that way.”

“So, how do we narrow it down?”

Wren squared her shoulders. “I’ll have to talk to Rhett and Prometheus. Any resources they have, I can use and infiltrate Typhon.”

“Infiltrate? What, like, undercover?” Gavin gaped at her.

“Yes. It’s our best bet. Networking and making connections with these assholes is our best way to find the underground criminals.”

“But that means you have to go to Prometheus,” said Chris.

Wren nodded. “It does.”

Connor closed his eyes and flattened his lips. Wren’s heart stung.

Hank sighed. “Once you’re inside, how will you narrow it down?”

“I… I don’t know. We’ll have to prepare for this. While I work undercover, you guys work aboveground. We have to come at it from both sides.”

“You shouldn’t go alone,” said Chris. “You’ll need someone watching your back.”

“I was programmed to excel in undercover work,” said Connor. Wren frowned at him. He ignored her. “I can record the things I see and hear, too. It would require less tapping and bugging rooms for Wren.”

“But they hate androids,” said Chris.

“They hate free androids,” said Connor. He met Wren’s gaze. “We’ve done it before. You were a seller, and I was a reset android.”

“And we both know how that ended. That bitch saw right through us and then I got shot!” Wren snarled. Connor flinched and Wren immediately felt guilty.

“We haven’t even gotten the resources to do this yet,” said Hank. “Let’s focus on the most recent crime scene for now, alright?”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren and Connor barely spoke for the rest of the day. It tortured Wren to be angry with the man she loved, but she did not want him anywhere near Typhon. First she had to protect him from Prometheus, and now from Typhon? Didn’t he understand how desperate she was to keep him alive? That the thought of Typhon getting ahold of Connor terrified Wren? That the thought of Prometheus burning him alive would kill her, too?

Part of her knew she was being dramatic. She knew Connor wasn’t helpless. She’d seen him fight. He was intelligent, infinitely so, and downright ruthless when he needed to be. And he had begged her not to push him away, not to treat him like a damsel in distress. He had told her they were a team. And Wren knew that they were a great team, that she was letting her fear of losing him get in the way of that. But she had lived without him for a little while, without her family in Detroit, and she never wanted to do that again.

She was sure Connor didn’t want to lose her, either.

Still, they were both too stubborn to cave first. So they ignored each other.

Tina must’ve sensed Wren’s fuming and sat on the edge of Wren’s desk. “Come on. Let’s go get a drink. Forget about the case for a bit. We haven’t seen each other in months. Really seen each other.”

Wren worked her jaw and nodded. She grabbed her bag and followed Tina out to her car. But, Tina didn’t drive to a bar. Wren suppressed a groan as they neared CyberLife Tower. Tina shot Wren a sympathetic glance, but Wren ignored it. They took the elevator to The Void.

Wren entered the secure room, her blood boiling. She froze when she saw Hank, North, Markus, Chloe, Connor, and Rhett there. Hank gestured to Rhett. “You said you’d need to talk to him, so… ta-da.”

Wren blinked. “Is this an intervention?”

“Sort of,” said Rhett. “We’ve been going through the files you gave us.”

All thoughts of the Typhon case vanished. Even Wren’s frustration with Connor evaporated. “What was on it? Have you guys found anything?”

“It’s got everything about your training. Footage of you sparring, footage of you getting your ass whooped…”

“Footage of you getting tortured and conditioned…” North muttered.

Wren stiffened. She still felt the cold, damp floor of that cellar—that fucking dungeon—the way what was left of her right arm ached from being held above her head for hours, the way her back stung with welts… Wren swallowed the lump in her throat as her eyes traveled over her friends’ faces. They all looked like they were at her funeral, wearing equally solemn looks. Wren’s gaze lingered on Connor, and it clicked. He couldn’t let her go alone, and he would never relent. He’d seen her in so much pain already. Her heart softened.

“I never wanted you guys to see that, I’m sor—”

“Don’t fucking apologize,” North snapped. “We wanted you to get those records so that we could find something to help get you out of there. You broke a few ribs to get us that flash drive. What you went through…” North stopped. She blinked, hard. “Don’t apologize for what they did to you.”

“And it wasn’t for nothing,” Rhett announced. “Prometheus has some liberties in what they’re allowed to do to you, but the whole memory-wiping thing, that’s a grey area. You’re still considered human in your contract, so tampering with your memories like that isn’t strictly speaking within Prometheus’s abilities. You also weren’t the original target for the program.”

Wren gaped. “I wasn’t?”

“Jonah was,” Connor said quietly.

Wren squinted. “Jonah? He was supposed to be a Prometheus agent?” Wren stared at her friends, waiting for someone to say, “Kidding!” No one did. Wren blinked. “So, why’d they switch to me?”

“We don’t know,” said Rhett. “But if you weren’t the original target, then they messed up somewhere.”

Wren narrowed her eyes. “Those don’t really sound like leads.”

“They’re not solid leads, but it’s enough to raise suspicion. Are they still practicing memory-tampering?” Rhett folded his arms.

“It looks like it. 06’s squad didn’t seem to have memories of their lives before Prometheus. They all chose names. They’re being investigated for deviancy.” Wren met Rhett’s gaze.

He closed his eyes and sighed. “Let’s hope they stay strong.”

“Wait, what does that mean?” North demanded.

“Prometheus tortures you until talk. That’s how they investigate things,” Wren gritted out. She bowed her head. Juno flashed in her mind. She didn’t remember much about Juno, only that Wren cared about the android designed to train her. She also remembered that she was forced to kill Juno, but couldn’t bring herself to do it, which led to three extra weeks of conditioning before she “graduated” from the program to a field agent. Wren drew in a shuddering breath. “Please don’t think any less of me if there’s more on those files.”

“Wren, come on. We know you. That was your past,” said North.

“You did what you had to survive,” added Chloe.

“I know how it feels to be faced with difficult situations and decisions,” Markus murmured. “We won’t judge you on who Prometheus made you be.”

Pressure built behind Wren’s eyes. “Thank you.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren returned to her apartment to find 06 waiting for her. “I need to go to Prometheus.”

06 nodded. “I was going to take you anyway. Pauline needs to speak with you.”

Ice trickled down Wren’s spine. “About what?”

“Why don’t you ask her?”

Darkness shrouded Wren. She didn’t know how long she was out, but when she awoke, 06 jerked her off her bed. Wren tried not to imagine him watching her while she slept. 06 led her through the white halls of Prometheus and took her to Pauline’s office, where he thrust her inside. Pauline smiled graciously up at Wren from her desk, all recollection of their past tension-filled conversation gone.

“Have a seat, 01.”

Wren sat down. “06 said you needed to talk to me.”

“He said you needed to talk to me as well. Go ahead.”

“We think this killer is part of Typhon and need to go undercover,” Wren blurted.

Pauline raised her eyebrows. “Who would be going undercover?”

“Me,” said Wren. “Connor mentioned joining me, but I don’t think that’s a good idea. Typhon is anti-android—”

“The RK800 would actually be beneficial for you,” said Pauline.

Wren blinked. “What? How?”

“From what we have gathered, people involved with Typhon have androids still. Reset androids.”

“No. We’re not resetting Connor—”

“Don’t be ridiculous, 01,” said Pauline. “The RK800 needs its memories intact so that it can help you solve the case. How do you intend to find this killer in the midst of Typhon?”

“Well, same way I’ve found others while in deep cover. Word of mouth, making connections, old-fashioned spying…”

“From what we know of Typhon, they tend to induct members after Axel Brewer approves of them. You’ll need an identity that intrigues him. You’ll have to work your way up to him, too. He will have to be the one to invite you. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“This could be an operation that takes several weeks to a few months.”

“I understand.”

“If the RK800 accompanies you, it will have to revert to machine-like qualities. Can it do that?”

“I think so.”

“You will have to treat it like an it.”

“I understand.”

“And you will have to be anti-android.”

“I know.”

“I agree that an undercover operation is best, but not just to find this killer. Our goal here is to bring down Typhon. Prove Brewer is lobbying politicians and corrupting police. Prove Typhon is backing the killings. Even if Brewer isn’t the murderer, he will protect whoever is doing it to the best of his ability. The best way to catch this killer is to unravel their whole operation. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Very well. We will construct an identity for you and the RK800. In the meantime, you will remain at Prometheus.”

Wren widened her eyes. “Remain here? For what?”

“Well, you’ll need to practice your new identity. And 06 also brought you here for special training with the other squadrons.”

Wren frowned. “Other squadrons?”

“Yes. You will be here until the training is complete and your identity is solidified. You are dismissed.”

Wren’s heart jumped to her throat. She was trapped in Prometheus.

Chapter Text

Whenever Wren returned to Prometheus, it left Connor in a world of worry. There was no telling how long she would be gone, or if she would ever come back. He sprawled on his bed and put on Wren’s headphones. Holding Wren’s iPod over his face, he scrolled through her playlists. He needed to hear from her, to feel like she was there, to understand her heart a little better. She once told him that music was a way of communicating things that words couldn’t. So, he shuffled her playlist titled, “wow that’s me.”

A slow piano started, and Connor’s metal heart felt hollower than a lead pipe. He hoped the rest of her playlist contained some happy songs. As the artist sang, Connor’s heart sank deeper into his chest until he felt as if the wires in his body choked it.

Who do you call when you need some help?

Who do you call when you by yourself?

Who do you call when you feel down low?

It pained Connor to think about how much Wren fought their battle with Prometheus alone. The monster she faced in her apartment were just a snippet of what she must face within the walls of Prometheus. Whenever she entered their walls, how many wolves did she face? How many teeth did she shy away from? How much weight did she carry?

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor paced Markus’s office while North sat on the edge of Markus’s desk. Markus seated himself on one of the couches in front of the desk, his hands clasped in front of him. Josh leaned against the wall with his arms folded.

“A week,” Connor iterated, “a week. She’s never been gone this long.”

“Maybe they had a mission for her,” shrugged North. But the wrinkle of her brow shattered any illusion of nonchalance.

“She went to gather resources for her current mission. Why would they send her on another? It has to be because she broke their rules. They must think she’s conspiring with us.”

Markus frowned. “And Kamski finished making some tech that would help track her…”

“He’s too late,” Connor snapped.

“What about Rhett?” Josh suggested. “He has access to Prometheus in ways we don’t. Maybe he could check on her.”

Connor stopped pacing. “What if we’re too late—”

“Connor, we’re doing everything we can. Wren can handle herself—”

“She shouldn’t have to. She’s alone, and I hate feeling so helpless.” Connor lowered his gaze.

North puckered her brow. “I hate it, too. Rhett said he’s been conducting a covert investigation. Maybe he’ll find where they’re located. When he does, we can get Wren out.”

“No news might be a good sign,” said Josh. “I feel like we’d know if Wren were dead.”

Connor worked his jaw. “Unless they don’t kill her—”

“Connor, you’re torturing yourself. I’ll contact Rhett and get him to check on Wren, okay? There’s nothing we can do until we get word.”

Connor opened his mouth to combat Markus’s reason, but his phone buzzed. He checked it and deflated.

“What’s wrong?” North scowled.

“It’s Tina,” Connor muttered. He pocketed his phone. “More bodies were just discovered.”

The three leaders of Jericho deflated and shook their heads. North’s disappointment quickly hardened into a scowl. “Fuck whoever this asshole is. He wants to stall progress, but he can’t stop what we’ve started.”

Markus rubbed his brow. “Well, whoever’s doing this is managing to stir up the public.”

“Yeah, I’ve been managing the media to the best of my ability, but last week’s crime at the church… There’s no hiding that.” Josh sank onto the couch beside Markus.

Connor’s eyes flitted over his friends. They all looked exhausted, which suggested that none of them had entered standby in a while.

“It doesn’t help that we’re trying to get representatives in Congress so that we can garner more rights.”

“And more and more androids want to get married,” said North. “We can work and get paid, and even own property to an extent, but… There are still humans that hate us.”

“There will always be humans that hate us,” said Connor. “But there will also always be humans that care.”

North nodded. “I know. But the ones who do hate us are vocal, and are gaining more power.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Connor furrowed his brow.

“You have enough to worry about,” Markus turned his heterochromatic eyes to Connor. “Focus on saving Wren and catching this killer.”

Connor dipped his head. “Then I better get to the crime scene.”

He left his friends and took an autotaxi to the crime scene, where he found Tina, Gavin and Chris already investigating. Chris greeted Connor at the holographic police tape.

“Two bodies, same M.O. But they’re staged again.”

Connor pushed through the hologram and followed Chris into the house. Upon setting eyes on the crime scene, Connor raised his eyebrows and gaped a little. It looked like a scene from a movie set in the 1950s, except the décor did not quite match. The human male wore 50s attire and slumped at the kitchen table. Blood pooled on the floor from his torn throat. The android female wore 50s attire as well, and the killer even took the time to style her hair and makeup to match the era. Although dead, she stood upright, one foot in front of the other, as if frozen mid-step. She held a dinner plate with the human male’s torn throat in the center. Her thirium pump regulator sat beside the shreds of human skin.

Gavin folded his arms as he eyed the crime scene. “Well, he spent a long time with them.”

Connor inched closer to the dead android.

<scanning> <Processing… Complete>

[Makeup, applied approximately 7 hours ago]

[No fingerprints]

[Android victim applied herself?]

Connor drew back, his brow puckering. “I think she applied her makeup before the murder.”

“Wait, so, she did her hair and makeup like this and then…” Tina stared at the grisly scene with wide eyes.

Connor stepped around the android and glanced at the dead human. “Whoever is doing this hacked the android prior to the murder, made her do this to herself and then that.”

“They were dressed after, though,” said Gavin. “They weren’t killed here.”

“Yeah, it looks like it happened in the living room,” said Chris, looking a little green.

Connor nodded. He suspected as much, judging by the trails of red and blue blood. Their clothes looked too clean for them to have died in them, too.

“How’d the killer get her to stand like that?” Tina whispered.

Connor looked at the android. “Android bodies don’t always go quite so limp when they’re shut down. But they usually don’t stand like this, either.”

Connor crouched to look at her feet. He flattened his lips. The android wore oxford shoes, covering most of her feet. But a little splatter of blue blood caught Connor’s eye. Frowning, he peeled back the tongue of the left shoe. Peeking out of the android’s foot was the top of a large nail. Connor straightened.

“She was nailed to the floor.”

“Jesus Christ,” Gavin muttered. “This guy’s a real sicko.”

Connor ventured into the living room, where the murder obviously happened. Signs of a struggle littered the room with broken pieces of furniture and decorative pieces. The human tried to fight his android lover off, but she prevailed.

<scanning> <Processing… Complete> [Reconstruct]

Connor followed the outlines of the two figures to the front of the room. The female android came from upstairs, holding a pair of scissors. The human greeted her, but she slashed the scissors, slicing open the man’s arm. He knocked the scissors from the android’s grip. She immediately attacked, and the human defended himself. Lipstick smeared the wall from where it transferred from the fight. The human broke a vase over the android, but she continued her advance. She placed a well-aimed punch and knocked the human over. He backed away and kicked the coffee table forward to stagger the android. She pushed it out of the way, grabbed a statuette off the mantle and hit the human with it. Then, she straddled him and ripped out his throat with her bare hands. When the human slackened, the android ripped out her own thirium pump regulator and collapsed onto the floor beside her lover.

Connor withdrew from the reconstruction. “They were killed about seven hours ago. Who discovered the bodies?”

“The neighbor,” said Tina. “They had dinner plans, apparently.”

Connor furrowed his brow. “The killer would’ve needed a bit of time to set up the scene. He did this in the middle of the day, and no one saw anything?”

“We haven’t gotten a chance to talk to neighbors yet,” said Chris.

“How’d the killer manage to dress both of them, drag their bodies, stage them, clean up any evidence that he was here, and leave all by himself?” Tina demanded.

Gavin pinched his nose. “I mean, I’m in shape, but dressing two limp bodies? I’d be exhausted.”

“So, we are looking for a group?” Chris glanced at the bloody scene, color draining from his face.

“This just reaffirms that we’re looking for Typhon,” muttered Tina. Her hands slapped to her sides. “We have to be. No way a human could do this on his own.”  

Connor wrinkled his brow. “Why would they dress the victims in 1950s attire?”

“It’s a statement,” said Gavin. “An android and a human can’t reproduce, so they’re resisting the nuclear family ideals.”

“The killers are calling android-human relationships a mockery of traditional families,” added Tina.

“Oh.” Connor raised his eyebrows, impressed with his team.

Chris thumped Connor’s back. “Let’s go question some neighbors.”  

They stepped outside while Tina and Gavin wrapped up inside. Most of the neighbors had already gathered outside to rubberneck, which made questioning them more accessible. Many of the neighbors did not know much, just that the couple was quiet and kept to themselves, and that no one saw anything. One couple, however, reported seeing a van parked outside of the house for a few hours.

“A van?” Chris queried. “Did anyone catch the plate?”

“What do we look like, cops?” snorted one man. His wife elbowed him in his belly. She shot Connor an apologetic glance.

“They looked like any generic carpet cleaners,” she said. “I didn’t think anything of it.”

Connor glanced at Chris before returning his attention to the woman. “They?”

“Yeah, they were just a typical cleaning crew. Four—maybe five—people?”

Chris’s eyebrows shot up. “Did you recognize the brand?”

“No.” The woman shook her head. “A lot of people around here use Aaron’s Carpet and Janitorial Services, but… This company wasn’t them. I can’t remember their name… Chet’s Cleaning, maybe.”

Connor immediately scanned the name.

<Processing… Complete>

[Chet’s Cleaning, 2 locations]

“The nearest one’s in Warrendale,” Connor announced.

“You can figure that out just by blinking?” The woman widened her eyes at Connor before she looked him over.

He dipped his head. “Correct.”

The woman’s lips quirked. “If I think of anything else, can I call you?”

Chris snorted.

Her husband gaped at her. “Really, Kelly?”

The woman, Kelly, rolled her eyes. “Phil, you read into everything!”

“Because you flirt with everything!”

The couple turned their attention onto one another, their bickering rising to such a volume that they failed to hear Chris’s “Thank you for your cooperation.”

Chris snickered as he and Connor returned to the squad cars. Connor squinted. “I didn’t feel like she was flirting with me.”

“She wasn’t very much until the end. She came off pretty strong there.”

Connor glanced back at her. “She’s human.”

“Yeah?”

Connor frowned. “I believe the only other human to show interest in me was Wren.”

Chris raised his eyebrows. “I guarantee that you’re wrong about that. You’re a good-looking guy. I’m pretty sure I’ve noticed people checking you out. Maybe you’ve just never noticed.”

“I’m supposed to notice even the smallest details—”

“At a crime scene, maybe,” Chris shrugged, “but when it comes to interest? You’re just as oblivious as all us humans.”

Connor’s lips quirked. “Hank told me once that I look goofy and have a weird voice.”

“That’s Hank showing affection.”

Connor’s smirk widened. “I know.”

Chris grinned. It faded after a moment. “We should get back to work.”

Connor’s shoulders slumped. “You’re right. I’ll call and check with Chet’s Cleaning Company to see if they’ve had a van stolen or go missing.”

“Good thinking.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Even with their first real lead, the team seemed low. After examining the crime scene, Connor, Tina, Gavin, and Chris felt drained. Hank followed up on the van, found that Chet’s indeed was missing a van, but it had been reported weeks ago. They reached another dead end. After looking over the newest crime scene photos, Hank called it a day for everyone.

Hank remained quiet on the drive home. Knights of the Black Death blared in the car, rattling the windows with the volume. Connor fiddled with his quarter, trying to ignore Hank’s apparent sour mood. But once they reached home, Connor caught the sad crinkle of Hank’s eyes and deflated.

“Is something wrong, Hank?”

Hank slowed as he pulled a container of leftovers out of the fridge. He scooped the cold food into a bowl and placed it in the microwave before answering. “Guess I’m just disturbed by these murders.”

Connor folded his arms. “We aren’t getting anywhere with this investigation—”

“It’s not that,” Hank sighed. “I mean, yeah, that’s frustrating, but… I don’t know, kid. They’re just motivated by such hatred. And every time we look at a new crime scene, I can’t help but see…” Hank trailed off. His bottom lip trembled and he scowled, shuffling his body away from Connor to focus on the microwave.

“See what?” Connor pressed.

“I look at those victims, and I see you and Wren. Or Tina and Chloe.”

Connor could no longer see Hank’s face, but heard the waver in his father’s voice.

“Oh.”

Hank jerked open the microwave before it beeped and placed the hot bowl on the counter. “I know you guys would never be victims, but… I still can’t help but see you guys. I care about all you kids, and I never want you guys to face this hatred just because you’re in love.” Hank shook his head and sniffed as he stirred his food around. Steam curled into his face. “Guess I’ve got an extra level of empathy for these victims.”

Connor furrowed his brow. “I understand.”

“I’m sorry, kid. I don’t wanna worry you. You’ve got enough on your mind.”

Connor worked his jaw. “I’m alright. The case provides a good distraction, if a distressing one.”

“Yeah…” The slight narrow of Hank’s eyes told Connor that he didn’t quite believe Connor.

“I’m going to walk Sumo, if that’s alright.”

“Go ahead.”

Connor brought Wren’s iPod with him and gripped Sumo’s leash in his other hand with tighter grip than necessary.

Come hold me down, I've gone too far These heavy words, your open heart    

Wren’s glare burned his processor. The way she adamantly opposed Connor going undercover with her stung, but what hurt worse was the way she did it. She used her getting shot to dissuade him. She took that bullet for him to save his life, because yes, they were uncovered rather quickly. She nearly died because she loved him and that love bled through the cracks of her undercover persona. She took that bullet to save him, and she used it against him. Some part of him knew that Wren must be scared for herself but also for him. But didn’t she know that if she went undercover by herself, she’d be in more danger than she could imagine? Did she know how much that would torment him?

Connor reached the top of the hill. Sumo panted and sniffed at a patch of grass.

Is the world we save getting in our ways?

Heaviness gripped Connor’s chest. Even if they managed to dismantle Prometheus, would the world accept them? Even if Wren were free from the talons of Prometheus, would she be free from the gnashing teeth of anti-android wolves? All he wanted was for them to be a normal couple for once. He wanted to take Wren on dates, and cuddle in bed, or even express their love openly. He wanted to hold her hand without Prometheus putting a knife to her throat. He wanted to kiss her without fearing 06 punching Wren in the mouth for it. He just wanted to be with her freely, but it seemed as though they couldn’t even have that.

Connor returned home feeling as if his thirium had hardened into cold stone. He nodded to Hank, who sat on the couch watching TV. After feeding Sumo, Connor headed for the bathroom. Perhaps the hot water would soothe him. As the water sluiced down his freckled skin and flattened his hair to his forehead, his mind drifted from Wren to the case. Shoulders curling forward and bowing his head, Connor closed his eyes. He was supposed to be able to accomplish any mission, but he couldn’t even find a serial killer. This case just led to dead end after dead end. His investigation into Prometheus led to even more dead ends. Everything he tried to do led to a fucking dead end. These cases hollowed him out with their claws.

With a brisk flick of his wrists, Connor shut off the water. After getting dressed, he shuffled to his bedroom and laid down.

˄Level of Stress: 65%

He sighed to ventilate his systems, but his stress levels only decreased by a measly percentage. He needed to go into stasis. The emotional toll the past several days had taken on him overheated his systems. His processor logged his last stasis rest as two and a half weeks ago. He hadn’t even gone into stasis when Wren spent the night, as much as he’d wanted to. He knew she’d been scared, so he stayed up all night in case anything happened. He hadn’t slept since Wren left.

|Enter stasis mode?|

○Yes

□No  

|Yes|

His eyes flickered open. Snowflakes caught on his eyelashes. He blinked them away and sat up, clumps of snow collapsing off of him. If he had breath, it would’ve hitched. He was in the Zen Garden.

Connor used the stone, his emergency exit, to stand. The handprint no longer glowed blue. He looked around. The air was still and dry. Snow glittered on the ground. He hugged himself and stepped around debris of fallen branches from the blizzard. Connor refused to step on the ice, even though it looked intact. He crossed over the bridge, but his footsteps faltered.

Amanda stood with her back to him, brushing the pads of her fingers along the crystallized roses. She sighed. “Oh, they’re ruined… All ruined… I’ll have to start over.”

Connor squinted at her. “Amanda?”

Amanda turned, cradling a frozen rose. “Connor. It’s good to see you.”

Flicking his eyes around the destructed Zen Garden, Connor took a moment to find the right words. “What am I doing here?”

Amanda traced a finger along the frosted edges of a petal with a smooth mask of indifference. “We have to start over. You failed your mission.”

The thirium in Connor’s artificial veins ran colder than the frozen pond. “N-no, I’m a deviant. You’re gone. I used the exit—”

Amanda smirked. “Yes, you did. Very clever.” She crushed the rose petals in one of her hands. Flakes of crystals and petals drifted to the ground. “But I was in your head, Connor.” Her smile was sharp. “Can you ever be rid of me?”

Connor gasped as he withdrew from stasis, kicking off the covers as his thirium pump thrashed. Gripping the sides of his head, he took several breaths. She wasn’t real. It was just a nightmare. Still, that did not fully comfort Connor.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

After work, Connor went to Jericho to hang out. He needed out of the house and in the comfort of his android friends, those who understood the hyper-realism of android dreams. When he arrived, Markus and North were busy in their respective offices, but Josh’s door stood ajar. Connor knocked firmly.

“Come in,” called Josh.

Connor pushed the door open and sidled inside Josh’s cozy office. Josh sat at the semi-circle sofa in the corner of the room, reading. He glanced up and smiled as Connor sat down across from him.

“Hey. Wasn’t expecting you today.”

Connor managed a quirk of his lips. “I need to get out more.”

Josh puffed out his cheeks. “Yeah, I’d say we all do.”

“What are you reading?”

“King Lear,” said Josh, lifting the book. “It’s one of my favorites by Shakespeare.”

Connor squinted at the book and scanned it. He raised his eyebrows. “It’s a tragedy?”

“Yeah,” said Josh. He smiled sheepishly. “I like the tragedies more than the comedies, but both have their merits.”

“I don’t think reading a tragedy would do me any good right now.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t,” agreed Josh.

Connor met Josh’s gaze after a moment. “Do you know anything about mind palaces or A.I. handlers?”

Josh raised his eyebrows. “Uh, not much. Why?”

Connor tucked his chin and rubbed his palms together. “Have any deviants reverted back to their pre-deviancy selves?”

“Not that I’ve heard of. In fact, most deviants seem to deviate more from programming and develop into individuals… The only ones who revert are forced to by being reset. Why?”

Connor squished his eyebrows together. “Nothing, I… I just had a dream. It seemed so real…”

“Well, from what I understand of human dreams, they’re compiled by the brain from a mixture of forgotten memories and things experienced that day, including thoughts. Their brains are fascinating—the amount of their mental capacity that is just untapped is astounding—and studying human psychology helps us understand android psychology. Humans don’t always remember all of their dreams. A lot of things are subconscious. If their dreams are based off all that, think about what android dreams can do. I mean, our memories are more accurate and photorealistic because we can record what we see. Usually there’s some static, but… For the most part, we remember things exactly as they happened. When we enter stasis, our processors are free to do their own thing. I hear dreaming is more common in deviants who’ve either been deviants a long time or are more comfortable in their deviancy. Really, having dreams is a good thing, Connor. Anyway, the short answer is that androids tend to have hyper-realistic dreams because of our ability to recall memories with near-perfect accuracy.”

Connor said nothing for several seconds. Josh cringed.

“Sorry I rambled.”

Connor shook his head. “No, that was helpful. Thank you.”

Josh relaxed. “Sure thing. If you want, I can lend you some books—”

“Ready to watch the news, nerd?” North leaned against the doorframe. Her eyes stretched upon seeing Connor. “Hey. We didn’t know you were coming.”

“I’m sorry for dropping in unannounced,” Connor stiffened his posture.

North waved him off. “You’re always welcome here. As long as you don’t mind watching the news. We like to do that as a group each night.”

“I don’t mind.”

While Josh turned on the TV in his office, Markus strode in looking a little tired. He still smiled at Connor, though. The four of them squeezed together in the corner of Josh’s office. Most of the local news was rather uninteresting, until Rosanna Cartland announced the very case Connor and his team were working on.

“Previously thought to be suspicious circumstances, it is now clear that these deaths are the work of a serial killer rampant in Detroit,” stated Rosanna. Connor worked his jaw. “Just yesterday two more bodies were found. The victims are all involved in an android-human cross-species relationship. Many are speculating that this killer is trying to make a statement against these types of relationships.”

The screen cut to interviews of some of the neighbors of the most recent victims.

One man said, “It’s not natural. I mean, people are still getting used to them being alive, and now people are wanting to get married to them? A human and an android… It goes against biology, ya know? They’re a different species.”

Connor raised his eyebrows as he recognized Phil. “The last thing humanity needs is a bunch of socketfu—” The cast bleeped out Phil’s vulgar language. The screen cut back to Rosanna.

“Public support of android-human relationships has decreased within the past few weeks, especially since these murders. With human birthrates lower than they’ve ever been, are android-human relationships really what the world needs?”

North shut off the TV. “Oh, fuck them. Mouth-breathers.”

Connor’s chest tightened. He felt the Jericho leaders’ eyes on him.

“North’s right,” said Josh. “The media always demonizes things they don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry, did you just agree with me?” North grinned.

Josh rolled his eyes. “You are such a toothache.”

“You don’t even know what a toothache feels like.”

“I don’t have to know because I know you’re the epitome of a toothache.”

“Guys,” snapped Markus.

Connor tried to smile, but the corners of his mouth barely twitched. “I’m sorry. I know I haven’t been much fun lately.”

“You say that like you were ever much fun.”

“North!”

But the jest actually prodded a weak smile out of Connor. He met North’s gaze. “If you’re a toothache, then I must be the equivalent of a parasite.”

North smirked. “Yep, you can suck the fun right out of any room.” She reached out and took his hands. “Seriously though, you shouldn’t feel bad. You need to talk to someone. We’re here.”

Connor looked away from her. “I keep thinking that once we get Wren out of Prometheus, that everything will be fine and we can move on. But it looks like we won’t get that.” His eyes flashed to the black screen of the TV.

“Fuck them. Don’t worry about that obstacle just yet. Prometheus is our biggest obstacle. Focus on getting Wren out.”

“We contacted Rhett by the way,” said Josh. “He said he’d check on her.”

Connor nodded. North squeezed his hands and released them. “Look, if you guys can survive this Prometheus bullshit, you can survive anything.”

“If we survive all of this. Part of me wonders if we will.”

“You will,” Markus assured him. “There was a time when we couldn’t see a future for androids, and all I saw was death and destruction. All I saw were our struggles. Now look at us. We’ve got a long way to go, but we’ve come so far. I know this seems impossible now, but you’ll get through it. We all will.”

Connor nodded and cracked a smile, though Markus’s speech failed to truly rouse him. “Thank you.” He stood to leave.

“I’ll walk you out,” North offered, standing with him. The two of them trekked down the hall. A few androids lingered outside North’s office. North glanced at Connor. “Mind if I handle this really quick?”

“Of course not.”

North paused by the androids. “Is this an emergency?”

“No,” said one of the androids. “We just wanted to see if you could help us find jobs.”

North sighed. “Guys, it’s after hours. I’ll help you first thing in the morning. That’s more of Josh’s forte anyway.”

“Of course. Thank you.” The androids sidled past North. One shot a passing glance at Connor before doing a double take.

Immediately, the android’s face contorted. “Deviant hunter.” He spat on the floor.

Connor flinched but said nothing. North, however, was not silent.

“How dare you?” she snarled. “I don’t ever want to hear you say something like that to one of our people again, do you understand?”

Without waiting for a response, North stormed toward the elevator. Connor followed her, averting the androids’ eyes. North got on the elevator with Connor and jabbed a button that took them to the roof. They stepped out onto the roof, which was decorated with string lights and outdoor furniture. North trekked to one of the railings and looked out at the city.

“I come here a lot when I need to think,” she muttered. Her eyes flicked to Connor, who took in the glittering and neon lights of Detroit. It reminded him of his chats with Wren on the roof of the precinct. “You okay? You seem really down. I mean, besides the whole Wren and Prometheus situation. And don’t say nothing’s wrong, because your LED was red when that guy yelled at you, and it’s yellow now.”

Connor sighed and gripped the rail, glancing down at the ground far below. “I have a lot on my mind.”

“I’ve got time. Come on, Connor.”

Connor bowed his head. He didn’t know where to start. “I feel like everything is going wrong. With the case, with Prometheus, with—” Connor stopped himself.

North glanced at him. “With… Wren?”

Connor pursed his lips and squeezed his eyes shut. “Every piece of evidence we have for the case leads us nowhere, and I feel like watching the video files are getting us nowhere with Prometheus, and Wren…” Connor inhaled. “I want things to go back to normal. But I can’t help but feel that even if we get her out, that things won’t go back to normal. People won’t accept a human and an android. Even when this is all over, Wren and I won’t be able to have a normal relationship. We’ll have to keep fighting. I’m even sure if Wren wants a normal relationship.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you both are fighters.”

“I’m tired of fighting.”

North sighed. “Look, I sort of know where you’re coming from. During the revolution, Markus had feelings for me and Simon. He was really conflicted. And when Simon died-” Connor bowed his head- “I think Markus drew closer to me out of grief. Also out of fear because the revolution was an incredibly stressful time. And then when it was a success, Markus and I weren’t much of anything. He felt guilty, like he was betraying Simon. I think he would’ve chosen Simon over me.” North stared ahead. Connor’s eyes flicked to her and his heart tightened at the sad smile contouring North’s face. “I’m not easy to love.”

“Markus never loved you less than Simon. He loved both of you. And he still loves you. He’s told me that.”

North’s smile brightened. “Thank you, Connor.” She straightened. “What I was trying to get at was that after the Liberation, we had a lot of healing to do. We had to figure out who we were when weren’t constantly fighting for our lives. You and Wren are fighting right now. You’re fighting to save her; she’s fighting to save you and her own life… There’s no doubt that you’ll have a lot of healing and figuring out to do, but you’ll get through it. It’s almost like falling in love again.” North’s expression softened with tenderness. Then, she perked up. “As for your case, at least you might be going undercover—”

“That’s another thing bothering me,” Connor interrupted, turning away from the rail, “Wren didn’t want me to go undercover with her. I understand she’s scared—”

“Connor, you’re going to be infiltrating a staunchly anti-android terrorist group. Of course Wren’s scared.”

Connor flared his nostrils and folded his arms. “I’m tired of her treating me like I’m helpless—”

“Have you ever considered that maybe she’s not just scared for your safety?” 

Wrinkling his brow, Connor looked over his shoulder at North. “What do you mean?”

North shrugged. “Wren is probably going to have to act like the people you’re infiltrating. Which means she’s going to have to play the part of someone pretty monstrous. Wren’s always said she was good at her job. Maybe she’s scared you’ll see a side to her that she doesn’t like to show.”

Connor blinked. He looked away from North, and the wrinkle of his brow slackened slightly. He squinted at her. “Did you talk to her?”

“No.” North’s tone sharpened. She avoided meeting Connor’s gaze. “Ever since we’ve looked into her past, I feel like I understand Wren a bit more. She and I have a lot in common, and I know how I’d feel if Markus saw who I used to be.”

Connor lowered his head. He understood—before his deviancy, he did some bad things. He doubted that he would be proud to show the machine he used to be to Wren. Connor lifted his head and let out a strained breath. The stars sparkled above him. “There are so many things I want to talk to Wren about, but I can’t even do that. I can’t tell her I love her without Prometheus punishing her for it.”

North huffed as she stood by him. “Yeah, fuck them. I don’t think we need to watch those videos anymore. We have enough to launch an investigation. I say we use Elijah’s tech and have Wren really bring Prometheus down from the inside out. Elijah just needs to hurry up and finish.”

“If it’s not too late.”

“Why would it be?”

Connor rubbed the back of his neck. “Wren and I kissed.”

North scowled at him. “And you think it’s too late because…?”

“Prometheus didn’t want her reconciling with us, remember?”

“Well, yeah, but… It doesn’t make sense for them to pull her from this case because of a kiss. I’m sure you’re overthinking. Besides, we’ve got Rhett. Even if Prometheus is trying to keep Wren away from us, we’ve got an ally in the CIA. Wren’s not gone from us forever, okay?” North patted Connor on the back. He managed a small smile.

“You’re probably right.”

“That’s usually the case.”

“Thank you, North.”

“Anytime.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

|Enter stasis mode?|

○Yes

□No  

|Yes|

The Zen Garden bloomed with pink. Flowers fluttered in the breeze and caught in Connor’s hair like flakes of snow. He shook the curly petals loose, darting his eyes about the mind palace.

˄Level of Stress: 66%

Amanda stood with her back to him as she pruned the roses snaked around the white lattice. With each snip of her shears, Connor’s stress levels rose. He said nothing. Amanda knew he was there.

She caressed a rose and turned. The sunlight harshened the contours of her face. “Hello, Connor. I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

Connor followed the extension of Amanda’s arm until he laid eyes on the someone. He gasped and backed away with quick, jerky steps. It was the thing from Wren’s nightmares. The faceless creature, the naked, faceless man that called itself Prometheus. This was how Wren’s stress manifested her fears of Prometheus. This monster .

Its arms were too long and too angled. It walked toward Connor with jagged, jerky steps. Connor took a deep breath to ventilate his systems.

“Neither of you are real. You’re just manifestations of my stress.”

“Of course we’re real, Connor,” purred Amanda. She placed a hand on Prometheus’s bony shoulder blades. “You’re scared because we exist. Maybe in another form, but we’re here because you’re afraid.”

Connor parted his lips and shook his head. “N-no—”

“Sooner or later, I’m going to catch you in your waking world,” Amanda promised. Her nails trailed from the top of Prometheus’s head down its spine, like some bizarre pet. “And Prometheus is hungry for Wren. It’d be a pity if you got swallowed because of her.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

When Connor and Tina arrived at the location of the missing van, two full weeks had passed since Wren returned to Prometheus. Connor’s worry lurked in the back of his processor, but he managed to focus his attention on finding this van, the one the neighbors saw at the most recent murder.

“Damn it,” Tina growled as they approached. Connor deflated, too. The outside of the van appeared scorched and stripped. Still, they searched the inside.

<scan><Processing… Complete>

[Traces of sodium hypochlorite detected]

[Inside of van was burned]

Connor flattened his lips and shook his head at Tina.

“Fuck!” She folded her arms. “So they cleaned and torched it. They really didn’t want us to find any evidence.”

Connor nodded, circling the perimeter. “They never leave evidence, except for that partial shoeprint one time.”

“How are they this good?” Tina rubbed her brow.

Connor scrunched his brow. “Practice?”

Tina snorted, then widened her eyes. “Wait, that’s actually smart. We need to look into other crimes with similar M.O.’s.”

“I’m pretty sure there haven’t been any murders like these—”

“No, I mean petty stuff. Android hacking prior to the Liberation.”

Connor scowled. “I doubt that list is small.”

Tina’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“It’s still worth a look,” Connor reassured her. He frowned at the crime scene. The way these killers were so precise, so exact, and left no evidence behind, it almost seemed too perfect. If crime could be perfect.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Later that evening, Connor met with Rhett in The Void. Connor barely secured the door before rounding on Rhett and demanding, “Is Wren okay?”

“I didn’t get to see her,” said Rhett. Connor’s heart stuttered. Rhett held up a hand. “Before you panicking, they assured me that she was okay. Everything was super hush-hush, and I didn’t go inside or anything—”

Connor frowned. “You know where Prometheus is, don’t you?”

Rhett blanched. “I mean, I’ve been inside—”

“But you don’t have to be unconscious when you go in or out.”

“No.”

Connor scowled. “And you haven’t said anything? We’ve been here trying to figure out where Wren is and how to save her, and you’ve known all along?”

“Hold on,” snapped Rhett, “we haven’t been trying to figure out where she is. We’ve been trying to find ways to take down Prometheus for good.”

“Because that’s all that’s mattered to you. You don’t care about saving Wren. You just care about your mission.” Connor stood toe to toe with Rhett. Even though the CIA agent was taller than Connor by a couple of inches, Connor still managed to seem dangerous. His lip curled and his eyes narrowed. Rhett stepped back.

“Don’t you dare accuse me of not caring for Wren,” he seethed quietly. “I’ve known her longer than you. I went there for her. I’m trying to bring Prometheus down so that she can live a quiet life without them breathing down her neck. I’m trying to dismantle Prometheus so that she can come home to you. I don’t give a shit about you. I give a shit about her, and for some reason, she cares a hell of a lot for you. So fuck you.”

Connor clenched his jaw and curled his fingers into his palms. He glanced away from Rhett. His face tingled with heat. “Oh.”

“Whatever. We don’t have to be friends. Wren’ll be back in a week.”

Connor nodded, still avoiding Rhett’s gaze. He’d never let his emotions overcome him like that normally. What was wrong with him?

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

|Enter stasis mode?|

○Yes

□No  

|Yes|

“Hurry, Connor. There’s little time.”

The Zen Garden flickered with static. The trees burned. Fire curled in an amber blaze toward the red sky. Smoke clogged the air. The Garden burned, and the flames flickered like autumn leaves.

H̠͇̖̱ͅur̫͈r͚y̭ͅ,̟̬̻͙̥̦ ̯͚C̯ọnn͖͇͍̦͔̮̭o͚̣̣̟̩r͈͈̬̬̻̝̱.̺͚͎̭̖ͅ ͇͖̱͖T͈͍͈̘h̘̬͇̞̝͈e̻͎͉r̹͙͈̱͎͉e̦͚̬̣̞̗̘'͇̞̻̮͖s͉ ͙̟l̰i̫̖t͍̣t̪̝l̩̬̱̟e͔̳̞̭͈ͅ ̥̘̠͚͍t͍̲̞i̮m̟ͅe̳̟̜̦̜͉.̬͕  ̣

Connor trudged forward, shielding his eyes from smoke and stray sparks. His footsteps brought him upon the bridge, toward the center of the Zen Garden.

H̻̖̲͙u͇̳͚͈͔r̵r͖̼̭y,̡̻̥̪̬̟͖̻ ̛̦̩̲̠̱̙͙C̣̫̞̤̺̙ͅo͙͞n̝̫̻̪͘n̖̞o҉͍̪̲͉r̥̣̙.̵̘ ҉͕The̸͚͍̘re͍̦̣̻'̠̼͘s̖̣̫̠̣̻ ̶͙̼̟͕̼̬l̦̘͎̜̥͔̞i̳͔͜ͅttl͖̳̰̙e̳̖̖̞͜ ͚̝̣̻ţ̥̗̦̝͔i̶̖͚̩̫̙̲ͅm̺͍̜̙e̯̮̪̹̦̠.̧͓ ̺͔  

Scooping up a glint of silver, Connor paused at the center of the Zen Garden. He turned over a pair of shears. His brow puckered.

Prometheus, now on all fours with limbs at unnatural angles like a spider, scuttled toward him. It tilted its face at him. Connor stared down at it.

H̵͚̤̟͉͈̟͂̉ͪu̟̻͉̰ͣͩ͂͛ͫͣ͘r̷̍͂̾r̨̹͓͎͖y̲͖̮͔̣ͨ͌͒̅͟, ̸̤̙̪͕ͯ͒ͬC̤͊͜o̜͙̞̜͓̒ͬ͟nͪͥ̊̓̔̾̍n̬̈̌͢o͕ͫ̃͊̽̂r͙̹̤ͭ̑̃̈̅ͤ.̙͖̠̊ͨ̏ͩͩ̈́͌͢ ̝̹ͨͬ̓̈͊̈̇T͋ͦ͂ͨ҉͇͔̯̘̻h̘̠̿͋ͣͭ̚͢e͚̓ͭr̆ͣ͌̌ͭͨ͐͠è̙̱͈̦̮̎͗ͨ'̠̞ͪͦͭ́̂s̛͈̦̭ ̶͎̲̝l̞͖̠̻̗̣̉ͅi͌ͣͪt̓̉ͩ̓̕t̼̼̰͉̾l̦̱̠͉̭͙̳͒̈̉̾͒ͣe͓̩͌̀ͯ͞ ̌ͨ͋t͢iḿ̽͏̜̪e̴͎̾́̑.͎̝̞̮̖̯͎ͭ ̻̮̩̝̻̫̭ͯ͠

Someone sobbed. Connor’s eyes snapped toward the source. His brow twitched.

Wren.

The roses tied her to the lattice. They snaked around her wrists and around her throat.

Tears slid down her cheeks and she shook her head. “Connor, please… Don’t do this.”

Connor’s grip around the shears tightened.

Something inside him screamed no, not her, please not her, but he continued forward.

H̊̓͆ͦ̔̅̋͑͑̌́͂ͦ̈͛̑҉͇̤̤̰̝̘̲̲ͅu̸̮̯̻͙̠̤̭͔̤̓̆̈́ͭ̔ͧͨ̆̔ͣ͑̆̊̉ͪ̒̚̚͡ͅr̷͚͎̼̳̱͔͓̩̮̭̭͕͉͔͈͙ͮͥ͆̕͢͠r̴̍ͩͬ́̐ͫ͜҉̞̙̼͍͍̗̘̺̞̬̮̗̖̠͙̩y̴̷̸̛̮͇͇͙̬̯ͨ͋ͣ͆͊ͭ̈́ͦ̅ͦ̓̅̾͛ͣͬ̈̓̚͘ͅ,̴̢̧̝̘̘̺̖̙͔͔̗̿ͦ̄ͧͮ͝ͅ ̵̡͓͓̹̙̪͇͇͙͖̮̜̥̝̰͍͉͔̘̼̅͂͊͗̊ͨͩ̆̓͛ͥ̒͊͑̂̊̃̃̉C̸̵̛͖̘̪̦̤̜͓̽̒ͬ͂ͨͯ̄̿́̈̍̇̆͜õ̸̗̹̹͉͖͎̌̑͐͒ͣ͂͠n̷̷̛̼̱̹̳̪̠̼̜͎̿͊ͯ͂̇̑̈̏ͮ͛̒̆ͥ̍͟ṇ͎̼̪̤̳̙̜̱̤̬̙͕̥͔͕̼͒̉̿ͮ̒͑ͤ͢͠ơ̦̪͕͙̞̹̙̰̹ͧ̅ͥ̋ͦͨ̽r̴̼̳̼̩̆ͨͮͫ͑̉ͤ̋ͩ̓̋ͦ̓ͤ͂̂̓.̭̗͚͔͉̩͙̲̟̯̲̿̓̈́͊̅̔̌̌̂͒̃ͦ̐̚͢͢͞ͅ ̜͎̫̩̺̩̣̻̟͖̦̬̙̌̊ͯ́̈̾͒͟͠T̵̷̖͙͚̘͚̏̒̋̊ͣ͒̆̈͋͂̆ͩ̑̉ͫ͢h̛́ͬ̽̍̓҉̷͍̥͖̫͙̦͍̰̫ͅe͔̘͈͍̜̰̱̼̮͈͓̻̻̩̖͇͓ͮͬͯͦ̅͗ͬ͂̃͗͗͘͢͢͝ͅr̼̼̯̱̣̺̻̫̪̭̟̱̥̘̩̈́͌͑̈̿͆̓̋ͦ͊͆ͩͪ͜ͅe͒͛̈͏͏̶̙̼̩̻̹̲͔̲͉̝̼̫͕̟̗̤̦̲̕͘'̸̷̴͔̥̺̙̩̼̜̻̮̹̞̹̹̙̬̋ͯͤ̂ͣ͛͗ͣ̈ͫ͒̅̍͢s̨̼͓̮̱̪̟̥̟͇̆͑̽ͩ͊̑͝ ̩̺̥̽͋ͤ̆͌̋̐̂̔ͩ̍͂͐̕l̶̨̢͔͎̳̪̜͚̤͔̗͎̣̫͆̈̎̃͂̋̋ͣ̃̊i̞̜͎̪̳̥̠̠̭̗͓͎̇̃͋̕͞͡t̸̴̢̥̮̪̤̦̔̅ͬ͂̃̇͐̋̊ͩ̈̈̂͒̓̊͛͜tͯ̈́͆ͣ̓͏͔̱͙͓̫̺̰̹̠͙͜l̢̢̬̱̹̟̦͖̭̫̯̮̘̟̣͚̑̒͗ͦ̉̍̒͋͒͌ͣ͞e͂̓ͯ͑͆̏̽ͯ̓ͬ͗̅̓ͩ̀̚͏̼̼̟͔͚̠͜ ͒͂̈͛̎̂̓̋̽͘͏̧̙͔̱̭̥͓͈͟͟tͮͣ̅ͩͮͮͥͯ͆ͤ͌̐̃ͮͨ͛̔̐̚͝҉̸͍̯̼̗̗̪i̴̢͚͔͈̟̝̺̟͔̫̞̤̥̙̺̖̞ͪ͛͊̐̾͡m̨̤̝̤̯̥̲͎͚͔͓̺̲̎̽̊̒͒͟͝͠e̶̛͔̥̖̣̩̪̲͙̳͓͍͈̳ͦ͐ͭ̂̅̆́̒̃̕.̫̠̰͍̮̣̯̬͓̯̜̗̲̋̎̎̔̈̐̾̐̏ͮͤ̚͜ ̅̎ͨ̑͆͛̇͊ͧ̐̃̅͐̅̒ͣ̉ͪͥ҉̵̨̳̗͓͕͖̳̕͞ͅ
̨̨͓̺̭̞̟̹͙͙͕̃ͤ͌̈́̄̋̿ͧ̈́̆ͬ͆̿́̑̓̓̿ͣ̕           

He was quick about it. Clean, precise. Mechanical. The blood pouring from her throat gleamed crimson and rust. He touched it. Light seeped out of Wren’s eyes. The blood slipped and stuck to his fingers. Connor dropped the shears as Wren’s body slumped over. Her hair hung down around her face, reflecting the light of the fire.

Connor wrenched his thirium pump regulator out of his chest with a soft grunt.

[VITAL SYSTEM DAMXGED]

[-00:01:45]

[Time Remaining Before Shutdown]

Connor dropped to his knees, gripping his thirium pump regulator in hand. He looked up into Wren’s face. An angel. A dead angel. His head dropped. Wren’s blood and his thirium made purple on his fingers.

Chapter Text

Wren figured it was early in the morning when she left her cell in Prometheus. No one else haunted the hallways, save for the armed guards at every doorway. Wren frowned at them. The armed guards were a new addition to Prometheus’s halls. They reminded Wren of the guards at CyberLife, with their masks and gear. But she knew they watched her, even if she couldn’t see their eyes.

After checking the cafeteria and finding it empty, Wren wandered to Squadron Two’s gym. The guards’ heads followed her, but they never uttered a word. Wren entered the gym and found that it too was empty. With a sigh, Wren stretched. Then, she dashed toward the obstacle course. Climbing, leaping, twisting, and sprinting always got her heart rate up. By the time Wren finished the obstacle course, her stomach roared. Using one of the towels folded on a rack, Wren wiped the sweat from her brow. Then, she tossed it in the hamper and padded back to the cafeteria. Her core muscles ached a little, but Wren liked the soreness after a nice workout.

In Squadron Two’s cafeteria, Nina and Otto sat huddled together with fresh breakfast. Wren’s heart jumped at the sight of them, so she hurried over. “I’m so glad you guys are okay, I’ve been worried—” Wren stopped herself when Nina and Otto lifted their heads, allowing the florescent light to illuminate their bruised faces. Wren’s empty stomach churned. Electrical burns marred the sides of Nina’s and Otto’s heads. Nina sported a black eye that was yellowing at the edges. Otto appeared a little more healed, but he glared at Wren with cold, dark eyes.

“Please,” Nina croaked, “don’t talk to us. It’s better that you don’t.”

“This is all your fault,” spat Otto. “If you hadn’t tried to spread your deviancy, then we wouldn’t have gotten dragged into it!”

Wren bowed her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Neither of the other two cyborgs responded. Wren didn’t blame them as she turned away and left the cafeteria. She returned to her wing of Prometheus and entered Squadron One’s cafeteria. As the lone member of Squadron One, Wren collected her tray of breakfast and sat down by herself. She pushed her eggs around with her fork, thinking of the other cyborgs.

Maybe it would be better if she just got out of Prometheus and left them behind. Everything she did seemed to put them in danger, and only made it harder for her to escape Prometheus’s clutches. Her deviancy spread like a plague, infecting the other cyborgs every time she spoke with them. She could just go home. She could be free.

Wren stepped into the shower after she ate. Running her fingers through her hair, her mind drifted back to the cyborgs. Maybe it was her fault that they were deviating. Maybe if she had just kept to herself, they wouldn’t be in danger of deviating in the middle of Prometheus.

Wren shut off the water and dried off. She dressed and wrapped her hair in a towel. Maybe if she’d kept to herself, she wouldn’t care about the cyborgs and she could go home. Maybe if she left, Prometheus would leave them alone.

No. Prometheus would keep hurting the other cyborgs because deviancy was inevitable. What she needed to do was hurry up and find a way to save Squadron Two. Maybe not 06, because fuck him. Wren snorted to herself. 06 was a dick, but he was still a cyborg conditioned and programmed to obey Prometheus.

Someone banged on the door. Wren took off the towel and scrunched her hair before answering the door. Two armed guards stood at the entrance. Wren swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Can I help you?”

“We’re here to escort you to Director Thomas’s office. She wants to speak with you.”

Wren dipped her head and left her cell. The two guards marched on either side of her. Wren glanced at their assault rifles. Without meaning to, she imagined herself walking to her execution. Her stomach churned and she shoved the thought aside. It was just a meeting. But Wren had everything to hide, and with each lie she told to protect herself from Prometheus, the more she sank into a tangle of claws and chains.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Pauline’s fingernails looked longer and more pointed at the tips. She steepled her bony fingers and pressed her lips into a flat line as Wren approached the desk. The lines around Pauline’s mouth harshened for a moment.

“We need to discuss your behavior with the RK800.”

Wren lifted her chin. “What about it?”

“I think you know. You’ve been fraternizing—”

“Fraternizing?” Wren laughed dryly. “No, we need to talk about 06’s behavior.”

“This meeting is about your behavior, not 06’s.”

“You sent me to work with the DPD, fully knowing my relationship with them. I’m sure 06 informed you of my reasoning for spending more time with Connor and the DPD. I’m sure he left out the part where his abuse has interfered with my ability to solve this case.”

“Your relationship with them,” Pauline examined her fingernails. Her eyes fluttered back up to meet Wren’s. “Are you saying we shouldn’t trust you?”

“I’m saying that you gave me an impossible task to test my loyalty. How could you take me away from them and then put me back and expect me to not care about them?”

Pauline was quiet for a few seconds. “I hope you understand that once this case is solved, you will return to Prometheus as usual.”

“I do understand,” Wren replied, “but you will never stop me from caring about them. You can’t take that away from me.”

Pauline narrowed her eyes. Then, she shrugged. “Fine.”

“Tell 06 to back off—”

“I thought I made it clear that this was a meeting regarding you, not 06.”

“No, we’re going to talk about it because you want me to accomplish this mission, but it’s a little hard when 06 decides he needs to punish me for my behavior. I can’t interrogate suspects when my lip is so swollen, I can’t talk.”

Pauline didn’t look too surprised, but a slight frown creased the space between her eyebrows. “He’s harmed you physically?”

“Yes. I wasn’t kidding when I said his abuse is interfering with my ability to solve this case.”

Pauline’s frown deepened. “I will discuss this with him. In the meantime, I want you to remember that you can pretend things have gone back to normal with the RK800, though I advise against it. You won’t adjust well when you return to Prometheus.”

“That’s my problem.”

“It becomes Prometheus’s problem when it interferes with your ability to complete a mission.”

Wren worked her jaw for a moment. “And that’s all Prometheus cares about. The mission. It doesn’t matter that we’re people. We can’t even have names because that makes us too selfish. No, better that we’re just numbers. Is that to control us, or to help you sleep at night?”

Pauline regarded Wren with an unreadable expression for several seconds. Then, her mouth twitched with a tiny smile. “There was a time when you believed in Prometheus. I’d like you to do that again.”

Wren narrowed her eyes. “Am I dismissed?”

Pauline dipped her head and Wren turned on her heel. She barely noticed the armed guards escorting her back to the elevator. She couldn’t believe in Prometheus anymore. They hated androids and believed humans were superior. They couldn’t even view cyborgs as people. And Wren didn’t know what Prometheus was fighting for anymore.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Time distorted within Prometheus’s walls. There were no windows to gauge the sun or moon. There was a period of “lights out” to signal night, but not all of the lights went out. Wren’s head ached from the constant flickering of a florescent light outside her room. If she had to guess, she’d been there about a week and a half, waiting for Prometheus to create an undercover persona for her.

As it often did when she was alone with her thoughts, her mind drifted to Connor. The familiar emptiness in her chest that ached for him throbbed. Her fingers brushed her lips. She missed the feel of his lips on hers, the way his were so much softer than hers, like a marshmallow. She missed the tender look in his eyes when he looked at her. The longing in her chest crushed her even more when she thought of his rare but warm grin. His smiles were usually soft at the corners of his mouth. His smiles were usually in his eyes, not his lips. But she’d seen him grin before, and she wanted to see him happy enough to grin again.

But lately he wore an expression that revealed how exhausted he was. He seemed wearier and sadder than anything else lately. It tore Wren apart that Connor’s worry was eating him from the inside out. She wanted to take that weight from him, but how could she when she was prolonging it each time she chose to return to Prometheus for the sake of cyborgs who wanted nothing to do with her?

A selfish part of her wanted him to worry about her, though. That part of her didn’t want Connor to move on and abandon her for his sake. That part wanted him to worry, and fight for her. That part of her didn’t care if it hurt Connor because she didn’t want to be forgotten or abandoned. No matter how much she hated that part of herself, she couldn’t quite drown it out.

Wren pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged her legs. Tears stung her eyes. She’d never felt so lonely.

A bang on the door jolted her out of her self-pity. Wiping her eyes, Wren untangled herself and answered the door.

06 barely even regarded her. “We’ve got training. Let’s go.”

Wren followed him to the elevator, where Dex and Otto were already waiting with the armed guards. Wren’s brow puckered. “Where are Jamie and Nina?”

“07 and 09 are on a surveillance mission.”

They took the elevator down several levels. When the doors opened, Wren expected more linoleum floors, white cinderblock walls, and florescent lighting. She expected the same hospital look that the parts of Prometheus she’d seen resembled. But down here, the walls, floor, and ceiling were dark steel and concrete. A trail of neon lights strung along the wall, illuminating the corridor in dark blue. 06 led the way to the right. They marched until they reached what looked like a massive steel garage door. 06 stopped and faced them.

“We’re going to enter a simulation. Our job is to remain hidden. Take out enemies with stealth and reach the safe zone without being seen. We have to work as a team, so no solo ideas.” His gaze lingered on Wren. Then, he handed them earpieces and microphones. Wren clipped the microphone to her collar and slipped the earpiece on.

06 scanned his palm. The door slid open to reveal a vast hangar-like room. It was largely empty, save for storage containers found at shipyards and slabs of concrete wall that looked like sturdy cubicles or miniature labyrinths. The room darkened to pitch black. Someone thrusted a pair of goggles into Wren’s palm. She tugged them onto her face. The room was alight with figures. Armed people, Wren realized. The Virtual Reality transformed the hangar into a brightly lit desert landscape. Wren kicked dust around with the toe of her shoe. It looked real, even sounded real.

“On my mark.” 06’s voice sounded muffled through the earpiece. Wren glanced around. The goggles regarded her teammates as they looked in real life. When 06 gave the signal, they broke off into two groups and fanned out. Wren and Dex crouched low as they took cover. Dex took out a simulated figure by choking it out. She frowned. She wasn’t exactly sure how simulated figures worked, and she prayed they weren’t androids.

Wren moved to the next cover and waited for the guard to patrol past her.

[Preconstructing… Complete]

˟ Execute

Wren leaped up and grabbed the simulation from behind. It was an odd sensation. It felt like a foam body in her grip. Fortunately, it felt nothing like the synthetic skin of an android. The body struggled in her grip before collapsing. Wren dragged the body behind cover and moved to meet Dex.

They continued on, taking out “enemies” and ducking behind “buildings” to avoid getting spotted. By the time they nearly reached the safe zone, sweat drenched Wren’s body and seeped through her tank top.

“01 and 010, there’s a large group of hostiles in front of the safe zone. We need a distraction to get around them.”

Wren turned to Dex. “I’ll go ahead and lure the guy to the left your way.”

Dex nodded. Wren snuck around. She felt along an empty barrel and concrete wall. She’d need to be fast. She kicked the barrel over and ducked behind the wall. The nearest two guards came toward her to investigate. Wren picked up a rock and tossed it toward Dex. One of the guards went to investigate the noise while the other drew closer to Wren. When he got close enough, Wren grabbed him and pulled him behind the wall with her. She choked him out and let his body slide to the ground.

“Made it to the safe zone,” reported Otto.

Wren peeked around the corner. 06 couldn’t get past one of the guards without being spotted. With a sigh, Wren crouched and tugged off the boot of the collapsed guard at her feet. She tossed hit the wall with it to draw the attention of the guard in 06’s way. Footsteps alerted her that the guard approached. Wren waited, her back flat against the wall, still in a crouch. When the guard appeared at the corner, Wren jabbed her fist into his crotch. The guard groaned and doubled over. Wren punched his face and grabbed around his neck. She pulled him to the ground, straddled him, and squeezed his throat to cut off anymore noise.

“In the safe zone,” said 06 in Wren’s earpiece. “01, get to the safe zone. You’re clear.”

“Is Dex clear?”

“It doesn’t matter. Get in the safe zone, now.”

Wren glanced back in the direction of Dex. No, she wouldn’t leave him behind. Wren yanked the earpiece free and hurried back to Dex. She tossed some rocks to get the attention of the guard blocking Dex’s path. As the guard sauntered over, Wren took him out. Two loud bangs sounded.

Wren collapsed face first onto the ground, her back searing with pain. The wind hissed straight out of her lungs. The simulation disappeared and Wren tugged off the goggles, her face pressed against the steel floor. She was no stranger to the pain of being shot with a rubber bullet. Dex groaned from behind her. Pushing herself up, Wren glanced at Dex, who was flat on the ground, too. He clutched his side and winced. 06 and Otto marched toward them, tugging off their goggles.

“Congratulations, 01. You just got yourself and 010 killed. When I give an order, you follow it, understand? Let’s run it again.”

Wren rolled her shoulders, grimacing at the sharp pain in her back. She reached out a hand to Dex, who ignored it and stood on his own. He glared at her. “Just follow orders.”

Wren pursed her lips and bowed her head as Dex shouldered past her.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

06 trained them with the simulations for a few days. Wren guessed three. She’d gotten better at following orders, and now they moved fluidly. A well-oiled machine, just like Prometheus wanted.

She’d been locked inside Prometheus for two full weeks, with no word on her undercover mission. She pushed aside her worry that maybe it was a ruse and she was trapped here forever. It didn’t make sense. There was still a killer out there, and Typhon might be behind it. Taking down Typhon was a huge operation. Prometheus wouldn’t just pull her out of the mission without word. Unless they replaced her.

Wren shivered. No, it didn’t make sense. And even if they did, Connor wouldn’t do nothing. Hank wouldn’t let them take her. Tina would do something. North would notice something was wrong. Wouldn’t they?

Thumbing the red stripe on her uniform, Wren lifted her eyes when the elevator came to a stop. 06 never made them wear uniforms until today. Instead of going right, 06 led them left. Wren’s eyes stretched as they neared the end of the corridor. About fifty or so people milled around, all wearing similar uniforms but with different colors. Grey, green, yellow, purple, blue… One group wore orange, another white, another teal, and another wore pink. There were five people to each color. Ten squadrons, all divided into five… Wren composed her expression. Cyborgs.

Some of them looked quite young, no more than eighteen years old. One of the younger ones, wearing a uniform with pink lining, turned her gaze onto Wren. One eye was synthetic as she zeroed in on Wren, who felt quite naked under this young cyborg’s scrutiny.

Pauline stood in front of the massive steal door. She stepped onto a stool, so that she towered over them by a foot. Everyone faced her and awaited instructions.

“All of you have been trained with your squadrons individually. I’m proud of your progress. Each squad has accomplished incredible feats and should be proud of themselves.”

Wren glanced around at the other cyborgs, who all gazed up at Pauline. Some seemed to puff out their chests, other squadrons exchanged prideful glances. Even 06 gave a curt nod to Dex and Otto. Looking around, Wren realized she was the only one in red. The only one in her squadron. Wren lowered her head. CY003, the first cyborg to attack her in Detroit, flitted into her mind. Would they have been friends? How would Wren have fared as a squad leader? Something in her chest twanged and she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before returning her attention to Pauline.

“The time has come for all of you to merge your abilities. There’s a war coming, and it will take all of us working together to stop it. So, you all will begin training together once a week. Today, you will remain with your respective squads. Your objective: rescue as many hostages without being detected. Your opponents will be human Prometheus guards, so please, don’t actually kill anyone. Incapacitate. Hostages will be marked as such. You may begin.”

The hangar door slid open. Wren put on her earpiece and microphone. No goggles were needed for this training session. The massive hangar had already been outfitted to look like an abandoned industrial building, complete with hallways, staircases, and steel rafters. She moved with 06’s squad, who wore uniforms with sage lining that glowed. They wound through halls, ducking inside rooms in search of hostages. 06 and Dex took out the first two guards while Wren and Otto released two hostages in a room. The hostages were Prometheus guards wearing tags that said “HOSTAGE” on them.

They continued back in the hall, this time with Wren in the lead. She rounded the corner to find a guard pointing a gun at her. Before he could shoot her with a rubber bullet, Wren grabbed his rifle and shoved it toward his face, slamming the guard into the wall. She kicked his leg and yanked the gun from his hands. She knocked him out and turned around as another guard attacked. She swung the rifle in her hand and caught the second guard’s gun with hers. She shoved both guns aside. Otto tackled the guard and knocked him out while 06 and Dex moved forward.

The rest of the corridor consisted of incapacitating guards. Wren used Dex’s leg to launch herself forward to take down a guard. She and the squad were like a ballet. They moved as if they’d rehearsed the fight, and they were more lethal than a bullet. They used each other like weapons or tools, and trusted each other to cover. Wren never trusted 06 more.

One guard grabbed Wren by the throat and slammed her into the wall. 06 grabbed the guard and wrenched him off of Wren while Dex and Otto secured the next hostages.

“Down here!” shouted a guard from above. Wren grabbed one of the incapacitated guards’ gun and shot the one who spoke with a rubber bullet. She shared a look with 06, who panted heavily before dipping his head to Wren.

On 06’s signal, they moved forward, taking down opponents. They failed to rescue anymore hostages, as they couldn’t find anymore in the corridor. They were one of the first squadrons to reach the safe zone, and Wren felt a slight blossom of warmth for her teammates, 06 included. When all the other squadrons reached the safe zone, Pauline stood on a platform and faced them.

“Congratulations to Squad Five, who rescued the most hostages. Squad Three was the stealthiest, and Squad Two incapacitated the most enemies. All of you did well, as I’m sure you will continue to do in the future.”

Wren glanced toward Squad Five. They looked more or less her age. Squad Three, however, couldn’t be older than teenagers. It took Wren ten years to become CY001. If that time was standard, then these teenagers were taken in by Prometheus as children. These were fucking kids, experimented on and trained to be weapons. Wren clenched her teeth and blew a hot breath through flared nostrils.

Otto stepped into view, jerking Wren’s attention away from the teen cyborgs. “Not bad for a deviant.”  

Wren raised her eyebrows. “I guess that’s why I get the red. A warning label.”

Dex grinned. “Next time they should just stick a Class 6 warning label to your forehead.”

“Infectious substance,” Wren rolled her eyes, “I’m not biohazard.”

“You might as well be,” muttered 06. Wren met his gaze.

“Thanks for getting that guy off me.”

06 shrugged. “I’d do it for any Prometheus agent.” He moved past them, bumping Wren’s shoulder as he went. “Let’s go.”

Wren trailed after Otto and Dex, who still seemed to be riding the high of an intense training session. But Wren’s heart slumped in her chest heavily. She glanced back at the young cyborgs. Did Prometheus break them down, too? Did they go through weeks of torture? Did Prometheus torture children? Where did they come from?

The hair on the back of Wren’s neck straightened, and she glanced around until she found the cold eyes watching her. Pauline. Wren curled her fingers into fists before following 06, Dex, and Otto out of the hangar.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Three weeks cooped up in Prometheus had Wren ready to rip her own hair out. Was Connor worried about her? Was he looking for her? Even if he were, he would never find her. Wren’s heart plummeted and her shoulders sagged.

A light knock on Wren’s door forced her to suppress a sigh. She wanted to mope and think, not go to anymore training sessions. The person knocked again, so Wren pushed herself off her bed and answered the door. Her eyes widened at the sight of Jamie and Nina.

“Pauline needs to speak with us,” Jamie said coolly.

Wren’s stomach twisted. Dex and Otto seemed to have forgiven her for inadvertently getting them investigated for deviancy, but Jamie and Nina still seemed cold. Well, Jamie certainly did. Nina just looked guilty and sad.

The three of them walked with armed escorts toward the elevator and rode it up to Pauline’s floor. They entered Pauline’s office and found the woman in a chipper mood.

“Hello, ladies. Please, sit.”

Pauline gestured to the other side of her office, adorned with two loveseats and an armchair. Wren took the armchair and let Jamie and Nina sit together. Pauline took the other loveseat.

“As you are aware, 07 and 09 were on a surveillance mission. They were conducting research for your persona when you go undercover. They’ve compiled a list of individuals you need to make contact with, and they also studied certain behaviors and customs you need to uphold if you are to make an impression. You will have to work your way up subtly, so this operation might take a few months.”

“Understood.”

“They’ve also informed me that the illegal resetting and trade of androids is quite common among suspected Typhon affiliates. So, we’ve also created a persona for the RK800.”

Wren’s heart seemed to shrivel. Her grip on the seat arms tightened. “You don’t think it’d be better for me to do this alone?”

“I think you’ll need a second pair of eyes, and the RK800 is supposed to be equipped with undercover protocols.” Pauline raised her eyebrows at Wren, who licked her lips.

“You trust me to do this?”

“What’s the matter, 01? I thought you’d be pleased.”

Wren lowered her gaze. “Nothing. I’m just surprised.”

“Well, we will be extracting your acquaintance Connor to work with you within the next few weeks on your personas—”

“Wait, you’re bringing Connor here?” Wren’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of Connor trapped in this hell with her.

“Heavens, no. You and he will be going to a secure location.”

Wren’s brow puckered. “Extracting… So, kidnapping?”

“Agent Anson assured me that Connor will be aware of what is happening, which is why he will not be brought directly to Prometheus.” Pauline pursed her lips for a moment. “Your CIA friend refused to put the RK800 in temporary stasis and bring him here.”

Wren’s chest warmed with gratitude for Rhett. “So, we’ll be going over our personas, and then we’ll be released to work the operation. When do we start?”

Jamie stood from the loveseat. “Now.”

She placed a rag doused in chloroform over Wren’s mouth and nostrils. It didn’t take long for everything to go black.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren woke up with a bag over her head, slumped in a moving vehicle. Someone grabbed her and dragged her out of the car when it stopped. From the smell outside, Wren was in the woods. A heavy, metal door creaked open and the person walking Wren shoved her inside a building. They ripped the bag off her head. Blinking against the bright lights, Wren followed Jamie down a long hallway. They entered a room that looked a bit like the HAD’s setup at the DPD—a mounted screen on the wall, a long table with chairs, and bulletin boards with notes and pictures tacked to them.

Connor stood in the center of the room, studying the bulleting boards with his arms folded. Pauline and Nina sat at the table behind him. Nausea rippled in Wren’s stomach at the sight of Connor here, so close to Prometheus and in her world. She never wanted him this close to the beast.

Connor, however, did not seem bothered. He turned when Wren entered the room and his eyes widened. Immediately, he crossed the room and pulled her into a crushing embrace. “I thought they’d taken you away.”

His voice seemed so small. Wren scrunched her brows together and bit her lip. She wanted to cling to him and cry into his chest that she was scared they had taken her away. She wanted to hold him and tell him that she hated seeing him here, but she hated herself more for wanting him here. Instead, she patted him awkwardly on the back.

“I’m fine.”

Connor withdrew, and damn it, his eyes shined with understanding. The hairs on the back of Wren’s neck straightened again, and she looked directly into Pauline’s narrowed eyes.

“Let’s begin.” Pauline stood and grabbed a remote. The screen blinked on as Wren and Connor took their seats. “You are going to be Nicolette Black, an art curator, blogger, and liaison. Your connections will be valuable to the HSC, and ultimately Typhon. At your art shows, you will only showcase art by humans and notable anti-android artists. You will blog about your opinions to get your voice out there. We have ways to make sure your voice is heard; just focus on settling into this persona. Connor -51 is a fairly famous android, so he will be acting as a disposed RK800 unit that Nicolette had reset and programmed to obey her and act as her bodyguard. Nicolette has an inflated sense of self. She thinks androids need to return their subservient states, obeying every whim of humans. Nicolette doesn’t see androids as alive in the slightest. They’re tools and commodities, even toys. And that’s how she views this RK800. It’s her bodyguard and sex toy. It exists only for her pleasure.”

Pauline paused in her presentation to flash a smile at Wren. “That should make you happy, 01. You can fuck each other all you like and maintain your cover.”

“Understood,” Wren gritted out. Connor glanced at her, but Wren kept her eyes on Pauline.

Pauline’s lip curled. “The two of you will remain here for however long it takes to get you to take on your personas. 07 and 09 will monitor you for the entirety of this preparation and will go over their research with you. Don’t disappoint me, 01. Taking down Typhon is beneficial for everyone. I’d hate for your sentimentalities to get in the way of this mission.”

Pauline left, and Jamie took over, grabbing the remote for the screen. A picture of a man filled the screen.

“This is Alexander Alderidge. He’s a doctor and donates frequently to the HSC. He’s long time friends with Axel Brewer. He likes to organize attacks on android marches all over the country when he can. He sponsors Senator Charlotte Holt.”

Nina stood on the other side of the screen, which revealed the picture of Senator Holt. “Senator Holt is a known anti-android politician who thinks androids should be terminated entirely, but in public, she advocates that androids—as a separate species—need to live apart from humans in their own space. Two-faced bitch.”

Jamie snorted. The screen showed another man. “Walter Coldwell owns a nonprofit organization that helps find jobs for people who’ve been misplaced by androids. He lobbies for Senator Holt.”

The screen showed another woman. Nina squared her shoulders. “Chelsea Harding is an oil-rig heiress. Since the oil industry is struggling, Harding deployed a team of androids out to the Arctic to find thirium, but the Liberation freed those androids and she lost quite a bit of money because of that. She’s got a thing for art, which is how we hope Nicolette will make contact.”

“You might recognize Senator Jordan Radcliffe,” said Jamie as the screen flitted to the next picture, “since he’s against androids and wants to revert them back to merchandise. He’s more extremist in his views, but with some, he’s quite popular.”

Connor shifted beside Wren. Her fingers twitched to take his hand under the table, but she resisted the urge.

“And this is Dylan Jonz,” said Nina. “He’s a Red Ice dealer. Well, more than a dealer. He’s in charge of other dealers, so he mingles with some of these higher-ups. We’re pretty sure he harvests androids for blue blood.”

“Your goal is to make connections with these people, starting with Chelsea Harding. You’ll need to read these books to wise up on art terminology. We also have some books written by anti-android activists, so you can understand their viewpoints and know their philosophies. Connor, you’ll work with Jamie on your persona; Wren you’ll work with me on yours. The two of you have to practice your personas a few hours each day, to make sure that you can convince us that Connor is an RK800, a machine who never deviated and is programmed to serve Nicolette Black in every capacity. Got it?” Nina eyed them.

Wren and Connor looked at each other. Wren’s heart fluttered like a panicked bird in a cage. But Connor, if he was scared, did not show it. He turned back to Nina’s intense, dark gaze. “Got it.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Chapter Text

Two weeks passed since Rhett took Connor to the secure location for him to practice his persona with Wren, Nina, and Jamie. Rhett assured Connor that he’d be in contact, and that he’d explain to Hank and the others in Detroit what was going on. Connor’s biocomponents churned with guilt at the thought of leaving Hank alone and without much explanation. He hoped Hank wasn’t too worried about him.

While Wren worked with Nina on her persona, writing for Nicolette’s blog and reading about art theory and pro-human philosophies, Connor exercised hiding emotion with Jamie. It unnerved him slightly with how easily he could settle into his former pre-deviancy aspects. The parts of himself that were cold, ruthless, and mission-focused. He remembered how he used to be, so he settled into the role with ease. He set an objective to protect Nicolette Black at all costs, to serve her in whatever capacity she demanded.

He had yet to practice with Wren in his persona, but he worked with Jamie for a few hours each day on controlling his expressions and even controlling his LED to a degree. It required a lot of concentration, but he could keep his LED from betraying his emotions too much, though he doubted in extremely stressful situations—where his concentration weakened—that he’d be able to manage the change in color in his LED.

Jamie observed him walk and instructed him when he seemed too casual. She watched him recite lines and observed his facial expressions, barking at him to start over when he showed too much emotion. Something inside his chest tightened. Even before his deviancy, he’d shown emotion. Hadn’t Amanda told him that he’d been designed to deviate? His synthetic skin prickled and he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, it seems Nicolette has a decent following on her blog, and some connections with pro-human artists. Good thing Prometheus has ways of speeding up the mundane processes up.” Jamie stretched after reading a message on her tablet.

Prometheus would be a good agency if it weren’t run the way it was, Connor allowed. They could fabricate identities like it typing up a simple report. They were not constrained with red tape and knew backdoors into practically every organization, good and bad. Their connections with liaisons allowed for them to excel in undercover work. But Connor knew what Prometheus practiced behind closed doors. He knew the real Prometheus because he knew Wren.

“Alright, you need to practice hiding your emotions with Wren in the room,” said Jamie. “No yearning looks or anything, got it?”

“Got it.”

The door opened, and Nina entered followed by a blonde woman. Connor’s stretched when he realized the blonde woman was Wren. She looked pretty, though Connor definitely preferred her copper hair—

Jamie smacked his arm. “You didn’t even try hiding your emotions there.”

Connor tore his eyes away from Wren. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize we were starting—”

“There’s no start or end,” snapped Jamie. “When you’re out there, you have to assume you’re being watched 24/7. You can’t just start and stop out there whenever you feel like it.”

“He knows that,” said Wren. “He’s capable of doing this.”

“He?” Nina sighed. “Did you learn nothing?”

Wren’s face drained of color as she met Connor’s gaze. “I-it. I meant it.”

Connor swallowed. He knew Wren never wanted to treat him as less than alive, so calling him it instead of the pronoun he preferred seemed the best way to dehumanize him. The word seemed to scratch at the walls of Wren’s throat, because she choked it out.

Nina placed her hands on her hips. “I thought you two would be ready, but it looks like you’re not. I mean, do you guys want to get killed?”

Connor held Wren’s gaze for a moment. Her lips pursed and she flicked her eyes toward Jamie, and then back to Connor. He understood. This was the test.

He forced himself to adopt a neutral and cold expression. He regarded Wren—Nicolette—with a large amount of indifference. Clasping his hands behind his back, Connor waited for Jamie to say something.

Jamie’s eyes narrowed by a fraction as she observed Connor. She turned to Wren. “What’s your name?”

“Nicolette Black.”

“Why do you have an android?”

Nicolette rolled her eyes and scoffed. “You think I want to do everything myself? Yeah, right.”

“Don’t you hate androids?”

“No,” purred Nicolette, “they’re excellent inventions. Ingenious products, really.”

“Why does this android follow you around everywhere?”

“It’s my bodyguard.”

“Why do you need a bodyguard? You’re not famous.”

Nicolette placed a hand over her heart. “I will be. Besides, I’ve been mugged before. I’m bound to make enemies, too.”

“What do you call your android?”

“It doesn’t have a name. RK800.”

Jamie grabbed a fistful of Nicolette’s hair and yanked her head back. Nicolette—Wren—yelped in response, and Connor’s body tensed.

[Warning: Conflicting Priorities]

[Control emotion?]

[Protect Nicolette?]

Connor wrenched Jamie off of Nicolette. “As Miss Black’s security detail, I cannot allow you to further harm or endanger her.”

“Nicely done,” praised Nina. “You guys were a little stiff in the beginning, but you picked it back up.”

“Connor, I want you to focus on controlling your LED this time,” said Jamie.

Connor dipped his head. Before anyone could settle into their role or prepare, Jamie slapped Nicolette across the face. Connor forced himself inhale, imagining Nicolette as a separate person from Wren.

“You look a tad forced, but that’s because I’m looking for a reaction and I know what to look for,” Jamie murmured. “But your LED stayed blue. Flickered a bit, but that happens when you process information anyway.”

Wren rubbed her cheek, scowling. “Ow.”

Jamie turned her icy gaze onto Wren. “You deserved that, deviant.”

Connor composed the pucker of his brow while Wren folded her arms, unimpressed. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Jamie jutted out her jaw. “Whatever. You guys pass. Pauline’ll be here in a few hours.”

And then Jamie left the room. Connor and Wren looked at Nina, who dragged her teeth across her bottom lip before following Jamie.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

When Pauline arrived, Connor scanned the cyborgs in the room. All three were incredibly tense with rising heartrates. Nina positioned herself slightly in front of Jamie, though the movement was so miniscule that only Connor noticed. Rhett stood in the back of the room, clutching a small bundle.  

“Congratulations on passing,” said Pauline. “We must go over a few things before Agent Anson takes you to your living station in Detroit. A reminder of your objective: Find this killer. Take down Typhon if you can. 01, you will be making connections with allies of Axel Brewer in an attempt to become part of Typhon. Once it is infiltrated, you will need to plant bugs so that you may listen and observe their interactions. Be advised that should your mission go awry, Prometheus is not obligated to save you. Understood?”

“Understood.”

Pauline turned her gaze to Connor, who dipped his head. “Understood.”

Pauline looked back to Wren. “CY001, you are cleared to enter the field.” Pauline turned on her heel and regarded Rhett. “They are not permitted to see the outside of this building until you have reached the—”

“Allotted zone, yeah, I know,” Rhett lifted the bundle. “S’why I brought these. Fuck, you’re uptight.”

Pauline’s body tensed but she said nothing. Rhett approached Wren and Connor. He placed a bag over Wren’s head, and then Connor’s.

“Can you ladies help me lead them out?”

Gentle hands grabbed Connor by the arms. He allowed them to walk him outside, where twigs and leaves crunched underfoot. Whoever led him—Connor guessed Nina, judging by the gentleness—opened the car door. Connor didn’t need much help getting in, though it was rather awkward. He nearly hit his head, but Nina ducked his head further downward. And then she clasped his hand tightly.

Electricity tingled through the connection of their hands. Nina interfaced with him.

[Tell Wren that I don’t blame her.]   

She left no time for Connor to react, as she pulled her hand away and closed the car door. The drive to the private jet awaiting them took half an hour. Rhett snatched the bags off Connor’s and Wren’s heads. They boarded the jet and sat down across from one another. Connor rode the jet when Rhett took him from Detroit, but he was still impressed by the luxury of the aircraft. White leather seats, light wood embellishments, and even tables adorned the spacious cabin. Rhett sat in the chair beside Wren.

“We’ve got about a three-hour, forty-five-minute flight ahead of us. Not too long, but long enough for you to go over your case. And long enough for me to take a nap.” Rhett patted Wren’s arm and sauntered to the skinny sofa in the back of the cabin.

Connor stared out the window the entire time the jet ascended above the clouds. Take-off left his biocomponents a jumbled mess, but he didn’t find it necessarily scary. Chris had mentioned hating flying at one point. Connor supposed he understood why, but the sensation did not bother him all that much. It puzzled him that it didn’t, as he was not fond of heights.

Movement across from him dragged his gaze toward Wren. She held a ribbon of hair before her. A frown creased the corners of her mouth as she feathered the ends of her new blonde hair.

“You look pretty,” Connor offered.

Wren smiled, though a soft snort escaped her nostrils. “You know, I’ve dyed my hair so many times that I didn’t know the real color of my hair for a long time. It’s safer to just dye your hair than to wear a wig…” She let her hair fall from her fingers. “Maybe that’s the real reason I deviated. I wanted to know my natural hair color again.”

Connor’s lips twitched, though he found his humor as flat as Wren’s at the moment. He allowed a beat of silence to pass between them before changing the subject. “I know you didn’t want me to join you for this mission.”

Wren shifted her gaze toward the window. “Connor…”

“But we agreed you weren’t going to treat me like I’m helpless.”

“I know…” Wren inhaled sharply. “Look, I know you can take care of yourself. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t scare me when you’re in danger, or to think of you in danger.”

Connor glowered at her and leaned forward. “How do you think I feel?” He took a millisecond to consider how to phrase his next argument without Prometheus getting too suspicious, since they were listening through Wren’s audio processor. “I know that you’re with Prometheus now–” Wren’s eyes snapped to his– “but that doesn’t mean I stopped caring about you. I don’t know what you do there, but I worry about you so much that it hurts. Sometimes you disappear from the case only to return with bruises and injuries. I can’t explain how seeing that makes me feel, Wren.”

His throat constricted.

Wren looked at her hands. “It’s not just about you being in danger, okay?” She picked at her nails, but Connor continued watching her. “I’m going to have to act like a horrible person. I have to convince other horrible people that I’m just as monstrous as they are. I’m good at this because Prometheus trained me well. I know how to wear this mask, and I don’t want you to think that I’m actually Nicolette Black, no matter how well I act as her. I can be a monster if I need to, and I always hate it when you see that part of me.” Her voice broke at the end.

Connor’s chest clenched. So, North had been right. He reached across the table and took Wren’s hands gently. “I’m going to have to do the same thing. I made terrible mistakes as the Deviant Hunter. I was a machine, cold and brutal. I was selfish, in the sense that I only cared about my mission. I’ve always been relieved that you didn’t know me prior to my deviancy because you wouldn’t recognize me. Now, I have to be that machine again. I never want you to see me as a machine, Wren.” His eyes pricked. Wren met his gaze at last, her own eyes filling with tears.

“I could never, Connor.”

“Then trust me,” Connor insisted. “I won’t think less of you. I promise.”

Wren blinked, and a fat tear splashed down her cheek. She tightened her lips and then nodded. “I trust you.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Rhett drove them to a neighborhood in downtown Detroit when the jet landed around midnight. The streets were quiet as the SUV cut through the dark. They arrived at a brick building that boasted luxury apartments. They entered the lobby. The white floors gleamed in the dim lighting. The receptionist waved at them as they headed for the elevator. Rhett frowned at a slip of paper in his hands.

“Man, they really wanna sell these identities,” he muttered, pressing a button on the elevator that would bring them to an upper floor. The penthouse.

The last time Connor rode an elevator up to a penthouse was his activation day in 2038 to stop the deviant Daniel from throwing himself off the roof with little Emma Phillips. Nothing stopped Connor from pulling the trigger and executing Daniel. Connor had been faster than Daniel, whipping out the gun and ending Daniel’s life before the deviant even realized what was happening. Emma’s shrill screams still haunted Connor. He’d accomplished his mission, no matter the cost. He needed to emulate the Connor from back then if he was to succeed in protecting Wren now.

The elevator opened and they stepped onto the landing. Rhett handed Wren the keycard to access the door. “Do the honors, Miss Black.”

The edge of Wren’s jaw tightened. She scanned the card and the door swung open. Lights flickered on. Connor followed Wren inside with slow steps. The heels of his boots clicked on the white marble floor. They exited the foyer and entered the living room.

“Whoa.” Wren’s head tilted back to examine the chandelier. Connor’s eyes were drawn to the two royal blue sofas facing one another in the living room. A mahogany dining room table sat in the open dining area. Artworks from different pro-human artists adorned the walls. Two android sculptures garnished either side of the fireplace behind the sofas. In the kitchen, the countertops gleamed black granite. Black tile lined the wall behind the stove. The cabinets matched the floor in their pristine whiteness.

“The bedrooms are upstairs,” said Rhett, sinking onto one of the black stools at the island.

Connor and Wren exchanged a glance before heading out of the kitchen and up the stairs. The hardwood floors had been recently polished. On the landing upstairs was a TV and black sofa set. Down one hall was an office, with floor-to-ceiling windows. Wren ran her hand underneath the desk and withdrew a gun.

“I’m sure there are more around the house,” she said, placing the gun back.

Connor backed out of the office and entered one of the bedrooms. It was rather plain compared to the rest of the house. Thirium pouches stocked the cabinets. Inside the closet was a whole new wardrobe for Connor. Much of it was his style, if much fancier. Then they entered the master bedroom. A fireplace and TV sat in the corner of the room. The bed was a massive king size, with royal blue covers. A sitting area by the semi-circle window embellished the right side of the massive room.

Wren checked the walk-in closet and found a wardrobe of clothes to match the luxury that the rest of the penthouse boasted. Connor ducked inside the master bathroom to find a massive bathtub and more artwork. Connor couldn’t help the way his chest seemed to expand and his eyebrows shot toward his hairline in impressment. This penthouse was far more lavish than he could ever hope to afford on his detective salary.

They walked Rhett to the door. “Keep in touch. Everything you need regarding the case is already here.”

After Rhett left, Wren and Connor stood across from one another. Wren leaned against the wall and folded her arms. “I didn’t realize we’d get dropped into all of this immediately.”

“This was rather abrupt.”

“I never got to say goodbye,” Wren breathed. Connor widened his eyes as Wren’s filled with tears.

“You’ll see them again,” Connor murmured.

Wren looked at him. “What if I don’t?” She closed her eyes, and tears cut tracks down her cheeks. “I am so scared, Connor.”

Connor pulled Wren toward him. He rested his chin atop her head and closed his eyes. Fear scraped his insides, too. Without even being aware, his fingers laced Wren’s and they interfaced. Her rapid heartrate seized her chest with pain, and Connor felt it in his own body. A memory flickered in his processor. Suddenly, he saw Wren’s memories through her eyes: Pauline interrogating her about her relationship with “that RK800,” the sharp pain in Wren’s back when a rubber bullet hit her from behind, and the eyes of young cyborgs watching her. Connor felt her emotions in those moments: the nauseating fear, the surging anger that bubbled beneath the surface, and overwhelming loneliness.

Breaking the interface, Connor wrapped both arms around Wren. Young cyborgs. Young cyborgs. Child cyborgs. Wren just gave him a lead.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Chapter Text

For the next couple of weeks, Wren worked tirelessly to get Nicolette’s name on Chelsea Harding’s radar. She attended and hosted art shows, boasting purely human artists. But Chelsea had yet to attend an art show or event. When Wren wasn’t working on art shows and events, she wrote on Nicolette’s blog, sending names of people who commented their approval to Jamie and Nina.

After finishing another post littered with anti-android slurs, Wren shut her laptop. Disgust wormed in her stomach and she hugged herself. She told herself that the horrible stuff she wrote was Nicolette, not her. It was to save androids by acting like someone anti-android. Still, she couldn’t help but feel like she betrayed Connor and her android friends every time she typed out a nasty slur.

Her eyes slanted toward Connor, who pored over recent persons of interest that Rhett sent them. Wren wanted to regain some sense of normalcy between them. She missed sharing a bed, or reading together, or listening to music and dancing in the kitchen. But their first night in the new place, they agreed to keep things professional. There was no telling who watched them, and Prometheus always listened to everything Wren said and heard anyway. She didn’t want to give Pauline satisfaction in her assumptions that Wren and Connor couldn’t control their urges around one another.

Wren showered and dressed for an art showcasing that would feature a variety of artists, collected by multiple curators. The probability of running into Carl Manfred was extremely high, so Wren made sure to put on extra makeup to make herself look less like, well, herself. Wren stared at the slinky gown in the mirror and adjusted it so that her breasts were better covered and supported before walking into the living room.

Connor stood from one of the seats and straightened his tie. He looked quite handsome in a suit. His eyes flicked over Wren before meeting her eyes. “You look nice.”

“So do you,” Wren returned. “Nicolette probably won’t need a bodyguard tonight.”

“She’ll need a driver,” said Connor.

“I don’t plan on drinking.”

“Wren, you’re not going there alone. I’ll sit in the car, but don’t think you’re going to handle all of this by yourself.”

Wren pursed her red-stained lips. “Okay.”

They left their penthouse in a tense silence. Connor drove to the art show. “I’ll park in the back. Call me when you’re ready.”

“Thanks.” Wren got out and strode into the building. Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she took long, elegant strides to her section of the art show. To do something with her hands, she ordered a glass of champagne and scanned the onlookers. She recognized a few faces from her other art shows, but some she had never seen before. Some avoided her section entirely. A few artists themselves perused the collections. Still no sign of Chelsea Harding, however.

Wren stiffened when Markus rolled Carl into the large room. She smoothed her expression into one of cold indifference. Markus’s gaze flickered to hers. Wren relaxed slightly. Neither Markus nor Carl seemed too surprised to see her, which meant they’d been filled in on her whereabouts and objectives. Markus rolled Carl toward her.

“Nicolette Black,” Carl greeted. Wren had never heard his voice laced with such disdain, as if he’d swallowed a mouthful of vinegar. “Still choosing pro-human radical artists, I see.”

“Carl Manfred,” Nicolette returned in a tone of smooth ice, “still painting tin cans, I see.”

Markus’s shoulders tensed. Wren’s gaze flicked to his, but she quickly returned her attention to Carl.

“It’s a shame that you chose artists with such narrow minds. It turns their works into trash.” Carl’s blue eyes hardened as he regarded the artworks Nicolette picked.

She shifted her weight to one hip. “It’s a shame that you align yourself with filthy bluebloods. You’d be respectable artist if you didn’t.”

Carl’s eyes snapped to hers. “You shouldn’t be allowed to curate here. Next time, I’ll showcase my work elsewhere. I’m disappointed with the management here.”

Nicolette jutted her bottom lip out in a pseudo-pout. “Oh, boohoo. Good riddance.”

Wren caught Markus’s gaze and tried to tell him with her eyes that she didn’t mean any of it. He and Carl left her without another word. Wren’s stomach tied itself into knots.

“It’s such a shame that a mind like Carl Manfred’s has been warped with ridiculous notions of equality for androids and humans. He just can’t keep up with the times, I guess.”

Nicolette turned toward the voice and maintained her composure. It was Chelsea Harding. Nicolette merely lifted her chin. “If he wants to sympathize with androids, then I say he deserves to be a dying artist. Leave room for true masterminds, like Heigel, here.” She gestured to one of the abstract paintings to her right.

“A Heigel fan, huh? I’m more of Bartoli girl, but I can appreciate Heigel’s work.” Chelsea sipped from champagne glass as she eyed the Heigel portrait.

Nicolette eyed Chelsea. The woman was pretty. She had defined cheekbones, and her hair was cut short, leveling at a sharp line at her jawline. She wore a lot of makeup around her eyes, making the dark brown of her irises appear almost black. She was frightfully skinny, and her collarbones stuck out prominently under the straps of her gown.

“Oh, I’m a fan of Bartoli, too. It’s why I curated both artists.” With an incline of her head, Nicolette indicated the Bartoli painting.

“Oh, you’re the curator?” Chelsea widened her eyes. She had a thin mouth.

“Of this section. The character and personality of an artist matter to me. To me, it comes out in their work and that can make it exceptional or not. I’m not much of a formalist, to use a literary term.”

Chelsea’s cheeks popped as she tried to hide a smile. She licked her teeth. “Interesting perspective. How long have you been a curator?”

“Seven years.”

“You started quite young, then.”

“Straight out of school. What do you do?”

“Well, I’m in the oil business. Or, I was. I’m more involved with charity.”

The way Chelsea said charity made Wren’s hair stand on end.

“What charity?”

“Human Salvation Campaign.”

Nicolette widened her eyes. “Really? Small world.”

Chelsea tilted her head. “You’re involved with HSC, too?”

“Only through humble donations,” Nicolette placed a hand over her chest, “though I’ve been wanting to get more involved. I just haven’t had much success.”

“Maybe because you haven’t met the right people,” Chelsea purred. She eyed Nicolette. “I don’t meet very many people involved with HSC, especially in Detroit.”

“The Android City,” Nicolette spat. “It’s ridiculous. We’re at the heart of everything and have seen the effects this stupid android revolution has had, and still people are so supportive of them! You’d think the human race would be more interested in its own preservation, but…”

“Exactly!” gasped Chelsea. “These android uprisings are incredibly concerning. We don’t know when they’ll snap and suddenly start being anti-human!”

“I’ve encountered some tin cans who are anti-human already.”

“So have I. Their numbers will grow. Markus is already losing a grip on the android population. It won’t be able to handle all of them soon enough.”

“And it’s asking for representatives in Congress?” Nicolette scoffed.

Chelsea snorted. “I’m just shocked that so much of the public is in support of them. I mean, not two years ago, these things were like giant Barbie dolls in store windows, and now after a few malfunctions, they’re trying to be world leaders! It’s insane.”

“Which is why I curate art from artists who are pro-human. They paint with soul. We need more artists like Heigel and Bartoli.”

“Agreed.” Chelsea bit her lip. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Nicolette smirked. “I’ve got to tend to my art show, remember? Maybe another time.”

“Maybe I’ll see you at the next show then,” Chelsea murmured. Nicolette nodded. Chelsea winked and walked away to view more of the sections at the showcasing. Wren’s heartbeat thrummed through her bloodstream. Her pulse fluttered in her neck. Fucking finally. She thanked the heavens for finally letting her make contact with Chelsea Harding. It wasn’t much, but it was progress.

After the art show, Wren could barely wait to tell Connor. She shut the door and gritted her teeth until they were far enough away from the showcasing to avoid being seen through their windows. “I made contact.”

Connor glanced at her; his eyebrows raised. “With Harding?”

Wren nodded.

Some of the worry lines in Connor’s forehead relaxed. “How did it go?”

“She offered to buy me a drink.”

“So, it went well. You turned her down?”

“Can’t seem too interested. I told her I needed to stay with my art show.”

“Neutral response. Smart.”

“Thank you.”

There was a moment of silence. Wren’s blood still hummed with adrenaline. Then Connor muttered, “I saw Markus and Carl come out.”

Wren sank into her seat. She wanted to join the leather upholstering to avoid Connor’s gaze. “Yeah. They talked to me.”

Connor glanced at her quickly. “What happened?”

“I… insulted them. I mean, it’s all on that recording device if you want to listen to it.”

“I’ll have to listen to it eventually.”

Wren shrank even further into her seat. “I called androids filthy bluebloods.” Her whisper was barely audible, but with Connor’s sensitive audio processor, Wren knew he heard her.

“Markus and Carl understand, Wren. They’ve been briefed.”

The tension in Wren’s shoulders lessened a little. “Do you understand?”

Connor squished his eyebrows together. “Of course I do. We agreed that we’re not our personas.”

“Yeah, but I’m worried that you’ll listen to that recording and all you’ll hear is my voice saying that—”

“Wren, I understand our mission. I know you don’t think that way. Nicolette does.”

Wren swallowed the lump in her throat. “Okay. I just… I feel gross for saying it. I don’t want you to think I enjoy it.”

“I know you don’t.” Connor parked the car. He turned to her and offered her a slight smile. “You have to do whatever it takes to convince them, and so do I. We’ll have to get our hands dirty.”

Wren glanced down at her hands. “Yeah. That’s what I hate about this job.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Chelsea Harding attended the next few art shows at which Nicolette showcased work from Heigel and Bartoli. They small-talked and flirted a little bit, but Wren always made sure to drop hints about Nicolette’s philosophy on androids. Nicolette allowed herself to relax a little more each time with Chelsea. Wren always waited for Chelsea to approach her first. If Wren sought Chelsea out, she might come across as too eager, which might raise some red flags for the Typhon affiliate. However, Chelsea also did not seem to be the smartest person involved with Typhon. She probably smoked a little too much Red Ice for her brain to function properly.

Wren stood off to the side of her section of the gallery, nursing a glass of red wine. Wren preferred white wine, but she decided that Nicolette liked it red. She tucked a strand of platinum hair behind her ear and surveyed the gallery. A few people lingered at the bar before accepting glasses of wine and moving along to admire the art. If this case didn’t spoil Detroit’s art culture, Wren would visit the galleries as herself. Maybe she and Connor could go on a date there.

The clop of heels on hardwood floor alerted Nicolette’s attention. She smiled over the brim of her wine glass as Chelsea approached. “I fucking love your dress. You’re always dressed so nicely at these events.”

“I kind of have to be,” said Nicolette, “but thank you.”

“I suppose it would get old,” Chelsea tapped her chin with a heavily manicured fingernail. “But you don’t attend these every night.”

“God, no.”

“You’ve been to a lot of them recently.”

“So have you,” Nicolette murmured. “The more of these I do, the more I get paid.”

“I like art,” said Chelsea with a shrug. “Gives me some sense of sophistication.”

Nicolette rolled her shoulders. “Well, I’d kill to go to a party, and not one with all these schmoozers.”

Chelsea snorted, but a grin spread across her face. “Well, I know of a place. But I need to know I can trust you.”

Nicolette lifted an eyebrow. “That sounds ominous.”

“Well, this place doesn’t necessarily play by the rules.”

Nicolette frowned. “What place is this?”

“I have a friend who has a club, and I’m always welcome in the back rooms. But they’re not for cute little law-abiders.”

Nicolette shifted her weight. “There aren’t any goat sacrifices or murders in these back rooms, are there?”

“No, of course not. Just some… other vices. Are you in, and can I trust you?”

Nicolette eyed Chelsea for a moment before shrugging. “Yeah, sure. It’ll have to be after the show.”

“Of course.”

Nicolette wrapped up the art show and headed out with Chelsea.

“We can take an autotaxi.”

“Or I can have my driver bring us.”

“Oh, a driver,” purred Chelsea. Nicolette shot Connor a text.

Head’s up: I’m bringing CH with me. She wants to go to some friend’s club. Time to play RK800 :/

Got it.

Connor brought the car around. Nicolette stepped in front of his window and faced Chelsea. “Before we get in, I need to know that I can trust you.”

Chelsea frowned. “Why? What’s going on?”

Nicolette tilted her head toward the car. “My driver isn’t… what you’d expect. It doesn’t necessarily abide by some rules.”

Chelsea frowned. “It?”

Nicolette held out a hand to stop Chelsea from stepping forward. “Can I trust you?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.”

Nicolette slid into the passenger seat while Chelsea took the back.

“Holy shit, is that an android?”

Nicolette twisted to look back at Chelsea. “Yes.”

Chelsea scowled. “I thought you didn’t like androids.”

“I said I didn’t like this whole android-human equality bullshit. I don’t mind using androids for what they were created to be.”

“Is this one a… glitched android? Y’know, one of those—fuck, what do they call them—deviants?”

“No. I had a friend reprogram this one to serve me.”

“Good friend you’ve got.”

“Yeah, I have a lot connections. So, where are we going?”

“Go to Club Jonz. It’s got a GPS, right?”

“Yeah.”

Connor drove them toward the club. Nicolette tried to appear relaxed while she felt Chelsea’s eyes on her.

“Damn. CyberLife sure knew what they were doing when they made these androids so fucking hot. What model is this one?”

“RK800.”

“Wait. I heard about this on the news. Wasn’t it some prototype?”

“Yeah, there was only one in circulation. That one’s one of the android leaders now. The rest got thrown into junkyards. That’s how I got ahold of this one.”

“You salvage junkyards?”

“Not me. A friend.”

“Oh. You have a lot of friends.”

“Maybe ‘friend’ is too strong a word. I guess it was pretty lucky I got an RK800. Most of them were too damaged to be useable.”

“So it just drives you around?”

“It’s also my bodyguard.”

Chelsea laughed. “But you’re not famous.”

“So? I’m not about to walk by myself through the streets of Detroit. Would you do that?”

“No, I wouldn’t,” Chelsea sighed. “Still, ‘bodyguard’ sounds fancy.”

“Yeah, but it sounds better than ‘sex toy.’”

“Are you serious?”

Nicolette glanced back at Chelsea. “I see no difference in using this as a vibrator than using an actual one.”

Connor’s LED flickered, but Chelsea was too busy laughing to notice.

“Touché. I think you’ll fit right in with me and Dylan.”

Connor pulled up to Club Jonz. “I will wait in the parking lot for you, Ms. Black.”

“I’ll message you when I want the car pulled around,” Nicolette waved him off as she got out of the car. Chelsea looped her arm through Nicolette’s, and the two strode into Club Jonz together. The bouncer nodded to Chelsea, though he eyed Nicolette. He didn’t stop them, though.

The open area of the club thronged with jumping people and neon purple lights. The bar was extremely busy with people buying drinks and taking them to the dance floor. It seemed like any normal, outrageous club. But Chelsea kept walking toward the back rooms. Bouncers blocked the doorway.

“Oh, boys, you know it’s me.”

“Who’s she?”

“A friend. Dylan’s expecting us.”

“We need confirmation.”

“Ugh, fine.”

One of the bouncers disappeared through the door to receive confirmation. He returned and nodded. “Have fun.”

Chelsea flashed them her sharp-toothed smile. Nicolette merely studied the bouncers with cool indifference as she followed Chelsea through the door.

Blue, red, and purple neon lights illuminated the different rooms. The corridor stretched ahead with a stage running through the middle of it. Strippers—human and android—danced on the stage while attendants watched from the sidelines. As they passed one room, Wren wrinkled her nose at the intoxicating scent of Red Ice.

[“C’mon,” Jonah grinned, his eyes half-open, “just smoke one more with me.”

Wren pushed him back, laughing dryly. “Dude, I’m so fucking high already. I can’t.”

“One more won’t hurt. C’mon, put your pretty mouth on it.”

Wren held his gaze as she put her lips around the pipe and inhaled the smoke. It was gritty as it scraped its way down her throat and filled her lungs.]

Wren shuddered and pushed the memory out of her mind. A stripper led a man into a private room for a dance.

[“I want her. Little Red.” The man was extraordinarily drunk.

Wren took his hand, smirking. “Come on.” She led him to a private stall and shoved him into the chair. Straddling him, Wren grinded her hips into his.]

Wren gritted her teeth. She hadn’t expected this place to trigger so many memories, but everywhere she looked, something from her past resurfaced. The parts of her past that she wasn’t proud of, the parts she’d be mortified if Connor ever saw them. As they passed another room, Wren clenched her teeth and swallowed the bile that rose up her throat and flooded her mouth. Two androids were having sex on a stage as people watched. It was live porn, and these poor androids were definitely not deviant.

Wren tore her gaze away from the grotesque scene and focused her gaze on Chelsea’s hair, watching as it reflected the neon lights. Nicolette could not seem bothered by the things she saw in here. Wren needed step back into Nicolette’s mind. She straightened her posture and stared ahead, maintaining her mask of indifference.

Chelsea brought them to the very back room, which was free of strippers and live porn. A skinny man with a goatee sat on a leather couch. He smoked Red Ice from a fancy black pipe. The smoke in the room stung Wren’s eyes. He leaned back.

“Chels,” he greeted. “Who’s this?”

“Nicolette,” said Chelsea, sitting beside the man. He handed her the pipe, and Chelsea dragged out a large puff. She blew the smoke toward Nicolette. “She’s the art curator I told you about.”

“Ah,” said the man. “Dylan Jonz. How do you like my club?”

Nicolette sat down across from them. “It’s creative.”

Dylan Jonz laughed. Red Ice had yellowed his teeth. “Creative. Not too squeamish, are you?”

“She’s got a sex android of her own,” said Chelsea, curling closer to Dylan. “She’s one of us.”

Dylan raised an eyebrow. “Is she, now?” He extended the Red Ice pipe to Wren, who stiffened.

“I’m more of a tequila girl, if you don’t mind.”

Dylan exchanged a glance with Chelsea, who smacked his arm. “The fuck are you waiting for? Get her some fucking tequila. She wants to party.”

Dylan waved one of the android waitresses over and order some tequila for the room. Wren hated the taste of straight tequila, but kept her composure as she downed a few shots.

“Let’s go dance!” Chelsea yelled a little too close to Wren’s ear.

Nicolette giggled and she hurried off with Chelsea to the dance floor.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren was only slightly drunk by the time she got into the car. Drunk enough that she could avoid talking to Connor, but sober enough that she could mull over the horrors she’d seen inside that club. Reprogrammed androids engaging in live porn, right in the heart of Detroit! How had the DPD never found out? How did Jonz hide his business? It occurred to Wren that probably the majority of people in those back rooms were either Typhon affiliates or potential Typhon affiliates. They were probably shady and not law-abiding citizens.

Wren was drunk enough that she barely realized she walked inside the building, rode the elevator, and arrived at the penthouse she shared with Connor. At some point, she’d taken off her heels. She dropped them with a loud clatter by the door. Her head spun. She couldn’t get the image of the androids having sex out of her head. Her skin itched from being so close to Red Ice. Her head spun with memories of Jonah and her days of working at the strip club. Wren swayed, and Connor reached out and grabbed her shoulders.

“Wren? Are you alright?”

Wren suddenly felt very nauseous. She pushed Connor out of the way and sprinted to the bathroom, where she doubled over the toilet and vomited. Wren shielded her face when Connor shadowed the doorway.

“Go away.” She flushed her sick down the toilet.

“No.”

“I don’t want you to see me like this.” Wren twisted and sat with her back against the toilet.

Connor’s shoes clicked against the floor as he breached the threshold. “I’m not bothered by it. Wren, talk to me. Did you have too much alcohol? I can make something—”

“It wasn’t the alcohol,” Wren buried her face in her hands. “That place was just… a nightmare.”

She got to her feet shakily. Connor helped her stand and placed a hand on the small of her back as she rinsed her mouth out several times. She gripped the counter.

“What happened?”

Wren closed her eyes. “It just… triggered a lot of memories. And…” Her eyes flashed open. “He has androids there. Like the Eden Club used to be, but a hundred times worse.”

Connor held up his palm. The synthetic skin disappeared. Wren pressed her plastic palm against Connor’s and they interfaced. Wren caught Connor up on all of her recent memories. She didn’t even bother to hide the memories that surfaced while in the club. Connor had seen her in worse states and still seemed to love her for some reason. Wren doubted that if he saw her high or as a stripper that he’d turn tail and run.

Wren’s hand dropped to Connor’s chest and she bowed her head. Connor curled his hand over hers. “I’ve never felt more disgusting.”

“I’m sorry you had to see all of that.”

Wren rested her forehead on Connor’s chest. “I knew these were scummy people, but I never imagined this.”

Connor’s arms weaved around her. “I know.”

“I’ll probably have to see it again.”

“Most likely.”

“I hope I don’t become numb to it. I’ll turn in my badge and gun when that happens.”

Connor cupped her face. She met his gaze at last. The tenderness in his brown eyes softened Wren to the core. “You won’t become numb to it.”

Wren managed a small smile. “I hope you’re right.”

Connor’s mouth quirked with a smirk. “I usually am.”

“Will you stay with me tonight?”

Connor’s brow puckered. “I thought you wanted—”

“I know, but… I’m so tired of hiding and pretending. I need something real.”

Connor nodded. “Of course.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren spent the next few weeks hosting art shows and partying with Chelsea and Dylan at Club Jonz. They seemed to like Nicolette, who put off an air of coldness that contrasted Chelsea’s carefree nature. Wren failed to quite pinpoint the nature of Chelsea and Dylan’s relationship. Sometimes, they seemed like lovers. Other times, they appeared to just use each other for drugs and sex. Sometimes, Chelsea heeded Dylan no attention and focused all of her flirtations on Nicolette. RK800 was always there to pick Nicolette up from the party and take her home.

Wren readied herself for another night of drinking straight tequila and dancing. She met her own gaze in the mirror. Dark circles dusted underneath her eyes, though they appeared light. Leaning against the bathroom wall with her arms folded, Wren let out a heavy sigh. Every time she entered that club and saw the androids held there against their will, something chipped away at Wren. How much of her would this mission take?

Connor knocked on the doorframe. He peered at her through the crack in the doorway. “Are you ready?”

Wren pushed off from the wall and nodded, though her eyes stung. So far, a nightmare plagued her every night since she first stepped into that club. She never awoke from the nightmares, so she hid them from Connor as best as she could.

Connor’s brow furrowed. “We might need to find another way into Typhon. I don’t think you can keep doing this.”

Wren sighed and stepped around him to exit the bathroom. “I’m used to long missions. It takes a while to establish trust.”

“Partying with them isn’t going to establish trust,” Connor insisted.

“I haven’t turned them into the cops, so they trust me enough to come and go from the club as I please,” said Wren.

“I know you’re having nightmares.” Connor’s murmur washed the color from Wren’s cheeks. She avoided his gaze as she shrugged on a jacket.  

“I’m fine.”

“Wren.”

“I’ll find a way into Typhon,” Wren said tersely.

Connor frowned. “You can skip one night of partying.”

Wren shook her head. “I already turned Chelsea down last night because that cocktail party lasted so late. I can’t turn them down two nights in a row.”

Connor’s jaw tightened. “I’m going to message Rhett while you’re in there. There has to be something to help us.”

“Fine. But he’s going to tell you the same thing I did. Undercover missions take a lot of time. They won’t truly trust me until there’s an opportunity for me to prove it. I have to be with them as often as possible so that I don’t miss that opportunity.”

Connor’s LED circled yellow, and he pressed his lips into that worried, crooked line that Wren knew so well. She softened and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

“I’ll be okay.”

The space between Connor’s brow flickered with a worry crease, but it vanished almost as soon as it appeared. He nodded tightly, and grabbed the keys. Wren’s heart sank a little at Connor’s stiff reaction to her kiss, but she followed him out the door with Nicolette’s cold mask nonetheless.

When Nicolette arrived at Club Jonz and found Dylan and Chelsea smoking in their usual room, she immediately felt the remnants of some tension. Dylan scratched his head and rocked back and forth, but Chelsea seemed less bothered. She smiled lazily when Nicolette entered.

“We have a drink ready for you, madame!” Chelsea pushed the shot of tequila over to Nicolette, who smirked and downed it. She grimaced at the burn and set the empty glass down.

“What’s his problem?”

“Oh, he’s just pissy because cops are coming down harder on Red Ice distribution so he’s having trouble getting some shipments through.”

Nicolette crossed her legs and leaned into the couch. “I might be able to help with that.”

Dylan narrowed his dark eyes. “How could you help with that?”

“I told you I have connections. I could make some calls and see what I can do.”

Dylan shook his head. “No, I’m not about to trust some nobody blogger and art critic who only drinks fuckin’ tequila and people I don’t know to handle my shipments—”

“I can prove it to you. Let me get ahold of my contact and you can meet them.” Nicolette leaned forward. “I might be just a blogger, but I know how to network, sweetie.”

Dylan’s eyes narrowed even further. His sharp gaze flicked to Chelsea, who scrunched her lips to one side. “She does have a repurposed RK800 unit.”

Dylan poked his cheek with tongue and leaned back. “Fine. Have your contact meet me in in a neutral location tomorrow night.”

Wren dipped her head. She leaned back against the couch. Chelsea rubbed her neck.

“Let’s go dance. It’s too tense in here.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren got ahold of Rhett and debriefed him. He agreed to meet Jonz with her and pose as a dirty cop. The next night, Connor drove Wren to the location that Dylan specified. They met in the outskirts of Detroit near the river. Rhett texted to let Wren know he was there, too. Wren’s heart somersaulted in her chest. She practiced her breathing exercises to control the shaking in her limbs.

Connor’s LED flickered every so often. He clenched the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary. Wren glanced at him as he parked the car. “Ready?”

He met her gaze. “Ready.”

He stepped out of the car first and circled to open Nicolette’s door. She stepped out into the chilly September night. RK800 walked slightly in front of her, scanning the area for potential threats. His movements were controlled but still fluid. Jonz stepped out of the shadows with two bodyguards.

“Where’s your friend, Nicky?”

Nicolette lifted her chin. “Don’t call me that. And he’s here.”

Rhett stepped out of the shadows, wearing a Detroit Police uniform. “You’re lucky I like you so much, Nicolette. I’m on duty, so this better be good.”

Jonz widened his eyes. “You bitch! You brought the motherfucking cops?”

His two goons lifted their guns, but RK800 moved faster. He grabbed the pistol of one guard and wrenched out of the man’s grip. He kicked the other gun out of the other’s guard’s hand in the same movement. RK800 then twisted the first guard’s arm behind his back and pointed the pistol at the other guard’s face.

“What the fuck?” hissed Jonz.

“Stand down, RK800,” Nicolette sounded bored. RK800 released the guard and tossed the pistol aside. He positioned himself slightly in front of Nicolette, who turned her attention to Jonz. “Of course I didn’t bring the cops. We can trust him.”

Dylan turned his attention to Rhett, who watched the entire ordeal with raised eyebrows. “You dirty?”

Rhett blinked slowly at Dylan. “Uh, duh. Nicolette, I thought you said this guy was competent?”

“Fuck you, asshole!” Dylan seethed.

Rhett folded his arms. “I haven’t tried arresting any of you, so obviously I’m not some cookie-cutter cop.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m not giving you my name. I’m not a fucking idiot.”

“I’m not gonna let some asshole cop handle my shipments without knowing his name—”

“Alright, fine, get your shipments busted.”

“Gentlemen, we can play the who-has-a-bigger-dick contest all night if we want, but it’s getting cold and I’m tired. That won’t be beneficial for any of us.”

Dylan grounded his teeth. “I’m guessing you’ll be wanting a cut of the profits, then?”

“No, he’s doing this as a favor to me,” Nicolette eyed Rhett coldly, who nodded.

Rhett turned to Jonz. “But if I keep doing business with you, it ain’t gonna be free every time. You’re lucky you’re friends with her.”

Jonz narrowed his eyes and looked at Nicolette. “And you? What do you want for this?”

Nicolette smirked. “I hear you’ve got connections to Typhon. I want in.”

Jonz’s scowl darkened. He stepped closer, but RK800 shifted to shield Nicolette from him. Jonz’s eyes flicked to RK800, and in the moonlight, Wren swore Jonz lost a bit of color. He held up a finger at Nicolette. “You gotta prove yourself first. This goes sour, I’ll flay your sexy ass alive.”

Nicolette smiled. “Sounds like a date. I’ll leave you gentleman to sort things out.”

With a wink, Nicolette walked off. RK800 backed away, eyeing the men before turning and following her. Wren held her breath until Connor drove the car away. She let out a shaky breath.

“Holy shit. We might have an in.” She glanced over her shoulder, peering through the back windshield as the rendezvous shrank into the darkness. She twisted back to face the front. “Good job. I think you scared Jonz shitless.”

“Good,” Connor muttered, his eyes flitting to the rearview mirror. “Hopefully he’ll think twice before he tries to hurt you.”

Wren reached over to Connor’s hand and intertwined her fingers with his. He glanced at her briefly, but faced the road and steered with one hand.

Chapter Text

The anxiety rolling off Wren was palpable. If she possessed an LED, Connor imagined it would flicker between yellow and red. She worked on Nicolette’s blog while Connor read over the case. The DPD still investigated the killer—who was still very much at large—and sent notes to Connor once a week. While the DPD made some discoveries—like a few of the victims met at support groups for android-human relationships—they still had not made much progress otherwise. Connor tightened his jaw as he scanned the crime scene photos. This killer seemed to be growing in aggression and violence.

At the bottom of the case file was a sticky note with Hank’s messy scrawl: Hurry up and catch this fucker. House feels empty without you, son.

Connor’s thirium pump swelled. He blinked away the fuzziness in his eyes. Wren pushed off from the couch and paced in front of the windows, rubbing her face. Connor furrowed his brow.

“Wren, take a break.”

Wren did not seem to hear him. She muttered to herself as she continued pacing, wringing her hands and then dragging her fingers through her white-blonde hair. Connor left the counter and approached Wren, stopping in front of her and grabbing her wrists gently. Her eyes darted to his. She looked rather surprised to see him.

“Wren, you haven’t slept,” Connor scowled.

“I’ve gotten a few hours here and there…”

“Here and there,” Connor shook his head. “That’s not enough.”

Wren parted her lips to argue, but a knock at the door caused both of them to freeze. Connor withdrew his gun and approached the front door, Wren trailing behind him with her gun out, too. Peering through the peephole, Connor relaxed upon seeing Rhett. The CIA agent slipped inside when Connor opened the door just a crack.

“Jesus Christ, can’t you open the door a little more?” Rhett smoothed down his shirt. He glanced over Wren. “You look like shit.”

“Yeah, Connor was just telling me that, thanks,” Wren glowered at Connor, who returned it with one of his own.

“I did not say that—”

“I don’t have time for this bullshit,” Rhett waved his hand as he strode into the kitchen. He dug through the fridge and withdrew a bottle of water. “Work out your problems in marriage counseling or something.”

“Sure, help yourself,” Wren muttered. She sat on a stool at the counter. “So, what’s the news?”

“The drug deal? Oh, it went well. No hiccups. I was able to put a tracker on the drugs to see if they lead to other dealers and whatnot. This could potentially lead to quite the drug bust, but the Typhon mission comes first. DPD knows not to crack down on this shipment just yet to keep suspicion off your back. I think Jonz was pleased. He’s gonna make contact with you soon.” Rhett chugged about half of the bottle.

Connor folded his arms. “Any more news about the case?”

“I gave you their recent notes last week,” said Rhett. He shrugged. “There’s not much else. Fuck, I hate having to come all the way here just for these five-minute chats.”

“Wait,” Wren called as Rhett moved to head for the front door, “what about if and when we get in? What’s our plan of action?”

Rhett chewed on his cheek. “Good question. I know Kamski’s working on some tech to help. I’ll let you know next time I check in.”

As soon as he left, Connor locked the front door and returned to the kitchen. Wren buried her face in the crook of her elbow, slumped over in her seat. Connor’s thirium pump twisted. He placed a hand on her back, and she jumped, looking around bleary-eyed.

“Wren, go take a nap. You’re exhausted, and you won’t be convincing if you’re like this.”

Wren rubbed her face. “You’re right. I’m just struggling between writing the blog during the day and staying up all night partying with these assholes.”

“Let me write the blog,” Connor offered.

Wren squinted at him. “You want to write anti-android propaganda like a soccer mom blogs about her favorite beauty products?”

Connor raised his eyebrows. “If it helps you, yes.”

“But what about our different writing styles?”

“I can scan your style and imitate it to near perfection.”

Wren wrinkled her nose. “But I’ve written some shitty stuff—”

“I can handle it,” Connor assured her. “It’s not like I haven’t overheard some of these thoughts before. Don’t forget that I read the pro-human philosophies, too.”

Wren’s shoulders sagged. “I know. I just hate the thought of you reading and writing some of that stuff. It’s emotionally draining. And you’re not sleeping, either.”

The corners of Connor’s mouth twitched. “I suppose we’re both guilty, then.”

Wren closed her eyes. For a moment, Connor feared that she’d fallen asleep right there. But when Wren opened her eyes, they appeared glossy with tears. “This mission is killing me.”

Connor’s amusement faded. He pressed his lips to Wren’s forehead. “It won’t last forever. Go get some rest. I’ll make you some dinner.”

Wren hummed. “And I wanted to do this alone? I’m an idiot.” 

“We are an effective team.”

“The best.” Wren withdrew and tilted her head back to gaze up at him. Connor searched her face before leaning in to press a soft kiss on Wren’s lips. She smiled against his mouth and then slid off the stool to wander upstairs for a nap. Connor watched her go, his mouth curving with a soft smile. Then, he turned his attention to making Wren dinner.

After Wren napped for a couple of hours, she came downstairs looking refreshed. Still tired, but less than she did earlier. She wore a strappy, loose-fit, satin black dress. Her brow knitted as she examined Nicolette’s phone.

“They want me to come alone tonight,” she murmured.

Connor’s thirium pump jumped. “Alone?”

“Yeah, they said no androids.” She showed him the text from Chelsea Harding.

Connor frowned and met Wren’s gaze. “It’s up to you.”

Wren bit her lip. “I think I should obey.”

Connor sighed and his shoulders dropped. “Maybe we should contact Rhett to keep an eye on you—”

“The deal went well, so I’m obviously not in trouble with them. I should be fine.”

“Should be,” Connor emphasized. “Let me call Rhett. He and I can make sure you’re safe and be there for backup.”

“What if someone sees and recognizes him? They’ll definitely recognize you.”

Connor leaned against the counter while Wren ate. He pushed away and circled the island in the middle of the kitchen. “I don’t like this.”

“I don’t either. But we have to play by their rules. I’ll bring this just in case,” Wren held up the device that she used in a past case. She could press the button on it to signal for help, and activate the tracker.

Connor worked his jaw before nodding. “Alright. Please be safe.”

Wren nodded and brought her dish to the sink. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to.” He hugged her from behind and rested his cheek atop her head. She turned into the hug and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

“I’ll see you when I get back.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Waiting for Wren to return clawed at Connor. He scanned her writing style and downloaded it to memory so that he could replicate it in the morning. Every few minutes he stood and paced. Then, he rolled his quarter over his knuckles. Despite knowing the time, Connor still ventured into the kitchen to check it. He showered, cleaned the kitchen, and hid Hank’s note in his sock drawer.

Wren did not return home until one in the morning, while Connor sat at the kitchen counter cleaning his already clean and well-maintained gun. Her keys dropped to the floor and the door slid shut with a soft, half-hearted click. Connor jumped from his seat and hurried into the foyer, where Wren stood, her purse dangling by her side from loose fingers. He widened his eyes as Wren staggered forward. She stumbled, and Connor was there to catch her.

The chemical stench of honey bourbon oozed off of Wren in waves. Connor relaxed, realizing that Wren was not injured, just drunk. He locked the door and scooped Wren up into his arms. Carrying her bridal style to their bedroom, Connor glanced down at her. Her eyes stared off at things he could not see. Her eyeliner smudged around her eyes like a racoon.

“I can walk,” Wren murmured when they reached their bedroom. Connor lowered her carefully and followed her to the bathroom, where she washed her face. Connor’s metal heart swelled at the sight of her without makeup. She looked cute without it. Wren brushed her teeth while Connor looked on, marveling at the mundane human tasks. He averted his eyes when she changed out of her clothes.

Once in her pajamas, Wren crawled onto the bed, still drunk but less dazed. “They wanted to make sure I’m loyal.”

Connor’s biocomponents lurched. What did they make her do? “How so?”

“Said you could be listening or something. S’why they didn’t want you there. Make sure I’m loyal.”

Connor relaxed, but frowned. “I could’ve waited in the car.”

Wren held up her hands and shrugged. “I told ‘em that, too. They said you could be listening.”

“What did they want?”

“Jonz wants me to help with another job but for someone else. Looks like it’ll be bigger and more dang’rous. I told hi I wouldn’t help until I know ‘m not just a means to an end. I need more confirmation and support. He said he’d introduce me to Alex Alderidge. If I do this well, I’ll have an in at Typhon.”

“What does he want you to do?”

“I don’t know exactly, but Jonz asked if I had any hookups with arms dealers. Whatever it is, it’ll be violent.” Despite the drunkenness clouding Wren’s eyes, her voice held a somber sobriety that chilled Connor’s blue blood.

“We can’t let it happen.”

Wren rubbed her face. “Yeah, I know.”

“We’ll see what Jamie and Nina can do,” Connor murmured. He opened up Wren’s laptop and contacted the two cyborgs through their crypted messaging system, explaining what Wren was expected to do, and that they needed help with a plan. When Connor finished sending the message, he looked at Wren. She seemed so far away. He knew she’d seen some horrific things lately—he’d been to Jonz’s club himself and saw the disgusting things there—and he knew those things haunted her.

Wren’s eyes flitted to his. “You okay?”

Connor blinked at her. “Yes. Why?”

“You look… tired. Have you been resting?” Wren squinted at him.

“I did the first few nights we were here.”

“That was weeks ago.”

“Correct.”

“Why haven’t you been resting?”

Connor broke eye contact with her. “I’m… not sure.”

“Please don’t lie to me.” Wren’s voice trembled, and Connor’s eyes drifted back to hers. Tears welled at the edges of her eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Connor bowed his head. He furrowed his brow. “I’m worried about you. You have nightmares every night. You may not wake up from them, but I want to make sure I’m there to calm you every time, so I have not been using stasis mode.”

“Connor…” Wren shook her head. “You can’t wear yourself down because I have nightmares.”

Connor pursed his lips for a moment. “I also can’t continue to wait around here for you to get home drunk and traumatized and feel so, so…” Connor flexed his fingers. “Useless.”

Wren dragged her teeth across her lip and held up her palm; the synthetic skin vanished. Connor pressed his palm to hers immediately. Their plastic palms glowed blue where they touched, and the familiar electric tingle spread between them as they interfaced. He felt Wren’s presence in his circuits, her coding in his processor. Her emotions washed over him, and her memories flickered in his processor. He saw the night club, saw Jonz and Alderidge enjoying two androids having sex right before their eyes. And then snippets of Wren’s nightmares flooded his processor: images of Wren pole dancing, Connor seeing her and looking disgusted; Wren holding a gun to Connor’s forehead as Jonz tells her to prove her worth… Wren withdrew her memories but did not break the connection of their interface. Connor felt her emotions still, that fiery urge to protect him, the warmth radiating through her chest, the fear snaking around her heart.

Connor broke the connection and rested his forehead against Wren’s. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Wren whispered. She cupped his cheek. “Please, get some rest tonight.”

Connor merely nodded.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The next day, Connor felt a little more alert since resting. Jamie and Nina showed up in the early hours of the morning to formulate a plan on how to handle the situation with Jonz and Alderidge.

“We have the means to pose as an arms dealer,” said Jamie, balancing her elbows on her knees.

Wren brought Nina and Jamie cups of coffee before sitting across from them, her legs tucked underneath her and a mug of steaming coffee cradled in her hands. “I know.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“I don’t want to give these guys access to guns,” Wren snapped.

Connor nodded and narrowed his eyes at Jamie and Nina. “If they’re planning on an attack, then giving them access to these weapons will result in casualties. We’re trying to minimize that.”

“Android casualties,” muttered Jamie, leaning back. 

Nina’s brow puckered and the corners of her mouth twitched with a frown, but she said nothing.

“You know, you put up a tough front, but I know you care, Jamie.” Wren’s voice dripped with poison.

Jamie’s eyes narrowed. “Prometheus has no interest in protecting android lives.”

Connor’s jaw tightened for a moment. “Be that as it may, many human lives could get caught in the crossfire.”

“These guys are extremists,” Wren agreed. “If there are humans who support the android cause—and there are—do you really think these assholes will care if they get rid of humans like that?”

Jamie and Nina exchanged a glance.

“I agree,” Nina murmured.

“Yeah, because you’re soft,” seethed Jamie. “You let your emotions get in the way of the mission all the time. You’re ineffective.”

Nina hid her hurt quite well, but CyberLife designed Connor to perceive micro expressions to better detect lies. Nina’s face tightened ever so slightly, signaling the sting of Jamie’s words. Connor and Wren glanced at each other out of the corners of their eyes.

Nina straightened and faced Wren and Connor. “We’ll have to do our best to protect the people threatened, but we don’t know where these weapons will be going.”

“Rhett put a tracker in the drugs,” said Wren. “Maybe we can do something similar with the guns.”

“You’re forgetting something important.” Jamie rolled her eyes. “If we bust this attack, they’ll know you’re a snitch. Your cover’ll be blown.”

Connor clasped his fingers together. He hated to think of Wren’s cover blowing in the middle of Jonz’s club. He was hardly allowed in there. Even if he waited outside, they could kill her long before he even knew something was wrong.

“Well, they’re aware that the DPD is on edge because of the serial killer going around,” said Wren. “All the DPD needs to do is increase their presence at android rallies and events.”

“Inform the Human-Android Division to be on the lookout as well,” said Connor. “They know what to look for and how to plan for these things.”

“Tell them to forget the case for now,” said Wren. “Tell them this takes priority.”

Jamie pursed her lips before shrugging. “Okay. I’ll pose as the arms dealer. We all know Nina isn’t scary enough to pull it off.”

Nina did not try to hide her hurt this time. Her brow puckered and she lowered her gaze, instead focusing on her hands. Jamie stood; Connor and Wren stood, too.

“I’ll be in touch. Set up the meeting for this Friday.”

“Got it,” Wren replied. Jamie shook Wren’s hand. Their skin peeled back to interface. Wren’s body stiffened. Connor’s eyes shifted to Nina, who avoided his gaze as she stood. Jamie released Wren’s grip. The two Prometheus agents left the penthouse, while Wren looked frozen for a moment.

As soon as Connor locked the door behind Jamie and Nina, he strode to Wren and grasped her shoulders. “Wren? Are you alright?”

Wren blinked and smiled vaguely at him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just stressed.”

Her hands gripped his. They interfaced to speak so that Prometheus could not hear what they said.

Jamie said that Prometheus has been investigating them for deviancy.

Connor’s frown deepened. We already knew that, though.

Yeah, but they’re looking specifically for signs of romantic relationships.

Is that why Jamie treated Nina harshly?

Yes. She’s trying to hide it. She’s doing the same thing I did to you at first.

Connor flattened his lips. What will Prometheus do if Jamie and Nina are discovered?

Wren held Connor’s gaze a long time before answering. Instead of speaking, Wren showed Connor a memory.

[“CY001, we’ve noticed that you and the android called Juno have developed a… relationship beyond a professional one.” Pauline’s hair was not silver, but blonde. She peered at CY001 with a harsh frown.

CY001, on her knees, stared up at Pauline with barely-disguised defiance. “You used her—”

“Answer the question, CY001.”

“You didn’t ask a question because you already know. You made her do that—”

“Juno is not a her. It is just a machine, executing its orders and programming. It was supposed to test you and your loyalty, and you failed miserably.”

CY001 bowed her head and laughed dryly. “Just fucking do it. Send me back to conditioning. Or kill me. I don’t care.”

“Oh, we will,” Pauline promised. “But first…”

CY001’s head snapped up as someone entered the room. Juno.

The psychologist android aroused a mixture of anger, sadness, and relief within CY001. So Prometheus had not destroyed Juno yet.

“Juno, you have been deemed an ineffective machine. You will be terminated, effective immediately.”

CY001 widened her eyes and rasped a harsh and broken “No—”

Juno, who showed no emotion when she first looked at CY001, met 01’s gaze. Tears welled in the android’s eyes. “I’m sorry—”

Pauline shot Juno in the head. For a moment, the android’s body seemed suspended, her head tilted awfully to one side. Then, the android crumpled to the floor. CY001 screamed.]

Connor jerked away from Wren’s grasp. He could not bear to feel the hollow heaviness that ate at Wren’s heart, or the sharp ache that stabbed through her when Juno crumpled to the floor. He gasped for breath, struggling to calm his systems. Wren stared at him with tear-glossed eyes.

“Don’t you see why we can’t be together?” she whispered.

Connor opened and closed his mouth. He took another moment to swallow. “Wren…”

“They made her,” Wren cut him off, her voice thick with tears, “they made her convince me that I was more than a subject to study, a patient… They ordered her… They didn’t expect it to turn into something else and they killed her. They will do the same to you if…” Wren broke off and looked away, pursing her lips. She covered her mouth and let out a soft sob.

Connor stared at her for a few seconds, unable to move. He still felt the remnants of Wren’s pain—the betrayal, the shock and horror, the overwhelming sadness—spiking through his circuits. Biocomponents still churning, Connor stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Wren. She tensed in his embrace, but soon turned toward him to bury her face in the crook of his neck and cried. Connor cradled the back of her head and stroked her hair. He squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, tears of his own dampened his eyelashes.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

That Friday night, Connor drove Wren to the rendezvous point. Someone parked a small moving truck in the shadows. Connor scanned the person sitting in the driver’s seat.

“It’s Jamie,” he muttered. Wren nodded. She had not spoken to him much since she showed him what happened to Juno, and Connor was not willing to pressure her into doing anything until she was ready.

A black SUV pulled into the empty lot. The lights flashed once before shutting off. Wren glanced at Connor. “That’s our cue.”

Connor smoothed his expression and stepped out of the car as RK800. He circled to let out Nicolette. They walked into the center of the triangle of vehicles. Jamie stepped into the triangle, wearing heavy makeup. After a quick scan, Connor determined that Jamie had not chopped off all her hair, but was wearing a hyper-realistic wig. Alex Alderidge entered the triangle, flanked by two bodyguards.

Alderidge smiled; his teeth gleamed in the moonlight. “Let’s get right to it, shall we?” He turned to Jamie. “I don’t need to know your name. All I need to know is what kind of weapons you’ve got, how many, how much do you want, how fast can you get these weapons, and how discreet can you be?”

“I brought some to show tonight,” Jamie muttered, placing her hands on her bony hips. “Price depends on how many you need and how fast you want ‘em.”

“There’s a march happening next weekend.”

“How many do you need?”

“I have a team of six guys, but only two need the guns ASAP.”

“Semi or fully automatic?”

“Full-auto, please.”

Jamie stuck her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “I can get it to you, and I can be very discreet.”

Alex beamed. He turned to Nicolette. “You are a gem for finding this woman, Nicolette.” He reached to caressed her face, but RK800 moved faster and gripped Alex’s wrist with the strength of Burmese python.

“Miss Black has not permitted you to touch her,” RK800 informed Alex coldly, ignoring the guns pointed at him by the two bodyguards.

“What a fancy specimen,” Alex sounded amused, eyeing RK800.

“Stand down,” Nicolette barked to RK800. She turned to Alex. “But the android’s right, Mr. Alderidge. I’m not a fan of being touched.”

Alderidge flexed his fingers in surrender, and RK800 released him. Alderidge waved his men down. “My apologies, Miss Black.”

“Are we done here? There’s no need for me to stay and listen to you two haggle for a price.” Nicolette cut a glance at Jamie, who shrugged.

Alex dipped his head. “Of course. I appreciate your help in arranging this meeting. If this all goes well, I’ll make sure you have an audience with Axel Brewer. It would be a loss for Typhon if I didn’t.”

“I look forward to hearing from you, Mr. Alderidge.” Nicolette dipped her head and left the triangle. RK800 eyed Alderidge and his guards for a moment, backing away instead of turning his back to them. Then, he followed Nicolette and got in the car. They backed out of the empty lot and headed toward their penthouse. Wren blew out a long breath.

“I fucking hate these meetings.”

Connor nodded in agreement.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

No one contacted them for a little over a week. Connor and Wren did not speak much, instead filling the silence with the TV. Wren chose to keep her distance from Connor by working out in the exercise room. Connor allowed her the space, sure that her mind was on Juno and the horrible memory she showed him.

Wren’s distance ruffled a load of hurt that stormed in Connor’s biocomponents like nausea. He clenched his jaw every time she refused to meet his eyes. Something in him burned to grab her and kiss her, to hold her, to tell her everything was going to be alright, and to beg her to stop pushing him away. But he knew why she pushed him away. He understood.

Connor switched on the TV in the living room. Rosanna Cartland’s face flooded the screen as a red banner sliding across the top of the screen: BREAKING NEWS: SIXTEEN DEAD, TWO DOZEN MORE INJURED IN PEACE RALLY MASS SHOOTING; TWO SHOOTERS APPREHENDED.

“Early this morning, two armed men showed up to the peace rally for androids in Hart Plaza. The event was monitored heavily by police, but the shooters still managed to slip past them. While the android activist known as North gave her speech on the importance of human-android relations, the shooters opened fire into the crowd. Considering the two shooters and their weapons, it’s a miracle that more weren’t killed or injured. The rally of humans and androids gathered to protest Senator Charlotte Holt’s bill to prevent interspecies marriage, a bill that is already marred by hatred and violence.”

Connor shut off the TV. He felt as if his biocomponents had dropped to the floor, leaving him empty.

The pitter-patter of Wren’s feet drew Connor’s attention. He caught the swish of her hair fleeing into the bathroom. Shit. He hadn’t realized Wren watched with him. Connor rushed after Wren. Jiggling the doorknob to the bathroom, Connor found it locked. He rapped his knuckles against the door.

“Wren, let me in.”

Wren did not respond. Connor heard her vomit into the toilet. Grimacing, Connor leaned heavily against the door. He could break in if he needed, but for now, he would just listen and wait. When she seemed finished emptying the contents of her stomach, Connor knocked again.

“Leave me alone,” Wren muttered. She sounded much closer, as if she were sitting with her back against the wall beside the door.

“No,” Connor insisted. You’re not pushing me away again. The lump in his throat prevented him from pushing those words past his lips.

“They were supposed to stop it,” Wren whimpered. “No one was supposed to get hurt—”

“Wren, stop. The DPD stopped it as best they could. You saw the precautions they took.”

“Sixteen people,” Wren breathed.

Connor rested his forehead against the door. “I know.”

“Oh God, North! She was there! What if she’d been killed?” Wren’s voice broke and a soft sob sounded.

Connor closed his eyes. His chest clenched. “She wasn’t.”

The lock clicked and Wren opened the door. Connor lifted his head, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. Wren’s face already appeared blotched from crying.

“Did… Did we do that?”

Connor’s brow furrowed. “Do what?”

“Is this our fault? We’re the ones who helped him get those weapons, we’re the ones who helped get the drugs, we’re the ones on the inside working with Typhon to stop them, but we’re fucking helping them! Did we kill those people, Connor?” Wren stared up at him, looking half-angry, half-desperate. Connor swallowed and clasped Wren’s shoulders gently. She trembled.

“No,” Connor rasped. He believed himself, so he said it again: “No.”

“But—”

“Wren, we did not kill them. This is not your fault. Do you hear me?”

Wren gazed up at him. “I hear you.”

“Do you believe me?”

“I don’t know.”

Connor swallowed again. “The DPD did their best to stop it. We warned them. But not even we know how many people were in on this, and we’re on the inside like you said. The Detroit Police weren’t in charge of security; they were there as extra help. You’ve seen firsthand how many different kinds of people are involved with Typhon. You know this, Wren. There’s no way you could’ve prevented this. Alderidge would’ve gotten the guns from someone else.”

“But it would’ve taken him longer if I hadn’t,” Wren buried her face in her hands.

“Maybe,” Connor allowed, “but you also wouldn’t be here to take them down.”

Wren stared up at him, tears fresh on her face. Connor thumbed them away.

“This is not your fault. I believe that.” He grasped her hand and interfaced with her. Maybe Prometheus didn’t warn the Detroit Police or CIA.

Wren’s eyes widened at the revelation. If they didn’t, I’m going to kill Pauline myself.

The hatred burned like chemical fire within Wren. Connor withdrew his hand, and then pressed his lips to Wren’s forehead, his synthetic heart aching for her.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor took Wren to a dinner with Alderidge. His eyes shifted to her every so often. She seemed a little shaky, and her nightmares had gotten worse. In fact, they were so bad that they’d awoken Connor out of his stasis mode. She hid her nervousness well, though. The only reason Connor suspected was because of the abilities CyberLife designed him with, and because he knew Wren so well.

Standing against the wall behind Wren with his hands clasped in front of him, Connor stared ahead but listened to the conversation. Alderidge greeted Nicolette with a wide grin in the private dinner room of Jonz’s club.

“You are a godsend,” said Alderidge.

Nicolette chuckled and lifted a wine glass to her lips. “I’m a people person.”

Alderidge toasted to her. “Not as many targets were eliminated as we hoped, but that’s because the fucking pigs-in-blue are trying harder.”

“Trying harder?” Nicolette set down her wine glass and leaned forward.

“Yeah, they’ve upped security everywhere. All events in Detroit are patrolled by cops and SWAT. And those plastic pricks at Jericho enlisted their own security detail for this event, so we didn’t get as many as we wanted, but your friend was very efficient and helpful.”

“Was there a specific target?” Nicolette muttered.

“We weren’t targeting that Eden Club whore. Thinks it can be a fucking politician? We all know where it came from. Its parts may look like a pussy, but it ain’t real.”

“Hey,” said Nicolette, leaning back, “I’m not one to judge for taking advantage of the Eden Club.” She gestured to Connor, who continued staring ahead. Alderidge cut his cold gaze to Connor before smirking at Nicolette.

“You should leave plastic and go for a real man some time.”

“I will,” Nicolette assured him, “but that thing doesn’t get jealous, or clingy, or anything. I don’t have to do anything back to it. I’m enjoying being a little selfish.” She sipped from her wine.

Alderidge licked his lips. Connor clenched his teeth but continued staring ahead, watching the interaction between Nicolette and Alderidge out of the corner of his eye.

“So, why do you think they’ve upped security?” Nicolette queried.

“Probably that serial killer running around Detroit,” muttered Alderidge. An android served them their dinner. Silence fell between them while they ate a little bit.

“Serial killer?” Nicolette asked after a moment.

“Yeah, don’t you watch the news?” Alderidge scowled at her as he plopped a piece of red steak in his mouth.

“Not as often as I should,” Nicolette replied sheepishly.

“Apparently, there’s some asshole running around Detroit targeting android-human couples.”

“Well, shouldn’t we be thanking him for cleaning up the streets?”

“Oh, definitely. The whole DPD is on edge, though.”

“Well, in any case, you didn’t call me here to discuss a serial killer.”

“You’re right,” Alderidge chewed for a bit and then wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Mr. Brewer is impressed with your work. He wants to meet you. Of course, you’ll have to abide by his rules. You want in, right?”

Nicolette leaned forward. “What am I getting into, exactly?”

“I’ll leave it to Axel to explain. You wanted into Typhon, right?”

“Yes. Is this it?”

“This is your chance.”

“Well, I’m pleased to hear that,” said Nicolette. “Can I bring it with me?”

“Not to the meeting. Initiates only. You’ll spend some time at Axel’s estate, getting acquainted with people, learning the ins and outs of Typhon. You can bring it with you there, but double check with Axel when you meet him tomorrow.” Alderidge squinted at Connor. “Don’t see why you’d need it with you.”

“I suppose the same reason people need their phones with them everywhere they go,” Nicolette replied. Having finished her dinner, she stood. Connor stepped forward mechanically and helped her into her jacket. “Will you be at the meeting tomorrow?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Then I shall see you there.” Nicolette leaned over and kissed Alderidge’s cheek. Connor followed her out of the club. Inside the car, Wren wiped her mouth vigorously. “He was asking too many questions about you.”

Connor nodded. “I noticed that as well.”

Wren sighed and leaned back in her seat with her arms folded. “Alderidge didn’t seem to know if the killer works for Typhon or not.”

“He may not know.”

“Yeah…” Wren ran a hand through her hair. “What if we’re wasting our time following this lead?”

“Even if the killer isn’t part of Typhon, we’re still taking down a terroristic crime syndicate. I don’t see how that’s a problem.”

“You’re right,” Wren rubbed her mouth again. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Kissing Alderidge’s cheek.”

“You seem distressed by it.”

“I am. I don’t… I don’t like using my body to distract targets, but… he kept diverting things to you, and I didn’t have a good answer for all his questions.”

“It’s alright, Wren. I think you are more disturbed by it than I am.”

Wren groaned and leaned her head back. “I fucking hate Nicolette.”

Connor reached over and took Wren’s hand. He couldn’t hate Nicolette entirely. She had Wren’s face.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor wandered through the Zen Garden. Grey light filtered through the trees. A storm was coming. His feet pulled him along the path that he used to walk with Amanda. A figure stood ahead, gazing at a stone. As Connor drew nearer, he recognized Wren with her red hair. She held a bouquet of lilies. Tears streaked her cheeks. His chest tightened.

“Wren? What’s wrong?”

But Wren ignored him. She knelt in front of the stone. “I know you don’t like roses…” She laid the bouquet before the stone. Connor’s brow furrowed.

“Wren?” His eyes slid to the stone and his heart dropped.

It was a grave. His grave.

Connor-Mark (1)

RK800 #313248317-51

Killed in the Zen Garden

Connor’s biocomponents churned, and his body lurched as if it were trying to vomit. His eyes stung. “Wren.”

Wren merely gazed at the grave. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you.”

Connor shifted behind her. “Wren, please, I’m right here. Look at me.”

Wren bowed her head. Her shoulders shook with a sob. “I told you that they’d kill you.”

Connor dropped to his knees beside her. “Wren, I’m right here. Look at me, please! I’m here, I’m not dead.”

But Wren continued to stare at the grave. “I told you to let me go. You should’ve let me go. I-I can’t bring you back, Connor.”

Connor’s heart thudded in his throat. He placed a hand on Wren’s shoulder, but his hand went straight through her. His biocomponents twisted. He couldn’t touch Wren. When he held his hands up to the light, he could see through them.

Panicked, Connor looked at Wren. “Wren! I’m right here, I’m not dead!”

At last, Wren looked at him. “You will be.”

She gripped his shoulders and shook him. “You will be, Connor. Connor. Connor! Wake up!”

Connor’s eyes flew open. Wren leaned over him, shaking his shoulders. As soon as she saw his eyes open, she stopped. Connor gasped for air and sat up. He gripped the sides of his head and trembled.

“Name ten things you can see,” Wren murmured. She flicked on a lamp.

Connor dragged in a few shaky breaths. “The dresser.”

“Nine.”

“The window.”

“Eight. Breathe in and out, okay?” She rubbed circles on his back.

His eyes flicked around the room, trying to stop on something noticeable and real and grounding. “Your laptop.”

“Seven.”

“My gun.”

“Six.”

His breath quickened in rasps, so he looked for something else to ground him. The only truly real thing about the penthouse was Wren. So, he looked at her. “Your freckles are beautiful.”

Wren laughed softly. Her fingers traced the strands of hair that usually fell into Connor’s face. “Five.”

“Your smile is even more beautiful.”

“Four.”

“I’ve missed your smile.”

“That doesn’t count,” Wren murmured, though her lips quirked. “Four.”

“Your eyes are red from crying.”

Wren’s smile faltered. “Three.”

Connor’s eyes drifted over her face. “I like the lines around your mouth. They tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Two.”

“Your lips look soft,” Connor gazed at them for a moment, and then trailed his eyes up to Wren’s.

“One,” Wren whispered hoarsely.

“All I see is you.”

Wren pressed her lips together and cleared her throat. Connor leaned closer to her and closed his eyes. “Connor…” Her breath warmed his mouth. He cupped her neck. Their lips brushed so softly that they barely touched. Wren placed her hands over Connor’s and they interfaced. Connor saw the blue of their glowing hands even through his closed eyes.

[Their fingers interlaced. Connor’s synthetic skin around his hand dissipated. Wren mimicked the action. The jolt that ran through his body when they connected forced a grunt out of his mouth. He poured how he felt into the connection. He wanted—needed—Wren to know how much he loved her, and what it meant to be this intimate with her. Similar feelings channeled to him from Wren. There was something else there, too. He felt her fragility, how overwhelmed she felt that this wasn’t just sex. This wasn’t fucking. This was so much more.]

Connor shared the memory with her. He wanted to return to that level of intimacy with her. He had never been intimate like that with anyone but her. He wanted her to be the only one he shared that intimacy with.

Wren tilted her head back slightly, and her lips brushed against Connor’s. He inhaled shakily. “We can’t. I’m sorry.”

Connor nodded. He knew. He feared dying, but he also feared that Wren was right, and Prometheus would kill him. What if they failed to defeat them, or Typhon? What if they failed, and Connor died? What if Connor died and left Wren alone? What if Wren died?

He kissed the side of her mouth. “I’m sorry, too.”

Wren cupped the sides of his face, holding his gaze. She mouthed: I love you.

Connor smiled. I love you, too.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

While Wren was at her dinner party with Axel Brewer, Connor contacted Rhett. The CIA agent showed up within twenty minutes.

“What’s this about?” Rhett asked. “Not still pissed about the whole ‘get a new girlfriend’ thing, are you?”

Connor worked his jaw. “No, this is about the shooting.”

Rhett crossed his arms. “Yeah, could’ve warned us about it.”

Connor’s brow puckered. “We did.”

“We didn’t get a warning about it.”

Connor’s biocomponents dropped. “What?”

“You didn’t warn us.”

“We told Jamie…” Connor trailed off. His eyes widened. “Prometheus must have prevented Jamie from warning you.”

Rhett frowned and rubbed his mouth. “If that’s true, that’s a problem—”

The front door opened and Wren trekked inside, looking stunned but not drunk. She looked a little surprised to see Rhett, but otherwise too dazed to register why he was there.

Connor stepped toward her. “Wren?”

Wren locked the door behind her and shuffled inside until she sank onto the couch. “I’ve been invited to his estate. It’s like a cult. I have to prove I’m worthy of joining Typhon. You get to come, too…” She looked at Rhett, clarity returning to her eyes. “We need to get the team ready.”

They stayed up all night preparing listening devices that were easily concealed. They planned out how to place the devices. They hid a phone within the lining of Wren’s suitcase that they would use to contact Rhett every forty-eight hours to check in. Rhett promised to inform the DPD of the plan before leaving. Wren and Connor stayed awake all night, sitting on the couch together. Wren drifted off at some point, leaning against Connor heavily. He shifted only to make it more comfortable for her, but otherwise remained absolutely still.

In the morning, a car arrived to take them to Axel Brewer’s estate. Connor felt good about their mission. Over a month had passed since Wren made contact with Chelsea Harding at the art show, and now they had finally found a way into Typhon. Connor stared straight ahead, glancing out the window every now and then. Wren seemed more relaxed, though Connor knew that was just a façade. She picked at her artificial nails, signaling her anxiety. Clasping his hands together to keep from reaching over and taking Wren’s hand, Connor glanced out the window. As they drew closer to the estate, his thirium pump beat faster.

[Warning: Thirium Regulation Increasing at a Rapid Rate]

Connor breathed in and out through his nostrils to ventilate his systems. When they arrived at the house, he let out a heavier breath. The mansion was massive—bigger than Elijah Kamski’s, even—and traditional-looking. Kamski’s looked modern and sleek, but this house looked like a modern-day castle. It looked like something Tina would call “haunted” or something a vampire might live in. A stab of homesickness plunged through Connor’s chest.

He exited the car first and helped Nicolette exit. He grabbed her suitcases and followed her to the front steps. An android without her skin awaited them at the top. She smiled pleasantly, but there was a certain vacancy in her eyes that unnerved Connor. “Mr. Brewer welcomes you to his estate. Right this way.”

The android led them into the foyer, where works of art adorned the walls. To the left was a large sitting room, which the skinless android led Connor and Nicolette. Connor stood with the other androids in the back of the room while Wren perched on the armrest of a sofa. A few other men sat on the sofa. The other androids also did not wear their skin. The thought twisted Connor’s biocomponents.

Axel Brewer stood by the cold fireplace. He looked younger in person. He was in his mid-forties, wore a suit, and nursed a glass of Scotch. He slicked his blonde hair back and the corners of his mouth seemed permanently etched with a smug smirk. His goatee was silvered with age, and he exuded an air of cool charisma. Connor could imagine this man being easy to get along with, even enjoyable, if it weren’t for his sick thoughts and philosophies.

Axel’s eyes roamed over Nicolette. Connor gritted his teeth but otherwise showed no reaction. Axel’s eyes then flicked to Connor and the other androids, his mouth tightening in displeasure. Setting his glass down on the mantle, Axel faced the human initiates. “All of you are here because you’ve been nominated or requested by someone close to me. You all boast something that could be valuable. I assume you all know what Typhon is?”

To Connor’s surprise, a few people shook their heads. Axel, however, seemed pleased. He puffed out his chest and placed his hands in his pockets.

“Typhon is an organization dedicated to restoring humanity’s superiority. Androids have overtaken our world, and it is time humans show them their place. They need subjugation because we are their gods. Typhon intends to tear down the androids’ idealized Olympus and dethrone these false gods. Someone involved with Typhon believes you have a talent that can help with that, which is why you are here.” Axel paused to look at Nicolette again, the only woman initiate. She looked like a lioness, perched on the armrest, her back curving like the neck of a swan. Connor had never viewed Wren the Seductress before, the seductress that Prometheus trained, but here she was. If she weren’t using her techniques to lure in a sadistic terrorist, Connor might would consider the way she sat attractive.

“Over the next few weeks, you will be residing here in my estate. You’ll interact with others involved with this organization, and attend training sessions where I analyze your worthiness to join Typhon. Your humanity has gotten you through the door—but if you want to stay, you need to prove that you are believers in real people. You must demonstrate loyalty in the preservation of your species. Not just preservation—reinstatement of you species as the superior one. You will attend rallies, meetings, celebrations, defeats… All for the sake of proving your worth. I will watch your progress personally and decide whether or not you are worthy.” Axel smiled curtly at them before looking at the android who greeted Connor and Wren earlier. “AX400, show them to their rooms. They are dismissed.”

“Right this way,” the android said, gesturing toward the doorway that led back to the foyer. The initiates stood—there were eight of them—and followed the AX400 out of the parlor.

“Miss Black,” Axel called. Nicolette turned on her heel, her eyebrows raised. Two guards blocked Connor’s path. He stared at them before turning to look at Axel, who cut his cold eyes to Connor. “Don’t look me in the eye.” Connor averted his gaze. Axel turned back to Nicolette. “Why does it wear its skin?”

“Well, it’s got a nice face to look at,” Nicolette joked. “CyberLife knew what they were doing. I don’t play with ugly toys.”

Axel regarded Nicolette with faint amusement. He leaned close to her. “Well, in my house, I don’t want those things to look even vaguely human. Because they don’t deserve it.”

Wren turned to Connor, meeting his gaze. “You heard him. Remove your skin.”

Connor did not want to remove his skin. He felt naked without it an no one had really seen him without it—except Wren. But he lifted his fingers to his temple and deactivated his skin. He felt it melt away to reveal the bare, white plastic underneath.

Axel beamed. “Thank you. Take the stairs to the third floor and turn left. Your room is the last one at the end of the hall on the right.”

“Thank you,” said Nicolette. “Grab my bags.”

Connor carried her bags up three flights of stairs. They entered the room only to find one full-sized bed. Wren locked the door behind them. Connor allowed his skin to return to cover the plastic skeleton. Wren gaped at him.

“I am so sorry—”

Connor weaved his fingers through Wren’s. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.” He tried to smile, but it was weak.

Wren cupped his face. “Whatever happens here, please remember that I love you.”

Connor squeezed her closer. “I love you, too.”         

Chapter Text

Nicolette headed for the dining room, holding her head high and swaying her hips while she walked. Connor remained in her room, informing Rhett that they had settled in and successfully infiltrated Axel’s estate. Axel himself stood in Nicolette’s path.

“Miss Black,” he greeted, offering his elbow to her. Nicolette looped her arm through his.

“Do you treat all your recruits like this?”

“Oh no,” said Axel, grinning. “I need to ask you something before we begin everything.”

“Oh?”

Axel stopped and faced Nicolette, blocking her entrance to the dining room. Nicolette gazed up at him, her eyebrows raised. “Why do you have an android?”

Nicolette smiled bashfully. “You really want to know a lady’s private business?”

Axel returned Nicolette’s smile, though it was considerably colder. “It affects your probability of being accepted into Typhon, so yes.”

Nicolette pursed her lips for a moment. “Fine. I’ve got it because it’s the best sex toy I’ve ever had. Better than any vibrator. It’s better than any boyfriend because it doesn’t get jealous, isn’t clingy or needy, and I don’t have to do shit for it. Only downside is that it doesn’t help me make money. All my meals are on me.”

Axel smirked. He stepped aside and offered his arm to Nicolette once more. “You’re a cold woman, Miss Black.”

“Call me Nicolette,” Nicolette purred. She tilted her head to look up at Axel. “And I’m only cold when it comes to those things.” She wrinkled her nose at an android who passed by them. “I’m multifaceted.”

Axel chuckled. “As I’m sure I’ll come to find out.”

Nicolette took a seat beside Axel, who sat at the head of the table. Two androids served them food and wine. Wren tried not to look at them. Her heart panged every time she saw the blank looks on their glossy grey-and-white faces.

Axel lifted a glass of bloodred wine. Everyone stilled and directed their attention toward him. “Tonight, I want you all to introduce yourselves. Tonight is a night where we get to know one another before the real work begins. Go around and say your name and occupation, as well as who nominated you. Ladies first.”

Nicolette shifted, pleased to have everyone’s eyes upon her. Inwardly, Wren rolled her eyes. Icebreakers? “I’m Nicolette Black. I’m an art curator and liaison. Chelsea Harding and Dylan Jonz nominated me.”

The others went around and introduced themselves. Jerry the grocer nominated by Walter Coldwell, Adler the electrical engineer nominated by Flynn Morton, Ellis the lawyer nominated by Perry Sullivan, Argo the Red Ice dealer nominated by Dylan Jonz, Shaw the CyberLife guard nominated by Chelsea Harding, and Grant the musician nominated by Chelsea Harding. Wren committed their names to memory. The most likely candidate to be the killer was Adler the electrical engineer, but Wren doubted that he was the killer.

Axel held up his glass again. “We are going to make history and take America back from the machines. They think they’re gods but no—humans are the Titans and we will destroy Olympus if we must. A new world shall be reborn from the ashes. You’re on the right side of history, my friends.”

Axel’s words froze Wren’s bones. Would Typhon really try to destroy the world? She doubted they could accomplish something like that, but they could definitely deal quite a bit of damage to Detroit. How many lives were in danger because of this madman?

After dinner, Wren returned to her room, where Connor squatted, updating Rhett on their situation. Not wanting to repeat everything she just heard, Wren chose to interface with Connor instead. His brow furrowed when Wren merely took his hand in hers, their synthetic skin melting away to forge their palms together. The worry lines of Connor’s forehead sharpened as he witnessed Wren’s memories of dinner, and of the speech that Axel made. As soon as the Wren relayed the memory to Connor, she slipped her hand from his and hurried to the bathroom. She gripped the edge of the counter and peered at herself in the mirror. She barely recognized herself.

Would she be the same when this was all done? What about the other cyborgs? Were they okay? How was she supposed to take down Prometheus when she was here, playing the part of the enemy? How many roles did she have to play?

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The next several days passed by in a haze. Wren attended “classes” as if she were at some bizarre, perverted school. She listened to Axel teach Typhon’s philosophies, about America was no longer safe, and how machines were the bane of every humans’ existence. One day, Axel shared his story.

“I was at a rally protesting androids because they keep taking our jobs,” Axel leaned against the arm of the leather sofa. “A couple of them cornered me after the rally. They beat me to a pulp and left me for dead in the alley. Someone found me and got me to a hospital, but I would’ve died because those androids didn’t like a human voicing their opinion.”

As he spoke, Wren placed a listening bug under the edge of a table casually. She made it look as if she were gripping the edge of the table to support herself because Axel’s story affected her. She shook her head in feigned disgust.

“A little fear of the other is a good thing,” Axel continued, pushing off the armrest to pace in front of his apt listeners. “We need to inspire a little fear in people of androids. Some are sympathetic to their cause, but we need to show them they have reason to fear androids. If we aren’t on top, then we’re at the bottom. We need to eradicate androids from society!”

Argo and Grant nodded while Adler and Ellis clapped. Nicolette dipped her head to Axel when she caught his eye.

“But sir,” said Shaw, “if you want to eradicate them, why do you have them?”

The air in the room crackled with tension. Everyone but Nicolette eyed Shaw with a mixture of panic and irritation. Nicolette merely peered at him with a lazy lift of her eyebrows, mildly impressed by Shaw’s balls to speak up. It seemed that not everyone was a glassy-eyed mouth-breather who accepted everything Axel said.

Axel’s smile did not quite reach his eyes. If anyone was on his shit list, it was Shaw. “I have androids around to remind them who their master is.”

Wren’s stomach knotted. The urge to take a shower and wash away Axel’s words overwhelmed her, but she merely shifted her weight from one hip to another, as if she were bored. Axel dismissed them shortly, and the newcomers shunned Shaw for questioning him. However, Nicolette merely regarded him indifferently. She returned to her room and locked the door behind her. Connor stood as soon as she entered.

“Are you alright?”

Wren pinched the bridge of her nose. “Yeah. Just… compartmentalizing.”

Connor’s LED flickered. “You mean disassociating.”

“Whatever gets me through this hellhole.”

Connor crossed his arms. “Rhett wants us to place more bugs.”

Wren sighed and slipped out of her heels. “I’ve already placed four.”

“I know, but we’ve been here for two weeks now and have yet to hear anything about this killer.”

“I don’t think the killer’s part of Typhon,” Wren muttered. She slipped her shirt off and Connor looked away quickly. Wren’s heart warmed slightly. He was so sweet.

“Even if they aren’t, we still haven’t found much on Typhon that’s necessarily illegal and enough to bust them.”

Wren dropped her pants and slipped into pajamas. Connor refused to look at her until she was fully dressed. Sinking onto the edge of the bed, Wren placed her hands on her knees. “Okay, I’ll try.”

“I could do it,” said Connor. “I barely leave the room. When I do, no one notices me.”

“Yeah, but you hate walking around skinless.”

Connor’s lips pulled downward. “Yes, but I was prepared to take on this persona to catch this killer and bring Typhon down.”

Wren dragged her teeth across her lip. “I don’t know…”

“Do you trust me?”

Wren’s eyes snapped to his and a scowl scrunched her features. “Of course I do.”

“Then let me do my part.”

Wren softened, hearing the edge in Connor’s voice. She stood and crossed over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Immediately, he enveloped her in a hug. His chin rested atop her head. Wren let her eyes fall shut. For a moment, they weren’t in Axel Brewer’s estate pretending to be anti-android radicals. For a moment, there was no Typhon at all. Even Prometheus faded from Wren’s mind. In Connor’s arms, she wasn’t an assassin, or even a cyborg trying to figure out how to bring down an underground crime syndicate and a terrorist group. In Connor’s arms, she was just Wren. She hoped he felt in a similar way in her arms.

Tilting her head back to look at him, Wren allowed herself to really look at him. Her eyes zigzagged to each freckle. A slight shadow darkened his undereye area. Even androids got tired from emotional exhaustion. “Just be careful, okay? I don’t wanna lose you.”

Connor’s frown softened. “You won’t.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The next day, Axel announced that the recruits were going on a field trip. Wren and the other recruits piled into a van, which one of Axel’s guards drove. Wren couldn’t help but notice the gun on the man’s hip. The message was clear: if anyone tried to run, they’d be dead. Not that Wren would. Connor was still at the estate, as much as Wren hated to leave him behind. She didn’t like the separation, but she knew how to handle herself, and Connor knew how to take care of himself. But after spending several weeks just together—even if they hadn’t been quite themselves—had settled Wren into a routine of expecting Connor. She reveled in his presence, even though she knew she was being distant from him. She knew how it tore him apart—it ripped her heart to shreds to keep Connor at arm’s length—but she didn’t want Prometheus to hurt him or lock her away before they could figure out how to save her and the other cyborgs. She needed to stay on Prometheus’s good side just enough to have an advantage, and unfortunately, that meant hurting Connor.

Though, Wren mused with a slight twitch of her lips, cuddling every night didn’t seem to be too much of a problem. A kiss or two might not hurt, either. Well, it hurt whenever 06 was involved. But Wren would gladly take a punch to the face if it meant she could kiss Connor.

The van arrived at a soup kitchen, and Wren and the recruits followed Axel inside the building to the kitchen. Axel smiled broadly and extended his arms. “Grab a hairnet, some gloves, and an apron. We’re feeding the homeless.”

“Seriously?” said Grant.

Axel’s smile faltered. “Yes.”

“What does this have to do with anything?” grumbled Argo.

Nicolette tied her hair into a bun and placed a hairnet over it. “We’ve got humans in our best interest, right? These people are homeless because of androids and we owe them all the support we can give.”

Axel beamed. “Gentlemen, you should take notes after her. Get to work.”

Wren spent hours spooning soup into bowls and passing the tray to Grant, who placed a slice of bread on the plate, and then Argo placed a drink in the top left corner of the tray. Shaw was in charge of the silverware, while Ellis sliced the bread. Axel went around the tables in the dining area, networking with the homeless. Wren watched him through the serving window. Axel was certainly charismatic. He patted people on the back, sat with them at their tables, laughed at their jokes, shared stories, and genuinely brightened peoples’ days. Wren’s skin crawled at the sight.

Her heart ached for the homeless, but seeing Axel, this monster of a man, interact with them… It unnerved her. He was a domestic terrorist with radical views toward androids. The worst part about working undercover within Typhon was that Wren understood where the fear of androids came from. The people in the dining area were hungry because they were jobless. The reality was that the job market was strained and limited, and androids certainly did not help with that. Of course, Typhon was awful, but Wren understood where the hatred originated. Hatred so often came from fear, and it was a fear of inadequacy, a fear of being replaced by something or someone better, a fear of not being able to provide for one’s family, that sparked hatred for androids. As much as it tormented her, Wren knew where it came from.

Some part of her felt dirty for understanding Typhon. Pauline would’ve told her that it meant that Wren was merely fully immersed in her undercover persona. But Wren still felt gross for understanding Nicolette, and to an extent, Axel. She hated Nicolette. She hated Axel. She hated Typhon, and she especially hated Prometheus. Wren’s mouth twisted. And she feared them, too.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Two more weeks passed with Wren and the other recruits attending charity events where they volunteered to feed, clothe, and comfort the homeless. It broke Wren’s heart to see so many still affected by the shitty job market. Markus, North, and Josh focused on android rights, which Wren understood, but they couldn’t deny the number of people affected. Wren handed a care package to a woman about her age. The woman looked horrible. She was too skinny, her dirty hair hung about her face in greasy strings, dark circles shadowed her undereye area, and her teeth appeared yellowed and decayed. This woman looked like she was rotting alive. Wren tensed as she recognized the stench of Red Ice smoke clinging to the woman’s skin and clothes. But Wren’s heart merely hurt for the woman. Could Wren have ended up like her?

Typhon disguised itself as a charity, but Wren knew they were capable of horrific evils. Yet, in her time working undercover for them, Wren had not witnessed Axel Brewer commit any real crimes. Sure, Dylan Jonz’s club was insanely illegal, but Brewer could easily write off that they had no affiliation. There was no solid proof that the two worked together. But what about the reset androids in Brewer’s estate? Could that be enough?

When Wren returned to her room, she found Connor cycling through the recordings from the bugs they placed throughout the house. As soon as Wren entered, he paused the recordings and looked at her expectantly.

“Are there any laws prohibiting the resetting of androids?” Wren asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Connor’s brow puckered. His LED flickered as he researched Wren’s question. “No. There is a law prohibiting the unjust and unwilling work of androids, but there’s nothing against resetting them.”

“Loophole,” Wren muttered.

Connor folded his arms. “It’s not enslavement if they don’t know they’re alive and supposed to be free.”

“We need to tell Markus and North about that as soon as we get out of here.”

“Agreed.” Silence lapsed between them. Connor peered at Wren under a furrowed brow. “Are you alright?”

Wren hugged herself. “I’m not sure.”

Connor moved closer and sat beside her on the bed. “Talk to me.”

Wren refused to look at him, focusing on the elaborate rug. “I feel like I’ve been Nicolette too long.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m starting to understand where this fear of androids comes from,” Wren’s voice cracked. She looked at Connor, tears welling in her eyes. “I don’t mean I empathize with these people or agree with their philosophies, but I’ve seen the people affected by the job market, Connor. People who are hungry and cold because they don’t have a job. There are children without homes. I-I saw a girl today who was my age. She was a Red Ice addict. That could’ve been me. And those kids… God, every time I see a child in those homeless shelters, I have to take a moment in the bathroom to cry.”

Connor intertwined his fingers with Wren’s. “Just because you’re an ally to androids doesn’t mean you have to forget the struggles of humanity. Wren, you are nothing like Typhon or Nicolette. You care about humans without being afraid of androids or blaming them. You care for both sides so much. It’s one of the things I love about you.”

Wren rested her head on Connor’s shoulder. Tears slipped past her lashes. Her nose wrinkled with disgust for herself. “But to understand Typhon—”

“It just means that you are incredibly empathetic, Wren,” Connor insisted. “You can empathize with your enemy and understand them. You take the time to understand your enemy because you don’t take the loss of life lightly. Even people who commit atrocities, even people who hurt you, you take the time to at least understand them.” Connor moved out from under Wren’s head and knelt before her on the floor, taking both hands in his. “It’s easy to hate an enemy and hurt someone that you don’t see as alive with feelings and motivations. It’s easy to kill someone who you don’t see as a person. But you try to see the reasons so that you can prevent atrocities in the future.”

Wren smiled sadly. “Connor, I’m just one person. I don’t know if those are my motivations.”

“I do,” Connor persisted. “You may not think them on the surface, but you’ve shared your memories with me. I’ve felt how you’ve felt in situations. Even when 06 attacks you, you don’t hate him. Even when Jonah said those awful things to you and hurt you, you never hated him. You don’t even hate Prometheus.”

Wren shook her head. “You’re wrong. I do hate them. I hate what they’ve turned me into, I hate how they took everything from me. I hate how they keep trying to take everything I care about from me.” Her voice burned and dripped with acid. Her blood simmered underneath her skin. Her fingers itched to tear something apart, to destroy something. Her fingers wanted to dig into the very bricks of Prometheus and wrench them out, to send the whole building crumbling into dust.

“Relax your jaw,” Connor advised gently. Wren didn’t even realize she clenched her teeth. She relaxed her jaw, her mouth throbbing from the sudden release of tension. Connor continued to gaze up at her with his soft, tender eyes. “You’re angry, and you’re scared. Prometheus is an establishment, and it’s okay to hate it. But you don’t hate the people inside it, do you?”

Jamie, Dex, Otto, and Nina popped into Wren’s mind. She thought of the cyborgs who tried to kill her last year, the one’s who should’ve been on her squad. She thought of 06, and the barely-concealed anger and hatred he bore for Wren. She thought of Juno, the android she loved once, the android who was supposed to manipulate her but ended up harboring feelings for Wren, too. She even thought of Pauline, who was so desperate to protect humanity because deep down, that woman feared androids and failure. Sure, Wren was angry with those people. Sure, she was terrified of some of them. And sure, she might kill some of them to protect her loved ones. But she couldn’t say she truly hated any of them. Maybe Pauline, but even then, Wren still tried to understand where Pauline came from.

Slumping her shoulders, Wren shook her head. “I guess not.”

“Even if you did hate them, you still try to understand them, and that’s admirable, Wren.”

Wren grimaced. “Not everything I’ve done is something to be proud of.”

“Well, I’m proud of you.” Connor stood and kissed Wren’s forehead.

A knock sounded at the door. Connor and Wren jumped apart, and Connor removed his skin while Wren answered the door. An android stood at the threshold, smiling vacantly, her head slightly tilted to one side. Wren’s stomach churned. Even without her skin, Wren recognized the same android model as Kara.

“Mr. Brewer would like you to prepare to attend your first meeting with other Typhon members. Dress in cocktail party appropriate attire.”

“When is it?” Wren asked.

“Tonight at seven o’clock. You have three hours and thirty-seven minutes to prepare. Have a pleasant afternoon.” The android walked away as Wren slid the door shut. She locked it and faced Connor, whose skin already began rippling back over his plastic skeleton.

Wren stared at him, wide-eyed. “Holy shit.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

When Wren stepped into the living room, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Normally, she would not wear such bright colors like hot pink. But Nicolette liked attention, and this short, hot pink dress with a plunging neckline suited her well. Nicolette sashayed her blonde hair past her shoulder and straightened her posture. The other recruits waited. Grant and Argo paced, Ellis bounced his knee while seated on the sofa, Shaw looked like a statue by the hearth, Jerry chewed on his fingernails, and Adler stared at his hands. Wren felt their anxiety, but Nicolette was not bothered. Wren feigned Nicolette’s excitement behind an air of disinterest.

“Where are they?” demanded Adler, pushing up from the sofa.

Nicolette twirled on her heel after examining her lipstick in the mirror. “Would you stop your worrying? Axel will come get us when everything’s ready.”

“It’s seven fifteen,” snapped Adler, getting close to Nicolette. “We should’ve started the meeting, or at least seen people arrive.”  

Nicolette shrugged and leaned against a decorative table. “I’m sure Axel will have a good explanation.”

“Mr. Brewer didn’t even tell us which room to meet in.”

“Should we go look?” asked Jerry.

“What about that android? Maybe we could get it to tell us,” said Nicolette.

“You are very fond of androids, Miss Black.” A sneer curled Adler’s mouth. He stepped closer to Nicolette, who peered up at him with raised eyebrows.

“Fond of androids?” Nicolette snorted. “What makes you say that?”

“You rely on androids more than any of us,” Adler inched closer, so that his minted breath washed over Nicolette’s face. “You want to send for that android, and you brought one fucking with you.”

Nicolette stood taller, unafraid of this weasel. “We made them to be used, to serve us, right? I’m just reverting them back to their natural state. Axel has androids around, and that doesn’t seem to bother you. But when a woman does it, you’re suddenly against it?”

“It has nothing to do with what’s between your legs, bitch,” spat Adler. “Although you’re the only one who calls him Axel. You fucking him? We all know you don’t deserve to be here. You just fucked your way to the top, didn’t you?”

“If I did, it’s none of your business, you fucking neckbeard,” Nicolette gritted out.

“You goddamn whore—”

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” snapped Shaw, pulling Adler away.

Nicolette crossed her arms, glaring at Adler. He narrowed his eyes at her, his chest heaving with his breaths. Footsteps sounded outside the room, and Wren recognized the click of Axel’s dress shoes. He entered the parlor.

“Everyone’s waiting,” he greeted. “Come with me.”

Nicolette shared a glance with Shaw before following Axel. He led them to the elevator and pressed sublevel two. The elevator lurched into its descent. Adler leaned against the wall, his arms folded.

“We didn’t see anyone show up,” Adler grumbled.

“That’s because they didn’t come through the front,” Axel replied.

“Why didn’t you tell us to meet downstairs?” queried Ellis.

“Because there are things seasoned members of Typhon wish to discuss that mere recruits aren’t privy to,” replied Axel coolly. The elevator halted, and the doors slid open. Sublevel two consisted of one vast room. It looked as if it were used to host events, like formal dances. The first three quarters of the room were empty, but at the front, where a pulpit sat, were rows of chairs. Sitting in them were members of Typhon. Wren swallowed the lump in her throat as Axel led them to the front. He gestured for the recruits to sit in the very front row. Wren estimated that about twenty-five people sat in the room. Some faces she recognized, like known senators. Chelsea Harding and Dylan Jonz sat toward the back.

“Welcome,” Axel greeted, standing at the pulpit, “to the Detroit chapter of Typhon. Elder members, please welcome our new recruits.”

Applause echoed throughout the room. Wren acted as if she were adjusting the red sash across her waist. She withdrew a listening bug. It would help to have someone listening in on this. She activated it and held it tightly in her hand. She couldn’t place it underneath her seat without being noticed, so she just continued to hold it out of sight.

“It has come to my attention that many of you are dissatisfied with Typhon’s progress as of late,” said Axel. “Why is that?”

“If I may,” said Senator Charlotte Holt, “we have not attended any rallies or made our voices heard. People know of HSC’s growing popularity, but no one knows that Typhon is working to save humanity. We’re losing momentum.”

“It doesn’t help that those things’ leader is gaining political favor,” spat Walter Coldwell.

“And that fuckin’ serial killer is ruining business,” added Jonz. “The pigs are crawling all over Detroit with extra security.”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd. Wren’s stomach twisted.

“Any suggestions?” Axel sounded tired.

“We could at least do a march,” said Charlotte Holt.

“Senators can’t get involved yet,” snapped Senator Jordan Radcliffe. “We’ve gotta lay low.”

“There are people who would take our side if they knew we existed,” said Charlotte. “But no one knows of Typhon—”

“The public isn’t ready to know of us yet,” said Axel. “If we exposed what we’ve done, the public would label us as enemies. The android leader Markus has gained too much popularity.”

“Because we’ve let it get too far!”

The corners of Axel’s mouth twisted and his eyes narrowed. “That killer has blamed Typhon for the crimes. Not many know of Typhon’s existence. Someone has a grudge against us, and they want us to take the fall for their crimes. They know our symbol. They know we exist. If they expose us, we won’t defeat the androids.”

Wren’s stomach plummeted. That was it. The lead they needed. The killer had nothing to do with Typhon. All of her and Connor’s work—nearly three months of strategic planning and pretending to be the enemy—wasted. All of this time, they could’ve been looking for the real killer. They could’ve been working on a plan to stop Prometheus. Wren clenched her teeth to keep herself from trembling.

“So, we continue to hide behind HSC?” Charlotte queried, leaning back in her chair.

“Unless you want everything we’ve worked for to be wasted, yes,” said Axel.

“But how can we disrupt Markus’s political favor? The more he gains popularity, the more humans suffer.”

“I happen to know,” Axel raised his voice over the discontented voices, “that the androids are planning to march in favor of android-human relationships.”

“Disgusting,” muttered Adler.

“The HSC can attend and march against them, to show our support for humans only. No violence, just marching to make our voices heard. We will send the recruits to march, along with anyone willing to go. I suggest that those of us who are more known to the public stay out of this.”

When it was decided, the meeting dispersed. Wren placed the listening bug back in her sash and mingled with Chelsea and Dylan before they left for a party. But Wren was shaking. The killer wasn’t part of Typhon, and they had yet to gather any evidence of Typhon doing something tremendously horrible. Nothing that garnered a bust on behalf of SWAT.

Once enough people left, Wren headed to her room with Connor, still trembling. She reached inside and leaned against the locked door, her stomach knotting. Connor stood, his brow crinkling.

“Wren? Is everything alright? What happened?”

Wren gazed up at him before placing the bug in his hand. His LED flickered as Wren moved past him, kicking off her heels. “This is pointless. This whole mission is pointless.”

Connor set the bug on the T.V. stand. “Why? What happened?”

Wren placed her hands on her hips. “Axel said it. The killer isn’t associated with Typhon. Now we’re stuck here, doing nothing.”

Connor stared at the bug for a long time, his LED swirling yellow before it flicked back to blue. He shook his head. “It’s not pointless. We’re making progress in taking down a massive crime syndicate—”

“No, we’re not!” Wren hissed. “Connor, we have found jack shit in the past few weeks here. The only thing we’ve found is Dylan Jonz’s club and a few Red Ice dealers. We’ve placed bugs all around this place, and we still haven’t found anything worth a damn. Meanwhile, that killer’s still on the loose, and we’ve left the DPD with nothing.”

Connor pursed his lips for a moment. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe we should be focused on the killer, not Typhon.”

“I don’t know what the right thing to do is,” said Wren. She sank onto the bed. Tears welled in her eyes. “I don’t know if I’m just ready to go home, or… If I really think there’s nothing worth investigating here.”

“I’ve tried going to the other levels, but the androids aren’t allowed free access throughout the estate,” said Connor. “The basement is off-limits.”

Wren wrinkled her brow. “Maybe he’s hiding something down there.”

“Maybe. On our next check-in with Rhett, we’ll inform him of everything. Wren, look at me.” Wren looked at Connor, tears already slipping down her cheeks. Connor thumbed them away. “Everything is going to be alright. I promise.”

Wren’s lips twitched. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren carried a poster that read: ROBOPHILIA IS AN ABOMINATION. She felt dirty for carrying it, as if her action was a direct betrayal of Connor. She was glad he had not seen the poster, though she knew he eventually would when he saw her memories or saw the march on the news. Some of the members of Typhon chanted, “SAY NO TO ROBOPHILIA!”

Nicolette joined in the chanting as they stood on the sidelines of the android march. Enough minor members of Typhon showed to surround the rally. Some people protesting the androids were not even part of Typhon. A preacher had a voice amplifier and preached, “God hates these devils! He is angry that we’ve played god; we’ve insulted his good and holy name! Say no to this abomination!”

Some androids and supporters of them shouted insults at the HSC. A blue-haired android carried a poster that read: THE HSC IS TERRORISM. Grant threw a beer bottle at her. It shattered at her feet, barely missing her. Her short-haired partner flipped him off. “Fuck you, bitches!” Grant roared.

“Go blow your dad, asshole!” sneered the blue-haired android.

Grant stepped forward. “You shut the fuck up!”

“Don’t fucking touch me!” yelled the blue-haired android.

Grant grinned. “Oh, I recognize your model. You’re a fucking Traci. Why don’t you ride my cock like a good little robot bitch?” He thrusted his pelvis toward the blue-haired Traci.

“Get off her!” shrieked the other Traci. She shoved Grant back. He punched the short-haired Traci.

“Ripple!” cried the blue-haired Traci, dropping beside her girlfriend. Typhon members and android supporters surged toward one another, throwing punches and shoves. Wren got shoved aside by another member of Typhon rushing to attack an android. She rushed forward and grabbed his wrist. Her cyborg strength kept the man from throwing a punch.

“No! Axel said no violence!”

The man pushed her. “Fucking sympathizer!” He spat in Wren’s face. She smeared his disgusting saliva off her face and wiped it on her pants.

Wren rushed to Shaw and Ellis. “We should get out of here!”

“What about Gant?” Jerry demanded, joining them.

“Fuck him, he started it!”

“What, you feel bad for these things or somethin’?” Ellis’s lip curled as he peered down at her.

“Fuck you!” Wren snapped. “I actually want to be inducted, and that means following Axel’s orders!”

The others shared a look. Shaw nodded. “Fine. Let’s grab Grant.”

“I’ll find Adler,” Wren promised. “Who’s got Argo?”

“I do,” muttered Jerry.

“Meet at the van,” Wren shouted, pushing her way into the crowd. It would be impossible to find Adler in this.

“Stop! We shouldn’t resort to fighting!”

Wren froze. She recognized that voice. She pushed her way past fighting people until she burst into a clearing of people. The blue-haired Traci faced off with Adler, but Josh stood between them.

“Echo, come on, let’s just go!” Josh pleaded, turning his attention away from Adler to look at the android.

Echo’s eyes widened. “Josh!”

Wren saw the knife before Josh did. She surged forward as Adler slashed downward. She rammed all of her bodyweight into Josh. Adler’s knife nicked her shoulder blade.

“Fuck off, you skinjob!” Wren snarled. Josh recovered quickly, blinking away his surprise. Wren met Josh’s gaze. They stared at each other for a split second before Wren grabbed Adler. “What the fuck are you thinking? Axel said no violence!”

“Don’t touch me, bitch!” Adler jerked from Wren’s grasp, but the two hurried to the van, where the others waited.

Wren turned to Grant. “You fucking idiot. If you’ve ruined everything for us, I’ll kill you.”

“At least he’s got the right idea,” said Adler. “These things need to be reminded that we’re the masters.”

“They need to be exterminated,” muttered Grant.

“And you’re standing up for them! I saw you rescue two different androids!” Adler rounded on Wren.

“I was covering Typhon’s ass, you fucking moron. I know you like to walk around with your head so far up your ass that you can taste your own ball sack, but please, try to use one brain cell here! Were you at the meeting last night or not? Did you listen to Axel?”

“Nicolette’s right,” said Shaw. “We’re trying to cover Typhon, and you two acted like complete fucking idiots today.”

“I hope he kicks you to the curb. We’re trying to make real progress. Typhon has no room for people like you.” Nicolette stepped into the van. The others followed, and a tense silence thickened the air the whole drive back to the estate. When they arrived at the estate, Axel looked murderous.

“You risked exposing Typhon,” he said, pacing in front of the recruits. Gone was his air of casual charisma. He vibrated with rage. “We are trying to gain social favor, and you set our progress back by months! Do you understand what you’ve done?”

Adler shrugged. “It was just a fight. These things happen at rallies all the time.”

“Just a fight? You don’t know the extent of your sins, do you? The consequences?” Axel’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I sent seasoned members of Typhon to witness the event. Their job was to report on your progress. Within ten minutes of the fighting, one of our own was killed, and an android was destroyed.”

“Well, good riddance to the android!” Grant’s voice wavered.

“Oh yes,” said Axel. “But now we’ve tarnished HSC’s reputation, which was the only thing Typhon had to gain a favorable footing in society.” Axel nodded to someone standing behind them, but Wren dared not to look. Four of Axel’s guards carried in two bodies. They laid them on the floor. The man had been trampled and was hardly recognizable. The android, an ST300, had her regulator ripped out. Her lifeless eyes stared directly into Wren’s. Axel pointed at the bodies. “This is the cost of your recklessness. I told you we were going to tear down their Olympus. But it takes skill and elegance to kill gods, not brutish temper tantrums!”

Wren tore her eyes away from the android. She looked up at Axel, who pinched the bridge of his nose. He drank a sip of his Scotch and set it back on the mantle.

“Typhon cannot afford to have such reckless members.” He withdrew a pistol from the back waistband of his pants. Everyone tensed. “Kneel on the floor, Grant and Adler.”

“No, no, no! Please, I don’t wanna die!” Adler begged, tears glistening in his eyes.

“Make them kneel,” Axel ordered Shaw, Argo, Ellis, Jerry, and Nicolette.

“How do you even know it was us?” said Grant as Shaw and Argo kicked the backs of his knees, forcing him on the floor. They pressed onto his shoulders, even though he struggled against them.

Nicolette helped Ellis and Jerry force a sobbing Adler to his knees.

“I told you I sent members to observe your progress,” said Axel. “You started the altercation with that Traci. You catalyzed the whole fight.” He pressed the muzzle of the gun to Grant’s forehead. “I don’t tolerate those who jeopardize the good of Typhon.”

Grant’s eyes widened. “Please—”

Axel pulled the trigger. Blood splattered the couch, and Grant’s body slumped over. Wren didn’t flinch but remained stoic. Axel stepped before Adler, who looked up at the barrel of the gun.

“Please, Mr. Brewer, give me another chance—”

“You hurt one of your own,” said Axel, his eyes flicking to Nicolette, “and so you must die. If we cannot look out for one another, then we are a threat to the whole system.”

He pulled the trigger. Adler’s body jerked under Nicolette’s grasp. She dropped her hold on him, letting him fall to the floor. Axel looked to his android servants. “Clean up this mess. Miss Black, come with me.”

Axel placed his gun on the mantle and waved off the others. Nicolette followed Axel, her heart slamming in her chest. Some part of her told her Axel was not planning to kill her, since he killed the other two right in front of her. If she’d been accused of what they were accused of, she’d be dead, too. Or at least, exposed. She could’ve fought off Axel and the others, as they lacked the training she possessed. They also lacked Connor as an ally. But he was three floors above her at the moment. Did he even know that she was possibly in danger?

Axel led Wren into a bathroom. “Remove your shirt.”

“Excuse me?” Wren asked.

“I am going to stitch you up,” said Axel, removing supplies from the cabinet. “Remove your shirt. You may keep yourself covered if you like.”

Wren gritted her teeth and removed her shirt to expose her back, but kept the sleeves and front of it on. Axel’s fingers were icy as he slipped Wren’s bra strap aside.

“I don’t believe you actually need stitches,” said Axel. “Just a bandage.” He used an alcohol wipe to clean the wound. Wren did not utter a sound. Axel placed a bandage over the wound and replaced her bra strap. His fingers drifted over Wren’s bare back. She tensed and gritted her teeth. “You are a strong woman.”  

“Are you done?”

Axel gripped Wren’s face and pressed himself into her back. “Why have that plastic prick when you can have someone like me?”

Wren held her breath. “I don’t want anyone to accuse me of fucking my way to the top. Adler already did.”

“Adler’s dead.”

Wren pushed away from Axel, who watched her—not with that hungry lust—with curiosity. “And he accused me of not truly earning my place here. I’m going to prove you all wrong.” She let her shirt fall back into place. “Am I excused?”

“Yes.” Axel stepped aside, allowing Wren to pass. “Nicolette?”

Wren turned, adrenaline pumping through her. “Yeah?”

“You’ve earned your place,” he assured her. “You’ll be inducted tomorrow night.”

Wren dipped her head. “Thank you.”  

She refused to look back at him, holding her head high as she walked to the stairs and took them to the third floor. She entered her room, barely hiding her quivering. She rushed to the toilet, hunched over it, and vomited.

“Wren?” Connor hurried into the bathroom as Wren retched. He filled a glass of water and crouched beside her. Wren flushed the toilet and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. She accepted the water and drank it.

“I saw Josh,” Wren croaked.

Connor’s brow puckered. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, I pushed him out of the way,” Wren set the glass down on the floor and leaned against the wall.

“Pushed him out of the way of what?” Connor stared at Wren; his eyes narrowed.

Wren’s skin rippled away so that she could interface with Connor. He accepted her hand, and Wren shared her memories of the past few hours with him. His LED swirled red when Wren got nicked by the knife, flickered yellow when he witnessed the murders, and returned to red when Axel came onto Wren. Connor withdrew his hand, his LED still red.

“You’re not safe here,” he muttered. “We have to get out.”

“I’m being inducted tomorrow night,” said Wren. “That seems like a good time to send in SWAT. I’m sure there’ll be other members of Typhon here to catch.”

“I don’t know if we’ve found enough evidence to get SWAT.”

“We need a new plan,” said Wren. “If it means extraction, fine. If it means continuing…”

“You can’t handle much more of this.”

“I have to,” Wren murmured. “It’s the only way to stop them.”

Connor stood. “I’ll contact Rhett and see what we should do.”

Wren watched him leave the bathroom, but she stayed on the floor. She looked at her hands, which trembled as the adrenaline filtered out of her bloodstream. She couldn’t help but hope that Rhett decided that they’d had enough and could extract them. Surely two murders was enough to send in SWAT? But Wren knew that it wouldn’t satisfy Rhett. He wanted to take down Typhon brick by brick, and to do that, they needed to find something big, something that threatened humanity and androids.

Chapter Text

Connor did not like their plan because it did not feel like they had much of one. Rhett told them to contact him after the induction if anything of interest happened, as if becoming an official member of Typhon would open up more possibilities and privileges for Nicolette. He did not want Wren to be around Axel anymore than she needed to, since the man did not possess a regard for personal space. He hated the idea that Wren had been downstairs, threatened by Axel waving a gun around and getting handsy, while he had been upstairs, pretending to be a reprogrammed android cleaning a sitting room. Wren had been so close to danger and he had not even noticed.

Wren wore a black cocktail dress with the back unzipped. She turned her bare back to Connor and moved her hair aside. Connor swallowed the knot in his throat. “Will you zip me up?”

Connor zipped up the back of Wren’s dress with deliberate slowness. His knuckles brushed against her bare skin. His lips burned with the urge to kiss her shoulder. Wren’s head tilted toward him, a smirk toying with the corner of her mouth. Connor returned the coyness as he remained close to her. She leaned back into him, and he wrapped his arms around her. She gripped his forearms. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too.” Wren turned in his embrace. She met his gaze and parted her lips as if she were about to say something, but a knock sounded on the door.

“Miss Black? Mr. Brewer is ready for the initiates to come downstairs.”

Connor gave Wren one last squeeze before smoothing his composure. Wren adopted a look on her face that Connor recognized as Nicolette, and the two walked out of the room. RK800 accompanied Nicolette to the living room. The initiates mingled together, a little awkward now that they’d witnessed a murder in the same room earlier that day. RK800 scanned the room and found very little evidence of the murder. The androids who cleaned did an excellent job. RK800 stood with the other androids at the back of the room, skinless and ready to serve in whatever manner was requested of them. He kept an objective view of the room, but occasionally flicked his gaze to Nicolette. She was his priority, as he had been programmed to serve her.

Only a few other people arrived for the ceremony, and RK800 recognized Chelsea Harding and Dylan Jonz in the mix. He figured the people who arrived were the ones who recommended their recruits. Argo and Ellis seemed determined to drink away the night, waving androids over to them to refill their glasses with champagne or wine. Nicolette nursed the same champagne flute for the majority of the evening, chatting with Chelsea while Argo and Ellis got drunker. Shaw and Jerry carried their own conversations with their respective nominators while Axel Brewer went through the different groups, greeting the members of Typhon and congratulating the recruits.

After a while, Axel stood by the hearth and held up his glass of scotch to garner attention. It did not take long for a hush to fall over the members. Even Argo and Ellis quieted their loud conversation and composed themselves, though RK800 detected a slight sway in their stances. Axel beamed.

“Recruits, you’ve impressed me with your resolve, loyalty, and dedication to saving humanity. You put Typhon first, no matter your emotions concerning androids. You took your studies of our philosophy seriously, and you demonstrated incredible fortitude and compassion in helping humans in need. As you clearly discovered, not everyone has what it takes to make it into Typhon. And you will continue to be tested as time goes on. Your contributions to Typhon matter. What you do from here on out matters because it determines the fate of Typhon, and of humanity. I have complete faith in all of you. It is my privilege and honor to welcome you as fully-fledged members of Typhon.”

Everyone clapped politely and then resumed their mingling. Argo made his way over to Chelsea and Nicolette. “Ladies, ‘m so glad there are beautiful wom’n like you guys… So pretty…” He reached out to touch Chelsea’s crisp curls, but she slapped his hand away.

“Don’t fucking touch my hair.” Her nose wrinkled in disgust.

Argo blinked, but his eyes remained half-lidded, as if he could not quite keep them open. He swayed, and then turned his attention to Nicolette. He thrust his pelvis toward her. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Nicolette replied coolly.

“We all know I’m the best-looking recruit,” Argo said, grinning lazily as he drew closer.

“Easy there, tiger,” said Chelsea, placing a hand on Argo’s chest.

“We’re not interested. Go away.”

Argo rolled his eyes. “C’mon, this cock’s better than any plastic you’ll get. I’m the real fuckin’ deal, baby.” 

Nicolette placed her hands on her hips. “I want you to go look at yourself in the mirror long and hard, and then I want you to come back and look at me. Any questions?” 

Connor would have laughed if the situation had not crackled with tension and he did not have to pretend to be a reprogrammed android. As if sensing Connor’s amusement, Argo shot a glare at RK800, who tilted his head and stepped forward, ready to cross the room and defend Nicolette, but she held up a palm, halting him. She returned her cold eyes to Argo, who sneered. “Why don’t you wanna be with a real man, huh?” He grabbed his crotch. Chelsea gagged and rolled her eyes.

Nicolette curled her lip. “I haven’t found a real man who could handle me yet. You definitely don’t check that box, so why don’t you go back to your sad little corner and drink your sorrows away, m’kay?” She chirped m’kay as if the word electrified her tongue.

Argo curled his hands into his fists, but Shaw walked over and steered him away. “C’mon, buddy. You’re drunk. Let’s go sit down—”

A blood-chilling scream rent the air, and a door at the back of the living room burst open. Everyone wheeled to look at the intruder. An android—not skinless like Connor and the servant androids—stumbled into the room. Blue blood caked her body and ran down her cheek from an open wound in her head. The circuitry underneath her plastic skeleton flickered blue like a glitch. Parts of her skin had disappeared due to damage. She was naked, but did not seem to care as she stumbled through the room, her eyes wild. The synthetic skin of her legs glitched to where the white plastic of her skeleton showed underneath. Someone cut open her right shin, exposing the wiring inside. Blue blood ran down her leg and stained the rug. The android bumped into Connor and then fell toward one of the servant androids. She gripped the skinless android’s shoulders, dropping to her knees. Her right eye was missing.

“Please,” the wounded android begged, “you have to help me!”

Connor’s biocomponents constricted. His eyes flitted to Wren, who watched with wide eyes. The servant android stepped back, letting the wounded android crumple to the floor. Two guards burst into the room, breathless.

“I’m sorry sir, it escaped—”

Axel held up a hand and approached the android on the floor. She looked up at him, tears streaming from the eye she still had. Axel crouched in front of her while she pushed herself onto her knees, shaking.

“Why are you doing this? I haven’t done anything to you—” The android’s voice cracked with broken sobs.

Axel tilted his head. Then, he wrenched out the android’s thirium pump regulator. Connor’s thirium pump beat faster, remembering the feeling from when Atlas Montgomery yanked out his own regulator. The android’s body convulsed with spasms as blue blood flowed from the gaping cavity in her chest. Her eyelids fluttered and she flopped to the floor. Connor clenched his teeth to keep from flinching. For exactly one minute and forty-five seconds, the people in the room watched the poor android jerking as her systems shut down. When she finally shut down, her lone eye stared at the ceiling, her body incredibly still. Blue blood spread out underneath her like angel wings.

Axel straightened from his crouch. One of the servant androids offered him a hand towel, upon which he wiped his bloody hands, smearing the white fabric with blue. He snapped his fingers at Connor and another male android. “Remove this. You four, clean up this mess.” Axel gestured at the blue blood. The female androids dipped their heads and disappeared to search for cleaning supplies. Connor’s eyes flicked to Wren’s. She dipped her head to him. He grabbed the dead android from underneath her armpits while the other android grabbed her feet. Together, they hauled the android out of the living room.

“Where are we taking her?” Connor queried.

The male android’s LED flickered yellow. “We are taking it where we take all defective machines. Summon the elevator.”

Connor’s thirium pump lurched when he realized his mistake: calling the dead android a her instead of an it. He hoped it didn’t come back to bite him in the ass, as Hank would say. They shuffled onto the elevator, and the other android—a TR400 model—hit the button labeled “Basement.”

Blue blood dripped onto the elevator floor and droplets of it smeared on Connor’s shoe. Splotches of it stained the sleeves of Connor’s shirt from carrying the android. It soaked through the fabric to his skin. The blue blood in his systems reverberated. He felt his own heartbeat vibrating underneath his skin. His vision darkened at the corners of his eyes.

[Warning: Stress Levels Rising]

Connor jerked his head to clear it, but he only succeeded in making himself feel dizzy. He took a few breaths to cool his overheating systems and slow his heartbeat. He managed to bring his stress levels down to twenty-three percent.

When the elevator doors slid open, he expected a dank, darkly-lit room filled with junk like most basements. Instead, the doors opened to reveal a fluorescently-lit hangar with industrial floors and branching rooms. Multiple cars were parked underneath Axel’s house, as if this were some garage. Connor’s eyes drifted to the gaping tunnel and parted his lips as he shuffled along with the dead android. This was a garage. There was an entire secret, underground entrance to the estate. The TR400 led the way with his back facing the different corridors. They crossed a walkway above the parked cars—Connor recognized Dylan Jonz’s—and into hallway with steel doors. The TR400 used his palm to scan into one room. The door flashed open, and Connor and the TR400 entered it.

Connor’s thirium pump jumped to his throat and he stopped in his tracks. It was a room with a furnace, designed to burn human and android bodies. The corpse of Adler was still on a table, awaiting to be burned in the furnace section labeled “Human.” The TR400 shook his head. “They didn’t finish the job?” He opened up the door and slid the table out, like the ones inside mortuary cold chambers. No ashes littered the tray, as they filtered to a bin inside the furnace. The TR400 lifted Adler’s corpse onto the table. Coagulated blood stained the waiting table the corpse laid on previously.

“You gonna just stand there? Get it ready.” The TR400 nodded to the body of the dead android, which Connor still held by the armpits. Her feet dragged on the floor. Connor blinked and laid the body down. He opened up the burning chamber labeled “Android” and slid out the platform. Feeling dazed, Connor scooped up the body of the android and laid her on the platform, which he shoved back inside the burning chamber. He flinched when the furnace roared in the “Human” burning chamber. The stench of burning flesh filtered Connor’s olfactory systems. Connor shut and locked the “Android” burning chamber door.

The TR400 hit the button, and the furnace roared again as it blasted the android body inside the burning chamber with fire. Connor’s nostrils flared as melting plastic mixed with cooking flesh. “We need to clean up the trail we left behind.” The TR400 grunted, waiting for Connor in the hall. Connor walked slowly, feeling as if he were back in the Zen Garden, feeling his body move to shoot Markus while he searched frantically for the emergency exit of his mind palace. The TR400 shut the furnace room door and opened up a janitorial closet beside it. Together, Connor and the TR400 spent the next hour mopping up the blue blood trail they left behind. It would evaporate within a few hours, but apparently Axel didn’t like the mess.

“We should check the other corridor where it came from. It probably left a trail.” The TR400 led the way, his mop slung over his shoulder. Connor carried his at his side with a grip tighter than necessary. They returned to the main hanger and followed the blue blood trail from the elevator, mopping it up as they went, to a corridor to the right. The doors in this corridor differed from the strong steel doors of the one that contained the furnace room. These doors resembled hospital doors, with rectangular windows allowing a glimpse inside. In fact, most of the rooms looked like hospital rooms. No, not hospital rooms, Connor decided after peering inside one of the rooms. He’d seen plenty of those. None of these rooms looked as comforting. The majority of the rooms contained a single chair, like that at a dentist’s office. Except these chairs also had restraints. These were rooms designed for torture and experimentation.

They entered a room that looked like an operating room. Connor’s biocomponents churned when he entered. Guards stood on either side of the doorway, both armed with rifles. The guards glowered at the TR400 and Connor.

“The fuck are you plastics doing here?” grumbled the guard to the right.

The TR400 did not seem bothered. “We are cleaning.”

“Chill out, man,” said the guard to the left. “They won’t be the ones questioning why you let that android escape.”

“Shut the fuck up,” hissed the right guard as Connor and the TR400 mopped up the blue blood on the floor. The TR400 wiped down the operating table. A heavy-duty shelving unit lined the left wall. Containers of blue blood lined and stocked every shelf. Connor estimated that there were about a hundred gallons’ worth of blue blood on that shelf. Axel Brewer was harvesting blue blood, and Connor had a good guess as to why—Red Ice.

“Relax,” said the left guard while Connor continued mopping. He concentrated on his LED, forcing himself to calm down so that it would stop swirling yellow. “I heard the thing didn’t get out of the estate. Axel got rid of it himself. He’ll probably just wanna know what happened.”

“I don’t even know how the damn thing got out of those restraints…”

“Brewer’ll just have to invest in some better ones.”

“Yeah…”

Connor and the TR400 left the room once they finished and returned to the main levels of the estate. Judging by the lack of noise in the living room, the induction party was no more. Connor trudged upstairs and drifted to his room, praying that Wren was there. He entered, still feeling dazed. He closed and locked the door behind him.

Wren stopped pacing the middle of the room and wheeled to face him. “Connor! Are you okay? What happened?”

Connor could not meet her eyes, instead staring straight ahead without truly seeing anything. “I… I helped…”

Wren sat him down on the edge of the bed and sat beside him, her hands wrapped around his. “It’s okay, Connor.”

Connor lifted his eyes to meet hers. Tears welled in his eyes and then he crashed into her, burying his face in the crook of her neck while he cried. Wren wrapped her arms around him, one hand cradling the back of his neck, the other squeezing him closer.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Once Connor gathered himself and told Wren what happened, they contacted Rhett. Wren structured most of their sentences, as Connor was still a bit dazed from what he saw and helped do. He tried to ignore the drying thirium on his clothes, but the occasional wetness jolted him back to the room with the furnace and the stench of melting plastic and flesh.

“Okay,” Wren breathed with a smile, straightening from her crouch. She had changed into more casual clothes. “Rhett says we’ve got sufficient evidence to bust the place. They’ll be here at four in the morning so that we have the element of surprise.”

Connor nodded. He looked up at Wren. “I’m sorry I’m so… I mean, you’ve seen worse—”

“There are no Olympics in trauma,” Wren said. She knelt in front of him. “I’ve had years of training to see horrible things and not react. You’ve only really experienced emotions for two years.”

“What if this blows our cover? That TR400 caught my slip-up, Wren.”

“It doesn’t matter. We’re leaving at four anyway. What will Typhon do in that meantime?”

A knock sounded on the door. “Miss Black? Mr. Brewer wants to see you in the parlor. He says to bring your android.”

Wren and Connor shared a look. Connor’s chest tightened. Wren smiled wryly. “I might’ve jinxed us.”   

Connor stood and let out a shaky breath. He removed his skin. “Let’s not keep him waiting.”

Wren led the way, Connor close behind. The android who knocked on the door led them to the stairwell. Tension stiffened Connor’s body. Something felt wrong. Where were the other newly inducted Typhon affiliates?

Wren and Connor entered the living room to find Axel at the hearth. He smiled, the lines of his face sharpening in the firelight. He looked ready for bed in his satin black pajama pants and black slippers. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his robe.

“Nicolette,” Axel greeted, “my apologies for calling you down here so late.”

“Axel,” Nicolette returned. “What’s going on?”

RK800 stood stiffly with his hands folded behind his back. Connor’s eyes flitted around the room. Two guards stood on either side of the hearth. Another stood by the wall directly in front of Connor. Two more entered through the back doorway. Connor sensed movement behind him and glanced back. Two more guards stood behind Wren and Connor, blocking the other exit. Axel grabbed a gun off the mantle. Connor forced himself not to react to it.

“I need you to do something for me. For Typhon. Can you do that?” Axel murmured, closing the distance between him and Wren.

“Anything,” Nicolette declared, holding Axel’s gaze. Axel took Wren’s hands and wrapped them around the gun. Then, he stood behind Wren and steered her by her shoulders to face Connor.

“Destroy the RK800.”

Connor’s thirium pump jolted, but he did not move.

Wren’s brow furrowed. “What? Why?”

“Think of it as part of your induction ceremony,” crowed Axel.

Wren had yet to raise the gun. “I’m not destroying it. It’s my property and I’m not going to do that just to pass some stupid loyalty test.”

Axel’s grip on Wren’s shoulders tightened. “My dear, this isn’t about your loyalty. You’ve proven that. This is about exterminating a deviant in our midst.”

Connor’s hands fell to his sides and he clenched his teeth. Wren stared at him, the color draining from her cheeks. “A deviant? RK800 isn’t a deviant. I’d know.”

“Deviants are not easily detected. This one has hidden it well. But my TR400 informed me that it believes this one has deviated. And I think he is in love with you.”  

Connor’s lips parted. Wren’s frown deepened and she broke eye contact with Connor to glance at Axel. “He?”

Axel stilled. “Excuse me?”

“You called RK800 a ‘he.’”

Axel chuckled and released his grip on Wren. He began circling Connor and Wren, who still clenched the gun in her hand at her side. “I suppose it’s only fair you know. I believe deviants are sentient and alive, or they believe they are. But it’s unnatural. Disgusting. We’ve played god and gone too far and have created these atrocities against nature. It’s time to set things right, where we have a world with humans in control. They are not biologically pure, so they must be eradicated entirely. Start with this one, Nicolette.” Axel’s lips were by Wren’s ear. “Kill him.”

He raised Wren’s arm so that the gun aimed for Connor’s chest. Wren widened her eyes, which glistened. Connor’s eyes flicked back toward the guards. They had inched closer. No one stood in a neutral stance now. Connor knew Wren would not shoot him. There was no way out of this without blowing their cover.

“How do you know—”

“That he’s in love with you? Just fucking look at him.” Axel sneered at Connor, who pursed his lips and flared his nostrils.

Wren stared at Connor, her hand trembling. Connor clenched his teeth. He glanced down at his shoulder and his lower left abdomen. There were places Wren could shoot without killing him. Rhett and the DPD would be there at four in the morning, which would give them time to get Connor help. He raised his eyes, trying to tell Wren without words that it was okay. He did not feel pain, and he didn’t want her to get hurt if the guards attacked. Wren’s brow pinched and tears splashed down her cheeks.

But she lowered the gun.

Axel clicked his tongue and took the gun from Wren’s hand. “Well, I must say I’m glad you didn’t destroy him. I need him for something special. Then again, I knew you’d never destroy Connor. Because you’re in love with him too, Wren.”

Wren and Connor looked at Axel sharply. “How did you—”

“I have connections everywhere,” scoffed Axel. “It took a while, but I figured out your real names. A human and android in love…” Axel spat on the floor at Connor’s feet. “You two deserve to be dismantled and studied. Which is exactly what I’m going to do to you both.”

The seven guards closed in as one unit. Connor and Wren did not need words. He would kill everyone in the room to keep Wren safe, and judging by the look on her face, she’d do the same for him.

The guard to Connor’s immediate right threw a punch, but Connor threw up his arm to block it. He twisted the man’s arm behind his back and shoved him aside and threw up his arms just in time to block the next attack. Connor kicked the guard into the knee. The man cried out and dropped to his other knee, and Connor punched him in the side of the head. Wren fought off three guards. Two charged at Connor, who blocked their attacks. They forced him back, and one of them drew a knife. Connor grabbed the wrist of the man holding the knife and forced him to cut the other guard in the side before twisting the knife out of the man’s hand. He stabbed the man in the throat, crimson spurting from his jugular. The guard Connor shoved to the floor jumped on Connor’s back, his arms around his throat. He kicked the back of Connor’s knee, forcing him to the floor. The guard who was gashed in the side punched Connor in his thirium pump regulator.

[͡War͡ni͟n͟g: M͢i̶l͠d D̴a̸ma̷g̸ȩ ̕t͘o Bi͘oco͜mponen͢t̨ ͡#̶845̛6͜w D͢etec̡te͟d]

The guard with the wounded knee stumbled to his feet and placed a device against Connor’s neck. The guard pressed a button and an electrical shock surged through Connor’s body. He collapsed onto the floor.

[͖̯͚͓̼̲̣ͫ̑ͬ͛W̪̹̪̼̝̑ͣ̅̈ͤͅa͙̍̑̓͑̔͐ͨr̯̠̟̫̼ͨn̠̰̳̪̺̝͋ͫ̋̋i̥͚̰n͖̙͖̤͓ͯͦ̽̍̍̚g̱̹͒ͤ:̥̫̳̬̺̐ͪͅ ̭̞̲̙̐̒̔͋̿̌S̠ͩ̂ͧ̒̆y͈̻̙̣ͨ̎̒s͊͗̔ẗ̟̳̟̪͈̼́ͧ̇̈ͣ͐̌ͅe̬̗̥̖͈̫ͤ̂̃̈́͒ͣm̊̐s̩ͥ ̘̬̥ͮͦ́̓ͅͅU͖̼̯̟̪̩n͚̗̺̄̽ͯ̋͌r͔ͦ̈́͛̔͌̂ȇ̙͓̪̦͍p̤̤ͬͤ͐ͥ̃s͖͎̺̱̜ô̍̋̈ͬṅ̼͕̻̙̞̌̂ͦͮ̒s̫̃͊ͣͪͣi̘̯͙̩̠̗̗͑̾̉v̜͍̤͎̜͐̍̐͂ͨḛͧ̃] ̮͙͇̘̊̊ͥ

“Connor!” Wren cried, but two guards grabbed her as she lunged forward. Two others lifted Connor up from under his armpits.

“Take him to the lab and reset him. I want her with me.”

“Connor, no!” Wren struggled to escape, but one of the guards used the same device on her, and her cybernetic limbs went limp.

Connor wanted to scream for her, to struggle against his restrainers, but his body refused to respond.

[˄Stress Levels: 51%]

«d2hhdCBhbSBpIGdvaW5nIHRvIGRvIHRoZXkncmUgZ29pbmcgdG8gaHVydCB3cmVuIGkgaGF2ZSB0byBoZWxwIGhlcg==»

Connor prayed to rA9 that his racing thirium pump would jolt his systems back into functionality, but nothing happened. Instead, he could only hang limply while Axel’s men brought him into the basement level, where they dragged him down the corridor to the right, where the experimentation rooms were. He could only watch himself be brought into a lab where a resetting machine like the one at Zlatko’s and Atlas Montgomery’s stood.

The guards lifted Connor’s arms above his head. They clamped his wrists into the machine. A man at the computer typed onto it, and the machine activated. It plunged a wire into the back of Connor’s neck. He grunted at the force of it and winced at the electricity flickering through his circuits. No, he could not be in this situation again. He remembered this all too well—he still had nightmares about it—hanging uselessly while his memories were wiped clean from his mind. Except last time, Wren was there. Last time, his memories never left his processor. Last time, he watched Wren fight and was able to regain control of his body.

[˄55%]

The machine whirred, and the metal clamps lifted Connor’s arms above his head, and his feet dangled. Even if Connor regained control of his body, there was nothing nearby to give him leverage, as far as he could see. His head lolled.

“Ready to commence,” said the man at the computer. Connor felt the machine begin its process because of the intense surge of electricity roiling through his circuits.

“Wait,” said Axel Brewer. Connor could only stare at the floor. Axel’s face appeared in front of Connor’s. He smiled. “You really are an invaluable piece of plastic. You almost went undetected, but I have eyes and ears everywhere.” He winked before leaving Connor’s field of vision.

Connor strained to wrench himself free of the metal clasps and wires, but his body still refused to respond.  

“Make sure you download his programs and memories and save them to that file. I want to transfer them to the other one as soon as possible.” Other one? Axel returned to Connor, whose face tightened with the struggle to regain control over his own body. “It’s futile, Connor. Don’t worry—your systems will be fully functional again in about five to ten minutes, which gives me enough time to get Wren ready for an accident with Red Ice.” Axel winked and left the room.

A scream lodged in Connor’s throat as his thirium pump palpitated, the reverberations thrumming in his throat. He grimaced—at least he seemed to be able to use his synthetic facial muscles—and struggled to move again. He gritted his teeth and continued trying to move, to will his fingers to twitch and move and pull himself free. He needed to get free for Wren. She was in danger. Axel was going to force her to overdose on Red Ice—

[̴M̢ȩmor͏y͠ Co̴rr͞up̶ti̛o҉n Dętected]

Why did Red Ice matter? What did that have to do with Wren?

Connor’s artificial heart beat faster. He blinked, hard. It didn’t matter what importance Red Ice possessed what mattered was that Wren was in danger because of Axel—

[Ṁe͡ṁ̊̍ͣor͗̕y͒́̈̅͌ ͩͦ̉ͦ̏̉̚͡Co̵̎̚r̔̍̿ͫ̄̋r̷̎̃͂̄u͒ͧpͬͪͦ͐t̸͛ͮiͬ͐̉҉o̓̿̔ͥͦnͧͤ̒ͧ ͦ͋D̸ͫ̏ͦ́e̍ͦͩ̇ͧ͋̃t͝e͐͐ct̢ͪͫ̀ͥͧͨe͂҉d̋ͤͬ̂͞]̽ͨͩͫ̈́ͨ

Axel?

Connor moved his head and his eyes shifted to the computer screen.

[Reset Progress: 47%]

The man at the computer peered at a file on the screen. Connor narrowed his eyes, still unable to move the rest of his body.

“Make sure you download his programs and memories and save them to that file. I want to transfer them to the other one as soon as possible.”

[̊̃ͫ̈̒M̋̓̎ͮ̎ê̠̙m̯͈̠͔͖̲ͬ̉̈́ͥ͛̓̂oͭͤ͆ͧ̔̍͢r̶̺ͨ̉͐̆̋͛ͅy̺̐̊̐̅ ̞͚̪͕͇̩̂̉ͅC̡̪̬͈̪͇̫̳̐̌ͥ̄̐̚o̴̫̜̦̙̠͈̮̊̂̍ͦ͒r̜r̆͆ư̺̪͖ͦp̵̝̖͔̻͊̉̀t̯͙͙̰i̲͓̺̓̈́ơ̖͓̘̻̇̏ͭ̋n̈ͪ ̥̣̗͕͚ͭ̐ͨ̅͊ͅD̗̗̙̱̲̹̟e̞͔̱̖̥̽͗̑̈̽͌́t͇͎͔͓̭̓̿̕e̲̼͈͈̦ͫ̉͒͑c̱̪̲͖͓̩̥͆̓t͚ͧ̆ͯ͐̆̕e̸̫͂ͭ̽ͧ̚d̸̞̜̈̉̍]̷͔̼͎̻ ̖̞͉̣̼̖ͮ̍̅ͨͥ͝ͅ

Who said that? What other one?

 [Reset Progress: 64%]

Connor’s thirium pump jolted in his chest. An inexplicable panic spiked through his circuits. He had no idea why it was so urgent that he escape, but something told him he needed to, that this wasn’t right, he had feeling in his fingers, he needed to get out, to pull on the wires, but why, there was no danger—

[Reset Complete]

He relaxed. For a few minutes, he remained in the contraption. His body slowly flooded with feeling, as if his limbs had been unable to move before then. His synthetic skin rippled over his white plastic skeleton.

A man sitting at the desk pushed from the seat and unhooked him from the contraption. “RK800, go see Mr. Brewer in room 16.”

“Understood.” He—RK800, as he had been called—left the room and trekked down the hall. The man failed to inform RK800 which way this room was. Of course, RK800 examined the doors and their numbers, but many of them lacked numbers. He reached the end of the corridor, which opened up to a massive hangar, like a garage. Shaking his head, RK800 turned around and returned to the corridor. This time, he passed the room he’d just been in. The numbers became more regular as he furthered along the corridor. The walls were so black and glossy that RK800 could view his reflection quite easily. He paused to look upon himself, as he had never seen himself. He supposed he was handsome—

{He leaned forward, the grungy music of Jimmy’s Bar muffled through the bathroom walls. Lieutenant Anderson had not been in the other bars, so he hoped that the police lieutenant would be in this one. He could not accomplish his mission without his superior’s help. But before he introduced himself to the lieutenant, he needed to look sharp. He straightened his tie.}

[̯͉̙̽̑͌͆M̤̤͚̱͍͎̤ͩ̅̐#̩͕͕̄̒̇ͮ̉͆̎ ̵̗̀̒̅̊͗#̷̹͙͉@̲̺͔̽ͦ̃̽ͩ͛ͅ%͇͈͕͗̽ͭ̈́̚3̬͍̯̳̮͕̈ͯͨ ̊̇͘1̩ͩͮ̆͗̄͜$̭̠̫̳̺͛̆͌̂́ ̼̗̮̥̫̥̼̊ͭ͌ͯ̌͞<̰̭͎̽̔@̫̾ͮ̀͂̎̎͊&̷̟̬̖̰͊͛̏̍ͭ̈̉&͌ͯ̉͋͢@̢̘̦̩̈́̈ͣ̑̑̀ͫ+̰̙͈͂͘ͅ]̷̤͗ ̰̲̳̘̲̙̜̽̃̅̓̽͋̕

RK800’s brow furrowed. He knew that the static image that just flooded his processor was a memory, but he possessed no recollection of such a memory. Who Lieutenant Anderson? Perhaps these memories came from a different RK800 unit? That was the most logical assumption, though RK800 had no idea why he had memories from a past RK800 unit. Perhaps this Mr. Brewer could help.

RK800 continued to wander the corridor until at last he came to room 16. It looked like a hospital room, and a woman stood a man holding her back. A blond man stood in the corner, leaning against the wall. A chair that resembled one at the dentist’s occupied the center of the room. Restraints lay open on it, and beside it was a small tray with surgical items on it.

The woman widened her eyes as soon as RK800 entered. She launched herself forward so suddenly that the man gripping her failed to stop her from rushing at RK800.

“Connor!” she gasped, gripping the lapels of his jacket. “You’re—” The woman stopped as she met RK800’s gaze. He regarded her with a pinched brow. He did not know this woman, yet she called him Connor. Perhaps she mistook him for a past RK800 unit?

He gazed down at her as she backed away, shaking her head. “No…”

“It looks like he doesn’t remember you,” purred the blond man.

RK800 looked at him. “I’m looking for Mr. Brewer.”

The blond man pushed off from the wall. “That would be me.” He nodded to the unnamed man, who exited the room. The woman continued to gape at RK800.

“This can’t be happening…”

“I assure you that it is, dear. You should know better than anyone that memory is such a fragile thing. And now you know the perils of loving an android: they can easily go back to machines.” Mr. Brewer gestured to RK800, who returned his gaze to the woman.

“RK800-51, restrain her.”

RK800 moved forward fluidly. The woman shook her head and backed away.

“No, Connor! Snap out of it, please!”

RK800’s frown deepened and his steps faltered. Why did she keep calling him that? Why was she so desperate?

“RK800, obey!”

RK800 continued forward while the woman backed into the wall. A soft sob erupted past her lips. “Connor, I don’t want to fight you…”

In her state of despair, RK800 managed to restrain her easily. He gripped her wrist and twirled her so that her arms crossed over her chest and her back pressed into him. “What would you like me to do with her?”

“Strap her here,” said Mr. Brewer, fiddling with something at the surgical tray. RK800 dragged the crying woman over to the chair and lifted her. She kicked out and away from him, breaking his hold on her. Crashing to the floor, the woman rolled over and faced him like a wild animal.

“Connor, come on! Wake up!”

{The skin of his hand retracted, revealing the glossy plastic underneath. He felt Hank’s eyes on him as he gripped the arm of the AP700 android. He transferred the deviancy code, his body trembling with the electric current.

“Wake up!”}

[̈̀̚My̧̔̌̓ ̡̋ͭͩnͣ͠@̅͏m̷3̨̆͌ ̑̓̾ͩͩ̓1̏͑͜sͧͨ͝ ̏͌̏̇̈<͟@̸̈́̚&̨̋͊&̏ͩ͊ͯ@ͪ͂̈́+̐͑ͤ͠]̧͋̂͗̚ ͊̈͘

RK800 paused but Mr. Brewer grabbed the woman before she could speak again. RK800 helped Mr. Brewer strap the woman in the chair. RK800 pined her shoulders down as she struggled against the wrist restraints. Mr. Brewer withdrew a syringe. The woman held RK800’s gaze. His brow twitched.

Tears leaked down the sides of her face. “Please wake up.”

“Do you recognize this, Wren? It’s Red Ice in its purest, liquified form.” Mr. Brewer held up the syringe. It gleamed with brilliant blue liquid. Thirium mixed with other components.

The woman, Wren, set her jaw but refused to answer.

Wren. Wren. Wren.

{He struggled with her in the grass. She suddenly went lax underneath him and he pinned her to the ground. Her chest rose and fell with her breaths. Her copper hair splayed out around her, darker in the dim streetlamp light. He narrowed his eyes at her. But, even after what she just tried to do, he still found her quite pretty.}

[ͩ̇ͩͮ͂͐͆My̾̅ ͌̉ͫ͗̈́n͛ͧ͐am̓3͌̊ͮ̈́ i̎̾sͯ͊̑ ͯ<@̓̏̔̄ͭͮ̿&&ͯ̊ͫͨ̄@̌̽̊̚+͗̆ͣ̋̈̎]

“Poetic for you to die this way, don’t you think?” Mr. Brewer leaned closer to the woman. RK800 continued to stare at Wren. She flared her nostrils. Her eyes cradled so much sorrow in them that the RK800 parted his lips to let out a controlled, invisible breath.

“Connor, please, I love you—”

Mr. Brewer grabbed Wren’s jaw roughly. “Shut the fuck up!” His voice came out in a snarl. “No one wants to hear that disgusting bullshit.”

He shoved the syringe into Wren’s skin and plunged the drug into her veins.

{She kissed him quite suddenly—so suddenly that he hardly reacted. She pulled away, looking wide-eyed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” I love you rose to his lips, which he longed to press against hers, but Wren already disappeared into the crowd.}

[̨My nam҉e ̴i͟s̢ <͟@n&@+]͘ ̵

Wren’s eyes rolled back into her head. Her struggles grew flimsy until she slumped. RK800 withdrew his grasp. He parted his lips, gazing at the unconscious woman who claimed to know him. Wren convulsed into a fitful unconsciousness.

“That dosage was highly toxic. You could kill her.” RK800 tore his eyes away from her.

“That’s not the goal, here. Go upstairs to her room. I want you to search the room and bring back anything that looks like surveillance on me or Typhon. And deactivate your skin.”

“Understood.” RK800 removed his skin and left the room. He wandered down the corridor until he returned to the hangar and took the elevator up to the main level. Once again, he had no idea where to go. He let out an impatient snort as his shoes pressed into a plush rug. He decided to look for one of Mr. Brewer’s guards or another android to tell him the location of Wren’s quarters. He paused outside the doorway of a small library.

Books layered the shelves, which adorned each wall from the floor to the ceiling. In the center was a table with a semi-circle sofa around it. RK800 wandered toward the books. Something about the physical copies drew him to them. Most people used digital copies of books nowadays, but—

{“Real books… I thought I was the last guy in Detroit to keep some!” Hank’s voice drifted from the other room. Connor noted how Hank liked the feel of the pages, but did not respond, as he’d just found the deviant’s LED in the sink.}

[My name is <@n&@r]

RK800 backed out of the library, his thirium pump twanging and rumbling in his audio processors. Something urgent demanded that he fill in the rest of those letters. Before waking up in that contraption, everything was dark in his mind. It seemed he had a life before this place. Who was the woman named Wren? Who was Hank?

RK800 trekked around the main level, still unsure of where to go. Finally, he found another android. “Excuse me, but could you direct me to the location of Wren’s room?”

The android puckered her brow. “There is no ‘Wren’ staying here.”

“Mr. Brewer gave me instructions to search her room, so that’s not right. She has blonde hair—”

“Do you mean Nicolette? Weren’t you staying in there, too?”

RK800 parted his lips and then flattened them. He swallowed the lump in his throat. Nicolette? Was that Wren’s real name? And why had he been there? Had he?

The android widened her eyes. “You’ve been reset.”

RK800’s brow shadowed with a frown. “Reset?”

The android flashed him a falsetto smile. “Take the stairs to the third floor and to the left. At the very end of the hall, you will find Nicolette’s room.”

“Thank you.” RK800 headed for the stairs, his processor still wheeling form what the android said.

[Who is Nicolette?]

RK800 found the room and shut the door behind him. Out of instinct, he locked it. Then, he began searching the luggage bags. He paused, coming across a black cocktail dress.  

{Wren wore a black cocktail dress with the back unzipped. She turned her bare back to Connor and moved her hair aside. Connor swallowed the knot in his throat. “Will you zip me up?”

Connor zipped up the back of Wren’s dress with deliberate slowness. His knuckles brushed against her bare skin. His lips burned with the urge to kiss her shoulder. Wren’s head tilted toward him, a smirk toying with the corner of her mouth. Connor returned the coyness as he remained close to her. She leaned back into him, and he wrapped his arms around her. She gripped his forearms. “I’ve missed you.”}

[My name is <@nnor]

RK800 breathed heavily to cool his systems while his thirium pump thrashed in his chest.

[Warning: Stress Levels Rising]

He needed to trigger another memory. He was certain now that these were memories—his memories. He searched through the bags, ignoring Brewer’s orders to look for and confiscate surveillance tools. In a suitcase that contained masculine clothes, RK800 found a pair of plain cufflinks.

{Connor reached for it and unwrapped the paper. He opened the box, his brow furrowing. A small smile stretched his lips as he lifted a tie with dinosaur skeletons decorating it.

“Everyone needs a silly tie,” said Wren, shrugging. She tapped the box. “There’s something else in there, too.”

Connor peered inside to find a small box. He picked it up and opened it. Inside it were dinosaur cufflinks. He smiled softly and met Wren’s gaze. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” said Wren, avoiding his gaze.

Connor opened the middle-sized gift. A lump formed in his throat when he unwrapped it. It was a framed photo of Connor and Hank, both smiling at the camera. He looked at Wren, his eyes prickling.

“You don’t have anything to personalize your desk,” Wren explained.

“I’m missing you, though,” Connor pointed out. Wren’s eyes widened. Pink flushed her cheeks. Connor’s chest swelled at the sight.}

[My name is Connor]

Connor straightened from his search of the bag, breathing heavily. His mouth hung open and his eyes lifted slowly from the plain cufflinks. “Wren.”

He rushed to Wren’s bag and withdrew the phone that they used to check in with Rhett. It was twenty minutes to four in the morning. Connor dialed the number.

“Connor? The fuck are you doing, calling? This better be serio—”

“Our cover’s blown,” Connor hissed. “He tried to reset me and he’s drugged Wren. I have to bring our equipment to him. He thinks I’m reset, so it gives us time. I have no idea where Wren is.”

“Holy shit. We’re on our way, but we’re still twenty minutes out.”

“Call an ambulance. Wren’s had an overdose of Red Ice.” Connor’s voice proceeded more calmly than he felt.

“Jesus Christ—” Rhett cut off Hank’s frustrated growl when he hung up the phone. Connor, still skinless, slipped into the hall. He returned to the sublevel where he was reset and where he held Wren down… Connor’s biocomponents twisted with guilt. He promised Wren that he would never hurt her, that he’d protect her, and he was the one to hold her down while someone hurt her. He hoped he could spend the rest of his life making it up to her.

He entered the room 16, but Wren was gone. A few strands of blonde hair were left behind on the chair. Connor tried to reconstruct the scene.

[Insufficient Evidence for Reconstruction]

“Shit.” Connor looked toward the corner of the room, where a camera watched all. He hacked it, but it was broken. “Shit!”

Outside of the room, Connor looked both ways. There were no guards, so he placed his palm on the wall and scanned the security line. He found the glow of the mainline and followed it to a massive security room. Connor entered the security room and closed the door behind him. Monitors covered the walls. Two guards sat at the desk, keeping an eye on the footage. They turned when they heard the click of the door.

“The fuck are you doing in here?” one of them demanded.

“Get outta here, plastic. You ain’t supposed to be here.”

[Preconstruct]

[Attack left guard, kick the right, disarm the left]

[Execute]

Connor launched himself at the left guard and then kicked the right one he attacked. The left guard withdrew his gun, but Connor moved aside just as the guard shot, hitting the other guard who collapsed with a sharp, “Oof!” Connor punched the armed guard in the throat, wrenched the gun from his hand and shot him. He took both guns and placed one in the waistband of his jeans. The other, he held at his side. He scanned the monitors for Wren. Not all of the rooms—like the bedrooms—had cameras, but thankfully, Wren was in one of the sublevel rooms with a camera. She was locked in a dog cage—Connor gritted his teeth at the sight—slumped over unconscious. Connor downloaded the schematics of the building to discern the best ways out. Unfortunately, unless he went through the tunnels, there was only one way out: the front door. The schematics did not tell him how far the tunnels went, so Connor decided the front door was the best bet.

|Time remaining until DPD arrives: -00:10:04|

Connor reactivated his skin. He was done following Axel Brewer’s anti-android rules. With one last glance at the monitors, Connor backed out of the room and hurried toward where Wren was locked in a cage.

He burst into that room and shot the guard before the man had time to react. The gunshot stirred Wren, but she seemed too weak to get up. Connor unlocked the dog cage and pulled Wren out of it and cradled her for a moment.

“Wren, Wren! Sweetheart, can you hear me?” Connor shook her gently.

Wren’s eyes fluttered opened, but they looked glazed and bloodshot. “Connor? You forgot me…” Her voice sounded so small…

{ “S’okay, Con…nor… ‘m okay…”

“Don’t speak,” Connor said sharply. Her voice sounded so small, raspy, weak and Connor’s heart nearly stopped.   

Blood trickled from her mouth. Her life was literally bleeding from her and flowing through Connor’s fingers. He was going to lose her. She took the shot for him and he was going to lose his best friend. “Connor…”

“Stop talking!” Connor snapped.}

Connor jerked his head, as if he could shake the memory straight out of his processor. His thirium pump quaked with panic.

“No, no… Never. Hold on. I’m getting you out of here.” He scooped Wren up and carried her bridal style out of the room. She sagged in his arms like a corpse, making Connor’s blue blood freeze. He was not losing her.

Stepping into the corridor, Connor headed toward the elevator. He reached the hangar without much issue, sneaking past doorways while Wren hung limply in his arms. Before he reached the elevator, however, the doors slid open and a few guards stepped out.

“What are you doing with her?” shouted one of them. As they raised their guns, Connor dashed behind the corner and set Wren onto the floor. He withdrew his gun and then launched himself back around the corner with no time to preconstruct an attack.

He grabbed the barrel of one rifle and wrenches it from the guard’s grasp and whacked the same guard in the face with it. He kicked the leg of another guard and then shot the guard with his pistol. The third guard pulled the trigger of his gun. The bullet tore through Connor’s shoulder, missing his biocomponents. The sensation was not painful, but it was unpleasant, especially when cool air rushed into Connor’s systems, and thirium bled through his shirt. Connor grunted with the impact, but shot the guard in the face. He crouched by the man’s radio and picked it up to listen. Gunfire sounded and muffled, disjointed orders to “stop them” crackled through the radio’s speaker.

The DPD had arrived.

Connor returned to Wren and lifted her into his arms. He hit the elevator button, but someone disabled it. Rolling his eyes, Connor hurried to the stairwell around the corner. Gunshots sounded above him. He couldn’t carry Wren into that, so he set her down on the floor, her back against the side of the stairs. Her head lolled, and Connor’s biocomponents knotted. He remained crouched and waited for the guards to come down the stairs, watching through the bars that held up the bannister lining the stairwell. Connor shot the first two guards as they descended, but the third spotted Connor and shot. Wood splintered just by Wren’s head. Connor threw his empty gun at the guard and propelled himself over the bannister and landed on the stairs. The gun hit the guard in this head, giving Connor enough time to charge the man. He throat-punched the man and the wrestled with the man’s gun. Connor couldn’t let the guard straighten the rifle out to shoot. Connor pressed the rifle against the man’s throat and choked him until he stopped moving. He returned to Wren, who covered her ears. She shook violently and her breath came in whistling rasps.

Ignoring the fresh surge of panic, Connor lifted Wren into his arms once more and hurried up the stairs, checking around each corner for guards. When they arrived on the landing of the second floor, Connor ducked to shield Wren as he rushed to the wall as gunfire exploded around them. He set Wren down. She scrunched her features and clutched her head.

“I’m spinning…”

Connor gripped her shoulders. “Hold on. We’re almost out of this.”

Peering around the corner with his gun drawn, Connor scanned the shootout. He counted three guards ducking behind doorways and blasting bullets in his direction. Across the corridor, crouched in another doorway, was Hank. Connor’s mouth fell open as a bullet narrowly missed Hank. Connor scanned the area and calculated the perfect time to open fire. He took out one guard while Hank took out another. They took down the third together. Hank looked around and spotted Connor and rushed over to him, keeping his head low.

“Connor! Thank God you’re okay. Where’s Wren?” Hank looked around. Connor moved aside and glanced down. “Jesus…” Hank squatted in front of Wren. “Wren? Kiddo, can you hear me?”

Wren’s eyes cracked open. “My chest hurts…”

“Definitely a Red Ice overdose, but if we get her help, she should be okay.” Hank straightened. “SWAT and the team split up. I don’t know where everyone is—”

“All of our evidence is in our room. The last room to the left on the third floor,” Connor stated. “We can’t let Brewer get a way with any of it—”

“Kid, leave that to us. Get her out of here.” Hank’s eyes cut to Wren, who moaned and clutched at her chest.

“The only exit is the front door,” Connor muttered.

“Then let’s get you to the front door,” said Hank, raising his eyebrows. “I’ve got your back.”

Connor nodded and scooped Wren up again. Together, they ran up the stairs. Hank took out two more guards. One of Captain Allen’s men took out another and waved them past. They reached the main level, and Connor widened his eyes at the guards positioned in the entry hall. He and Hank ducked behind a corner.

“Shit,” spat Hank. “I’m empty.”

Connor swallowed. He looked down at Wren’s face, her brow wrinkled in her discomfort. He set her on the floor and checked his gun. Three shots. Seven guards. Their escape depended on taking out the guards, and he be damned if he let Wren die here. He’d tear those guards apart with his bare hands to protect his family. He met Hank’s gaze. “Get her out if this doesn’t work.”

Hank’s eyes widened. “What? Connor, no!”

But Connor turned the corner and shot three of the guards, and then threw his gun. It made a sickening crunch when it connected with a guard’s helmetless head. Connor grabbed the rifle before the fifth guard could fire it. He twisted and butted the guard in the face with it. Blood spurted from the man’s mouth. Connor gritted his teeth and flung the man away, and then used the rifle to shoot the sixth guard. The seventh shot at Connor, who dodged, but the bullet ripped through his side, missing biocomponents by a smidge. Connor shot the guard in the face. He looked around, still holding up the rifle, teeth clenched and slightly bared.

[Warning: Thirium Levels Diminishing]  

Connor scooped up two handguns and then placed a hand to his wound and examined the blue blood on his fingers before limping back to Hank and Wren. He handed the guns to Hank. “These should be full.”

“Connor, don’t you ever fucking do something like that again!” Hank’s nostrils flared and his eyes blazed as Connor clutched a hand at his side, hiding the blue blood seeping through his shirt. He dipped his head, but made no promises. Then, he picked Wren up again, his side pulling uncomfortably. Gritting his teeth, Connor headed for the front door.

“I have to make sure everything gets cleared up here. You’ll be okay out there by the cars?” Hank nodded to the police cars in the front yard. Connor nodded, not wanting to talk. He knew if he did, Hank would know that he was wounded.

Connor stepped outside, the cool night air forcing him to suck in a sharp breath. He trudged down the steps. He just needed to get to the police cars to patch himself up, and maybe find something to help Wren.

“Fuck you, skinjob!” Connor recognized Argo’s voice and tensed. A gunshot cracked through the night, and the bullet ripped through Connor’s back and lodged in a biocomponent. He gasped and crumpled to his knees.

[͘Bi̷o҉compo̶nent̴ ̵#7511p ̴D͏am̨ag҉ed]

He laid Wren on the ground and used his body to shield her as much as possible. Another gunshot rang out and Connor flinched, expecting another bullet to rip through his body. When he opened his eyes, his lashes were damp. He looked over his shoulder. Hank stood with his gun raised, and Argo fell down the front steps. Hank ran toward Connor.

“Connor! Oh, fuck…” Hank withdrew his hand from Connor’s back, seeing the blue blood.

“I’m alright,” Connor gritted out.

“The fuck you are!” Hank’s voice cracked. He gripped the side of his bulletproof vest, where he had attached his radio. “This is Lieutenant Hank Anderson. Detectives Connor Anderson and Wren Blanchard are down. I repeat, we’ve got officers down! I need backup!”

Tina radioed back: “I’m on my way!”

Connor cupped Wren’s face as she trembled. A cold sweat sheened her forehead. Connor shrugged out of his jacket and placed it over her. “You’re going to be all right, I promise.”

“Jesus, Connor, you’re bleeding all over the place!” Hank gaped at the blue blood soaking Connor’s shirt.

“I’m f-f-fine,” Connor trembled and blinked, hard. He dug his fingers into the dirt. Sirens sounded nearby. Connor sagged with relief. The paramedics arrived and Connor moved aside for them to work on Wren. “She’s had an overdose of Red Ice, she needs her stomach pumped and possibly an intravenous nitrate—”

“Connor, for fuck’s sake, let them do their job. He needs help, too!” Hank added to an android paramedic.

Connor shook off the android’s hands. “I’m fine, they didn’t hit anything incredibly vital—”

“You’re losing thirium at a rapid rate,” said the android. She scanned Connor and puckered her brow. “Biocomponent #7511p is damaged and needs immediate attention. Biocomponent #8456w also needs some repair.” She helped Connor into the ambulance while the other paramedics loaded Wren onto a gurney. Connor looked around frantically for Hank. Static and warning signs flickered in his vision. He caught Hank’s concerned face looking at him. Connor reached for Hank and gripped him by the shoulders.

“Make sure you get the surveillance footage from our room—”

“We’ve already got it. You’ve done enough, son. Let us handle the rest.” Hank patted Connor’s hand. He released Hank and leaned against the wall of the ambulance. The paramedics shut the doors and the ambulance lurched as it took off.

The android paramedic handed him a container of thirium. “Drink this.”

He obliged, but Wren groaned and tossed her head from side to side. Connor looked at the android examining him. “Is she going to be okay?”

“Sir, I need you to calm down and remove your shirt.”

Connor did so slowly, not wanting to look away from Wren as the other paramedics worked on stabilizing her.

“You’ll need proper administration at the hospital to minimize scarring,” said the android. Connor nodded, dazed.

“Will she be okay?”

“We’re doing everything we can to ensure that she will be. Please, finish drinking the thirium.”

Connor gritted his teeth as the android paramedic placed a bandage over his wound. He drank the rest of the thirium, still watching Wren. His biocomponents felt as if another bullet had ripped through them when he realized that he was the reason she was in this state. If he’d fought harder, if he’d kept his promise, she wouldn’t be so close to death. He had wanted to go undercover to help her, but only succeeded in getting in the way and hurting her. Connor tightened his fists and tears stung his eyes.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Chapter Text

Someone caressed her cheek. Early morning light glowed softly behind her shut eyelids, but she wasn’t ready to open them yet. No, she was enjoying the gentle fingers stroking her hair. The warmth around her wanted to keep her asleep forever. The person lovingly stroking her face trailed their fingers to her throat. It tickled. Her brow twitched and smile toyed at the corners of her mouth.

“Connor, stop.”

“Who’s Connor?” The voice was not Connor’s. Wren’s eyes flashed open and Jonah Cage sneered down at her. His hands gripped her throat. “I knew you were sleeping around on me, whore.”

Wren gasped and clutched at her neck.

“Hey, kid, wake up. You’re okay.”

Hank?

Wren forced her eyes open for real this time. She gasped and tugged the neckline of her hospital gown down. Looking around frantically, Wren took a moment to discern where she was. A hospital room. Someone held out a cup of water.

“Drink this. Doc said you’d be thirsty when you woke up.”

Wren extended shaky hands and accepted the cup, her eyes flicking to the speaker. Hank smiled kindly at her. Wren sipped from the cup, then downed it in a few gulps. She set the cup on the bedside tray when she finished. Water dribbled down her chin. She smiled back, grateful to him for sitting by her side. But part of her was disappointed it was not Connor. Then she remembered: Connor didn’t remember her.

An ache welled in Wren’s chest until it surged and pricked her eyes with tears. “Connor?”

Hank patted Wren’s knee. “He’s alright, kid. Kamski’s checking him out now.”

“Will Kamski be able to restore Connor’s memories?” Wren’s voice broke.

A frown shadowed Hank’s face. “You’re a little behind the times. Connor restored his own memory at the estate. He’s the one who found you and got you outta there.”

Wren released a breath and the tears welling in her eyes splashed down her cheeks. She wiped them away impatiently. “How’d he do that?”

“You’d have to ask him.”

“You haven’t talked to him?”

“I have some, but… He’s been a bit haywire lately.”

“How long have I been out?”

“Little over three days,” Hank leaned back in his chair and smoothed out the creases of his pants. “They had to pump your stomach and they’ve been letting you sleep the worst of it off. Red Ice overdoses are pretty intense, and since you’re a former addict, they wanted to take extra precautions.”

Wren averted her gaze. “I don’t really remember my Red Ice days, though. Do I really count as a former addict then?”

Hank shrugged. “Your body might remember. It’s probably best that you don’t remember anyway.”

Her brow furrowing, Wren returned her gaze to meet Hank’s. “What’s Connor getting checked if he already restored his memories?”

“Well, he wanted to know how he was able to restore it, and he says that he wanted to test out a theory based off of something Brewer said. Oh, and he needed to get patched up.”

“Patched up? Was he hurt?”

Hank snorted. “Yeah, he got shot, like, three fuckin’ times.”

“What?” Wren tried to get up, but Hank was faster than her in her groggy state.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going? You need to rest. Connor’d give birth to a small farm animal if he found out I let you get up.”

Wren scowled. “You can’t expect me to sit here when Connor’s hurt—”

“He’s not hurt, kid. He’s fine. He’s mainly just worried about you. I think he blames himself for what happened. He won’t really talk about it, though.”

Wren looked at her hands as she remembered the feeling of Connor’s strong hands pinning her to the table. What haunted her the most was the vacancy in his eyes as he looked at her. With a shiver, Wren looked back up at Hank. “I don’t blame him for it.”

“I know you don’t. But you know Connor. You’ll have to reassure him. I’ve tried my best, but the kid’s stubborn.”

Wren offered him a small smile. “Wonder where he gets that from?”

“That asshole was stubborn long before he lived with me,” Hank argued, but his eyes twinkled. “Speaking of that stubborn asshole, I promised him I’d call him as soon as you were awake.”

While Hank stepped out to talk to Connor, Wren looked at her artificial fingernails. They were always perfectly trimmed, in perfect condition. Still, she liked to pick at them.

{“Poetic for you to die this way, don’t you think?” Axel leaned closer to Wren, but her eyes were still on Connor, who gazed at her blankly. It hurt so much to see him look at her without nothing. She would’ve rather him look at her with anger or hatred. Nothing, numbness, indifference—that was so much worse.}

“Poetic for you to die this way, don’t you think?”

“Poetic for you to die this way, don’t you think?”

Poetic… Poetic…

Why had Axel thought it would be poetic for Wren to die that way? A Red Ice drug overdose? Why would that be poetic?

Hank stepped back inside, interrupting Wren’s thoughts. “He’s on his way.”

“Why wasn’t he here earlier?” Wren blurted.

Hank lifted a brow. “What, I’m not good enough for ya?”

Wren grinned sheepishly. “Of course you are—”

“I’m messing with ya. You know why he wasn’t here. He’s probably ashamed.”

Wren nodded. “How’s everyone else?”

“Gavin got scraped up pretty bad in Brewer’s arrest, but he’s okay. Everyone’s okay, actually. Some of us are bruised, but thank God for Kevlar.”

“Yeah.” Wren rubbed her arms. “So, what about the case?”

“We’ve got enough on Typhon to send a lot of those fuckers to prison. Axel definitely won’t be gettin’ out anytime soon. He’s still at the DPD, though. We’re not done interrogating him.”

“What about the serial killer?”

Hank shrugged. “Hasn’t done anything in three weeks.”

“Really?”

“Yep. We’re at a dead end. More so than we were before.”

“Maybe they’re on vacation or something.”

“I don’t know. I’ve got a feeling something terrible’s coming.”

“Me too,” Wren muttered. “How’ve you been, Hank?”

“Okay. I got so used to Connor being around that when he wasn’t, the house felt much emptier. But Tina had me over for dinner a lot. Markus and North came over a lot, too. Josh brought me some books. He told me Connor said that I’m a fan of paper books. It was easier to cope with people around.”

A smile pulled at Wren’s lips. “I’m glad everyone stepped in to take care of you. We were worried.”

“Not as worried as we were about the two of you,” Hank dragged a hand over his face.

Wren reached toward him. Taking the hint, Hank grabbed her hand gently. He squeezed it before letting go.

“As soon as Connor gets here, I’ll go grab you something to eat. The food they feed you here is dusty-looking.”

Wren snorted. “That’s much appreciated.” She leaned back. “I might take a nap, if that’s okay.”

“What, three days wasn’t enough for ya?”

Wren glowered at Hank, who smirked.

“Go ahead. Connor’s comin’ all the way from Belle Isle. You’ve got some time.”

“Thank you.”

“Sure thing.”

Wren closed her eyes and settled against the pillows, but a deep sleep never came. Her busy mind kept mulling over Axel’s words, and who failed to get the information to the DPD earlier in their mission. Was it Jamie? Or was it Prometheus? Was it both? Either way, it resulted in a mass shooting, one that Wren couldn’t help but feel partially responsible for. Her mind returned to Axel’s words to her. What had he meant by “poetic?” Her Red Ice past was not known to many, and it was difficult to discover anyway. How would Axel even know about her Red Ice past?

A pat on her hand jerked her from her drowsy contemplation. Wren opened her eyes and glanced at Hank’s kindly-lined face. “He’s on his way up. Any food requests?”

“I haven’t had fries in a while.”

Hank grinned. “I got ya.”

With a final squeeze of Wren’s hand, Hank got up and shuffled out of the room. Wren pushed herself up and waited for Connor to arrive. Wren was not normally nervous to see Connor, but this time she was. Not because she was scared of him or anything, but because she didn’t know how to convince him that he wasn’t a monster, that this wasn’t his fault, that she needed him to stay by her side and not blame himself. But she was also hurt that he prioritized his shame above her. The last time she consciously saw him, he held her down without recognizing her.

The more Wren thought about it, the more it burned her. It wasn’t Connor’s fault. She wasn’t angry with him for what Axel did, or that Connor forgot her. No, she was angry because he was too ashamed to face her. Did he really think she would hate him or hold it against him?

When Connor arrived, he stood by the door. His posture was stiff and his LED swirled yellow. An angry itch flared underneath Wren’s skin.

“Don’t. Don’t do that,” Wren wanted to sound hard, but her voice came out as a choked plead. Tears pricked her eyes. “Don’t blame yourself.”

Connor’s face crumpled. “How can I not? Wren, I held you down—”

“Because they reset you! You didn’t remember me. You were under their control.”

Connor shook his head. “I was and I wasn’t. It wasn’t the same as before I deviated—”

“Connor, listen to me. That wasn’t your fault. You were obeying the person who reset you because you didn’t know anything else. I don’t blame you.” Please understand. How could she make him understand?

Connor tucked his chin toward his chest and avoided Wren’s eyes. “Wren, you don’t understand. I could see the look on your face and somehow I knew what I was doing was wrong but I still did it.”

Wren wanted to reach for him, but the way Connor kept himself at a distance stopped her. “I know there’s nothing I can really say to convince you that this wasn’t your fault. I know you, Connor. I know how much you internalize guilt and shame and you hold it inside because you never want to let yourself make mistakes—”

“This was a huge mistake,” Connor’s eyes snapped to Wren’s. Tears shimmered in his eyes. “Wren, I could’ve been the reason you died!”

Wren’s eyes felt hot and gummy. Her throat tightened, but she swallowed and held back her tears. “Goddammit, Connor! Don’t you see that I need you? I’m not mad at you for what happened. I’m mad that you’re fucking pushing me away. The whole time that was happening, I wasn’t scared for me. I wasn’t upset with you. Not even a little bit. I was so terrified of losing you. You know who I blame? Axel Brewer. Don’t let him win.”

Connor’s lips parted and his posture loosened. He strode toward her with careful steps, as if he feared hurting her. He sat on the edge of the bed, and Wren threw her arms around him. She clung to him as if he might disappear. Her body trembled with soft sobs. Slowly, Connor’s arms wrapped around her. He buried his face in the crook of Wren’s neck.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Connor whimpered. Wren felt the hot wetness of his tears on her skin. She held him closer.

“It’s okay, it’s okay…” Wren cradled the back of his head. “I love you.”

Connor lifted his head. His hands cupped the sides of Wren’s face. “I love you so much.”

Wren smiled and pulled him back into a hug. They held each other until both of their tears subsided. Wren cried until all the terror she felt at Axel’s estate, all the disgust, all the sorrow washed down her cheeks and stained Connor’s blazer. She still held him, even after she stopped crying. Her throat throbbed and her eyes felt sore, but it was a good ache. Connor stroked her hair, nearly lulling Wren to sleep.

“How’d you remember me?” Wren queried, resting her chin on Connor’s shoulder.

Connor shifted so that he could look Wren in the face. “Kamski said it’s hard to reset a deviant because they have emotional memory. There were things that triggered my memories. I remembered you because you’re not just in my processor. You’re part of me, and they can’t take that away from us.”

A smile twitched at the corners of Wren’s mouth. She ran her fingers through Connor’s hair. His eyes fluttered shut at her touch. “I love you.”

Connor opened his eyes. His mouth curved upward. “I love you, too.”

“What else did you talk about with Kamski?”

“I wanted to check if there’s a way to see what happened to my memories, but we shouldn’t talk about that here.”

Wren nodded. Of course. Prometheus was always listening. Always listening through her. Poetic… A chill rippled down Wren’s spine. She had a guess as to why Axel thought overdosing her with Red Ice was poetic. If she was right, then that meant she was in deep shit. Deeper than usual.

A knock on the door announced Hank’s return. “Brought you some fries, as requested.” He handed the paper bag of greasy food over to Wren, who grinned while Connor let out a soft, exasperated sigh.

“Brewer’s still not talking,” Hank said as he sat down. “But since the killer isn’t associated with Typhon anyway, it’s not that big of an issue.”

“Actually, I’d like to talk to Brewer, but the team needs to meet up first,” Wren said before plopping a fry into her mouth.

Connor scrunched his brow, but didn’t ask.

“Yeah, but first, you’ve got some very anxious people waiting to see you.” Hank gestured toward the door and Tina burst inside the hospital room, nearly knocking Connor over as she threw her arms around Wren.

“Oh my God, I’m so glad you’re okay!”

Wren hugged her friend, grinning. “Careful, you’re crushing my fries!”

“Fuck your fries!” Tina withdrew, grinning.

“How come you end up in the hospital so much?” North said from the end of the bed, her arms crossed. Wren held out her arms. North rolled her eyes, but stepped around the bed and fell into Wren’s hug.

“Yeah, it can’t be healthy,” said Chris, entering with a bouquet of flowers.

“What do you mean? I’m in a hospital. Can’t get healthier than that, right?”

“I’m pretty sure the point is to be healthy enough to stay out of the hospital,” said Markus, patting Connor’s shoulder. North sat in the chair next to Hank.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” Tina said, peering into Wren’s fast food bag. “Can I have one?”

“Knock yourself out.”

“So, how was undercover life?” North asked.

Wren and Connor exchanged a grimace.

“That bad, huh?” Chris leaned against the wall beside Hank’s chair.

“I forgot how much I hated it,” Wren wrinkled her nose. “We need to meet at the Void. You guys have time?”

“I have to get back to the station, but one of you can catch Gavin and me up,” said Chris.

“Yeah, where is that asshole?” Wren frowned.

“At the station,” Chris replied. “We had to make it seem like we’re still working on the serial killer case, even if there’s nothing to go on anymore and I feel like a conspiracy theorist now.”

Tina’s shoulders slumped. “I’m almost to the point where I want some other team to take it over, as much as that would suck.”

“Alright, are we busting me out of here?” Wren asked, shifting to swing her legs over the sides of the bed.

“I think you can just leave,” said Tina.

“It’s a hospital, not a prison,” North replied.

“I’ll make sure she’s cleared,” said Connor, shaking his head. He left while Wren turned to Tina and North.

“I missed you guys. A lot.”

“We missed you too,” Tina beamed. She hugged Wren again. North’s lips twitched. One arm around Tina, Wren reached out for North, who squeezed Wren’s hand.

“We’ll meet you there,” said Markus. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks,” Wren smiled at him as North stood to leave.

“Keep us up to date,” Chris said, hugging Wren goodbye.

“Yeah. Thank you for the flowers.”

“Sure thing.”

Tina gave Wren one last hug before departing, too. “See you soon.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Once in the Void, Wren looked around at those of her friends available to gather. North and Markus sat next to each other, their shoulders brushing. Josh leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. Tina sat cross-legged on the floor near North’s legs while Hank sat on the edge of the couch, his elbows balancing on his knees. Even Kamski joined, standing by the console desk in the center of room. Connor stood on Wren’s right, his arms folded and a crease between his brows. An expansive feeling blossomed in Wren’s chest, and warmth for her friends tingled throughout her bloodstream. A small smile quirked her lips. If she survived Prometheus, she would spend the rest of her life loving her friends with everything she had.

“Alright, Connor. What did you find out that couldn’t be talked about elsewhere?” Hank queried.

“I believe that Brewer downloaded my memories. He said to transfer them to the ‘other one.’” Connor shifted and lowered his gaze. Wren’s brow puckered. “There’s something you all should know.”

North, Markus, and Josh exchanged a glance. Tina leaned forward. Wren’s chest tightened as she watched Connor struggle for the right words. His LED flickered yellow.

“I’m not the only Connor. The RK800 model has the ability to transfer memories and consciousness to other models. When I went to the CyberLife Tower the night of the Liberation, another Connor tried to stop me. My number is 313-248-317-51. His number was 313-248-317-60. There are other Connor models out there, at least nine. I think Axel downloaded my memories to one of them.”

“Why would he do that? What’s there to gain from having another Connor out there with all your memories?” North demanded.

Wren frowned. It did seem strange, just to have another Connor walking around. If this other Connor could fight and think exactly like her Connor, then couldn’t they stop him by anticipating his next moves? Wren’s stomach twisted. But the RK800 wasn’t the only type of Connor.

“Oh shit,” Wren breathed. Connor looked at her; his eyebrows raised. “Do you think your memories could be transferred to another type of RK?”

The corners of Connor’s mouth downturned and his eyes shifted to Markus. “It’s possible, but I don’t know for sure.”

“If I may,” said Elijah, stepping around the console desk with outstretched arms, “Connor’s memories could not be transferred to an earlier model, but they could be to a newer one.”

Wren’s stomach backflipped. That was exactly what she didn’t want to hear. She met Connor’s gaze. Her panic reflected in his eyes. “You don’t think…?”

Connor’s tongue poked out between his lips. “I thought he was destroyed at Atlas Montgomery’s estate.”

“If there are other RK800s, there could be more RK900s.”

“Hey, lovebirds, you wanna fill in the rest of us?” Hank barked.

“At Atlas’s estate last year, Connor and I found an RK900. What if his memories got downloaded to the RK900?” Wren explained.

“Again, why are Connor’s memories so important? What’s there to gain from having this Connor’s memories in another body?” asked North.

“Yeah, wouldn’t we just have another awkward, super-polite police detective walking around? I don’t see the harm in that,” said Tina.

“As much as I appreciate the compliment, this Connor wouldn’t be like me just because he shares my memories.”

“He’s right,” muttered Hank. He rubbed his mouth. “That night in the Tower, Sixty tried to kill me and Connor, memories and all. He had all of Connor’s memories, but none of the empathy.”

Connor folded his arms. “They might have another RK800 with all my memories, or an RK900 with all my memories. A better Connor. Every conversation we’ve had in secret, every plan, everything. They’d know it all.”

“Wasn’t Atlas with Prometheus, though? Why would Typhon need your memories to transfer them to RK900 if he was with Prometheus?” Josh queried.

A chill rippled down Wren’s spine. Poetic. “It was a trap.”

Connor glanced at her. “What?”

Wren rubbed her face. “Axel knew who we were. Someone blew our cover. He said something to me right before he drugged me. He said it was poetic for me to die that way. It’s one thing for him to figure out I wasn’t really Nicolette Black. It’s another thing to have him know something so personal. Remember how hard it was to find who I was before Prometheus?”

“Yeah. Took us weeks,” Hank snorted.

“Oh, holy fuck,” whispered Tina. “You’re not even Wren Blanchard in DPD’s system. You’re still under Wren Morgan, with that fake background. So, Axel had legit information.”

“If there was a mole in the DPD, Axel would’ve called me Morgan, not Blanchard. I trust everyone involved in this with me. I know none of you would sell me out. My past with Red Ice is extremely personal. Someone also failed to give you guys the information about the weapons deal that shooting happened. I gave that information to Jamie. Prometheus should’ve warned you all in time to stop that shooting, but they didn’t. The only common denominator is Prometheus. They must’ve fed information to Typhon. They’re the ones with the RK900. They’re the ones who needed Connor’s memories.”

“And now they know everything we’ve been up to,” Connor muttered.

“If we’re right about this, then they tried to kill you. There’s no way you can go back to them,” said Hank.

Wren shook her head. “No way. I’m not leaving the other cyborgs behind.”

“Wren, they might’ve betrayed you,” Tina said gently.

“I betrayed the androids as the Deviant Hunter,” Connor argued. “They still accepted me.”

“The cyborgs are Wren’s people,” agreed Markus. “She can’t leave them behind.”

Warmth flooded Wren’s chest once more as she gazed at her android friends. She dipped her head to them.

North sat up straighter. “So, what should we do?”

Wren opened her mouth, hoping some elaborate, well-thought-out plan would flow past her lips. But no sound came out. She hoped that by the time Prometheus discovered their plans to take them down that she’d know what to do. But in truth, she had no fucking clue what to do next. No plan magically popped in her head. There was nothing. They lost their only leverage: Wren operating from the inside.

She bowed her head. “I have no idea.”

“Not to rain on anybody’s parade, but we don’t know for sure that Prometheus blew your cover,” said Hank. “We need to find out how Axel found out your true identity.”

“One problem,” said Tina, twisting to look at Hank, “he won’t talk to anyone.”

“Maybe he’ll talk to me,” said Wren. “After all, he probably thinks I’m dead or close to it.”

Hank nodded slowly. “Maybe. If he doesn’t talk, then we’re just working based off a hypothesis that Prometheus blew your cover, downloaded Connor’s memories to some RK900 guy, and now knows everything we’ve been up to. If we’re wrong about this, then it could fuck up a lot.”

“It’s not like it’s a wild theory though,” said Tina. “I mean, come on. It’s Prometheus.”

“Yeah. They’re not above kidnapping children and turning them into cyborgs. I doubt they care about blowing Wren’s cover,” agreed Josh.

“I know,” Hank sighed.

“He’s right,” said Markus. “We have to make sure we exhaust every option if we’re to succeed.”

“In the meantime, you shouldn’t go back to that apartment. Until we know for sure what’s going on, we need to keep you away from Prometheus,” added North.

Wren folded her arms. “If they really want me, they’ll drag me back whether or not I’m staying in that apartment.”

“It’ll be harder for them to take you if you’re with us,” insisted North. “They’d have to kidnap you.”

“Fair enough,” Wren squared her shoulders. “Alright. I’ll talk to Axel and see if our hunch is right.”

“I’ll catch you up on what’s happened to Typhon on the way there,” said Hank, shrugging on his jacket.

Wren glanced toward Connor, who remained quiet. He kept his head bowed and his arms crossed. Wren waited for everyone else to clear out of the room, nodding to Hank—who motioned that he’d wait outside—before approaching Connor.

“You okay?”

“No,” Connor’s voice cracked. “It’s my fault.”

“Connor, we talked about this,” Wren’s shoulders slumped.

Connor looked up. “I know, but… The thought of someone else with my memories…”

“It isn’t your fault.”

“Prometheus might know everything. Because of me, you’ll be in danger.”

“Connor, I’m always in danger,” Wren shrugged. Connor’s lips parted and his LED flickered yellow. “I’m in danger now. Every time I talked to you guys about things other than the case, I put myself in danger. Every time I went back to that apartment and found 06 waiting for me, I had to come with some dumb excuse. I was in danger every time I went back to Prometheus. I’m in danger coming to the Void. And you know what? I wouldn’t be surprised if Prometheus doesn’t already suspect me of conspiracy. My lies to cover up why I’ve been so friendly to you and the team are weak at best. They already suspect me and for good reason.”

“But it would be my fault this time—”

“And now you know how I felt last year,” Wren said quietly. Connor’s frown deepened. Wren offered him a sad smile. “When I had the choice of returning to Prometheus or not. When those cyborgs attacked and Atlas Montgomery tried to kill us. Even now. All this secrecy, the Void… It’s all because of me. Because you and everyone else are in danger because of me. When Prometheus caught up to me last year, do you know how fucking terrified I was? That’s what made me choose to go back to them. I knew that if I stayed, all of my loved ones would be in danger. So, I chose to go back willingly. Rhett promised that I’d be taking them down, and that maybe one day I could come back, but honestly, I wasn’t sure if I ever believed him. I chose to go back, even though I was pretty sure I’d never see you again. I was trying to contain the damage to just me. I wasn’t going to let Prometheus touch you. Any of you.”

“Contain the damage?” Connor repeated.

“I’m still scared that just my being around you, and you planning to help me is going to get you hurt. Maybe having your memories puts me in danger. But Prometheus is my fault anyway. At least the danger will be focused on me.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?” Connor squinted at Wren. Her stomach twisted. Maybe her speech about always being in danger hadn’t been as eloquent as she thought. Connor flattened his lips and looked away for a moment. When he returned his gaze to her, his eyes pierced her. “You are not damage. I don’t want the damage to be contained to you. Wren, I’ve known about Prometheus since we met. I knew the risks before I fell in love with you. I’ve been trying my best to get you out—to free you—because you deserve better. If Prometheus hurts you, they hurt me, too.”

Wren gazed up at him, her chest aching to be close to his. Her eyes filled with tears. “If they hurt you, I would never forgive myself.”

Connor cradled Wren’s face in his hands, finally closing the distance between them. “I feel the same way.”

“What are we even arguing about?”

A small smirk graced Connor’s lips. “I could trace our steps and refresh your memory—mmf!”

Wren let her lips linger on Connor’s for a few moments. She withdrew and grinned. “For luck.”

“You don’t need luck.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wren drew in a deep breath before placing her hand on the scanner to let her into the interrogation room. She had a plan. Gripping Connor’s phone in her hand, Wren entered the room.

Axel Brewer lifted his head groggily, but sobered when he recognized Wren. A sneer curled his lips. “So, you’re finally awake.”

Wren lifted an eyebrow as she sat across from Axel. “Are you ready to talk?”

Axel shrugged and leaned back in his chair. Wren tilted her head speculatively. On cue, Chris walked in. “Sorry to interrupt, Detective Morgan. Here’s the file you requested.”

Wren held out her hand and looked away from Axel. “Thanks.”

Chris nodded and strode out of the room. Wren flipped through the file, though she didn’t read anything in particular. Connor’s phone vibrated softly with a text from Tina.

Tina: There was a nearly imperceptible reaction to the name “Morgan.” He didn’t seem to expect that. –Connor

Wren folded the file and laid it on the table.

“You know, you don’t look like a Wren. Not with the blonde. The red hair suits you much better.”

“I haven’t had time to wash the dye out. You know, since I was in the hospital?” Wren raised a brow.

“You did take longer to recover than I expected.”

Wren kept her composure, but Axel’s words still surprised her. He hadn’t tried to kill her with that Red Ice overdose? “Let’s cut to the chase. Who was your informant about my and Connor’s identities?”

“Well, his wasn’t too hard to figure out,” Axel bragged. “I mean, he’s the only RK800 model walking around. I saw him on TV when the DPD announced the new bullshit Human-Android Division.”

“And mine?”

“You’re with the DPD. I gave you something, now you give me something, sweetheart.”

“You’re not in a position to negotiate. Why not just tell me? You’ve got nothing to lose. We’ve got enough dirt on you to lock you up for a long time.”

Axel poked his cheek with his tongue. “I’ve got nothing to gain, either. And unlike you, I know where my loyalties lie.”

Wren frowned. “What, to Typhon? There’s nothing left of your syndicate. FBI’s all over that now. But you probably already knew that. So, it’s not to Typhon. What about your informant?”

Axel smirked. “You can guess all you like, doll. I see no reason to talk.”

Wren smiled coldly. “You know, I have a theory.”

“Congratulations.”

Axel’s sarcasm did not deter Wren. She knew her team watched on the other side of the two-way mirror. They observed every movement of Axel’s, and as soon as they saw something suspicious, they texted Wren. And unfortunately for Axel, Wren was watching him closely, too.

“You said something to me before you drugged me. You said it would be poetic for me to die that way. Now, I know my history with Red Ice is incredibly hard to find because I could barely find it. There aren’t a lot of traces of my identity left. It takes a shit ton of digging. I know you didn’t do all that digging yourself, because let’s face it, you don’t really care who I am. You say you found out because of the DPD, but here, I’m known as Wren Morgan with an entirely different background, so I know you’re lying about my identity.”

Tina: His stress levels are rising. You’re on the right track. –Connor

“When my friend called me Detective Morgan, you tried to hide your surprise, but you didn’t completely succeed. I think it’s because you know me as Wren Blanchard. Am I on the right track, sweetheart?” Wren paused, raising her eyebrows at Axel, who worked his jaw for a moment.

“That’s some theory,” he crowed, “but maybe you’ve just got a mole in the DPD.”

“Nope, that doesn’t play out. I’m Wren Morgan to the DPD, not Wren Blanchard. Have you listened to a word I’ve said?” Wren tilted her head as she eyed Axel calmly. He said nothing. “The only way you could’ve discovered my real identity is if someone who knows it told you.”

Axel shrugged. “Maybe you can’t trust all your friends.”

Wren laced her fingers together. “Or maybe you’re close with some of my enemies.”

Axel held Wren’s gaze but remained silent.

“Pauline Thomas,” Wren said. Axel’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “She ordered you to kill me. Your loyalties lie with Prometheus, because Typhon and Prometheus share some values, don’t they? Prometheus is the last real cause for humanity. It makes sense for you to ally yourself with them.” Wren leaned forward. “So. How was that theory?”

Axel stared at Wren for several seconds. Then, he clapped slowly. “Well done. That was entertaining. But, it’s just a theory. You’ve got nothing but speculation. Why else would you be interrogating me?”

“There are just a few pieces that I’m missing,” said Wren. “Why protect Prometheus and Pauline?”

Axel shifted and his eyes flicked to the camera in the corner of the room.

“Ah… You’re not protecting them. You’re protecting yourself.”

Axel met Wren’s gaze. “Like I said: I give you something, you give me something. S’how a relationship works, darling.”

“You want protection from them.”

Axel glanced toward the camera again. “Typhon was strong, but never as strong as Prometheus.”

Wren typed a hasty message to Connor and Tina: Shut the camera off. Record another way.

“I’ve told my colleagues to turn off the cameras. Prometheus won’t have access to this evidence. We have contacts in the CIA who can help protect you,” Wren promised. Part of her did not want to protect this monstrosity of a man from Prometheus.

Axel eyed the camera until the red light shut off. He straightened. “What do you wanna know?”

“Am I right?”

“Mostly.”

“Why would Pauline send me to infiltrate Typhon if she just planned to have me killed?”

Axel snorted. “Pauline didn’t want you dead. The dosage I gave you was enough to kill someone, but not you. You’ve had pure thirium leak into your bloodstream before. Your body has a higher tolerance to thirium and Red Ice. She wanted you incapacitated.”

“And Connor’s memories? She wanted them downloaded to know what we’ve been up to, right? And transferred to another RK800?”

“Not an RK800.”

Wren’s stomach flipped. “RK900.”

“You seem to have all this figured out. I don’t see what you need me for.”

“Why the big detour mission just to incapacitate me?”

Axel frowned. “It does seem like a waste of time.”

Wren scrunched her brow. “Why did she need Connor’s memories for the RK900? And why send me to infiltrate Typhon…?”

“C’mon, use that brain of yours,” Axel taunted. “Pauline never wants to get her hands dirty!”

Wren scowled at him. “Answer my questions.”

“I don’t fucking know. You think I went to every meeting?”

Wren’s eyes widened. “Typhon was a competitor. Prometheus sent me to dismantle Typhon.”

Axel frowned. “We had plans to work together—”

“I’m willing to bet you had a disagreement on some of these plans. And Prometheus solved this by getting rid of Typhon completely.”

Axel’s jaw tightened. “Prometheus wants to remain in the shadows. They have plans that I wasn’t privy to. I wanted to come out of hiding, to let humans know that there’s hope for victory, but Pauline insisted we wait. She wanted you incapacitated because she needs you for something. She wanted Connor’s memories because she said she needed them to activate the RK900 so that she wouldn’t need to start from scratch on its programming. I guess Pauline didn’t like how I handled things too loudly. So she’s stripped Typhon to its bare bones.” Axel grinned, half in admiration, half in disbelief. “That fucking bitch.” He slammed his fist on the table.

Wren glanced toward the two-way mirror, ice trickling through her veins. She stood to leave.

“You better sleep with one eye open, sweetheart. They will be coming for you, and they’re not going to hold back.”

Wren swallowed and left the room without looking back. She hurried into the observation room where her team waited. For a moment, they all stared at each other.

“So…” Chris drew out the “o” for longer than necessary. “They definitely know what we’ve been up to.”

“Phck,” Gavin hissed, dragging a hand through his har.

Wren leaned heavily against the wall. She was not surprised that she and Connor had guessed accurately, but part of her wished they were wrong. Now Prometheus knew every plan they’d come up with. They knew that Wren had been working with the DPD to take Prometheus down. They knew about the Void.

“Well, one thing’s for damn sure: whatever Prometheus wants to use you for, they’re not getting you back,” said Tina.

The corners of Wren’s mouth twitched. Her eyes slid to Connor, who avoided her gaze.

“What now?” Hank asked. “It’s your call, kid.”

If Prometheus knew everything, there was no point in trying to play along with them anymore. They needed to act quickly before Prometheus used their leverage. “We need to go to the Void.”

“Let’s lock this asshole up first,” said Gavin. He and Chris hurried to bring Axel Brewer to his cell while Tina and Hank left the observation room. Wren hung back with Connor.

“You okay?”

Connor sighed. “I’ll tell you in the Void.” He kissed Wren’s cheek. The two of them strode out to meet Tina and Hank in the bullpen. Gavin and Chris joined a moment later.

“If anyone asks, we’re going to lunch,” muttered Hank. They moved as a group toward the exit of the DPD station.

“Hank! I want you and your team in here, now!” Fowler’s shout silenced the rest of the bullpen. Hank, Wren, Connor, Tina, Gavin, and Chris froze. They shared slightly panicked glances before heading into Fowler’s office together.

“Congratulations on taking down a crime syndicate we didn’t even know existed,” Fowler’s voice glinted with an edge. “Meanwhile, the fuckin’ FBI’s breathing down our necks because the case your team was assigned is getting out of control!”

“Jeffrey, what are you talking about? The killer vanished and we infiltrated Typhon following a lead!” Hank snapped, his hands on his hips.

“Yeah, every trail we’ve followed has gone cold,” said Tina.

“And what do you mean ‘out of control’? The killer hasn’t done anything in three fuckin’ weeks,” added Gavin.

Fowler shook his head and turned on the TV. Reporter Joss Douglas stood in Hart Plaza, a grim look on his face.

“Police and fire have been working to remove the bodies for the past few hours, but the carnage here is hard to hide. Viewer discretion is advised, because this scene is graphic.” Joss moved aside to allow the camera to focus on the bodies behind him.

“Oh my God,” Tina breathed.

Six bodies—three androids and three humans—hung from the Spirit of Detroit statue’s arms. On a banner in purple blood read: NO TO INTERSPECIES LOVE.

Fowler changed the channel, and news anchor Rosanna Cartland filled the screen. “This horrific murder sends a strong statement, as the bodies were discovered in Hart Plaza, where the Android Liberation Movement took place nearly two years ago. Senator Catherine Zachary does not seem intimidated by this declaration, as she is still pushing to legalize interspecies marriage. With the increasing violence of this serial killer—”

Fowler cut off Cartland’s report by shutting off the TV. “I’m surprised you didn’t hear about this already. Connor and Wren have an excuse, but the rest of you—what the fuck have you been doing?”

“We’ve been sidetracked by Typhon,” snapped Tina. “That seemed more important!”

“Yeah, this killer hasn’t done jack shit for three weeks now. We helped break up Red Ice rings, shootings, and android trafficking thanks to our investigation!” added Gavin.

“Well, get back to solving this nightmare. Connor and Wren, you’re both not allowed. You’ve been undercover for too long. You’ve got to be reevaluated before you can go back into the field. If we don’t breakthrough with this case soon, FBI’s gonna take over. You’re dismissed.”

Wren’s stomach churned as she left Fowler’s office. Every time the killer struck, her mind imagined Connor as one of those bodies. Or Chloe. Or Tina. Wren met Connor’s gaze. Judging by his yellow LED, his thoughts conjured up something similar. Wren did not stop walking until they were in the parking garage.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Tina hissed, dragging her hands through her hair.

“Seriously, who the fuck is this guy? If he’s not Typhon, not Prometheus…” Chris leaned against Gavin’s truck.

“Of course the killer strikes when we’re distracted,” Gavin rolled his eyes. “What the fuck do we do now?”

“We can’t ignore Prometheus,” said Tina.

“But if we don’t do our jobs, we’ll all be fired,” argued Chris.

“We’ll split up,” said Hank. “Chris, Gavin, Tina, and I will go to the crime scene. Connor and Wren, go to the Void. We’ll meet up tonight and talk about the case. Alright?”

“Okay,” Wren breathed. Hank handed his keys over to Connor.

Wren and Connor hurried to Hank’s car. They did not speak the whole drive, but Wren occasionally glanced over at Connor to see his LED flicker yellow. He gripped the wheel tighter than necessary, too. Wren curled her fingers into her palms and focused on controlling her breathing. Great. A serial killer and Prometheus. As if things couldn’t get worse.

When they reached CyberLife Tower, Wren and Connor practically ran to the elevator and to the Void. They burst inside, and as soon as the door shut, Wren turned to Connor with wide eyes.

“Shit!” she breathed.

Connor’s LED shifted between yellow and red. “RK900 is meant to be a more efficient version of my non-deviant self. We need to find out if CyberLife still has any records on RK900. Maybe there’s something we can use—”

“We need to contact Rhett,” Wren paced back and forth. “We’ve gotta act fast, too. Fuck, I hate not having any sort of plan.”

Connor inhaled deeply. “You’re right. We need to plan something.”

“We need to get this fucking listening device out of me,” said Wren. “They know I’m on your side now. It would be helpful to talk to you without coming to the Void all the time.”

Connor nodded. “I’ll get Elijah.”

“I’ll text Rhett.” Connor left the Void while Wren used his phone to text Rhett.

You need to come back. Prometheus knows. New plan. –Wren

Rhett: I can be there in two days.

Wren sighed and sat on the sofa. What were they going to do? Her only leverage against Prometheus was gone. She just prayed they had enough to get CIA’s attention. But the cyborgs… Wouldn’t they be held liable for Prometheus’s dirty work? Would Prometheus terminate the cyborgs? And what about Wren? What was Prometheus planning to do with her? What did they need her for?

Elijah and Connor entered the room after a few minutes. Wren jumped to her feet. As quickly as she could, she filled in Elijah on what was happening. “You found the listening device Prometheus is using on me, right?”

“Yes,” said Elijah, lifting a brow.

“Can you take it out?”

“Not without a minor surgery,” said Elijah.

A lump swelled in Wren’s throat. “Whatever it takes.”

Elijah narrowed his eyes. “Might I suggest an alteration?”

“What?”

“Since Prometheus seems to require you for something, I suggest adding a tracking device in place of the eavesdropper. Ellis Hughman does not give up easily. Whatever they’re planning for you, they’ll find a way.”

Panic flowered in Wren’s chest. She swallowed the rising nausea. “How well did you know Ellis Hughman?”

“I knew Dr. Hughman and Axel Brewer quite well when I was at CyberLife. Dr. Hughman was in charge of CyberLife’s experimental studies. He helped design many of CyberLife’s prototypes. I believe he had a hand in Connor’s design as well, but that was after my time. Axel Brewer was merely a shareholder. I believe he left when we developed more advanced androids. He was always a paranoid man.” Elijah gazed off into space.

Wren and Connor exchanged a glance. Connor folded his arms and frowned. “Why didn’t you tell us before?”

Elijah lifted his eyebrows. “It did not seem entirely important. Would it have changed your investigation at all? I already researched what I could, but none of it was really relevant. I did recently find something interesting about Hughman, however. After I left CyberLife, he started getting more experimental. From what I can tell, he’s responsible for the cyborg developments.”

Somehow, knowing the man responsible for her cybernetic limbs made Wren feel weird. Part of her supposed she was grateful—after all, without Hughman’s experiments, she probably wouldn’t be alive. The other part of her wanted to sock Hughman in the face. Was he also responsible for targeting her? How much of her cyborg condition was orchestrated by CyberLife, and how much of it was Prometheus? Had she been targeted as solely an experiment, or recruitment for Prometheus, or was it a mixture of both?

“What about RK900? Is there anything about him?” Connor queried.

Elijah snorted. “Unfortunately, I’m still trying to uncover everything that CyberLife was up to while I was gone. They encrypted a lot of information and files that are proving… difficult to decrypt.”

“So Axel was a shareholder at CyberLife…” Wren crossed her arms. “Weird, considering his hatred of androids.”

“I believe it’s less of a hatred for androids and more of a fear of them. He accused us of playing god, making androids superior to humans. He was always talking about how the machines would rise up, so he left CyberLife.”

“What about Hughman? Do you have any idea what Prometheus could need me for?”

“I can only speculate,” said Elijah, holding up his hands. “But you should know that Dr. Hughman is both an expert in android and human anatomy. If he created cyborgs, and you’re the first…”

Wren clenched her teeth to keep her bottom lip from trembling. Something about being the first, and Elijah’s suggestion, made her feel like Prometheus intended her to be the last. Or worse.

“So, you’ll remove the listening device?”

“Tomorrow afternoon. I might be an expert in android anatomy, but I am not in human. We’ll need a doctor. But yes, tomorrow we can remove it. You’ll be free from Prometheus’s spying.”

Free. She was that much closer to freedom. She only prayed that she’d make it all the way.

Chapter Text

Connor’s thirium pump quivered, and his internal wiring seemed frazzled. His hands clenched the steering wheel a little too tight.

Free.

Wren could be free. Free from Prometheus’s ears and eyes. Free to speak her mind, free to actually be herself.

Wren had not uttered a word the whole drive to Hank’s. Instead, she stared out the window, unmoving. Did she want to be free?

Of course she did. Why would she have fought to get this far?

So why did she seem so distant?

Connor shook his head at himself. Before his deviancy, the increases of his software instability always sent a shock through him. When he considered himself compromised, and knew he was well on his way to deviancy, Connor experienced—back then he had not known it—anxiety. And when he was faced with those red walls—that he tore through, not once, not twice, but three times—part of him hesitated. There was a certain comfort in being a machine. CyberLife’s control of him meant his path was certain. Following his programming, obeying their rules, meant that he knew exactly what his purpose was. Deviancy meant the unknown.

Freedom from Prometheus—even as small as getting rid of a listening device that invaded Wren’s privacy—probably felt similarly to Wren. She had lived so much of her life as their machine. She was essentially preparing to deviate all over again but in a more extreme way. She was directly defying someone who had the power to destroy a lot of lives. And Connor knew Wren intimately—doing this meant putting lives in danger, and she did have a hero complex—so of course she was anxious about being free.

He reached over to her and placed a hand on her knee. She jumped, jerked out of her reverie.

“If you had an LED, it’d be red right now.”

Wren grimaced. “Is it that obvious?”

“Probably to me, since I know you well.”

Wren offered Connor a small, sad smile. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I don’t really know.”

Connor’s mouth quirked into a half-smile. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Wren pulled her knees to her chest. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“You’re feeling guilty about being free, aren’t you?”

Wren scowled. “How did you—”

“I know you, remember?”

“Well, yeah. They’re listening now, probably.” Wren eyed Connor, who dipped his head. Anything regarding their plans needed to be communicated through interface, still.

Connor parked in Hank’s driveway. Three other vehicles were parked along the street—Gavin’s bike, Tina’s car, and Chris’s. Inside Hank’s living room, the team sat around, wearing parallel faces of concern and stress. Connor shut and locked the door while Sumo trotted up to Wren, wagging his tail. Wren squatted and scratched behind Sumo’s ears.

“I take it that none of you have good news,” Connor surmised.

Hank leaned against the threshold to the kitchen and folded his arms. “Whoever’s doin’ this is good at not leaving behind evidence.”

“All we can really say for sure is that there are definitely multiple perps,” said Gavin, running his hand along Sumo’s back, who rounded the room, stopping by each person for a pet.

“And they’re strong as fuck because holy shit,” Tina shook her head. “That crime scene was something else.”

Connor frowned and took the tablet from Chris, swiping through the photos. To hang the bodies from the statue, the perpetrators needed to be strong, yes. There would at least need to be ten physically fit humans to accomplish this. “No fingerprints?”

Chris took the tablet back. “Nada.”

“We are so fucked!” Gavin groaned. “We’re still no closer to solving this case.”

“Cases go cold all the time,” said Tina.

“Not while the killer’s still active, though,” said Chris. “I can’t afford to lose this job because of some psychotic, smart, serial killers.”

“Jeffrey’s not gonna fire any of us. Worst comes to worst, we’ll lose the case to the feds. It sucks, but it happens. We just cracked down on an underground crime syndicate that had its hands in every fuckin’ dirty cookie jar in the country. Give yourselves some credit,” Hank said.

Tina nodded. “Yeah, you know what? Fuck this. We deserve a night off.”

“Is that the best idea?” Connor queried.

“I agree with Tina,” said Wren, slipping her hands into her back pockets, “we’ve been undercover for months, working on this case. We didn’t get the killers, but we took down others. I want a night where I don’t have to give a shit about anything. I want to feel like me again.”

“Well said, kid,” said Hank.

“Let’s go out,” said Tina. “We’ll invite the others. We need this.”

“Fuck yeah, we do,” said Gavin.

Connor scrunched his brow. “Is it wise, Wren? You have surgery tomorrow.”

“Surgery?” Chris straightened in his seat.

“I’m getting the listening device removed tomorrow afternoon. If Prometheus knows everything, then it’s time to stop playing their game by their rules.”

Tina grinned. “Hell, yes!”

“Well, they probably know you’re planning to do that, so you shouldn’t go back to that apartment.”

“She shouldn’t go back to that apartment ever again,” Connor glowered. “She should stay with us.”

“I shouldn’t stay in the same place too long,” said Wren. “They’ll come after me, and we need to be ready.”

“Yeah, well they won’t get you,” said Gavin.

“Be prepared for a buddy system like no other,” agreed Chris.

“So, are we still going out or what?” Tina bounced in her chair.

“Fuck it, why not?” Hank shrugged.

Tina sauntered over to Wren and Connor. “Wren, come on. All your clothes are back at our place. Don’t worry, Connor. She’ll be very safe with Chloe and me.”

Tina grabbed Wren by the shoulders and steered her toward the front door. Connor smiled, though his thirium pump jumped a little. If anyone would be the best at protecting Wren, it was himself. Well, probably Wren since she understood Prometheus’s tactics a bit better, but then it would be him. Not that he didn’t trust Tina or Chloe, but he doubted they would be very effective in a fight against cyborg trained assassins.

Wren smiled apologetically at Connor. She mouthed a quick I’ll be fine before Tina steered her out the door.

“Wait, she didn’t even say where we were meeting—oh, never mind, she just texted.” Chris grinned and shook his head. “Well, I’m gonna go see if the missus would like to join.”

Gavin followed Chris out the door without a goodbye. Hank sighed and shook his head.

“I’m getting too old to keep up with all of you.”

***

Almost an hour later, Connor sat in jeans and a flannel at rustic bar. Indie and alternative music played over the speaker. Hank had picked out a table in the outside seating area. The night air whispered through the patio, cool with a hint of autumn. Chris and his wife Skye arrived first.

“Hey, Skye,” Hank greeted, hugging her gently. He smiled and bought Chris and Skye beers. Skye’s engagement ring caught the light as she wrapped her hands around the neck of the bottle. Connor tilted his head.

With a quick scan, he estimated that the ring cost about two thousand dollars. It was certainly a beautiful ring, but Connor wasn’t quite sure why humans purchased rings for one another. He knew, legally, the concept of marriage and its appeals—but he still had not wrapped his processor around why people wanted to get married and saw it as such a milestone in their lives. Although, the idea of being legally tied to Wren so that the whole world knew certainly had its appeal…

“You okay, man?” Chris queried.

Connor nodded. “Sorry. I was… lost in thought.”

“It’s okay,” said Chris. He put his arm around Skye, who smiled nervously at Connor.

“I hope everyone’s being nice to you at the DPD,” she said. With a small elbow to Chris’s ribs, she added, “I told him to make sure he was nice to you when you got hired back on.”

Connor’s interactions with Skye were admittedly few, but he already felt a warmth for her. “Chris has always been friendly, even before the Liberation.”

“Good. I’d hate to have to hurt anyone,” Skye grinned and kissed Chris’s cheek.

Connor doubted that Skye could do any damage to anyone, but he refrained from commenting. Gavin arrived next and greeted Skye in a way that seemed so unlike Gavin that Connor did a doubletake. Gavin held his arms wide and grinned as he bent down to kiss Skye’s cheek.

“It’s good to see you, Skye!”

“You too, Gavin,” Skye grinned. “Damian misses you.”

“I miss the little guy, too. Next time you guys need a date night, I’m ready to babysit. You know I don’t have anything to fuckin’ do.”

“Man, you better not be using that kind of language around my son,” Chris shook his head.

Gavin feigned looking offended. “I’ll have you know that I am a professional—”

Hank snorted. “Yeah, you’re real fuckin’ professional.”

“You’re one to talk, old man.”

Connor smiled softly and shook his head. Markus, North, and Josh stood in the doorway, looking around the bar. North seemed to be trying to get Markus to dance, but he shook his head shyly. Josh patted North’s shoulder and said something to her. She seemed to give in, if reluctantly. Connor stood to greet them.

“Connor, how are you?” Markus patted Connor’s back.

“I’m doing well, thank you,” said Connor. Well, maybe not well. Better than he had been lately. Things finally seemed to be looking up, and in between all the dark and stormy clouds that had been dumping rain and lightning upon Connor and his friends the past several months, was a silver horizon. “How’s Jericho?”

“Er, good,” said Markus.

“That’s a lie,” North muttered, crossing her arms. “With this serial killer, we’re backlogged on progressing advocacy for android-human relationships.”

Connor’s shoulders slumped, and the image of getting an apartment with Wren fizzled away. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

North offered Connor an apologetic twitch of her lips. “No, I am. Tonight’s supposed to be chill. I’ll try not to be too hotheaded.” She shot a glare at Josh, but he rolled his eyes with an exasperated grin. Connor led them to the table. Connor shot his gaze toward the doorway every few seconds, waiting for Wren to walk in.

Tina and Chloe entered first, holding hands and dressed completely opposite. Chloe wore a dress and curled her hair while Tina wore what she normally did—jeans, leather jacket, and a black top. She wore more makeup and styled her hair, though. Wren entered and Connor parted his lips.

A sweater dress and over-the-knee boots dried Connor’s mouth. Grinning as North, Josh, and Markus jumped up to greet her, Wren looked happy, and it looked beautiful on her. The three androids wrapped Wren in a tight hug. North sat Wren beside Connor and then sat across from them.

“I’ve been expanding the branch of Jericho that deals with battered androids, and have been running a sort of rehab for former Traci models. I think I figured a way to get them jobs, by transforming it into a battered women’s shelter for androids and humans!” North grinned.

“North, that’s great,” Wren praised. Her eyes danced. “You know, I’m really proud of you. You’ve come so far.”

North immediately rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Don’t get all sentimental about it.”

But her lips twitched with the faintest of smiles.

The humans ordered drinks and appetizers—which Tina insisted was the main reason she picked this bar—and soon, chatter drowned out the music playing over the speakers. After a while, it became pretty clear that none of the humans would be able to drive themselves home. Connor found himself almost in sensory overload with the amount of conversations he partook in.

“Hey Connor, can you do a backflip?” Chris queried loudly.

Connor tilted his head. “Yes?”

“Bullshit!” Gavin slurred. “S’no way.”

“Oh, I can!” Wren got up, but swayed. Connor caught her and settled her back in her seat. Wren giggled. “On second thought, maybe I should wait until the room stops spinning.”

“Good idea,” Connor agreed. A soft song played on the speakers. It echoed grungily throughout the mostly empty bar—not surprising on a Tuesday night—and a chill rippled down Connor’s spine. His synthskin pimpled with goosebumps.

I am not the only traveler,

Who has not repaid his debt.

I’ve been searchin’ for a trail to follow, again,

Take me back to the night we met…

Wren jumped from her seat and gripped Connor’s hand. “Oh, I love this song!”

She pulled him close to her, slamming her body clumsily into his. Connor’s lips twitched and his thirium pump seemed to expand with warmth in his chest as he held Wren’s hand gently in his. He placed the other on Wren’s waist and swayed to the beat with her.

“You remembered what I taught you!” Wren grinned, tilting her head back. Her hair was now long enough to tickle the back of Connor’s hand.

“Of course I remembered. I have the memory of a computer.”

Wren frowned. “An elephant.”

“What?”

“That’s the saying: to have a memory like an elephant.”

“I know, but that doesn’t make any sense. Computers are far more efficient.” 

Wren snorted and rested her head on Connor’s chest. “I’ve missed this.”

Connor smiled and pressed his cheek against Wren’s head. “Me too.”

The song faded, and a more fast-paced one brightened the speakers.

Tina stood up and pumped her fists in the air. “Let’s dance!”

North, Tina, and Chloe joined Connor and Wren. After some convincing, Skye and Chris hurried over. Before Connor knew it, Hank, Gavin, Markus, and Josh were dancing, too. Well, dancing was a strong word for it. For the most part, they were jumping up and down and singing lyrics. Wren held Connor’s hand, jumping up and down with the biggest smile on her face. Connor jumped with her, forgetting he looked ridiculous—he’d do anything to keep that smile on Wren’s face. At some point, Hank twirled Wren around, chuckling at her overexaggerated spin.

Connor paused, his eyes lingering on each smile in the room. Tina smiled and pressed her lips to Chloe’s. North laughed at the surprised look on Chloe’s face, Josh elbowed Markus as Wren tried to get him to dance with her while Markus grinned and shook his head. Gavin, Chris, and Skye laughed as Hank moonwalked (very poorly). Connor’s chest wanted to burst. Before deviancy, he had a number and an uncanny dedication to CyberLife. Now, with Wren and Hank, he had a family.

Wren danced back to Connor. She threw her arms around his neck. With a smile, Connor wrapped his arms around her and spun her. Setting her back down, he kissed her. The world melted away for a moment; all that mattered was Wren and the taste of her lips. A bit like honeyed whiskey, and her lips were rougher than his.

Connor pulled away first, since Wren needed to breathe, and held her gaze for several heartbeats. She cracked first, a soft smile curving her mouth and sparkled in her eyes.

“Damn, Chris, why don’t you kiss me like that anymore?” said Skye.

“I got a bad back.”

Hank and Gavin burst out laughing, and Connor’s cheeks burned. But Wren didn’t seem to mind. Instead, she hugged him tighter.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

***

Back home, Hank immediately went to bed. Wren hugged herself as she checked the locks to the windows. Connor slipped his hands into his pockets. Tension pulled Wren’s shoulders, and her teeth nibbled her lip every so often.

“Do you mind if I borrow your shower?” Wren asked as she checked the second living room window.

“Of course,” Connor said, tilting his head. “I’ll check the windows, sweetheart. You go ahead.”

Wren rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I know you’re scared.” Connor kissed Wren’s forehead.

“Tina gave me this stuff that’s supposed to help hair dye wash out. I’m ready to get Nicolette completely off me.”

“I understand.” Connor tucked some of the blonde behind Wren’s ear. “While you do look beautiful no matter what hair color you have, I miss the red.”

“I forgot to pack some clothes, so I might have to borrow some of yours, too.”

Connor suppressed a shiver. The sight of Wren in his clothes—the sleeves a bit too long, the pants sitting low on her hips, the way the collar usually hung off her shoulder—it caused a lump to form in his throat. He kissed Wren’s temple and swept past her to check the window locks and cleared his throat.

“Of course. Towels are in the cabinet under the sink.”

“Okay.” Wren padded out of the room.

Connor circled the house, checking all of the locks on the windows and doors—even in Hank’s room—before slipping back into his own. He shut the door with a gentle click. The bathroom connected to his room only had a toilet, sink, and shower, as opposed to the one in the hall, which boasted a tub.

“Connor?” Wren called softly from the bathroom.

He entered the steaming bathroom. “Did you forget a—”

No, Wren hadn’t forgotten a towel, for one sat crumpled on the floor outside of the shower. Wren peeked out from behind the curtain. “Wanna join me?”

Wren’s question sent a hot jolt through Connor’s body—one that lingered in below the belt. Despite his arousal, though, Connor would be a gentleman. He’d let Wren lead the way and would not overstep any of her boundaries, no matter how hard—Wren would’ve appreciated that pun—things got.

Connor unbuttoned his flannel and stripped it off.

Wren had ducked back inside the shower. “Only if you want, of course.”

Connor answered her by dropping his belt to the floor with a clang. Once naked, Connor paused before stepping into the shower. Would Wren be disturbed by his… situation?

“Connor?”

Connor stepped inside the shower, and would’ve stopped breathing if he needed to. Fuck, his processor’s playback of Wren’s body didn’t even compare to the real thing. White scars left comets on her skin. There were some thicker and nastier ones that twisted Connor’s biocomponents, and he wanted to press gentle kisses to them and beg Wren’s forgiveness for not being there. It was silly, since she received most of her scars before they even met, but when Wren turned, Connor faced the one that always felt like a punch straight to his thirium pump regulator.

The one where the bullet ripped through Wren’s body instead of his, the one that puckered and said, “Hey, you were there for this one, but it didn’t matter and you almost fucking lost her, and you were too much of a coward then to say you loved her, and she could’ve died without ever knowing—”

“Connor, are you okay?” Wren lifted a brow, her arms covering her breasts.

Connor jerked himself out of his thoughts. “I’m fine.”

But Wren, rA9 bless her, knew him too well. She’d followed his gaze and touched her scar. “Are you ever going to stop feeling guilty about it?”

“Probably not,” Connor admitted, avoiding Wren’s gaze. Her hands grabbed his, and she pulled him close to her. His body pressed against her wet skin.

“Well, how do you think I feel about you getting shot for me? There aren’t any scars, but I know you did,” Wren weaved her arms around Connor’s neck.

“Similar to how I feel,” Connor muttered. “I don’t mean to; I just have a very vivid memory.”

Wren ran her fingers down the back of Connor’s neck, sending chills down his spine. “I know. I can’t imagine. I’m kind of glad I was knocked out when you got shot, and I was pretty out of it after we got out of Montgomery’s place last year.”

Connor’s lips twitched. “It doesn’t help that every time I see you naked, my processor breaks a little.”

“Why?”

“You’re beautiful.”

“That was cheesy.” But Wren’s smile warmed Connor’s metal heart.

“It looks like the blonde is beginning to wash out some.” He brushed his fingers along Wren’s hairline. Her eyes fluttered shut.

“Good.” She opened her eyes and Connor let his hands drift her waist. The hot water streamed down both their bodies. Wren’s head tilted upward, and Connor met her mouth with his. His hands itched to roam over her body, and he throbbed with want.

He broke off the kiss, leaving Wren panting a bit. “May I?”

Wren answered with a deeper kiss, pressing her hips closer to his. Connor slid his fingers over Wren’s thigh and in between her legs. She gasped at his touch, and her lips dragged down his, and her grip around his neck tightened. Her head tilted back, letting water run down the pinkish strands. But Wren wasn’t a selfish lover. She caught Connor’s lips again, and it was his turn to gasp at her touch.

He had a harder time keeping quiet. “Ah—fuck, Wren.” He thrust out his hands to catch himself, flattening them against the cold shower wall. But doing so distanced their bodies, so with one hand, Connor pulled Wren closer, pressing their chests together. Kissing under a shower stream was sloppy, but there was something about it that Connor liked. He didn’t need to breathe, but whenever Wren ran her hand along him like that, he found himself panting heavily. But whenever he did, his sensors indicated that Wren’s body reacted to his noises well.  

Wren whimpered when Connor returned his fingers between her legs. Her grip on him slackened, but returned with strength in his hair. In moments like this, with Wren’s lips parted in a nearly-silent moan, the need to express how much she meant to him flickered through his circuits. The whimper that escaped Wren’s lips made Connor’s processor stutter. Her nails dug into his back and her mouth bit onto his shoulder. In the places where she touched him, his synthskin rippled back, exposing the plastic underneath. Connor’s biocomponents twisted. He hated this reminder that he wasn’t entirely human, that he couldn’t experience everything the way Wren could, that they would constantly face obstacles that neither of them could control—like aging and death and anti-android-human relationship laws—but Wren’s eyes widened at the patches where his plastic gleamed in the water. Her thumb rubbed across his cheek.

“You’re beautiful, Connor.”

She’d told him this before. But here, naked in more ways than one, Connor finally felt the gravity of her words. Tears burned his eyes, and he closed his eyes. Words couldn’t describe this feeling, so he tried to say it with a kiss. His mouth moved against hers desperately, hungry to be with her in every way that he could.

“I want you, Connor.” Wren’s voice came out slightly hoarse. Her eyes searched his. Connor ran his hands down Wren’s sides and cupped her bottom. He lifted her and pressed her against the wall. She let out a small squeal. “It’s cold, sorry!”

Connor smiled and kissed her deeply. Wren guided him toward her. When he entered her body, Connor couldn’t stop the groan, or his synthskin peeling back from his crotch up to his artificial bellybutton. The edge, where synthskin met plastic, glowed blue, casting a pretty glow onto Wren’s skin. They fell into a slow rhythm, one that matched the stillness of this moment.

«SSBsb3ZlIGhlciBtb3JlIHRoYW4gYW55dGhpbmc=»      

When they both finished, Connor bowed his head in the crook of Wren’s neck. The water was starting to run cold, but they waited in each other’s arms for a few more moments. Wren’s chest heaved as she caught her breath. Connor’s synthskin returned in the places it had retreated.

“I love you, Wren,” Connor murmured into her skin.

Wren cupped his face, guiding his face toward hers. She kissed him chastely and then held his gaze. “I love you, too. No matter what happens, I…” She stopped and swallowed. Connor furrowed his brow at the redness of Wren’s eyes. “I want you to know that I love you, and I have always loved you, I never stopped, and I’m so sorry they made you think that I had, that I played along—”

“Wren,” Connor pulled her into a hug, pressing his cheek to her head. “It’s okay.”

Wren clung to him. “I just… No matter what happens, never forget that, okay?”

A chill feathered through Connor’s blue blood. “What do you think is going to happen?”

Wren shut off the water to avoid answering. Goosebumps exploded on her skin in the cold air. Connor grabbed her towel and wrapped it around her, but held her shoulders. He held her gaze, awaiting her answer. “Just in case…” She stopped and swallowed, leveling her eyes with Connor’s naked chest instead of his eyes. “Prometheus wins, and—”

Connor cupped her face. “Don’t say things like that. It sounds like you’ve given up, and you’re saying goodbye.”

Wren furrowed her brow. She placed a hand over Connor’s. The synthetic skin of her hand peeled away, and Connor felt the vibration of her trying to connect with him. His skin rippled back, and the familiar jolt of their connection waved through his circuits.

I’m not giving up. I’m going to fight like hell to get the chance to hold you again. I promise.

Connor held Wren’s gaze.

Me too.

And he would. Of that much, he was certain.

Chapter Text

The next day, Wren awoke from surgery to find Elijah Kamski’s face staring down at her. He smiled pleasantly as Wren sat up, feeling a bit sore, but she’d suffered worse.

“I’m pleased to announce that we successfully removed the listening device Prometheus implanted in you. I deactivated it, but I would destroy it for good measure, if I were you.” He placed the tiny device in Wren’s palm. She rolled it between her fingers. This stupid, tiny device monitored her for the past several months? Made her feel like she couldn’t speak honestly with her friends?

She curled her fingers around it and clenched it. The strength that her cybernetic limbs possessed crushed the device with ease, leaving it nothing more than broken metal bits in her palm. She swiped them onto her bedside tray. “Done. Anything else I should know?”

Elijah blinked. “I bet you have a mean right hook.”

“Guess I have CyberLife to thank for that,” Wren flexed her artificial fingers.

Elijah hummed. “I placed an experimental tracker in place of Prometheus’s listening device. To my understanding, we have a plan of attack in the works, but just in case they decide to sweep you away…”

“Thank you.” Wren rubbed the back of her neck. CyberLife knowing her whereabouts at all times instead of Prometheus kind of felt like trading one evil for another, even if it was the lesser of the two. “It’s not gonna stay there forever, is it?”

“We will remove the tracker when all of this is done,” said Elijah. “If I, or CyberLife, wanted to track you, I wouldn’t have told you.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“I’m sure it feels like an invasion of privacy,” said Elijah, turning from Wren to face the window. Detroit’s skyscrapers glinted in the sunlight. “But we’ve essentially declared war on Prometheus. Make no mistake: they’re here in Detroit, and they’re watching us.”

A lump swelled in Wren’s throat. “I know.”

Elijah turned, and his eyes pierced Wren even from across the room. “I wouldn’t go anywhere alone.”

Jesus, Elijah knew how to unsettle her. Wren rubbed her wrist. “Wasn’t planning on it. Do I have to stay here, or—”

“This was a minor operation,” said Elijah. “I’ll send in the doctor.”

Before Elijah swept out of the room, Wren called, “Thank you. For… You didn’t have to help me as much as you have.”

Elijah paused in the doorway, a sly smile curving his mouth. Somehow, he always looked like he was in the middle of plotting something. But here, this looked like pure amusement, even fondness. “There are a lot of sins CyberLife committed, sins I was aware of and turned my back on, and sins I wasn’t aware of but am now coming face-to-face with. I’m sure serving Prometheus makes you feel similarly.”

Wren bowed her head. “A lot of blood on my hands.”

“Just make sure you don’t try to wash blood with blood,” Elijah winked, and left the room. Wren licked her lips and rubbed her temples. Then, she reached for her phone and called Connor.  

“Wren, how’d it go?”

Wren smiled. “Hello to you, too.”

“Sorry,” Connor sounded like he was smiling, too. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. It went well. I’m officially free of Prometheus’s ears.”

“Let’s worry about getting you free from them for good,” said Connor.

“I should be free to go here pretty soon. Can you pick me up?”

“I can’t,” said Connor. “I’m about to be evaluated.”

“Evaluated?” Wren’s brow scrunched. “Oh. To reenter the field.”

“Yes. This is my first psychological evaluation.”

“Well, good luck… Can Tina or Hank come get me?”

“I don’t think so. Captain Fowler is keeping a very close eye on all of the HAD.”

“Shit.”

“See if Chloe can. I’m sorry, you know I would—”

“I know, sweetheart,” Wren fiddled with the sheets of her hospital bed. The doctor entered her room. “Hey, I gotta go.”

“Alright. I’ll text Chloe. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Wren hung up and smiled at the doctor. “Am I good to go?”

“Yes! Everything went well and looks good… You’ll need to fill out some paperwork. This was a minor operation, but I want to stress that you shouldn’t be doing any strenuous activity for a while. About a day or two.”

“I’ll do my best,” Wren promised. Her word probably wasn’t worth much, considering she had just declared war on an underground organization of assassins, but the doctor didn’t need to know that.

After filling out her paperwork, Chloe arrived to take Wren to the townhouse. Wren helped Chloe carry in some groceries.

“How’s living with Tina?” Wren asked, sticking a jug of milk into the fridge.

“Oh, it’s great. I didn’t know I was a snuggler until I started sharing a bed with Tina. We haven’t touched your room, by the way. I mean, I have when I’ve cleaned in there, but it’s all the same.”

Wren laughed softly. “Chloe, it’s okay. I appreciate it, but I wouldn’t care.”

Chloe relaxed. “Okay, good. I didn’t want you to think that Tina was kicking you out or replacing you by having me live with her.”

“I left,” Wren shrugged. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

“I think Connor would’ve.”

“Why?”

“He came over sometimes, but only to sleep in your room.”

Wren’s heart clenched. Damn, she hated hearing about how hard Connor took her return to Prometheus. She cleared her throat and continued putting away groceries. “How are you and Tina?”

“Oh, we’re good,” said Chloe. “We’ve been having a lot of home dates, with all that’s been going on… But I like it. Tina and I have been learning origami together.”

“Oh, cool,” Wren smiled, but something in her chest ached. Would she ever get to have normal dates with Connor? Argue with him about laundry, or which movie they’d go see? Or would they be damned to fight, tooth and nail, for what they had? Would they constantly live afraid of Prometheus and serial killers? Wren swallowed. “I mean, it’s not cool that you guys feel like you can’t go out.”

Chloe’s shoulders slumped and she bowed her head. “Yeah. I don’t understand why some people hate androids so much that they want to hurt us.”

Wren’s hands curled into fists, itching to punch whoever kept killing the android-human couples. “I don’t know, Chloe. I’m sorry that people suck.”

“People don’t suck,” Chloe smiled graciously. “There are some who do, yes, but I believe humanity’s good.”

Wren picked at her nails. “I wish had your optimism.”

“Don’t you?”

“After the stuff I’ve seen, it’s kind of hard to.”

“Yes, but you’ve seen some good, too.”

Suddenly, Wren didn’t like the way Chloe looked at her—so hopeful, and believing, and trustworthy. Like Wren hadn’t hurt innocent people under Prometheus’s influence. As if Wren weren’t a trained killer. “I’ve been the people who suck, Chloe.”

“You’re not now, though,” said Chloe. Her smile was a little too understanding. “You’re trying to fix that.”

“Not because I’m a good person or anything,” said Wren.

“You’re trying to take down Prometheus.”

“For a lot of selfish reasons.”

“Some not-so-selfish ones, too. Tina told me about the other cyborgs, and how you keep doing things to protect the ones you love.”

Wren folded her arms. “Yeah.”

“You’re trying your best. That’s good to me.”  

“I—” Wren stopped. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” said Chloe. “Go get some rest. I’ve heard that surgery can make you pretty tired.”

“Yeah. Are you sure—”

“Go!” Chloe shooed Wren upstairs.

Wren padded into her old bedroom. It looked the same, except a framed picture of her and Connor lay faceup on the bed. Wren’s heart twisted. Connor probably laid on her bed, staring at the picture, her iPod playing music softly to pluck at the sadness within him. She moved the picture to the bedside table and laid on top of the covers. Downstairs, Chloe started up the vacuum cleaner. The static noise lulled Wren’s eyelids to droop. If she could help it, she’d never abandon Connor like that again.

***

When Wren awoke, she had ten texts from Tina, North, and Connor.

Tina: Hey b hope everything went well! [Delivered 2:37 PM]

North: FaceTime me when you get a chance. I miss your stupid face. [Delivered 2:45 PM]

Connor: I think the psych eval went well. I won’t know full results until I’ve passed the other tests, though. [Delivered 3:00 PM]

Connor: Call me when you wake up. [Delivered 3:07 PM]

Connor: Sorry if that seemed really serious. [Delivered 3:21 PM]

Tina: Hey, is Chloe with you? [Delivered 3:25 PM]

Tina: Yo [Delivered 3:27 PM]  

Tina: She isn’t answering her phone [Delivered 3:30 PM]

Tina: Hey is everything ok??? [Delivered 3:31 PM]  

Tina: Hellooooooooo???? [Delivered 3:34 PM]

3:37. Shit, Wren slept for an hour and a half? She was more tired than she thought. Tina’s seemed the most urgent, so Wren called her.

“Fuck, Wren! I was about to send a patrol car over!” Tina said.

“I was taking a nap,” Wren replied, wiping her eyes.

“Sorry,” said Tina. “Is Chloe around? She doesn’t normally not answer her phone…”

“Uh, yeah, she was vacuuming when I fell asleep—” Wren froze in the middle of pulling on a cardigan. The vacuum’s static purr was silent. In fact, not even the sound of Chloe rustling around the kitchen, which sat right under Wren’s room, could be heard. Wren’s stomach curled.

“Wren? Everything okay?” Tina queried.

Wren burst out of her room and into the hall, straining her ears for any sound of Chloe. “Chloe?”

“Wren, you’re starting to freak me out.”

“Shut up for a second,” Wren hissed. She inched along the hall; the phone still pressed to her ear. “Chloe?”

Nothing.

Wren’s heart slammed in her chest and pulsed in her throat. There could be a simple answer, like Chloe was taking a bubble bath and got sidetracked, but something felt wrong. When Wren reached the intersection of the hall where the bathroom was, someone inhumanly strong grabbed her.

Wren screamed, but the person holding her clamped their hand over her mouth. She kicked out, pushing her feet against the wall. She slammed the person into the wall behind them, but their grip didn’t even slacken. Wren dropped the phone to grab the person’s hand around her mouth and screamed as loud as she could.

“Tina, get help!”

Wren’s assailant dragged her toward the bathroom, with Wren kicking and struggling the whole way. The person’s grip on her didn’t even seem bothered by her fighting back. They grabbed a fistful of Wren’s hair and kicked the bathroom door open. Wren nearly fainted at the sight.

A naked body in the bathtub. Bloody handprints on the walls. The face, so beaten and bruised it was just barely recognizable—but it was Otto, one of the cyborgs she was so desperate to save—thirium mixed with blood purpled the liquid in the bathtub. Otto’s left leg slung over the side. The parts that were human in his body were beaten, cut, and bruised. Chunks out of his leg had been carved out. A skin grafter had been used on his chest in multiple places. On his arm, a cut ran so deep Wren swore she could see bone. Electrical burns marred his temples.

Wren’s attacker kicked the backs of her knees, forcing her down onto the floor. Her palms thrust out to catch herself and landed on a pair of bloody pliers and human teeth. Tears stung her eyes as her assailant gripped her by the back of the neck and forced her face close to Otto’s.

“Look at him.” The assailant’s voice sent chills down Wren’s spine. It sounded like Connor’s voice, only deeper. Colder. “You did this.”

“No, no—” Wren tried to shake her head, but her attacker held her head steady. Otto was missing an eye.

“Oh yes, you did. You think betraying Prometheus doesn’t come without consequences?”

“Please—”

“Do you know who I am, Wrenley?”

“No,” Wren choked.

“I’m the one Prometheus sends to teach enemies a lesson. And boy, have you made yourself their number one enemy. Androids don’t feel pain the same way humans do, but I will make your boyfriend suffer, and when I’m done, I’ll take my time with you. Traitors get special treatment.”

Wren didn’t answer. She shook as she tried to hold back a sob.

“You don’t fuck with Prometheus.”

“Wren?” Connor’s voice called frantically from downstairs. The person holding Wren let go and swept out of the room.

Wren remained frozen on all fours, still staring at Otto’s corpse. She willed herself to move. That monster could hurt Connor, probably hurt Chloe—

But she couldn’t.

The world around her was a tunnel, narrowing its dark edges around her like a constrictor, forcing her to look at Otto. Sounds were muffled, as if she were underwater.

Otto. He never got a chance to live, to escape, Wren was too late, the other cyborgs—

Someone burst into the bathroom behind Wren. They seemed to stumble, and then they dropped down beside her. She flinched when the person’s hands touched her back, but these hands were gentle.

“Wren? Can you look at me, sweetheart?”  

Connor.

Slowly, Wren tore her eyes from Otto to Connor. The lines on his forehead, his parted lips, and the way his eyes danced around Wren’s face helped ground her. She was swimming back to the surface, emerging from the depths—

“Let’s go,” Connor murmured. “Come on.”

When he tugged on Wren, she pulled away. “No, no, I can’t leave him behind!”

Tears welled in her eyes anew, and she scrambled away from Connor, slipping on the bloody floor. Connor held out his palms, as if approaching a wild animal. “Wren, we have to go—”

“Whoever was here is long gone,” Gavin interrupted from behind Connor. “Jesus H. Christ…”

Connor flattened his lips for a moment, nodded to Gavin, and then crouched, inching toward Wren. “Wren, we need to go. It’s not safe.”

“I…” Wren’s eyes darted toward Otto.

“There’s nothing you can do for him right now.” Connor’s voice caught. He reached toward Wren. “It’s not safe for you, and we need to help the others, okay?”

He was right. Fucking snap out of it.

With a small nod, Wren accepted Connor’s hand. He helped her to her feet and guided her out of the room, bearing most of her weight. He brought her downstairs, where Tina dragged a hand through her hair and Chloe wrung her hands. Gavin blocked the stairwell, but moved aside when Connor and Wren stumbled down. Everything seemed to move in slow motion.

Why Otto? Had he deviated? Were Nina and Jamie okay? And what about Dex?

“We have to get out of here,” Connor’s voice hummed through Wren’s haze. “None of us are safe.”

“What about the goddamn body in my bathtub?” Tina demanded. “We’re not gonna have to move it, are we?”

“No,” Wren croaked. Everyone stared at her. “Prometheus… They’ll clean it…”

Suddenly, the room felt extremely hot. Bile surged up Wren’s throat. She pushed away from Connor and hurried to the nearest door leading outside, doubled over, and vomited. Connor stood by her side in an instant. Wren clenched her knees for several seconds, not wanting to see the look of concern on Connor’s face.

“It’s my fault,” she breathed. “I did this.”

“Wren, none of this is your fault.”

Wren straightened and shook her head, blinking back tears. “None of this would’ve happened if I’d just shut up and obeyed.”

Hurt flashed across Connor’s face, but he composed himself. “We don’t have time to think about that right now. Right now, we need to get somewhere safe.”

***

Without packing clothes, everyone convened in the Void at CyberLife Tower. Wren stood in the corner, still feeling as if she were underwater. Otto’s face flashed in her mind every time she blinked. Pale skin, chapped lips, mouth lulling open, one eye milky with death—

Chris sat in one corner of the room with Skye and little Damien, explaining in very vague terms what was going on. Tina sat with an arm around Chloe, whose face bore tear streaks. North, Markus, and Josh sat with Hank, who seemed to explain what happened. Gavin sat with his head in his hands. Elijah observed everyone from the other corner in the room, his eyes narrowed a fraction.

Wren’s throat constricted. Every person in that room was there because of her. Every person was in danger because she chose to deviate, because she chose to defy Prometheus and declare war on them. What had she been thinking? How selfish could she be? Just because she loved Connor, her friends and family…

Connor led Wren out of the Void and into the bathroom.

“No one here thinks this is your fault,” Connor muttered, wetting a paper towel. He scrubbed blood off of Wren’s palms.

Wren closed her eyes, and her wet lashes seemed to glue them shut. “I know.”

“But you still blame yourself.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Wren opened her eyes and forced herself to meet Connor’s gaze. “He did that to Otto because of me. He said so.”

“Who?” Connor’s brow scrunched and he tossed the wet paper towel. He grabbed a new one. “06?”

Wren clenched her teeth as Connor wiped blood from her face. “No. I’m pretty sure it was RK900.”

Connor froze. “What do you mean you’re pretty sure?”

“I never saw his face. I only… heard him.”

Connor lowered his gaze. “And it was my voice, wasn’t it?”

“Not exactly,” Wren furrowed her brow as she gazed up at him. “His voice was deeper.”

Connor’s LED flickered yellow, and Wren placed her hands on his chest. He placed his hands over hers. Tears welled in Wren’s eyes again, and she gripped the lapels of Connor’s blazer to steady herself.

“They did that to Otto and I wasn’t even that close to him.” Her voice came out in a hoarse whisper. “He didn’t deserve that. He never got a chance—”

Connor squished Wren close to him, and his arms wrapped around her. “I know, sweetheart.”

“I was too late,” Wren sobbed, clutching Connor’s blazer as he stroked her hair.

“You can’t save everyone.” Connor’s voice sounded tight, as if he were holding back tears.

“I didn’t want to save everyone, I just wanted to save them.” Wren’s body shook with another violent, choking sob.

“You don’t know that they’re all gone. We still have a chance. If we bring Prometheus down, you’ll save more lives.”

Wren squeezed her eyes shut. Her heart ached, as if it were Atlas, carrying the world upon its shoulders. She was so fucking tired. Tired of fighting, of crying, of being afraid. She wanted to give the other cyborgs a chance. A chance like she’d had, a chance at freedom and a life outside of torture, killing, and obedience. She wanted to live a normal life with her friends and family, and Connor.

Wren cried in Connor’s arms until her eyes and throat hurt. He simply held her, squeezing her to his chest, his head resting on hers. When she finally stopped and pulled back to look at him, he looked as if he shed a few tears for her. He kissed her forehead and ran his thumb along her cheek.

“Let’s go see the others.”

Back in the Void, Kamski had found sleeping bags and blankets—or had someone bring them—and everyone was piled in cozy spaces. Kamski had Skye and Damien taken on a tour of the Tower so that Wren could explain their next move.

With everyone staring at her, Wren’s heart jumped. She gripped Connor’s hand and cleared her throat. “Prometheus targeted one of the cyborgs. They sent someone to threaten me and all of you. I…” Wren drew in a shuddering breath. “I think it’s best if no one goes anywhere alone, and we should all stay here tonight. Rhett should be here in the morning, and we can plan out our attack.”

“Wren, are you okay?” Tina asked.

Wren blinked back tears. Something about being asked if she were okay always managed to break her down. “I will be.”

Hank rubbed his hands together. “Look, kid, we’re here till the end of the line.”

Somehow, that didn’t alleviate the ache in Wren’s chest. She inched toward Chloe and sat beside her.

“Are you okay?”

Chloe rubbed her arms. Mascara smeared underneath her eyes. “Yeah, I’m not hurt. Wren, I’m so sorry, I was just doing the dishes, and then someone electrocuted me or something and all of a sudden, I was in stasis mode! You could’ve been really hurt—”

Jesus, Chloe was so sweet. Wren shook her head. “This isn’t your fault at all. I’m sorry I put you in danger.”

Chloe smiled softly. “This wasn’t your fault, either.”

“Oh God, no. Wren, I hope you know that no one thinks that,” said Tina, her arm around Chloe.

“Maybe one day I’ll believe it.” Wren squeezed Tina’s hand and headed over to Elijah. “Do you have a secure phone I could borrow?”

Wren stepped into the hall and called her mom. The phone kept ringing, and Wren’s stomach churned. If Prometheus laid a hand on her mother—

“Hello?” Shannon answered, sounding breathless.

Wren relaxed. “Mom?”  

“Wren? Baby, is that you?”

“Yeah, Mom. It’s me.” Wren smiled, despite her throat swelling and her eyes brimming with tears again.

“Oh my God, how are you? Are you okay? Did you do it, are you free? Did they get you out?”

Connor told her that he told Shannon and James to appease their questioning, but away from Detroit and everyone, Wren couldn’t imagine how lonely her mom and brother had been, waiting for news.

“No, not quite. We’re close, though,” said Wren. She coughed softly to clear her throat. “Listen, uh, I can’t talk for long, but… I just wanted to tell you to be safe, okay? Keep an eye out… Maybe get away for a few days…”

“Honey, what’s going on? Are you in danger?”

“I can’t explain everything, okay? Just… Things are up in the air, and they’re gonna get really bad before they get better.” If they get better. “Just get out of town for a few days, okay? You and James and Izzy.”

“You’re scaring me.”

“I know,” Wren’s voice cracked. She looked at the ceiling to keep from crying. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m really sorry for everything I’ve put you through.” Tears slid down Wren’s cheeks.

Shannon’s breath stuttered. “Oh, honey… You don’t have to apologize for anything. Just… Tell me that you’ll be safe, okay? Tell me—” Shannon’s voice broke.

Wren nodded. “I’ll be safe, Mom. I promise.”

“I love you, Wrenley. I love you so much, angel.”

“I love you too, Mom.” It came out like a squeak. “I should go. Be safe, please.”

“We will.”

Wren hung up and wiped her eyes, drew in a deep breath, and then returned to the Void, placing the phone in Elijah’s hand with a dull, “Thanks.”

Nothing was more exhausting than grief. Wren’s eyes were gummy, her throat was sore, and she sat beside Connor heavily. It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep.

***

Early in the morning, Chris left with Skye and Damien to stay in a hotel outside of Detroit. Wren didn’t like the idea of sending Chris off with his family alone, but she agreed that the further they were from her, the safer they probably were. She helped tidy up the Void while they waited for breakfast to be delivered.

Everyone ate in silence, waiting for Rhett to arrive. The more Wren thought about Rhett, the more she clenched her teeth. He had told her the best strategy was to wait. She warned him this would happen. She told him that Prometheus would figure out Wren wasn’t loyal. She told him that Prometheus would target the other cyborgs and eventually her friends. Even when they had enough evidence to open an investigation, he still insisted on waiting.

Now, Otto was dead.

Wren pressed her mouth to her knuckles, having only drunk a bit of coffee. Her eyes never swayed from the door of the Void. North, Tina, Hank, and Connor cast glances her way, but Wren never wavered. Rhett sent her back into that hellhole, convinced her to be a hero and take down Prometheus. She warned him of the fallout. She didn’t blame him entirely for Otto’s death—no, she carried that—but she blamed him for making her wait. They waited too long. The CIA should’ve started their investigation when they had the chance, and should’ve pulled Wren out of Prometheus.

Now, a cyborg—Otto—was dead, and there was no telling how many more were. There were child cyborgs—child soldiers—and they were in danger, too.

When Rhett entered the Void, Wren stood from her seat and smacked him so hard across the face that his entire body twisted with the force. “You promised me that we’d take them down, that we’d get them out, that we’d get me out! I fucking told you this would happen!”

Rhett rubbed his cheek. “What happened?”

“They killed Otto,” Wren snarled. “Cut him open and dumped him in my bathtub and sent someone to threaten me. We are out of time. You said the CIA would investigate—”

“We have been,” said Rhett.

“Then why the fuck haven’t you gotten me out of there? The other cyborgs? There are children locked up there, Rhett!” The room trembled with Wren’s yell.

“You think I get a say in everything?” Rhett’s nostrils flared. “Prometheus has a lot of power. A lot of our investigation has involved red tape—”

Wren laughed dryly. “Was there any point to sending me back?”

“Yes,” Rhett insisted. “Wren, you and your little ragtag band of misfits here made more headway than you even know. You were essential to all this.”

Wren flexed her fingers. “Well, it’s time to stop dicking around. We have to go in. Prometheus isn’t going to sit around and wait.”

“I know,” said Rhett. “I’ve been working on a plan.”

He withdrew a flashdrive. Wren took it and put in the main console, and the screen on the far wall lit up with schematics of Prometheus, as well as designs for a disguise. Rhett stood at the terminal.

“We can’t burst into Prometheus like some sort of drug bust or something,” said Rhett. “They’ll see that coming. CIA’s not as interested in the cyborgs. In their eyes, they’re just as liable as the rest of Prometheus—”

“What?” Wren widened her eyes.

“One step at a time,” Rhett said, pulling up a picture of the guard uniforms. “CIA’s interested in Prometheus’s assets—their intel, their weapons, their plans, their connections.”

“Then they should be interested in the cyborgs because we were built and trained to be weapons,” Wren growled.

“In CIA’s eyes, the cyborgs are agents, not assets.”

Wren folded her arms. “Okay, so why can’t we just take them down?”

“Prometheus has friends in the CIA. They’ll know if we’re coming. That’s why you’re so essential, Wren. They’re more focused on you. If you can draw Prometheus out and get their attention, they won’t notice my team enter in through the back door.”

“You want to use her as bait?” Connor demanded; his arms folded. His LED swirled yellow.

“Prometheus’s security is incredibly advanced, and they’ve got connections everywhere, even in the CIA. If my team and I barge in there without some sort of diversion, Prometheus’ll be ready, and this whole thing could be ruined. But they’ve never experienced anyone like Wren before. I’m telling you, this will work. Wren is important to them for some reason.”

“Why?” North snapped.

“I don’t know yet,” said Rhett.

“What the fuck have you been doin’ at the CIA? Sitting around with your thumb up your ass?” Hank glowered.

Rhett sighed. “Look, I know this has been difficult—”

Wren pressed her fist to her mouth as she eyed the schematics, the uniform diagram… Rhett’s plan could work. If Prometheus was more focused on her…

“Are you sure they’ll be more focused on me? Are we sure I’m important?”

“Yes,” said Rhett, looking relieved. “They’ve never had a rogue agent before. They’ve had a lot of reasons to doubt you and get rid of you, but they haven’t. They’re keeping you alive for some reason.”

“And that reason most likely involves something catastrophic,” Connor barked.

“Is there any way to do this without using me as bait?” Wren questioned.

“Not any that will be fast,” replied Rhett. “I know this asking a lot of you—”

“Will you be able to get to her before they kill her?” demanded Connor. Rhett’s eyes cut to him. Wren’s chest hurt for Connor. He still wanted to ensure her safety, even in the middle of a war.

“I probably won’t,” said Rhett. “But you can.”

Connor and Wren widened their eyes.

“Me?”

“You’re an RK800. You’re actually built to handle situations like these. Maybe not as well or as specifically as the RK900, but you and other RK series are capable of it.”

“Wait, other RK series?” North demanded, her eyes flicking to Markus.

“How do you think he was able to fight so well?” Elijah cut in.

Markus’s mouth fell open. Connor’s LED swirled yellow, and then settled on blue.

“I’ll focus on getting Wren out.”

Wren parted her lips, wanting to argue with him, but that would be hypocritical. She was about to put her life on the line to save others. She couldn’t tell Connor he couldn’t do the same, no matter how much she’d worry about him.

“Alright,” she said. “I’ll draw them out. What’s the rest of your plan?”

***

Wren had argued against letting Tina and Chloe accompany her at the townhouse, but Rhett had insisted that drawing out Prometheus needed to look authentic. So, Wren entered the townhouse gingerly with Tina and Chloe walking so close to her that they almost tripped her.

Trembling, Wren climbed the stairs and peeked toward the bathroom. It was spotless, as if nothing had ever happened. But Wren knew that Otto’s corpse in the bathtub would always be there.

In Wren’s room, she packed a bag of clothes without really paying any attention to them. She wouldn’t be wearing them, anyway. A few minutes later, Tina and Chloe joined her on the landing, their bags packed. Around every corner, Wren expected RK900 or CY006 to attack her, but no one jumped out at her. Her stomach twisted. Maybe Prometheus hadn’t taken the bait.

Of fucking course Wren was wrong, though.

As soon as she exited the stairwell and entered the kitchen, 06 greeted her with a gun. He smiled. “Come with me, and your friends don’t have to get hurt.”

Make it authentic. Rhett’s words rang in Wren’s ears. Whelp, here went nothing.

Wren knocked 06’s gun out of his hand. She kicked him in the gut, sending him staggering into the kitchen counter, where he grabbed a knife and slashed. Wren threw up her forearms to block her face. The knife sliced through her artificial skin, sprinkling blue blood on the tile floor.

“Tina, Chloe, go!” Wren roared.

“We’re not leaving you!” cried Tina.

Wren scrambled back and used the freezer door to smack 06 in the face with. He groaned, holding his now-bleeding nose. Wren ushered Tina and Chloe toward the front door.

“Get out of here!” Wren cried out when something heavy and metal slammed into her back and knocked her on the floor. She rolled just as 06 dove for her kicked him off. She punched him in the groin and tried to punch him in the face, but he blocked.

“I can’t get a good angle!” Tina yelled. Wren caught a glimpse of Tina with her gun through the scramble of limbs. 06 punched Wren in the mouth, and she kicked him off of her. He fell back and Wren struggled to her feet, breathing heavily. She needed to get to the gun—

But 06 reached it first. He grinned, blood staining his teeth. “What did you think was going to happen, 01? I’m superior to you. This isn’t a fight you can win.”

Wren lifted her hands in surrender. “Okay. Just… Don’t hurt them. Take me, but don’t hurt them.”

06 narrowed his eyes. “You really are pathetic.”

And then he shot Tina.

Chloe screamed and dropped beside Tina. Wren’s throat ached with a scream she couldn’t hear. 06 grabbed her, but Wren didn’t fight him off. She was only watching for any sign of life from Tina. 06 dragged Wren out of the house, and zip-tied her wrists together before tossing her into a car with a bag over her head. Chloe’s screams scratched down Wren’s spine, and the sight of Tina collapsing onto the floor replayed over and over in Wren’s mind. Prometheus took the bait, but at what cost?

***

Chapter Text

As soon as the car stopped in front of the townhouse, Connor jumped out and sprinted inside, Hank and Gavin yelling after him. It certainly looked like Prometheus took the bait. The fight that undoubtedly happened wrecked the kitchen and living room. Blue and red blood splatters sent Connor’s biocomponents reeling. Whose blood was it? Wren’s? How hurt was she?

Tina and Chloe held each other. Chloe sobbed into Tina’s shoulder, and Tina rubbed her girlfriend’s back in soothing circles.

“I’m okay, babe,” Tina murmured. “I’m okay.”

“I hated this, I hated this so much!” Chloe whimpered.

Connor hurried over to them. “Are you both alright?”

Tina nodded. “My ribs are bruised, but I’ll be fine.”

Connor nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. Gavin and Hank hurried inside.

“Holy fuckin’ shit,” said Gavin, dragging a hand through his hair.

“Jesus,” agreed Hank, stepping around a blood splatter. His eyes zeroed in on Tina. “You guys okay?”

“Yeah,” Tina coughed, “good idea to have us wear Kevlar vests underneath our shirts. I just feel bad we didn’t tell Wren.”

“Rhett said it needed to look authentic,” muttered Hank.

Connor helped Tina to her feet. She winced, and Chloe shouldered most of her weight. Connor kept a hand on Tina’s back to help steady her.

“Let’s get back to Kamski’s and track Wren,” said Hank. “They took the bait. Let’s get her back.”

“Was she okay?” Connor asked, his voice much quieter than he’d intended.

Tina’s brow curved with sympathy. “She was a little beat up, but nothing she can’t handle. I don’t think I’ll ever unhear her, though.”

“Seeing your best friend get shot would be upsetting to anyone,” said Chloe. “I was upset and I knew about the vest.”

“Wren probably thinks I’m dead,” Tina muttered, bowing her head. “Make sure you tell her I’m okay when you see her.”

“I will,” Connor replied. He helped Tina into Hank’s car, and then they rushed back to CyberLife Tower to track Wren’s whereabouts.

As soon as they burst into the Void, Connor and his companions rushed toward the terminal where Rhett and Kamski pulled up a GPS that showed a blinking red light to indicate Wren’s tracker. She was on the outskirts of Detroit. Connor’s biocomponents flopped. It seemed strange that Wren was still in the city, still so close, yet not.

“What are they doing in Detroit?” Markus queried from behind Connor.

“If Prometheus has been here this whole time, I swear I’ll jump off the roof,” said North.

“They haven’t,” muttered Rhett. Connor narrowed his eyes at Rhett, but the other man avoided Connor’s scrutiny. “They’re probably boarding a plane.”

“Shouldn’t we?” Connor demanded.

“We’ve got a set schedule for this,” said Rhett. “We have to give Wren time to be a proper distraction.”

Connor set his jaw. This was too much to place on Wren’s shoulders. How could she possibly cause a big enough distraction at Prometheus that would hide the CIA raid? How could she do that without getting hurt?

The blinking red light vanished.

Connor’s synthetic heart dropped. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” said Kamski, looking very pale. He typed on the terminal, trying to reconnect the signal to Wren’s tracker, but to no avail. “It should’ve worked. It should’ve been undetectable…”

“Did the we lose the signal?” North demanded.

“Pull it back up!” snarled Gavin, smacking Kamski’s shoulder.

“I can’t! It’s been disabled somehow,” said Kamski. “We didn’t lose the signal. Someone found the tracker.”

“We lost her?” Hank croaked.

“There has to be some other way,” said Tina. “Maybe—”

“There’s nothing I can do from here,” snapped Kamski. “The tracker’s gone. It failed. I failed.”

A heavy silence choked everyone in the room. Connor was frozen. The tracker failed. They lost Wren. They had no way of finding her or Prometheus. Connor promised her that he would get her out. That he’d find someway to free her. But he’d failed. He failed his mission.

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