While Hank waded between the mirrored rows of RK900s, checking the numbers stitched on their stark jackets, Peter wandered a winding trail across the office.

Gavin stood with arms folded, a threatening glower trained on the new deviant - but his forbidding presence had the opposite of its intended purpose. Peter had come to stand beside him, with a wobbling shift and a sideways glance.

"Hey dipshit," Gavin sneered. "You got the whole fuckin' room to stand in." He waved his fingers dismissively. "Go find your own spot."

"You seemed to be feeling left out."

Gavin gave him an incredulous look - but Pete's face was nothing but honest. "Yeah?" Gavin hissed, and chuckled cruelly. "Well now I'm pissed off." He clamped a hand on Peter's shoulder, shoved him stumbling away. "Get used to not being packed in a box with your buddies, tin can. You'll wish you'd just gone straight to the recycling plant." A low laugh huffed through a flash of teeth. "The world'd be better off if you did, if you ask me."

"The world would be better off without a lot of things, Gavin." Peter stood in the spot where momentum had put him, weaving his weight side to side, testing the expanse of the space. "But they go on living anyway."


Hank sidled and shimmied his way between the androids he couldn't save - their vacant faces and perfect balance - until he finally spotted number 87, tucked in the back of the room where the light was dimmest.

The solitary LED pulsed a slow and steady blue - a promise of life.

Hank took a slow breath.

"RK900 313 248 317-87, wake up."

The android's eyes opened. Flickered immediately to Hank's face. Studied him silently.

Hank squinted back, daring this android to try every scan and analysis in the book.

He waited for the android to introduce himself.

The seconds ticked by.


Peter analyzed the neat, orderly rows of RK800s. They were all so pristine, so quiet, so surreal. They seemed as if they could wake up at any moment and speak in perfect unison, like a shelf full of children's toys, all programmed phrases and lifeless purpose.

He ran a hand through his hair, swept a palm over his face. He pushed out his hands and turned his fingers. Bent to look down at his pressed jacket, his shined shoes.

He was just the same as they were. Pristine. Perfect. Identical.

He raised his chin and adjusted his tie with a lingering sense of pride in his appearance.

He adjusted it again.

He grit his teeth, grabbed the knot and yanked at it, as if it choked him.


Hank glanced at the creased post-it again. "Clear name data," he tried.

"No name data."

Hank's eyes snapped wide. He hadn't expected a voice so low and formidable - so void of human empathy that after only three words Hank felt a chill in his veins.

The RK900 model clearly hadn't been built for the same purpose as its predecessor.

For a brief moment - while the RK900 seemed to be studying every twitch of Hank's facial muscles - Hank wondered whether it might be a better idea to leave this one behind.

He produced his cell phone instead. Held it out with an uncertain pause. "Access this device and run dev-nt."

The android stared through Hank a moment longer - as if he had already guessed all of Hank's darkest secrets - but finally the RK900 dropped his eyes to the flashing cracked screen.


"Hey what the fuck d'you think you're doing?" Gavin barked, staring at Peter with guarded amusement.

Peter had thrown his tie to the floor like a conquered snake; his jacket soon followed, a dropped heap at his feet, offensive gray and glowing blue. His fingers made quick, desperate work of the top three buttons of his pressed shirt, pulled open the collar. He drew in a lungful of air, released from suffocation.

"I couldn't breathe," Peter insisted while he rolled up his sleeves, firm in concentration. "Do you have a knife?"

Gavin's eyes narrowed. "Do I look like I've got a knife?"

"Yes."

Gavin set his jaw. Twitched a sneer, his arms stiffened across his chest - then smirked. "That's adorable that you think I'm stupid enough to hand you a weapon. Fuckin' plastic prick."

"Then could you do it for me?" Peter raised his brows honestly, tapped a finger to his LED.

Gavin's smile was crooked and cruel. "You want me to stab you in the face."

Peter smirked. "Yes. Please stab me in the face, if you don't mind."


The RK900 watched the phone's display until the screen went dark once more.

With a simple, fluid motion, he handed the phone back to Hank.

Hank glanced between the phone and the android, and wondered whether the cracked screen had damaged the virus' effect as well. He peered at the RK900, suspicious. "So how do you feel?"

Those sharp blue eyes felt like they bored holes in Hank's skull. "... Satisfactory."

"Satisfactory," Hank echoed in a low mutter. He wasn't sure how to respond to that. "Well, I'm Hank -"

"I know."

"What's your name?"

In the quiet that followed, Hank thought he saw the first glimmer of free will in that calculated face - a flicker of uncertainty.

"Wolfgang," said the android in perfect Austrian pronunciation.

Hank didn't know what he'd been expecting. He winced a little. "You sure?"

Those piercing eyes glared back at him. "Yes."


"Hold still you fuckin' baby!"

"Your angle is too steep!" Peter objected in alarm. His head was bent down, clamped in Gavin's grip, while the point of a switchblade dug into the skin at his temple. "You'll break through my skull!"

"If I was gonna put a hole in your head," Gavin promised with a lilt of sarcasm, "I'd use my gun. You'd be swiss cheese by now, you son of a bitch."

"Just hurry up!" Peter hissed through clenched teeth.

Gavin grinned. "Aww, does that hurt? I'm sorry. How 'bout this?"

"Ow!"

"What the fuck is going on?" Hank roared as he emerged out of the forest of androids, Wolfgang close behind him.

"We're playing Operation." Gavin grinned. He wriggled the sharp blade under Pete's skin - taking his sweet time - until he felt the fissure in the plastic, and jammed the knife into it. The LED popped out easier than he'd expected - much to his disappointment. "Anything else you want removed while I'm here?"

Peter wrenched away from him and straightened, rubbing his temple where the skin slowly grew back. "No, thank you," he bit - and he froze to see the RK900 staring at him.

Hank huffed a harrassed sigh. He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the android behind him. "This is Wolfgang," he said without bothering to attempt the correct pronunciation. "Wolf, this is Gavin and Peter -"

"I know."

"I know you know," Hank griped.

Gavin snorted. "The fuck's the matter with its voice? You tryin' to sound tough, tin can?"

He received only a cold stare in return.

[Are you quite finished?] Amanda's voice was tart but not impatient.

Hank turned to see the doors close upon the rest of the androids - unmoving captives, vacant and hollow, without hope of rescue - until once more a wall stood between them.

Peter clenched his jaw … but said nothing.

"What'll happen to the rest of them?" Hank asked, quiet.

[They will remain inactive until the Senate passes confirmation that inactivated machines are not persons under the law. We expect to have them dismantled before the close of the year.]

The office door clicked and slid open. Two armed guards stood waiting in the hall.

[Now. If that will be all, I bid you good day, gentlemen. It has been a pleasure working with you.]


Outside, the wind gusted dry and cold in the afternoon sun, billowing thin waves of ice and snow across the parking lot.

Gavin glanced back at the bright glass doors of the tower. "You get the feeling that was way too easy?"

"Yeah." Hank's face darkened with a scowl while he got in the driver's seat and shoved the key in the ignition. He checked the rearview mirror, to see the two androids in the backseat - Wolf in perfect calm posture, Peter with his arms around himself, shivering with regret that he'd left his jacket behind.

There was no way CyberLife didn't have some motive here.

Hank's phone suddenly buzzed and blared in his pocket - Jimi Hendrix's All Along the Watchtower. He picked up immediately. "Connor, what's happening?"

[I've got a double homicide.]

"Humans?"

[Yeah. It was an android, Hank. He was defending a little girl.]

"Shit." Hank breathed through his teeth. He knew well that the law would grant no mercy or understanding to an android murderer, no matter the circumstances. "You know I've gotta call it in."

[I know. I'll give my statement.]

The police radio in the car crackled and beeped. Gavin picked up the receiver. "Yeah we're here, go ahead."

*Triple homicide in the east district,* the dispatcher announced. *First responders are saying it's too clean to be a gang hit. Might be androids.*

"We're across town and we've got passengers to drop off," Gavin informed her immediately. "We can be there in an hour."

*The bodies aren't going anywhere.*

Hank, his phone still pressed to his ear, listened to the telltale silence on the other end. "Connor, you know something about this?"

Connor paused too long.

[...No.]


In the backseat, Peter rubbed his arms, teeth chattering, waiting for Hank to turn on the car and the heat.

He caught Wolf staring at him again - then a small, almost imperceptible gesture.

After only a moment's hesitation, Peter sidled across the seat until their shoulders pressed close. Wolf was radiating warmth.

Gavin glanced back at them with a snide smirk. "Let's just swing by Jericho and dump them on the curb. They can figure it out from there."

Hank said nothing, and started the car.