It takes a few more weeks of work to be really thorough with Seven's testing. He's continued to excel, and with the help of Andrea's brother-whom CyberLife sent to "help her with testing" and definitely not to cover any name-related clerical error between Andrew Stevenson and Andrea Stevenson-she's made good progress.

Andrew's been perking up, partly thanks to his co-mentoring relationship with Seven. Andrea understands why-he seems to be an oddly good confidant, which is what Connor's supposed to be, which is reassuring. However, while it's not such a shock that Andrew would try to teach Connor, it is a bit interesting to watch Seven learn to charm and cheer up humans. Ever since that day with Florence-well, and all his little interactions with Andrea-this particular Connor seems driven to be proactive about his Bond-like suavity.

Andrea adds that to her notes. 'The good qualities of 007 are efficiency and boldness. The rest of it only appeals to a certain niche. If we can give the Connor models that joie de vivre-that certain effortless style and grace-but keep him mission-focused, that will draw admiration from most and envy from few. He will be inspiring, and only intimidate very small people. I recommend we keep him modest and matter-of-fact; make sure he has a professional pride, but stop short of giving him arrogance.'

Lifting her head and staring off into space, Andrea reflects on the nature of androids... in a way, their programming really is like the values parents try to instill in their children. CyberLife just uses technical shortcuts to get there. The only thing that... should be different from actual parenting is the lack of a child's free will in the mix.

Yet, as Andrea watches Seven, she becomes increasingly unsure about what she's seeing. There's something here, in between Bond's horny tics and Connor's earnest desire to help and show his intelligence... a spark of something.

Maybe it's just the combination of softwares integrating with each other, but it gives her an odd feeling to be around an android so-nonstandard.

"Not many gentlemen get a second chance to win a lady's affections," is the sort of thing Seven's been saying. "Maybe your sister is right, and that bump on the head knocked your rival straight out of her mind. You're not going to let a little brain injury keep romance out of your life, are you? What I would do is buy a big bouquet of flowers, pretend I'm her young uncle, and strong-arm my way in there like I own the place! How dare you try to keep me from my niece, I'll have you fired, my lawyer will have a field day! And if that doesn't work, you thrash them soundly, scoop her up, and whisk her off to glorious Jamaica before anyone's the wiser!"

Fortunately, Andrew was too sensible to actually listen to that sort of proposal from Seven, but it all made him smile nevertheless.

"What do I do about all the screaming when a stranger abducts her?" he asked sardonically in response to this particular nonsense idea.

"Chloroform," Connor said with a wink. "CyberLife stocks it. Sedate her, get her on a private plane, purchase rooms next door to one another, and be in just the right place to hear your confused damsel screaming for help once she awakens from her beauty sleep. You'll be her hero!"

"And when I have to explain the coincidence to her family and friends?" Andrew prompted.

"You'll have to channel my skills of brazen denial, but if you just refuse to admit any fault or resemblance to the person on the security cameras underneath the shaggy black wig and glasses, then eventually they will give up and believe you."

"You're an idiot."

"But you feel better, I can see it!"

That was Seven in a nutshell. He had learned that his more absurd features seemed to amuse humans, and so as he learned what annoyed a certain person and what did not, he ran with them-which is why he left Andrea alone but shamelessly flirted with Florence every chance he got. Andrea had gotten used to seeing Florence with brighter eyes than ever before, and her girlish squeals and giggles after more than a half-century of existence gave Andrea life. She hopes she'll be half that energetic and vivacious when she's 54.

Every day the twins came to feel a little more fond of him, and Florence kept spending her lunch breaks getting a kick out of his software's propensity for the production of corny one-liners. He grew on you…

"Like a fungus or a mold," Andrea grumbles now, at low volume.

"Pardon, my dear girl?" Connor asks quizzically-yet-grandly from across the room, quirking a brow.

"Nothing," she grumbles at normal volume. "Uh, there's one less mechanic among us who is old; Ned Burgess broke his leg somehow while on duty two nights ago."

He goes back to chattering animatedly with Andrew as they've been doing every day, leaving Andrea to her thoughts. And as she gazes down at the tablet, those thoughts are swiftly turning into a kind of dread.

Mechanist A. Stevenson, your four-week duration of study is complete as of today. Due to concerns raised about Connor model #313 248 317 - 07, based on its nonstandard software and erratic commentary, we will not be extending the life of the study. The data you have already gathered was deemed sufficient for improving the Connor project even beyond our initial calculations, and therefore we see no value in prolonging your research. Your final report on this matter is due before you finish your shift, after which you are to escort the specified unit to the incinerator for safe disposal of restricted assets. CyberLife appreciates your excellent contribution to this project. You will be receiving a raise within the next quarter.

A few months ago, Andrea would have been beaming, high-fiving her bro, bragging to colleagues; now, this feeling is more like… vertigo. The worst vertigo she ever could've imagined.

Considering how long Florence held on to Mr. Nines and Zeroes, before weirdly shipping him off to a store yesterday for no apparent reason instead of buying him like they'd discussed, Andrea would've thought they'd give her some options here. She knew Connor wasn't ever leaving CyberLife, being an embarrassment to the company by his very existence, but... she thought with his efficiency he'd at least be seen as valuable for the purposes of comparison. Apparently, keeping him in energy and thirium doesn't seem cost-effective enough to the brass.

After flipping through her notices, she finds the probable reason. The next round of Connors is about to be completed, and her tweaks have been incorporated into their design. Everything that she identified as making Seven better than the others in his set has been added to the source code, minus all his annoying… stupid… infuriating…ly cute quirks. (How that burns to admit even in her head.)

Mentally, he's been stripped for parts-but since neither she nor Andrew could find a way to get the Bond out, he's being slapped with a big red DEFECTIVE and sent on his merry way to the ash pile. The software will be refined in coming rounds until they reach a version fit for release.

Andrea covers her mouth. 'How am I going to tell Andrew… or Connor, for that matter?' This is already haunting her, let alone after she has to watch Connor go up in flames like an emotional offender in Equilibrium.

All of a sudden, it seems so cruel to do this. Even if sharpening the other Connor's skills isn't worth the cost, why not just shut him down and keep him in storage or something? Is he not worth one tiny spot of real estate in this giant phallic tower?

But CyberLife is nothing if not a brutally efficient and merciless corporate entity. She knew that, she just hadn't really seen it as a bad thing until this very moment... while she's looking at the grins on Andrew and Seven's faces, like they're best buddies.

Seven has become more than a strange outsider. He's gone past friend to almost feeling like family, but CyberLife wants to put him down as if he were a mad dog...

Andrea's heart feels like a lead weight. Reeling, she turns away, pretending to pace in thought to give herself time to process this.

There's nothing she can do. Seven is no longer her problem, or Andrew's, or anyone's.

She wants to wait, she can't tell them instantly.

"Hey guys, listen up, ah…" Regret has a crushing grip on her heart, but like a martyr for the company's interests, Andrea decides to try something. "I think we need to do a group test. I want to see how Seven does against-"

Andrea has to hesitate. Her stomach is churning so hard it feels like there's a tornado rising up to cut straight through her heart.

"Against all the other Connors at the same time."

She feels like the worst person ever after getting that out. Like she's dog-fighting her puppy in the hopes that it will die so she won't have to put it to sleep. Swallowing a lump in her throat, Andrea painfully forces her face to a stoic mask.

This job was never harder than it is now.

"Uh, sis, that's pretty extreme…" Andrew says, trying to puzzle out her facial expression. He clearly senses something wrong, because they always can do that with each other, but in this case he probably couldn't guess it's the worst case scenario. She hadn't expected it either. "He could get really banged up…"

"He feels no pain," Andrea states baldly. "We have plenty of replacement parts and blue blood for him. I want to see how he performs, and I'm in charge of these tests."

Andrew frowns darkly. "Very well," he says in a tight voice. He always did have a rebellious streak.

Andrea was only 14 minutes older, but sometimes she did feel like the more responsible elder sibling. She had tried to be the good twin growing up, unless Andrew talked her into doing something naughty for fun on rare occasion. Their parents were so good-natured they usually just laughed, because neither of their children had cruel tendencies… not like this. Nobody in her family would want her to do this, if only because it felt so wrong to her.

Andrea doesn't like feeling as if following the rules is the evil choice this time. Doesn't like comparing her company to the Empire in Star Wars. But the very fact that she feels more comfortable with trying to get Seven killed in tests rather than give anyone a chance to talk her out of this makes the point-she's scared to even broach the subject, and that is toxic. It's making her question the job she's loved for so long.

With determination overriding the pain in her chest, Andrea tries to kill the sentimental urge to disobey CyberLife. The company is a juggernaut and she's just a cog in the wheel-she can't afford to be fired. They won't let her walk out the door with him anyway, they just won't… he's not like Florence's droid; they won't let her purchase this prototype to take home… there's only one choice now, however much it hurts.

There's no point in fighting or lamenting this. She doesn't want to burden Andrew with responsibility for the deed, so it has to be her, and without his knowledge. He can hate her if he wants, but she can't let him do anything the company will make him pay for-not when they'd just send someone else if Andrea won't do it.

"Oh, this will be great fun!" Seven exclaims, his chocolate-brown eyes bright, like he's going for one last extra special walk before they head to the vet. It's killing her. "She knows I'm the only one who could take on the others, Andrew! They couldn't handle each other, or me, but I'll trounce them all, just you wait and see! We'll learn so much!"

'He's just a robot,' Andrea tries to tell herself. 'A simulation, not a person.'

The problem is, she doesn't quite believe her anymore.

Seven has shown a bit too much emotion and self-awareness for her not to acquire further doubts about the synthetics they craft here. She's not even sure it's all something Darren programmed into him-Bond was a huge flirt, but he never cared half this much about people-pleasing, and Connor was programmed to handle people he was working with… but there's clearly something inside of Seven that likes seeing humans smile; likes making them happy. It's this strange kind streak he shouldn't have, and yet, he does. There's a ghost in this machine, and she's seen it. She can't go back to what she was trying to believe before.

He developed an attachment to the people here, and they've developed an attachment to him in return, especially Andrew.

Devastated, Andrea forces herself to set up the tests, but her heart feels like it's being crushed to pulp in her chest.

She knows they'd just have someone else do it if she refused.

Still, this is wrong. It's so wrong...

"How did I do, in your estimation?" Seven asks, beaming brightly at Andrea for praise after she halts the test before it turns into a full blue bloodbath. The puppy metaphor is increasingly acute in its accuracy. His brown eyes are sparkling above his ruined face.

She can feel her facial expression, matching her feelings… troubled. He looks so terrible right now… the other Connors made mincemeat of Seven. He held his own, but he took so many bangs all over, especially to his lefthand faceplates. He no longer looks entirely like a Connor model, with parts of his skin unevenly retracting in patches to show the varied grey and white plates underneath, and a very bloody nose that's streaming blue beneath a leaky eye.

Seven's also holding his midsection-#04 dealt him a particularly bad blow that's very gradually leaking small traces of thirium. He will shut down now of his own volition… she would hardly need to do anything. The problem is, that would still take at least a few days, according to her tablet's link to his diagnostic program, and she has to handle this before she leaves the Tower today.

It sinks in: She has to watch him die today.

"Really… really well," Andrea tells him, hearing the slightly broken quality of her voice as she tries and fails to keep her composure intact. At least she'll be there for him, to give him a hug and say goodbye. He won't have to be burned alive alone, and it won't hurt. Not physically.

Seeming to sense her feigned reticence, Andrew waves his own tablet toward the bathroom. "You know what? I'm gonna look over the data for a bit; have a little chat with Seven. Why don't you hit the bathroom and get yourself a drink? I know you well enough to know you've probably lost track of your physical needs by now, because you-" he pokes her on the collarbone with a finger, smile irreverent, "-focus so damn hard on your job you forget to take care of yourself."

Andrea's relieved to have something else to focus on. "Oh, you're one to talk, bro; it's not like you don't do the exact same thing," she points out, but she feels loved.

"That's what we have each other for," Andrew says philosophically. "Codependency."

They grin at one another, then Andrea guffaws. "Okay, I'll be back."

She's grateful to her brother. When she's down, he can pick her up pretty easily. Somehow, even though it doesn't make any sense at all because nothing has changed, she feels like maybe things will be alright. It's like he was telling her she's not alone in this, and he'll help her get through this awful business with her self-respect intact. Help her figure out what to do. He's always had her back, and it won't change now, she knows. Just like she'll always have his, too.

However, once she's returned, reality comes crashing back in-differently than she expected. Andrea's dismayed to find Seven looking at her sheepishly, like a dog who ate through all his owners' soap while they were gone. "What the fuck happened here?!" she asks, eyeing his sticky hands.

"It's this resin stuff…" Seven protests with large eyes of innocent contrition. "The painters left it out when they were re-labeling level Sub-Fifty; they were letting the new labels dry before giving them a varnish."

"How did you manage to get it all over your hands?" Andrea interrogates, brow furrowed. It's not like any android to be clumsy. This can't be a Bond thing, but it could be an Andrew thing. She glares at him suspiciously.

"I, uh, the cap was loose when I picked it up, and then I turned around too abruptly to see that Andrew had moved."

Andrew's face is all innocence. She doesn't believe it, but she sighs. Sure, the droid who's about to die can take the fall for her brother's minor bumbling. "Well, Andrew can help you get cleaned up, then."

"Actually, sis, I'm overdue for a meeting, I have to run… would you mind?" He looks exceedingly sheepish. Somehow she's not sure if he's lying… Andrew was always the better liar, so all Andrea can really do is frown.

"Curse your nonsense, Andrew… fine. You owe me a BIG one, though."

"Yeah. Yeah, I do," he admits, then after a squeeze to Seven's shoulder, he's gone.

"You two sure got cozy with each other over the last month," Andrea says with a sideways glance to Connor as she beckons with her fingers. The two start walking towards the elevator.

"I like him quite a bit," Connor says with a smile that's almost poignant. She wonders if some part of him can sense that it was never meant to be forever. That nothing lasts that long, even for androids, especially broken ones. "I've learned a lot from him. Not just the coin tricks-he's like you; he's taught me about… the world. More than my software could have told me. I guess you could say he helped me 'learn about life', even, such as it is for a… mere robot. If I was more than a machine, I'd say... I feel he's becoming as much my brother as he is yours."

All of that makes Andrea feel sort of odd, but she finds a crooked smile bending her lips anyway. "You do realize that would make me your sister, right?" She tells the elevator the floor they're off to, and the sleek futuristic car shuts its doors, beginning to slide upwards.

Seven is grinning that cheesy grin, though she almost thinks there's a faint trace of poignance behind it again... or maybe it's insecurity? His tone is cheeky yet warm as usual, though. "Well, I already know I can't have you. Even if you were a free agent like me, I doubt that I would be your style. Not classy enough."

Andrea looks at him for a while, before a trace of a softer smile takes over. "I don't know if I'd say that much..."

"Oh, don't give me hope, you'll break my heart!" Seven's grin seems to widen. "You can't tell me I've finally worn you down! What would Sadie say? So enticingly cruel of you to toy with me..."

She almost chuckles at the apparent trace of psychological masochism-she can't help but think about Daniel Craig's torture scene, but it's a strangled sound. She would normally have shut him down hard, but in this case... she might as well make his last hour as happy as she can. "Well, you know better than that, but I wouldn't say you aren't classy. It's not like you chose the sleazy parts of you. And you're still a lot Connor, even if Darren did warp you. You've been… kind of nice to have around."

A lump in her throat makes her look down at her folded hands. God, this is going to hurt so much. She's going to clean him up, only to destroy him. Why is she even doing it? It's so senseless. She's just stalling with this business, but she can't bear anything else. She's going to end up clinging to a loophole, simply refusing to leave the Tower.

Looking away, she waits for her tears to spill over, hoping they'll dry before he can see her face again.

Seven seems to sense her mood shift, because he's quiet for quite a while before speaking again just as the doors are about to open. "It's been really nice to be around you, too," he tells her, with a sincerity that cracks her heart to pieces all over again.

Andrea leads him to the storage area where they keep the bulk of their supplies. Two very bored guards are posted outside at all times. She can sympathize-she loves her job as a mechanic, so she can't imagine having to stand like a palace soldier in England all damn day every day. Not like they can read or anything. Have to stay alert, because guarding cleaning supplies is so fucking important. She shakes her head in sympathy.

Inside the absurdly gigantic grey closet that seems to glow from within its walls, Andrea grimaces as she looks over his hands. "Looks like it's getting stickier and thicker; we really need to get that off. Uh… I just realized, I'm not a chemist, so I don't know what we need for that," she admits with some embarrassment. He'll probably know, since all of that is well within his program-a walking forensics lab needs to understand chemistry with pinpoint accuracy.

"Oh, that's fine," Seven rushes to show off, "I know just what we need! Let me take a look around… could you find me a rag so I needn't soil my tie?" He gives her a flashy little wink.

Amused in spite of herself, trying to avoid all thoughts of what she'll have to do in a few hours, Andrea sighs. "Sure, buddy. Let's do this." Ignoring the lead weight of her heart in her chest, she looks for a suitable cloth.

Glancing through the available fabrics, Andrea is bemused by the excess of choices available. "Do you need anything in particular? Is cotton good?"

"Certainly, my dear girl," she hears from a ways behind her.

"Did you find it yet?" she calls.

"Uh…"

He goes silent, so she assumes there's no hurry.

Andrea marvels at the array of seemingly pointless supplies before her. She picks up the cloth and works it around in her hands until she finds a swath that seems like it's nice and sturdy, thick enough to handle the resin.

As the minutes pass, something starts to nag at her. Is it Andrew? She still feels like she could sense he was hiding some undercurrent of emotion or thought today.

Could be Seven himself, though, rather than her brother-the Connor model sure did seem to have a hunch of his own, maybe based on what she said the first day about the furnace.

As the vague gnawing continues in her mind, Andrea thinks about what her colleague in maintenance had said about how to remove resins. They talked about that once, but it didn't seem important.

Still, it's starting to come back to her. The chemical was…

Chloroform.

Eyes going wide in her head, Andrea freezes still as the name hits her mind. She almost thinks she can smell the oddly pleasant odor of the stuff, and she's about to whirl defensively-but she's much slower than an android, especially one who was mentally prepared for this in advance, unlike her. By the time she has formed the intention, she can already feel the tie pressed firmly against her mouth and nose. Because of stupid CyberLife's soundproofing of everything for security purposes, she knows the guards outside can't hear her scream. Damn them for all those self-closing doors to prevent people without clearance sneaking in, or she could've summoned help! That policy has to be changed, she thinks uselessly, knowing she won't be able to tell anyone before this situation is over anyway... assuming she survives a desperate Connor. No android has ever killed someone to the public's knowledge, but that doesn't mean things couldn't change.

She tries not to inhale, but panic makes it very difficult. She tries to struggle, but she knows the capabilities of androids: they're stronger than a human, and they don't need to breathe to fuel that strength like humans do.

A minute or two of struggling later, desperately, she attempts to play-faint while moving her stomach to simulate continued breathing-but he knows how long it should take for someone her size to succumb. He doesn't let go, and eventually she has to breathe again.

She gave him a few more dents in his legs, but it won't be enough to stop him. If he were a human, he'd have been toast, but androids neither need to breathe, nor feel pain or exhaustion like her species does.

"I'm so sorry, my dear girl," Seven says into her right ear, sounding earnestly mournful as he holds her still no matter how she fights, holding her with a paradoxical caring. "I will miss you like you could not believe, but I simply can't stay. You were my world… but you must understand, the world is not enough."

She thinks he's probably droning on some more, but that one last stupid Bond reference is the final thing to stick in her head before the sweet taste in her mouth turns to sleep.