Chapter Two
Trigger warning: suicide
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.
...
Song: Still Here by Digital Daggers