Chapter Seventeen
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.
…
Really short chapter, I know. But the undercover mission begins!
Announcement: School is starting up again (really NOT looking forward to it…) which means I will be busy with that. ALSO,,,,,,, I am TEACHING MY OWN CLASS! I am both terrified and excited at the same time. Last night I kept waking up and anxiety would just wash over me. So, I will also be busier than usual because I am a full-time student and now a part-time teacher of college freshman writing. Updates might slow, but my hope is to update every 2 weeks. Please be patient with me, and please continue leaving comments!
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