Chapter Nineteen

Trigger Warning: mass shootings, violence, depression, anxiety, mistreatment/degrading of androids, misogyny, etc.

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."

…

Alright, we're here, in the heart of Typhon. I'm excited to see your reactions! Thank you for the support so far!