November 9th, 2038

PM 02:45:01


A/N: Short chapter, but wanted to conclude our Stratford Tower experience with a bang.


Demise had developed a certain scent.

Acrid and sour, drifting from a smoking gun. Burnt eucalyptus oil with a hint of singed flesh; Thirium leaking from a cauterized wound carved by a bullet.

Its voice was loud, and untamed. Tasted like fear lathered on your tongue. Felt like astringent needles pumping adrenaline in your overclocked heart.

Looked like a pleading android reaching for you in desperation, ignorant of his own peril.

Connor rasped your name. It quaked on release until it sounded like a curse rather than an assertion of love and concern.

"Why did you do that?" The broadcast operator who'd been standing idle gripped the shoulders of his fallen companion, dead on his knees from the shot you took, "Why'd you do it?"

Your jaw tensed as your captor pressed your gun harder against your head.

"Was it because you were protecting your pet?"

"He attacked Connor." You whimpered, wetting your lips as your hands tightened around the arm barred across your throat.

"In self-defense."

Connor was just hanging there, dying. Reaching for the knife with his teeth locked and lips peeled, gnawing at the pain from moving. You were helpless…

And he, was running out of time.

"I wasn't talking about her." The android stood, his dark skin illuminating the eyes that looked above you rather than at you, "Why did you attack him? Why did you give us away-"

"Drop your weapon..." Captain Allen interrupted them, "I'm only gonna tell you once."

Your boots shuffled to the left, spun in place and choking.

"You shoot at me, or my friend, and she's dead."

"I surrender- please, I…" The JB300 begged, "I didn't want to be a deviant, he converted me in the kitchen and I- you don't understand-"

"I understand you probably have no idea how royally fucked you are." Allen pointed his assault rifle at him instead, the SWAT team lining the sides of the door.

A frustrated sigh crackled through his microphone, "I know you're both scared. I know you're upset that your friend is dead-"

"You don't know, anything." The chest pinned to your back rumbled, "She killed him. He killed Simon."

Allen's eyes glanced at the body on the table, and then somewhere else – widening on contact.

"Shit, Connor-"

"Enough." The android holding you in place snarled, "Drop your weapons, and we'll be leaving."

"Don't do it-" Your throat closed as his grip cut off your protest.

A metallic rattle sounded off somewhere out of sight; a loud thud following a wince of agony.

"He took the knife out of his hand, he-" The other android panicked.

"Hey, look at me." Captain Allen took on a soothing tone, "You're gonna be okay."

You trembled, finding his red symbol bright in the sea of black helmets. Must be nice to have some of those, right about now.

What would've been even better is if he was talking to you rather than the android attempting to diffuse the situation.

"All personnel have been evacuated, Captain Allen."

"Copy that." Allen refocused on the hostile deviant, "You hear that? It's just you, your friend, and a team of highly-trained SWAT specialists."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You don't want to find out."

"Please, let her go. It doesn't need to be like this." The kinder android begged, "We shouldn't have ever listened to Markus. He just left us here to die."

"I'm not letting her go."

The gun's hot barrel was magnetized against the side of your head like you were made of metal and attracted danger.

"We may not have wanted to be pulled into this war, but Markus didn't give us a choice."

A negative charge, and a snap of electricity.

"And now that we are? We've got no choice to fight."

You were galvanized by the distraction; your consciousness thrown to watch the scene with a bird's eye view.

If you were going out, it wouldn't be like this.

"Everyone has a choice." You quoted Daniel from the Evidence Server, commencing your own Stress Test, "You made yours when you let those androids attack us."

There was a twitch in his hand. A nervous tick that fed itself with bleeding conviction. A memory leak that could be datamined and sold as persuasion.

Captain Allen responded, his trigger finger closing in ever so subtly against the curved piece.

"What do you think you're doing?"

And then it sprang back.

"Laughing."

"Laughing?"

Your brows furrowed and your eyes switched to the peacemaker beside you. He was watching Allen, too.

None of you seemed to know what the fuck he was talking about, or why he, just like he'd warned, started to laugh.

"You've been so focused on the humans in front of you…" His gun lowered just an inch, and he cocked his head, "Neither one of you have been paying attention to the android behind you."

There was another gush of blood, one that sprang much closer than the fountain that'd poured from a bullet's kiss. A torrent of blue salve that coated the cut on your face, leaving your cheek numbed and cold.

But not as cold as the knife, buried in the fabricated skull of the android who'd held you hostage. Not as cold as the thousand-yard stare coming from the new owner of your service weapon.

Connor.

"Wait! Don't shoot-"

The first discharge blew your ears, the other sounds coming in waves of inductive reasoning.

He'd stabbed one android, and was gunning down the other.

The second drowned out the shouts coming from the SWAT team, and a hand grabbed the back of your vest – pulling you into their shelter of armored limbs and cobra-branded fatigues.

You were safe.

The third overrode the coercions of betrayed trust, a militia's worth of automatic rifles threatening to fire back.
Fire at him.

Him, with the broad expanse of his shoulders in a shivering rise and fall. With blood tripping from his fingertips, dotting the prey that was caught by his wild killer instincts. With a gun rattling against the side of his thigh.

He who looked over his shoulder, LED red and furious and hungry for more.

"Stop-" You gasped, patting the ground before stumbling to your feet, "Don't-"

Your chest sank on a scope, arms tangling with another. A stronger arm. A solid arm.

"Grenier, get her out of here!" Lastimosa shrugged you off, a hardened palm snapping against you.

Your footing faltered, and an embrace of carbon fiber on muscle caught you.

"See, this is why we shoulda' sent the drones in…" He sighed overhead, ignoring your panicked state and loss for words, "Why can't we just-"

"Connor, drop the fucking pistol!" Captain Allen yelled, a jingle of rifle slings and hooks shifting with his pointed rifle.

"STOP-" You lunged, but Specialist Grenier was quick to pull you back.

"Why don't you stop?" He growled, hauling you backwards, "You got into enough shit today, don't you think- gah, fucking-"

You fought with him, elbows digging into his stomach and chest – legs kicking as he struggled to keep his grip.

"Miller, a little help would be nice?!"

You stopped, eyes searching frantically for your partner. Miller. Chris-

All you found was a patch and a vest with " " stitched along the heart.

"Well I'll be," Another man grabbed your other arm, "Fixin' to give my partner here a hard time, ain'tchya?"
You looked up to another faceless helmet, a machine following orders in his own right.

"Take a breather." He eased you into Grenier, and you were no match for the two of them.

Couldn't see what was happening in the other room as the rest of the team moved in. Didn't see Connor through the mass of SWAT gear and shuffling paramilitary soldiers.

One more breach through Maxwell's Demon's trap door. Another test for Schrödinger's Cat, who'd sank Occam's Razor in the head of Pavlov's Dog…

The JB300 that'd hung Chekhov's Gun, but hadn't been the one to fire a few bullets from the chamber.

He'd received them, instead. Had been the unnecessary element to your written work that needed to be removed.

"'Of all that is written, I love only what a person hath written with his own blood.'"

Your message of equality and peace had been written in blood. Yours, Connor's, the androids.' A collaborative suicide note transcribed with diabolical intent.

On this scorched earth, Heaven hath no rage like love to hatred turned, and Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Orlike a man who loved a woman hated by the same people she tried to protect…

Even if it meant "letting this whole the city burn."


Behind the Scenes:


Chekhov's Gun

Thousand-Yard Stare

Nietzsche's Quote from "Thus Spoke Zarathustra"

Sergei Yesenin's Suicide Note

Hell Hath No Fury

River's Portrait of "Deviant Behavior's" version of Liera Lastimosa from "Of Steel and Stardust"

(Caythleen did a sketch of a Titan that's very similar to Liera's own Titan in the chapter 21 of the showcase)

Liera Lastimosa, Chris Grenier, and Liam Miller taken from the Marauder Corps in "Of Steel and Stardust"

(Maxwell's Demon, Pavlov's Dog, Occam's Razor, and Schrödinger's Cat reused from previous chapters)


A/N II: Hey guys! I know this one was a bit shorter than the others leading up to this, but as I kept writing, it just felt like a natural stopping point.

Anyway, as I'm sure some of you saw, I finally got caught up on of my (some even 2 months old) comments on here. Reading them was such a walk down memory lane, and reminded me how amazing and supportive you've all been during this adventure.

Let me reiterate for those in the back: You're all amazing, and the only reason I've continued writing so passionately.

Don't ever forget that!


Guest Review Responses:

Guest: Hey, that's fine with me! Thanks for leaving a review, and thank you so much for letting me know :) That makes me incredibly happy, and I can't wait to show you what's coming your way!