November 11th, 2038
AM 03:40:41
A few hours of sleep, even if forced, did you some good. You'd managed to get a few minutes on the way to the "safehouse," but if your intuition was correct, the only thing "safe" about this place was that it was located in an abandoned district – surrounded by condemned houses and demolished apartment complexes, all stashed under a freeway.
Ghosts kept you company as you honored the dead rather than glorify the living. There were dozens of graves walled off with iron fencing, the snow-kissed street resting to your left. Your breath escaped your nose as you sighed, kneeling in front of one in particular. One you'd carried the burden for making.
You could have practically dug it yourself.
You brushed the snow away with the back of your knuckles, excavating the cold flakes from the engraving with your finger.
"In Loving Memory of Police Officer
ANTHONY RAY MICHAEL DECKART
For his Heroic Actions
End of Watch: August 15th, 2038
"Speramus Meliora; Resurget Cineribus."
The official motto of the Detroit Police Department, the same words stitched on every city flag.
"We hope for better things; It will rise from the ashes."
The last time you'd brought them into focus was after you'd lost yourself, facing Elijah. Hank had knocked some sense into you.
You wondered if Anthony had done the same, in whatever fashion of afterlife he'd found himself in. Wondered what he'd have to say all this, or if he'd tell you to "be brave," like he had so many times before. And you'd respond with…
"I'm sorry."
He told you this would happen, that you'd find yourself being burned at the stake for all of Elijah's shortcomings. That this would all catch up with you, one way or another, and what you were doing was dangerous. You should've listened to him. Because you hadn't, he was dead.
When he'd fallen asleep, you'd woken up.
And when you woke up this morning, you hadn't realized it would be your final judgement day…your demons put to sleep on this night of the soul.
The corners of your mouth pulled back as you cried, hand resting on the stone imprint of his badge –tears melting holes in the white blanket below when they fell.
"Saint Michael the Archangel,
Defend us in battle,
Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil.
May God rebuke him, we humbly pray,
And do thou, O Prince of the heavenly host,
By the power of God, cast into Hell,
Satan and all the evil spirits,
Who prowl through the world seeking the ruin of souls…
Amen."
The Prayer to Saint Michael, the Saint who's name Anthony had taken when he'd graduated from his Catholic school as a child. Being buried here, at this Catholic church, was his will. When you'd recited this prayer, that was improv. You'd done it because you knew he'd want you to.
Now it was for both of you.
You wiped your tears away, looking up at where you'd repeated vows at a different sort of funeral…where you became "Mrs. Kamski" in both church and state.
The pointed towers had a lean to them. The stained-glass windows were boarded, the colorful rays of light still engrained in your memory-
The wooden doors underneath opened.
You stood, jamming your hands in the pockets of your jacket – torn and tattered, not withstanding the hardships of rebellion.
"It's not safe out here…" Connor whispered, his feet crunching the snow as he took to your side.
"I know." You sniffed, swiping at a renegade tear that rioted against the barricades you'd put up, "This is Anthony's grave…I just wanted…"
"I understand." He pulled at your elbow, and hugged you tight, "But the patrols…and the cold…"
You buried your face in his chest, sobbing uncontrollably.
"I have good news, though. A rare occasion these days…" He pulled back just enough to give you room to tilt your head, "I was instructed by Specialist Lastimosa to inform you that Officer Miller is no longer in critical condition. He's stabilized. He's going to make it."
You bit your lip, eyes wide and glassy. Covered your mouth, muting the cries forced up your throat by heaves and a tightening abdomen.
"When I saw the riot on a news cast…I was standing outside of an electronics shop. I was so worried about you, about all of you…" He shuddered, his own tears slipping through, "Leaving you, the way I did…I didn't want to. I had to-"
"It's okay, Connor. I know why you did it." You took a deep breath, trying to settle yourself, "I'm just glad you're here, and safe…alive."
His lips curled inwards, and he gave you an unsteady smile, "You too…" But his face fell, even when he took your hand, "We can't stay here long, and the others…They need to talk to you."
You felt a strange energy spewing from inside "Saint Anne's Catholic Church," tendrils of anxiety and forewarnings touching you like they had while standing outside a certain snowscape villa.
"He's in there, isn't he?"
Connor nodded his head, a familiar frustration painting his features.
"He is."
…
The last time you stood at the end of this aisle, you unknowingly took your last few steps as a free woman. Hadn't realized you were signing your life away, being permanently put under the scrutinizing gaze of the public eye; of his eyes…
That steel-blue gaze, watching you from other side.
He was there, again, except he was no groom-in-waiting. There were no tuxedos and groomsmen, no blushing-bride or bridal party. No family as an audience, no priest or "holy matrimony."
Just an utterance of your name in the form of a statement that echoed around you from his mouth.
"Elijah." You answered.
"Hey, I'm not done talking to you." Liera snapped her fingers in front of his face, and continued a rant that had her words leaving in rising anger.
You began the sequel of your march, passing pews and bibles tucked behind the backs on each row. The Marauders were scattered, split off and doing various tasks as if they were on any other assignment.
Liam and Sage were leaned against the front; she was still monitoring him and writing things down on a clipboard. He didn't look the best, lips blue and body shaking under the silver blanket he hugged. The idle chatter between them cracked a smile on his face, and he took a few pills as instructed.
Grenier was hunched over a metal, bulky briefcase looking thing, typing away on a keyboard attached to a dated display. It looked like an old-fashioned military communications device; like in the movies. Widget was plugged into it, giving off a blue and purple glow from his lights.
Jack and Akane were armed to the teeth – standing guard, their guns looking out of place on holy grounds. Their exchange of words was low, and stopped when Liera escalated her voice further.
"I was just on some docket you signed from your desk. Didn't think to note the side effects, did you?"
"I apologize if you've suffered from unusual circumstances since your cybernetic enhancements…Although, seeing as how you're alive to complain about them, I don't see the issue."
"The issue?" She threw her hands out, "Do you think I actually want to live long enough to see everyone I know, and their children, and their children, die?"
"We would've asked, but you had a piece of shrapnel lodged in your brain."
"Unbelievable. No wonder you left this prick." She scolded, looking over her shoulder, "He's all yours."
Finding him at the receiving end of a woman's wrath wasn't necessarily foreign. The disgruntled look on his face was one you'd caused oh so many times.
"You've made some powerful friends…" He noted, Liera walking away to give the two of you some very much not-wanted privacy.
"And enemies."
"I've heard…"
He was wearing an old CyberLife hoodie, the navy-blue one he'd worn when he first founded the company. You were surprised it still fit, that he still had it, and wondered why a man with so much money would choose to wear the faded garment instead of something more expensive.
"You look different in that without the glasses." You huffed.
"Lasik does wonders…"
"I remember. It was the first thing you had done with your first check."
He smirked, "Not the first thing."
Your wedding ring. Right.
"Why are you here?"
He uncrossed his arms, looking at the statue of Saint Anne watching over the heretical congregation of guns and unlawful gatherings of traitors on the run.
"I was woken up in the middle of the night, threatened, and pulled here against my will."
"You didn't seem that unwilling when I told you she was going to be here." Akane butted in, speaking from her stationed position, "Mr. Kamski will be taking you across the border into Canada where you will meet my contacts at a secured location."
Your mouth dropped open, and you squinted at her.
"You will stay there until things settle down, here."
You were so blindsided by the announcement that your words were stalled. You looked around the faces in the room, trying to find any clue as to this being a prank. A laughing face, a hidden snort, a cough as suppression-
But all you could find was Connor, leaning against a rotted wall with his arms crossed.
"Did you know about this?"
He looked away without a word.
"I'm not going to Canada."
"It's the only way you're going to be safe." Elijah whispered, "You know that."
"Why? Because you're you? That's how I got into this mess-"
"We don't have time to argue." Akane cut you off, offering a small pamphlet – a fake passport. You wanted to slap it out of her hand, "Keep this around. You will both take the sedan supplied by my previous employer. No VIN, no tracking, – it's missile-proof with tinted windows-"
"And who exactly was your previous employer?"
"The CIA." Her eyes narrowed, green and catlike, "Political assassinations were my forte. High-priority evacuations came second."
"You…were an assassin? Is that why your background was 'classified' during the briefing?"
"Has anyone told you how observant you are?"
You pursed your lips.
"Sometimes assassinating insubordinate politicians or a corrupt leader was the only way to preserve national stability. Other times, the United States required national instability to settle certain international disagreements. As it so happened, androids were better at my job than I was…so they said."
You accepted the passport, if only to stop her from awkwardly holding it out to you while she retold stories of terrorism and espionage.
"Why are you telling me all this now?"
"Because I want you to ask yourself which of those scenarios you fit in, and then after you find your answer, ask yourself how long you think you'll be able to survive unless you leave the country."
A vigilante on the run. You'd called yourself and had been called a lot of things, but this title – the one you now wore in a public light, was something old and new all the same.
"Captain Allen would call it a 'conspiracy.'"
"The world runs on conspiracies. A romantic pull towards mysteries and explanations that clarify what we can't on our own. Religion is not so different in that aspect."
You snorted, "Depends who you ask."
"In my line of work, I did not have the luxury of asking many questions. I had to draw my own conclusions...as will you."
"That's not-"
"We could go in circles with this," Sage interrupted, "Or get on the road before the authorities get to us."
You'd told yourself countless times you were done running, and now a collective of those more experienced in the underbelly of society told you it was your only option. You'd built a life here. Had started over, had something to hold on to.
You looked at Connor, still shuffled off in the corner, keeping to himself.
He wasn't supposed to get wrapped up in any of this. If you'd minded your business, he would…
"Be in a camp awaiting execution."
You had to keep telling yourself that.
Either way, it was your responsibility to keep him safe. Him becoming a deviant was your doing, after all. You just happened to love him.
"Is he coming with us?"
You cocked your head towards him, marking his nervous shoulder roll and inability to look you in the eyes.
"I…have other plans."
"Care to fill us in?" Liera crossed her arms.
"There are thousands of androids at the CyberLife assembly plant." He shot a glance at you, and then Elijah, before returning his focus to the floor, "If I can wake them up, they might join the cause and shift the balance of power..."
"You wanna infiltrate the CyberLife Tower?" Your brows knitted in a tight crease, "Are you kidding me?"
"They trust me…they'll let me in."
"Connor, that's suicide. If you go there, they'll kill you."
"There's a high probability..."
His golden-brown gaze tied itself with yours, his voice soft and reassuring. A façade for the blasphemy hanging on his words, and the recklessness he invoked with such a ridiculous suggestion.
"…But statistically speaking, there's always a chance for unlikely events to take place..."
"Did you account for another one of you to be running around when you ran those numbers?" Liera's delivery was a bit more straight-forward.
He paused, a disheartened glimpse trailing from one eye to another, "What do you mean?"
"Picked off another android that was damn near the same as you." Miller's arms were shaking as he lifted himself off the ground with a pew for support, "Real nasty son-of-a-bitch."
Liera clammed up, hugging herself and turning her face away. You felt for her, wishing she had time to deal with the fresh wounds. Her job didn't allow it. You respected her for that.
"What would CyberLife need multiple RK800 units for…" Elijah tapped his chin, "Fascinating…"
"There's nothing fascinating about it." Liera snapped, "He's a goddamn murderer, and if Miller hadn't blasted his face off, I would've hunted him down and ripped him apart until there wasn't a mother fuck-"
"Lasti…" Sage whispered, nodding at the statue.
"So what?"
"Show some respect."
She snorted, shaking her head.
"The rogue unit took someone very special away from us…" Sage offered, sitting on a bench, "It's still a touchy subject."
"Amanda spoke to me." You shifted the direction of the conversation, "She's the one who made the other RK800 pull the trigger."
"…Amanda?" Elijah frowned, "An attack against human forces doesn't seem like the best course of action. She wasn't programmed that way-"
"She's…" Connor started shaking, reeling in the noticeable tremors and underlying panic, "She's still alive?"
It was painful to watch. Even more painful that there was nothing you could do about it, and that he was correct.
"Whatever it is, we need to stop it, and we don't know how." Liera shrugged on a tactical backpack, "We'll deal with the immediate threat, the world ending, and figure out the rest later."
"But her program went rogue after Connor turned deviant-"
"Okay, alright…that's enough." Liera adjusted her rifle's strap back on her shoulder, "We're already compromised a lot more than I'm comfortable with, so whatever else you need to talk about can be discussed on your way to Canada."
"Good call." Grenier shut his case, his robot zooming from its stationary position on the floor, "We've only got 48 minutes until Widget runs out of juice. Jammer won't hold much longer."
"Don't you have a charger or something?" Jack snickered.
"Couldn't exactly steal a Marauder with my usual tech inside."
"So…" You bit the inside of your cheek, "This rescue op wasn't sanctioned by the DPD."
"Captain Allen knows what's going on," Liera confirmed, "…But no, not exactly."
"Why'd you all agree to it, then?"
She kicked the ground, looking at her comrades. The smudged soot on their faces, their disheveled hair, their forlorn eyes…They were tired. It wasn't only you in this fight, and it was easy to forget the help you got along the way.
"You know what those FBI pricks don't have that we do?"
She was still fired up – still alive, still wide awake.
You shook your head "no."
"Shared guilt about the blood on our hands that we'll never be able to wash clean. This is the least we can do is help those androids…with the camps in place, Lord knows they've got a chance of being the last ones left." She spun her finger, rallying the others, "Enough talk. Time to pack up."
You uncrossed your arms, looking around in dread, "Where are you guys going?"
"DPD can't be caught being involved in all this." Liera didn't turn to look at you as she checked the clip in her pistol, "If word were to get out, the city would lose all it's trust in us…even more than they did after your identity was released."
She jammed it back in, storing it in a holster.
"I had to guess the size…but there's dry clothes in the bag on the floor behind you." She nodded, "You should also know we marked this place as a haven for the androids that escaped Jericho. I suggest you leave before they get here."
You were shell-shocked. Stuck between dreaming and awake, a lucid state of being as sleep deprivation clouded your judgement. There'd been so much thrown at you in such a short amount of time; it was impossible to decide what was the right thing to do.
Running to Canada with your ex-husband who you helped sew the seeds of destruction didn't feel right.
"You might not remember me…we didn't talk for very long."
Amidst all the calamity of the Marauders packing up shop, you hadn't noticed Grenier slink his way over to Elijah. The shuffling boots, bags, and guns stopped, if only for a brief time.
"I was a student at MIT. I remember being so excited that you were coming to my university…I-I attended one of your seminars. I even took notes!" His excitement faded, and he cleared his throat, "…And after it was over, we spoke alone. I could barely hold myself together. Do you remember that conversation?"
Elijah frowned, never having liked being put on the spot, "I'm afraid I do not."
"You told me my platform was poorly-scripted and that artificial intelligence wasn't something that could just be 'tampered with.'"
Elijah shifted in place, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. Grenier, however, hadn't lost his tenacity.
"I designed the neural-mesh CyberLife used in their new MILITIA gear. Maybe you've heard of it?"
"Ah, yes. It's proven quite effective in the field…"
Elijah caught a look at you, his attention quickly retrieved.
"They added something to my original software. A give and take system that logs the information harvested from the initial scan. A nice little footnote underneath to the terms and conditions."
He was all business, after that accusation.
"Any research conducted on CyberLife's behalf is out of my hands."
"I just thought I'd remind you that selling biological information to marketers is illegal…and, when you told me my idea was stupid, it drove me to prove you wrong."
Grenier snapped his fingers, summoning Widget to his side. Elijah studied it, probably observing the technical modifications Chris had been so proud of. Certain things you'd never really trained yourself to look for, but heard about consistently during your time in the Tower.
"…Yes, you should be very proud of what you've accomplished."
"I idolized you, even after that conversation." Grenier turned, joining the rest of his squad, "Don't make that a mistake, Mr. Kamski."
As they walked down the aisle, a small army marching to the drums of broken laws and protocols, you realized you hadn't said the few things you needed to the most.
"T-thank you." You sputtered, "All of you."
In an almost cinematic fashion, they halted. Turned to look at you head-on.
Miller, with his arm over Sage's shoulder. Jack, with his hand on his hip next to Grenier, who had his thumbs looped under the straps of his bookbag. Akane, eyes fierce and more piercing than any of her weapons could possibly be…
And Liera, with her signature smug look, giving you a thumbs up.
"It's been an honor, Hotshot. Make it count."
When the heavy wooden doors closed behind them, and the echoed bang faded…it was just you, Elijah, Connor, and the cold judgement coming down from the statue that hung over lit candles; washed out by moonlight shining through holes in the ceiling.
You picked up the bag that promised dry clothing. Swallowed hard, the tension in the church cutting through the reserves trying to limit your flaring nerves.
"I'm going to find somewhere to get changed."
"So modest." Elijah smirked, "I'm only assuming him and I have both seen-"
"I'd watch your next few words, Mr. Kamski." Connor's eyes went dark, his fingers twitching like a tail.
Elijah pulled back, snorting from his nose, "As you wish…"
You rolled your eyes, slinging the bag over your shoulder. There was a changing room in the back, one you'd inhabited before with a white dress and gawking bridesmaids…
How different things were, tonight.
…
The body-long mirror had just enough dust caked on it to blot out your best features. The glass was shattered and fragmented, the shards hanging at certain angles where the board behind them filled in the gaps. A void serving as glue to hold them together.
Your gloves were still wet and cold, worn raw like the blisters they covered. You pulled the sweater over your head, the army-green hem stopping just above the black military fatigues. The elbows and knees were marked with leather-reinforced patches. They rubbed against the long coat that dangled at your ankles, the ends of the flaps brushing along new boots that hadn't been broken in yet.
When Liera had guessed your size, you figured she didn't account for you leaving your bulletproof vest on underneath.
You sat on a bench. Covered yourself with enough "disguise" and equipment to bury your identity.
It was easier than dealing with what it meant to be you. You wanted to get lost in your vision; your purpose, one that required finesse for stomping out emotions and leaving them in your past.
You were no longer a person. No longer a cop. You were a revolutionary, raised by Detroit and called upon to put a stop to the victimization ransacking the streets.
You plucked a piece of the mirror from the rest, glittering dust falling to the floor.
This transcendence was a new feature in your practiced routine, mimicked by a reflection in a different mirror that'd recorded your evolution.
"Mirror, mirror, on the wall…"
It wasn't that long ago that you didn't know yourself anymore. You'd lost the reassurance that your enemies wouldn't recognize you, because you couldn't, either. But after all that you'd been through, you knew exactly who you were…and what they knew, unlike back then, was that they were on your hitlist.
With cuts and bruises lining your face, neck – the flesh that covered your body…
You'd make them all learn their place in this world, just like you'd learned yours.
"Be careful with that." Connor whispered, "It's edges are rather sharp."
You jumped, squeezing the glass so that you wouldn't drop it. Its edges were sharpened, sure, but so were yours.
"Elijah is waiting in the sedan. He was very uncomfortable being here, considering…"
You placed the shard beside you, folding your hands on your lap, "I can imagine he's not the only one who's uncomfortable in this situation."
"Yes, you must be quite distressed. But leaving with him is your best-"
"I wasn't talking about me."
You offered a sad smile, looking over your shoulder. Patted the space next to you, and it was quickly occupied by the only person you wanted to talk to.
The only person you could talk to.
"Yes, I must admit it's been quite…unnerving, having him in close proximity after everything that's happened."
You gave him a hug, one that comforted him more than yourself. He pulled back, concern on his face and the solace you wished for him completely absent.
"You're wearing your vest…You won't get through Customs-"
"Like I said before…I'm not going to Canada."
His eyes widened, and his mouth hung open. He shook his head back and forth, clearly disturbed by the proposition, "Where else would you go? Your apartment is still blocked off, according to city records-"
"I'm not going home, either."
You gave him that look.
Scorched him with a heated gaze as you stared into a deeper ring of Hell that would house you for the sins to come.
"I just want you to be safe. It's all I've ever wanted, all I ever will want."
He went to caress your face. You let him touch you; let the hand that was never scared to get burned encase your cheek and soothe your soul until it reignited and burst into flames.
"That wasn't in the cards for me, Connor. Not in this life."
You let the anger take hold, let the perseverance take control – automated systems that only came on in emergency situations and often led to impulsive behavior.
"I may have agreed to marry him, but I didn't agree to what came next. He doesn't get to destroy my life and swing in to save the day just because it's more convenient for him."
You stood, offering your hands to help him up and to take his place next to you.
"I have nothing, Connor. No money, no home, no freedom. No rights."
The wildfire was starting to spread. You could see it in his eyes.
"I have been stripped of everything, more than I've ever been before. This is what it's really like…for you, for all the other androids…"
"You still have something."
He beamed with compassion; an endearing look that told you he was in this for the long haul, and that nothing you had to say would scare him away. That no matter what sick, twisted proposal you had, he wouldn't run from the fight.
"You're right." You touched his face, tracing his jaw, "I have you."
You tipped his chin with your finger, guiding his attention to the mirror. You watched him in the glass; the two of you studying each other in a fever dream.
"I have you, a revised article written with my beliefs, ideas that will change the world…And I have a plan."
He took your hand in his, raising it to his lips.
"What is that?"
His words whispered across your knuckles in a kiss, just barely strong enough to send chills down your spin.
"Well, if I told you…"
You slid them along his cheekbone, slipping your fingers underneath his hat to gently tangle them in his hair.
"…I'd have to kill you."
You shared a long kiss. A dance of tongues and lips in heated passion and fulfilled fantasies, lost in one of the fairy tales you'd dreamed of.
"I wouldn't want that…"
He whispered into your mouth, breaking away only long enough to send you into a haze with a sickeningly sweet smile.
"…Not after I'm finally alive."
…
The sedan was warm when you got inside, scaring Elijah in the driver's seat with the sudden opening of the door. His face was highlighted by the lights from the dashboard, the vents emptying hot air on all sides. At least he could do that right.
"You're more than welcome to sit up front." He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, "The windows are ti-"
The opposite door opened, and Connor jumped in. He'd taken Anthony's clothes and laid them at his grave, now wearing his traditional CyberLife uniform he'd kept underneath. Said it was part of his original plan, one that'd changed drastically.
"What's he doing here?!"
"Change of plans." You pulled your seatbelt over your chest, "We're going to the CyberLife Tower."
"Absolutely not. You are going to come with-"
Watching Connor get changed, you saw where he kept his pistol. Made a grab for it, and pushed it against the back of Elijah's headrest.
It didn't just scare him, or Connor…you scared yourself at your absolute willingness to end anyone who was going to get in your way.
"Drive."
"You wouldn't dare."
"You don't know me." You pressed the gun farther into the cushion, "You never did."
"I know you well enough that you wouldn't kill me in cold blood."
Your thumb brushed against the hammer, a click coming from the chamber.
"Try me."
His eyes met yours in the rearview mirror…scorched each other with heated gazes as you dove into each other's infernal pit that'd once left each of you marred for life.
He broke first. He always did, while you were the one that would bend.
"You'll bring this city to its knees just to prove a point, won't you?" His hateful glare broke into a laugh, "Even if you have to dig the truth from its smoldering bones."
"We are going to do what we should've done years ago."
"And what is that?"
"What's right."
He shook his head, snickering under his breath as he looked to the left. Rested his wrist on the steering wheel before submitting with a shrug.
"I guess we're going to the CyberLife Tower. And then to jail, if we don't end up dead."
"They won't kill you, Eli…you won't end up in jail, either." You sneered, "You're just a hostage doing what you're told by the two deviants holding you at gunpoint."
He scoffed, putting the sedan in reverse.
"And you're so sure both of you will end up out of this alive?"
"Not myself, no." Connor interjected, "But nothing will happen to her. You have my word."
"I'll believe it when I see it…" A rear camera showed the end of the short driveway, the Marauders' getaway car leaving fresh tread marks that were overridden with your own, "…Suicidal idiots."
The hood pointed away from the airport, towards Ambassador Bridge and Belle Island.
"Any last words?" Elijah shifted the transmission into drive.
Your body rocked forward as the sedan began to move, Anthony's grave sliding out of view. The sky's darkness was aged, with dawn only a few hours away. And even so, it offered its cover on this cold, winter night.
"'Out of the night that covers me, black as a pit from pole to pole…I thank whatever Gods may be, for my unconquerable soul.'"
The angelic presence of the church faded, the other side of its origin being pulled from memory. One of the last standing buildings as fire once engulfed it, left standing in black soot and ashen history.
"'In the fell clutch of circumstance, I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance, my head is bloody, but unbowed.'"
You looked at Connor, who had recited the next line in the poem. He watched you in reverence, his calming powers distilling the fury inside you. Your wrist began to relax, the pistol lowering enough to take the edge off.
A tower loomed in the distance – one that held your own ashen memories in the form of twinkling office lights along the tallest frame known to man.
"'Beyond this place of wrath and tears, looms but the Horror of the shade…And yet the menace of the years, finds, and shall find, me unafraid.'"
A police car zoomed by, lights flashing and sirens blaring as it barreled down the street. You'd been on that side of the law before this…or at least, you'd tricked yourself into believing so. Perkins had set that record straight.
You were merely playing the part, and the consequences that would come from that were on your heels.
"'It matters not how strait the gate," Connor continued, "'How charged with punishments the scroll…'"
Instead of running, you were ready to face them…to bring the battle to the doorstep of those who would want you a quaint, silent woman.
A dead woman.
"'I am the master of my fate…'"
But just like the androids of Jericho, there was something they couldn't take from you.
"'I am the captain, of my soul.'"
Behind the Scenes
(Links on AO3)
Prayer to Saint Michael
Ste. Anne de Detroit Catholic Church
"Invictus" by William Ernest Henley
Inspired by "Legendary" by Welshly Arms
Private moment in changing room written to "The Fear" by The Score
