Chapter Two

"My name is Connor," said the android, "I just want to talk."

He was handsome, though that didn't surprise Wren. CyberLife had never sacrificed aesthetic for efficiency. His voice was gentle and calm but authoritative –this wasn't his first hostage situation.

The scene shifted and Connor melted away, leaving Wren alone in a linoleum room. Where Connor had stood was a new man, though Wren recognized him as her superior. The urge to flinch away from him pulled at Wren, but she resisted it.

"Your mission is to eliminate the android leader in Detroit, Markus. Should you get captured, your orders are to self-destruct. Do you understand your objective?"

Wren nodded. "Yes, sir."

Wren pried open her eyes, the remnants of her dream sliding out of memory. She pushed a breath through her nostrils, though something obstructed her airway. She glanced at it, and then relaxed at the sight of oxygen tubes. The heart monitor beside her bed allowed her to count the seconds, giving her a sense of time. It took approximately seven heartbeats for Hank and Connor to enter her hospital room. Wren pushed herself into a sitting position.

Hank stood to her right and folded his arms. "So, you're a cyborg."

Wren smirked. "What gave it away?"

"Look, now's not the time to be a smartass. We've got questions, you're gonna answer them," snapped Hank.

Wren shrugged. "Well, you didn't ask me a question. You pointed out the obvious."

Hank glowered. "Cute. It was a rhetorical statement."

"Ah," said Wren, her eyebrows lifting with mock realization, "my apologies for misunderstanding."

"This is getting us nowhere," said Connor. He took a few steps closer to the left side of Wren's bedside. "You said you were sent to assassinate Markus."

"You did a shitty job," interjected Hank.

"I meant to," Wren bit back, scowling at the older man. She returned her attention to Connor. "You want to know who sent me?"

"Correct."

"They're called Prometheus," said Wren, ignoring the tightness in her stomach. Speaking freely about Prometheus after years of silence left a metallic taste in her mouth. She folded her hands in her lap. "Even though I've been with them for the past ten years, I don't know much about them, except for they train operatives to assassinate or obtain secrets or plant evidence. They could be CIA, or even independent. I don't even know if they're exclusive to the U.S., or if they have operations all over the world. Both are equally plausible."

"Prometheus," Connor repeated, his brow puckering.

"Named for the Titan in Greek mythology, who brought fire to humans. Guess you could say they see themselves as humanity's champion or savior, like the Greeks saw Prometheus. A bit dramatic, if you ask me, but I'm not in charge." Wren shrugged again. If she'd had a say in the organization's name, she'd have used an anagram, like In FBI or CIA. Much less pretentious.

"So, they wanted you to kill Markus because androids are a threat to humans? But they've been peaceful and diplomatic from the beginning!" said Hank. Wren watched Hank's eyes flick to Connor, who kept his gaze steady on her. The older man paced back and forth and rubbed the back of his neck. Wren lifted her chin slightly. The man cared for the android.

"They didn't give me a reason. I'm just their tool. They sent me with a mission and I did my best to fail."

"Why?" Connor queried.

"I saw the uprising," Wren explained, "I know it was peaceful. I've killed a lot of shitty people. But I've also killed some good people for Prometheus, too. Those haunt me the most." Her eyes flicked downward.

She peered through the scope of her rifle, eyeing her target. She tried not to think of his children at home as she pulled the trigger.

"Hey, earth to Wren," barked Hank. Wren's eyes jumped to his. He frowned at her. "You got a last name?"

Her stomach clenched. "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I don't remember," Wren snapped. "Technically, I'm not even supposed to know that my name is Wren. Prometheus always referred to me as my model number."

"Your model number?" Connor queried, tilting his head.

Wren lifted her right arm. She rolled up her sleeve. Her arm was human down to the elbow, where her cybernetic limb began. Tattooed on the underside of her arm was a model number: CY001.

The LED on Connor's temple circled yellow. He squinted at the tattoo and folded his arms. "That resembles the format CyberLife uses for androids."

"Well, CyberLife is the one who did this to me, so…"

"Wait, Prometheus didn't?" Hank shook his head.

"Prometheus and CyberLife have a contract, I think."

"So, what? You signed on to be an experiment or somethin'?" Hank's scowl seemed to be his resting expression.

Wren lowered her gaze. "Not exactly," she admitted. Memories of headlights crashing into her surfaced to the forefront of her mind, but she pushed them down before she lost control. "CyberLife saved my life."

"What?" Hank and Connor looked at each other and then back at Wren, who inhaled deeply.

She closed her eyes, unable to look at them. It seemed she had no choice but to pull those memories to the forefront of her mind. "I was in a car wreck. My car went over a cliff, and the bones in my arms and legs were shattered. I had severe trauma to my head. If they hadn't amputated my limbs and implanted a small mental processor, I'd be a vegetable. When I woke up, I didn't remember anything but my name. The doctors called it post-traumatic amnesia. They said it usually doesn't last for more than a few months, but… I haven't been the same for ten years." She smiled bitterly.

"You don't remember anything?" Hank pressed.

"I get flashes of random things every now and then, but they don't make sense. So, yeah. I don't remember."

"Jesus," Hank muttered, shaking his head again.

"Why did you want to die?" Connor asked quietly.

Wren looked at him, her heart stuttering. She looked away from Connor's narrowed eyes and furrowed brow. She picked at her fingernails. "I… I didn't know if I could fight the programming," she muttered. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. Her chest tightened. For a moment, it was difficult to breathe. She didn't want to go to jail for something she couldn't control. She met Connor's gaze. "They programmed me to obey. They gave me a mission that I didn't want to succeed. I've been with them for a decade. They've used that time to make me loyal to them. Humans can be brainwashed if they're traumatized enough. I didn't want to kill Markus. I wanted to be stopped. I was trying to fight it, I swear. I've been trying to break free for years, but… I couldn't."

"And we're supposed to just believe that you couldn't control it? That you're innocent in all of this?" Hank gestured vaguely.

Wren widened her eyes at him, the color draining from her face. She looked at Connor. "I'm telling the truth," she breathed. She held out her hands, her synthetic skin peeling away to reveal her plastic arms. "Probe my memory if you want."

Connor drew back, his eyes widening a fraction. His LED flashed yellow. He looked at Hank, who dipped his head. Connor extended his slowly, his synthetic skin disappearing. He gripped Wren's right forearm. She held his arm in return. A small electrical jolt passed between them as Connor connected to her memory.

She held the gun to the female android's head –the one called North –and faced the android called Connor. Red walls of programming surrounded her. Her primary objective glittered in the red walls: ELIMINATE MARKUS.

A sub objective appeared beside Connor, who approached slowly with his hands raised: ELIMINATE OBSTACLES.

"I don't want to die, I have to. Please. I can't fight it much more."

An electrical shock seared through her head as her programming urged her to accomplish her mission. The shock tremored through her body. She clenched her teeth to the point of pain.

"Fight what?" She heard the older man, Hank, through the static ringing in her ears.

"My… programming…" Wren nearly cried out as the pain intensified. It almost burned as she resisted pulling the trigger. How easy it would be, to kill North and shoot Hank. Connor might prove difficult to incapacitate, but Wren was confident that she could manage. She had never failed before. But God, did she want to.

Wren gasped as Connor let go of her arm abruptly, severing their connection. His LED circled red. His mouth hung ajar and he backed away from Wren as if she had slapped him.

"Connor? You alright?" Hank asked, moving toward the android and extending a hand. Wren narrowed her eyes at the exchange. The pair seemed to share a bond that went beyond a partnership on the police force. It seemed more familial.

Connor looked from Wren to Hank, his mouth still hanging open and his LED still flashing red. "She… she's telling the truth."

Hank peered at Wren, who watched them with a racing heart. When she looked at Connor, he avoided her gaze. Hank grabbed Connor by the elbow and led him toward the door. "Give us a few minutes."

They stepped outside of the hospital room. Wren increased the sensitivity of her auditory components to eavesdrop on the two cops deciding her fate. Hank's voice was sharp with static as he said, "Programming or no programming, I don't trust her. She tried to kill Markus. Who's to say she won't try again?"

"She won't," Connor insisted quietly, "she… she deviated. You saw how Markus helped break her free."

"But her conditioning? Brainwashing? That's harder to break free from."

"Hank, I saw what happened last night through her eyes. I felt it. I felt pain," Connor's voice trembled.

"I thought androids don't feel pain?"

"They don't. But I felt her pain. I think her programming was directly related to her conditioning. For humans, the controller inflicts pain onto the victim in order to condition or brainwash them to respond in a certain way to specific stimuli. From what I felt, I think that her programming inflicted pain every time she diverted from her mission or expressed individualism. Hank, she's telling the truth. She tried her best to get caught. She never even got close to Markus. A trained operative like her would have no trouble in doing so, yet she specifically chose to take a hostage who had nothing to do with her mission."

"So, what do we do with her, then? She's not fuckin' innocent, Connor. She said it herself that she's killed a lot people."

"I think we need to question her further," said Connor. "Prometheus could still pose a threat to Markus. Wren's information could be valuable."

"Shit. What else could we ask?"

"I have a few questions in mind."

"Fine. But we still need to arrest her."

Wren switched her auditory sensitivity back to normal as Hank and Connor reentered the room.

"Well, you're not innocent, even though you're telling the truth," said Hank, pulling up a chair and sitting down. "I think we have no choice but to arrest you and bring you in."

Wren's stomach jumped. She glanced at Connor, who stared at her with soft yet composed features. She looked back at Hank. "Please," she whispered, tears springing to her eyes, "just kill me."

"What the fuck?" Hank frowned. He and Connor exchanged a glance.

"Why do you want us to kill you?" Connor asked gently.

Wren looked at him. "Prison won't keep me safe. Prometheus will find me, especially now that I've betrayed them. They'll find me, and when they do, they won't kill me."

"They'll do something worse?" Hank guessed.

Wren offered him a wry smile. She rolled up the sleeve of her right arm again, this time showing them the scars on her shoulder and bicep. Many of the scars were thin and light, but a few marked where she'd suffered more severe wounds. "They don't take failure lightly."

Hank's eyes slid to Connor's. Wren looked at him, too. His LED was yellow. Wren looked between them, the sound of her heartbeat thrashing in her ears. She gripped the sheets until she trembled. Connor thought her valuable and that Prometheus posed a threat. He was right, but she needed to convince them not to put her in jail. She needed Prometheus to think she was dead.

"CY001," she croaked. Hank and Connor frowned at her. They waited for her to continue. "The numbers mark me as their first cyborg."

"There are more like you? Jesus Christ," Hank walked away, rubbing the back of his head before turning to look at Wren again.

"I don't know," she admitted.

"Well, what do you know? Because I'm hearing a lot more uncertainty than actual fuckin' answers."

"I wouldn't doubt there are more. Cyborgs are easier to control. The likelihood of deviancy is extremely low, which why Prometheus don't use androids. Cyborgs have some of the advantages of androids and humans, but also the failings of both. We feel pain. Enough trauma can cause a breakdown and make us completely subservient. I know there are other operatives for Prometheus, I just don't know if they're cyborgs. I failed my objective, which means they'll send someone else to finish the job. They'll send someone who won't fail. I'm their first, which means any other cyborgs after me have been perfected. Markus's life is still in danger, whether the next operative they send is human, cyborg or android. I can help protect him."

Hank narrowed his eyes. "What do you want in return?"

"To start over," Wren murmured. "Prometheus needs to think I'm dead. But… I…" She swallowed the lump in her throat. The tears that had been pricking her eyes finally slipped down her cheeks as she stared at her hands. Her chest ached. "I've done a lot of terrible things. I always felt like I was watching myself do these things but I couldn't stop it. I… I don't want to be their weapon anymore. I want to know who I was before all of this. I-I don't even know if I have a family," Wren's voice broke. She cleared her throat, her neck heating. She looked up at Connor and Hank. "Hide me from Prometheus and help me fit the pieces of my old life together, and I'll help protect Markus. Help me, and we might can bring Prometheus down."

A/N: Thank you so much to those who added this story to their alerts and reviewed. I really appreciate it! I noticed that FF changed the formatting of the first chapter, so I'll have to fix it. (I had breaks in between some of the text to show a change in time/scenery, and the site deleted it). Also, italic scenes are usually flashbacks or dreams, in case that was confusing :) I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter.

Please review if you have a moment to spare!