Chapter Fifteen
TRIGGER WARNING: ABUSE, ATTEMPTED RAPE, and language (there's been language throughout, but it gets derogatory/misogynistic for a moment here)
Connor peered out the window as Hank steered down a gravel road. They pulled up to a white colonial-style house. However, this one was not upkept like the others Connor had seen. The front porch was missing several banisters. The house was extremely dirty. A window was broken on the second floor. Hank stopped the car, staring up at the house.
"Jeeesus," he muttered. "You lived in this shithole?"
When Wren failed to respond, Connor twisted in his seat to look at her. She stared out the window at the house, her eyes wide.
«scan» [▲Stress Levels: 34%]
"Kid," said Hank, turning to look at Wren, one hand still on the wheel, "we don't have to talk to this guy."
Wren still did not look at them. "Yes," she replied, "I do." She opened the car door and stepped out.
Hank grabbed Connor's shoulder before he could follow her. "This won't be easy for her."
Connor furrowed his brow. "Do you think Jonah will try to hurt her?"
"I hope he's not that stupid, but we never know," said Hank. "Let's just be prepared for anything."
Connor nodded and got out of the car. He trekked toward the house, his eyes on the house as its shadow fell over him. The summer air instantly chilled as he ascended the steps and joined Wren on the porch. The paint rotted off, peeling like from the floorboards and walls like lichen on a tree. Hank's heavy steps creaked the floorboards. Wren rang the doorbell.
«scan» [▲Stress Levels: 35%]
The door opened.
«scan» [Processing data… COMPLETE]
[Cage, Jonah: Bartender]
[Born: 06/06/2004]
[Criminal Record: Posession and dealing of Red Ice, aggravated assault, suspected domestic violence]
Connor clenched his teeth. Jonah Cage was once an attractive man, but years of alcoholism and drug abuse gave him a rough, dirty appearance. He was skinny but muscular. Tattoos decorated his arms. He slicked his hair back. A lock of it fell onto his forehead. His eyes were round and blue. A beard covered much of his face. Connor narrowed his eyes slightly. The beard poorly hid a scar on Jonah's right cheek. He narrowed his eyes at Connor.
"What do you want?"
"J-Jonah Cage?" Wren said, folding her arms across her chest.
Jonah's light gaze turned from Connor to Wren. His eyes stretched as recognition flitted across his features. "Wrenley." He covered his mouth with a hand. Tears filled his eyes. "Holy shit. You're alive. How… How the fuck are you here? Where have you been?" He stepped forward and hugged Wren, who stiffened.
Connor tensed. "She doesn't remember you."
Jonah withdrew from Wren as if she shocked him. He narrowed his eyes and looked at Connor. "What do you mean?"
"The accident," Wren murmured, "it… It damaged my brain." She gave Jonah an abbreviated version of the story she had told her parents and brother.
Jonah raised his eyebrows. "That's… fucked up." He leaned against the doorframe but did not invite Wren, Connor and Hank inside. "I… I really missed you, babe. All these years… I thought you were dead."
«scan» [▲Stress Levels: 41%]
"I-I'm sorry," Wren muttered.
Jonah's lips twitched. "You look good." His eyes traveled over Wren's form. Connor pressed his lips into a hard line. "Really good."
«scan» [▲Stress Levels: 45%]
Connor had been scanning Wren's stress levels the entire trip, but they had not reached this level the entire time. He shifted so that he stood slightly in front of Wren. "We came to speak with you about the night of the accident."
Jonah's eyebrows lifted at Connor's harsh tone. Wren's ex rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, sure." He blew out a breath. "Look, we… We got in a fight that night, okay? She got mad, got in the car and left. I… I thought she just needed to cool down, but…" Jonah paused, his eyes red and watery. He seemed to choke on his own words, but Connor did not buy it. Jonah inhaled deeply. "When I got the news, I couldn't believe it. I didn't leave our room for a week, Wren."
The way Jonah said our set Connor's teeth on edge. He curled his hands into fists at his sides. Hank shifted to his left. Connor glanced at Wren, forcing his hands to relax.
«scan» [▲Stress Levels: 47%]
"Why did we fight?" Wren whispered.
Jonah sniffed and shrugged. "I don't remember. Something stupid."
Hank moved in Connor's peripheral. "You get in a fight with your girlfriend and that same night she goes missing and you don't remember what you fought about? That was your last conversation with her. If I were you, I'd've been replaying that moment over and over in my head."
Connor narrowed his eyes as he regarded Jonah. He scanned Jonah's stress levels.
[▲42%]
Jonah squared his shoulders as he eyed Hank. "I tried to forget."
Connor pursed his lips before stating coldly, "We have reason to believe you were abusive. Are you sure that didn't have anything to do with Wren's accident?"
Jonah's face rippled with a sneer. "Are you accusing me of somethin'?"
"We're not accusing you of anything," said Wren, stepping forward. Connor wanted to push her behind him again. She was exposed to Jonah, and he felt bare and useless. "I just want the truth."
Jonah pressed his lips together and lifted his eyebrows. Somehow his expression derided Wren.
[WARNING: Rise in System Temperature Detected]
Jonah stepped toward Wren. Connor scanned her stress levels.
«scan» [▲Stress Levels: 54%]
"The truth? You want the fucking truth?" Jonah laughed, but it was harsh. It reminded Connor of Gavin's mocking laugh. "The truth is that you were high off your ass that night. You were always such a cunt when you were on Ice. We got in a fight that I was too drunk and high to remember. You stormed out of the house and drove off." Jonah shrugged, nonplussed.
Connor looked at Wren, his lips parted.
«scan» [▲Stress Levels: 63%]
Wren shuddered. Connor moved toward her, but Hank gripped his arm. Connor frowned at the lieutenant. Hadn't Hank said that this would be difficult for Wren? Hank dipped his head toward Wren. Connor looked at her and held himself back. She glared at Jonah, her bottom lip quivering. She was scared, but not weak. Connor clenched his fists as Wren stared up at Jonah, their bodies nearly touching.
"You're not telling the whole truth. You hurt me. You left bruises on me. You're lying about why we fought."
Jonah licked his lips. "You think you were a goddamn saint, don't ya? Fine. Wanna know why we fought? You were a stripper. Go ask the club downtown. It's the only one. You told me that you were just dancing, but I knew. I knew you were fucking guys behind my back. So yeah, we fought because you were a fucking whore!" He shoved Wren back.
"Hey!" Hank shouted, releasing Connor to steady Wren. In one, fluid motion, Connor stepped toward Jonah and grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket.
Connor's lip curled. "Don't ever touch her again, scumbag."
Jonah struggled against Connor's grip. "Get your cheap plastic hands off me!"
"Actually, I'm worth a small fortune. Don't you ever touch her again, or I will personally neutralize you. Do you hear me?" Connor snarled.
"What kind of asshole says 'neutralize?'" Jonah spat. Connor did not release Wren's ex. He wouldn't until Jonah agreed to never touch Wren again. Jonah snorted. "Don't like hearing the truth about your little girlfriend? Yeah, she used to ride dick all the time. Is she still a master cocksucker? Oh, you wouldn't know, would you?"
Connor's eyes widened. His grip on Jonah's collar loosened. Hank grabbed Connor by the shoulders. "That's enough! Come on, we're leaving."
"Yeah, you better get the fuck outta here! Not everyone is ready to sing kumbaya with you plastic fucks!" Jonah shouted after them.
Connor trembled as he got into the car, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. For several minutes, no one spoke.
"You guys okay?" Hank murmured.
"I'm sorry," Connor breathed, "I don't know what came over me."
"You got mad. I was pretty close to knocking his teeth out." Hank shrugged.
"He's lying," Wren muttered from the backseat. Connor turned to look at her, a lump forming in his throat.
"About what?" Hank asked, looking at Wren through the rearview mirror.
She stared straight ahead, a watery sheen glossing over her eyes. "When he pushed me, it triggered a memory. Of that night."
Connor's biocomponents seemed to twist.
Wren lifted her head, meeting Connor's gaze. "I want to go to the strip club."
"What, why?" demanded Hank.
"I need to know."
…
Connor avoided looking at the strippers and their scantily clad bodies. He tried not to imagine Wren working there. His mind drifted to the Eden Club. He remembered trying to be respectful of the dancers, even before his deviancy. He had attempted to remain indifferent and professional around the Tracies, He hadn't deviated yet, but his empathy had seeped through his programming, even then. He remembered the sickening feeling of being torn between his programming and empathy. He recalled looking at a dancer through the glass tank, his eyes traveling up her glittering body. The problem with free will was that it allowed for his imagination to flourish. Instead of seeing the usual model for a Traci, he saw Wren's face. He imagined Wren in a glass case, dressed in the Eden Club attire, her hands pressed against the glass. Nausea –or the closest thing an android could experience as nausea –roiled in his biocomponents. It was as though his thirium were boiling. Heat prickled up his neck and flushed across his cheeks.
He forced himself to focus on the exchange between Wren and one of the strippers, a woman named Ginger.
"Holy shit, I barely recognized you, Wren. You look good."
"Thank you," said Wren. "I'm… I'm sorry that I don't really remember you. The accident…"
"I get it," said Ginger, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "So, what brings you and the cops here?"
Connor folded his hands behind his back and tilted his head, regarding Ginger politely. She looked him over, a smirk toying at her lips. Her gaze discomforted him. Ginger's eyes flicked to Wren. "I worked here, right? We're trying to piece my past together. We're hoping it might help me remember."
"Yeah, you worked here," said Ginger. "You were one of the best girls here. Jonah made you get a job here, the selfish prick. But he was always so jealous. But you guys had bills to pay, I guess."
Connor felt Wren tense beside him. "Did I ever… sleep with the clients?"
Ginger scowled. "What? No. You got offers, sure. But you always said you belonged to Jonah. None of us sleep with the clients. We're dancers, not prostitutes."
Wren relaxed. "Thank you, Ginger."
"No problem. I hope everything works out."
"You, too."
…
Back at Wren's parents' house, Wren pulled Connor into her room and shut the door. Connor pinched his brow as Wren turned to face him.
"Can I show you the memory?" she asked.
Connor parted his lips for a moment. He closed his mouth and nodded. Wren stepped forward and pressed her palms to Connor's, their synthetic skin rippling away. A soft blue glow emitted where their hands touched. Connor closed his eyes as Wren sucked him into the memory.
Her head pounded as she pulled into the driveway. She had been clean for a few days now, and her body craved release. But she resisted it as she got out of the car. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she entered the house. She stuffed her keys into her back pocket rather than dropping them on the table in the foyer. Her eyes felt as if someone were pressing their thumbs against them. She rubbed her temples to alleviate the headache. She trekked down the hall and glanced into the kitchen to her left. Trash littered the countertops. Dirty dishes piled high in the sink. Flies buzzed around the waste. She shivered and peered to the left, where Jonah sat on the couch, watching TV. She took a deep breath and entered the living room and rounded the couch. She prayed this went well.
Jonah did not even look at her. "Babe, get me a beer."
Wren's insides quivered. "No."
Jonah looked at her icily. "What the fuck did you just say to me?"
Wren sucked in a shuddering breath. "Jonah, I think we should get clean. I-I hate our life. Let's sell the rest of the drugs. We could use the money to get out of this town. I could teach dance somewhere –"
Jonah's harsh laugh cut her off. "Did you just say we could sell the drugs? You hate our life? You hate the life I've built you? I bought you a goddamn car!"
"I-I know, but Jonah, look at us. I can't do this anymore."
Jonah stood. Wren backtracked, but stopped before she reached the kitchen. He narrowed his eyes at her. "Are you sober?"
"Jonah, I'm serious, please. I don't want to lose you. I want to work on us, but w-we can't have a healthy relationship if –"
"You're not fucking sober." He grabbed her by the hair, pain shooting through her scalp. She let out a whimper as he pulled her face close to his. The reek of alcohol burned her nostrils.
"Jonah, please!" Wren cried as he stooped to pick something up, his hand still gripping her hair. He placed the object to Wren's mouth. It was a Red Ice pipe.
"I bought this for you. Smoke it! Smoke it, now!" He tried to force the pipe into her mouth.
"No!"
"Did you just tell me no? That's the second time tonight!" He threw the pipe to the floor. It shattered at Wren's feet. She jumped and cried out.
Jonah grabbed her face, forcing her to look up at him. She let out a dry sob. "You're so fucking hot…"
He ran his hands down her body. She pushed him back weakly, relief rushing over her scalp when he released his hold. "Please, don't…" She shook as she tried to remember self-defense from the lessons she and the other dancers had been required to take, but she was not sure she could hurt Jonah.
His hands rubbed down her butt and in between her thighs.
She jerked away. "Please, stop."
"No," Jonah growled, "you're mine." He grabbed her by the arms and forced her onto the couch, where he climbed on top of her. Tears streamed down the sides of her face as Jonah unbuckled his pants. Her heart slammed in its cavity. Bile surged into her throat. No. This wasn't going to end like this. She curled her hand into a fist and punched Jonah in the balls. He hunched over and wheezed. Wren pushed him off her and rolled off the couch. She hurried toward the foyer, Jonah's enraged shouts behind her. Something glass hit her in the back. She stumbled and fell, lying in the broken shards of a vodka bottle. The space between her shoulder blades ached.
Jonah loomed over her, his belt unbuckled. He used his foot to roll her over. He stepped on her hip, holding her in place. A grin spread across his face, though it looked feral. He unzipped his pants. "I like it when you're feisty." He straddled her, pulling his pants down. He worked on unbuckling Wren's pants. She grabbed a shard of glass and struck with it. She stabbed Jonah in his right cheek. His hands jumped to cup his bleed wound.
"Ah, fuck!"
Wren scrambled out from underneath him and sprinted toward the nearest exit: the stairs. She knew it was stupid to run upstairs, but she had very few options. She sprinted up the stairs, Jonah close on her heels. He grabbed one of her ankles, and she crashed onto the stairs.
"You stupid whore!" Jonah snarled. He punched her face. Stars danced in her vision, but she punched back. Blood flooded her mouth as Jonah hit her again. She grabbed his face and scratched her nails down his cheek. She dug her fingers in his new wound on his cheek. Jonah screamed and withdrew from her. Wren used both feet to kick him in the chest. He tumbled down the stairs, and Wren got up and ran down the hall, her hands sticky with blood. She hurried into one of the rooms and locked herself in.
Breathing heavily, she hurried to the window and slid it open. She clambered through it, onto the awning over the porch. Rain poured down around her, and her grip slipped slightly, but she caught herself. Banging from behind her told her that Jonah was trying to break down the door. Jesus, did he ever give up? Would she have to kill him?
The door burst off its hinges and Jonah stormed into the room, looking mad with blood streaming down his face. "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU, YOU FUCKING CUNT!"
Wren widened her eyes and released her grip on the window sill. She slid down the roof and fell to the ground. Her ankle twisted when she landed, pain shooting up through her leg. She cried out and crumpled to the ground, cradling her throbbing ankle. She heard Jonah's roars from the house and forced herself to get up, her heart pounding in her skull. She limped to her car, her hands shaking as she fought to slam her keys into the ignition.
She screeched out of the driveway and sped off, not paying attention to where she was going. Her shoulders quaked as she sobbed. Tears blurred her vision. Her hands stuck to the steering wheel, rotten with Jonah's rusty blood. Her whole body ached from the fight. Her heart stung and it hurt to breathe.
Headlights gleamed to her left. Wren frowned. There were no intersecting roads here, there shouldn't be headlights to her left –
CRASH.
The other car slammed into hers in a rush. Her car spun and hit the guardrail. She did not feel any pain; she suspected that the adrenaline spiking her blood was to blame. Perhaps the shock, too. Her stomach floated up to her throat as she plummeted off the cliff.
She remembered that everything was quiet. Dying was silent.
She was aware of her screaming, she felt the noise ripping through her throat, but she could not hear it.
She did not feel the impact of the ground. She only felt the quiet darkness.
Connor gaped when Wren broke their connection, releasing him from the memory. He did not need to breathe, but he felt as though he were drowning. He wanted to gasp for breath, to provide some relief to the heaviness crushing his biocomponents, particularly on his metal heart. His eyes burned from stretching so wide. He felt sick as he looked at Wren, who stared at him apprehensively.
He looked at her, and all of the anger, shock, disgust, horror, fear, everything just crumpled. He pulled Wren toward him and enveloped her into a tight hug. Wren did not respond at first, but then her arms wrapped around him. She clung to him and he held onto her, their fingers digging into each other's backs.
Connor had never hated anyone. But he hated Jonah Cage. The feeling shredded through him, overheating his systems. He pushed a heaving breath through his nostrils. He felt Wren shaking beneath him. He heard her let out a soft sob and he melted. Wren did not need his hatred, not now.
He hugged her tighter and squeezed his eyes shut. He never wanted Wren to feel that pain or terror again. All he wanted was for her to feel safe and happy… He wanted to see her radiant smile. He wanted her to toss her head back and laugh, or cover her mouth as she giggled. He wanted to see her eyes glitter as she danced in the kitchen. He wanted her to glow from the inside out with happiness.
He frowned at himself, not understanding where this need –this longing –to see Wren happy came from. Sure, she was family. He wanted similar things for Hank, who was also family. But Wren… Wren was not family the same way that Hank was family. Connor could not quite place it, but he knew his feelings for Wren differed from his feelings for Hank.
[CPU Path Unlocked: ?]
His metal heart lurched. His feelings for Wren had surpassed friendship, but into what, he did not know. Connor's frown deepened, but he decided to investigate his software later. In that moment, Wren was all that mattered.
…
Connor stood on the front porch of the Blanchard house. Charles glowered at him from the doorway, but Connor heeded the man no mind. His gaze remained transfixed on Wren, Shannon and James. Wren's mother and brother held a cardboard box.
"We put some things in here to help you remember who you are," said Shannon, her eyes misty. "Scrapbooks, home videos, your favorite books and movies… Maybe… Maybe they'll trigger something."
"I downloaded your favorite music onto an iPod for you, too. Yours stopped working years ago. You won't find any of today's hits on there, but…" James shrugged.
"Even if you don't remember, maybe it'll help you understand who you were, at least," said Shannon.
They passed the box over to Wren, who cradled it into her arms. Connor could not see her face, but he wished he could. Her head bowed, looking into the box. Then, she lifted her head to look at Shannon and James. "Thank you."
Connor's chest tightened when Wren's voice broke. He looked away to give Wren a private moment with her family. He joined Hank by the car. They had already said their goodbyes and expressed their gratitude, so there was no reason for Connor to hover around Wren.
"You'll come back for Thanksgiving and Christmas, won't you?" Shannon called after Wren, who trekked toward the car. She stopped and turned.
"If you want me to," she said.
"Well, of course we do!" Shannon waved.
"Then… Yeah, I'll try to be there." Wren waved goodbye and placed the box into Hank's trunk. She grabbed the headphones and iPod, though. Connor drove them out of Ellsworth. He instantly felt lighter as they exited the town. He had not expected Wren's past to weigh down on him, too. He could only imagine how she felt.
His mind drifted as he drove. Wren lounged in the backseat, listening to the music James had given her. Hank's head tilted back, his mouth hanging open as he dozed. Connor's lips twitched with a small smile. His family. Even nine hundred miles away from Detroit, Connor felt at home.
After a while, Hank insisted on driving, stating that he was bored. Connor sat in the backseat with Wren while Hank cranked up his metal music. Wren nudged Connor with her shoulder. He looked at her. She held up one of the earbuds to her headphones. Connor smiled softly and took it and placed it in his right ear while Wren wore the left. He tuned out Hank's music to focus on Wren's.
Wren bobbed her head to the beat, and Connor's mouth stretched with a smile. He glanced out the window, watching trees flit past in a blur of green while he listened to the lyrics.
I took a little journey to the unknown
And I come back changed, I can feel it in my bones
I fucked with the forces that our eyes can't see
Now the darkness got a hold on me
Holy darkness got a hold on me
A chill trickled through Connor's blue blood. Was this how Wren felt?
Was this how he felt?
The next song came on, and Connor folded his hands in his lap as his chest tightened.
Something about you
It's like an addiction
Hit me with your best shot, honey
I've got no reason to doubt you
'Cause certain things hurt
And you're my only virtue
And I'm virtually yours
And you keep coming back, coming back again
Keep running round, running round, running round my head
[WARNING: Rise in System Temperature Detected]
[WARNING: Low Sanitary Oral Fluid]
Connor's systems worked to cool him and flood his mouth with artificial saliva. He swallowed, choking on the dryness. He coughed slightly to clear his throat. He glanced down at Wren, who bowed her head, her eyes closed. Her head bounced slowly from side to side as she listened to the music.
Connor tried to ignore the lyrics of the next song, but he found he couldn't.
Sister, I remember
Mother kept happy when she could
Weather in December
Never felt as warm as it should
You were like a feather
Never land where we thought you would
Or anywhere close to it
Who would have thought you never would
So tell me what happens
When the waves break
And you're surrounded
He tries to kill you
And you allow it
A soft sob sputtered beside Connor. He glanced down at Wren, who covered her mouth with her hand as she tried to muffle her cries. His metal heart crumpled. He reached for her free hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. Wren looked at him, the tears in her eyes pronouncing the blue of her irises. Connor parted his lips, feeling choked. He had no idea how to comfort her. What could he say to take away her pain? What could he do to take away the feelings of loss? What could he do to alleviate the darkness?
Wren rested her head on Connor's shoulder. She trembled with soft cries that eventually subsided. Connor rested his cheek against her head. Wren fell asleep, and Connor tried to ignore the lyrics of every love song that played on her iPod. But he couldn't.
…
Connor could not push the image of Wren's grave from his mind. It struck him cold every time he thought of it. It distracted him at work, even after they had returned from their trip in Maine.
He and Hank decided to shelf the dead Traci case until a new lead surfaced, focusing on other cases. For the most part, they had been cut-and-dry. But every time Connor looked down at a dead body, human or android, he could not push the thought of Wren's grave from his processor. It was both a blessing and curse that androids had perfect memories. Not even perfect memories. They could relive their memories, thanks to the way their processors recorded everything they saw.
Connor relived hiking the slope and stopping before the tombstone. He felt the same sharpness in his chest as he stared at Wren's name etched on the stone. His eyes burned with the same intensity as the first time he looked at it, realizing that one day, he would stand at Hank's grave. One day, he would look upon Wren's grave, and it would not be a memorial with empty ground beneath. One day, there would be a coffin under the dirt. One day, Connor would not have a family.
Another staticky memory played in his processor: One of mutilated androids in the basement of a madman's house, left to deteriorate and rust with no one to miss them. At least when the dreadful day that Connor's human family left him came, he knew they'd be missed. He would miss them so much.
His breath hitched and his metal heart ached. The world spun around him and his eyes felt gummy.
[WARNING: Elevated Thirium Pump Regulation]
Connor swallowed and clenched his teeth. He pushed away from his desk, earning him a bewildered look from Hank. Connor trekked to the breakroom, pushing a forceful breath through his nostrils in an attempt to cool his internal systems which would slow his thirium pump's escalated thumping.
Wren entered the breakroom, her arms folded. "Connor? Are you okay?"
Connor gripped the counter. "Wren, what is the purpose for funerals?"
"Uh," said Wren, "It's different for everybody. I guess… For the living, it's a way to say goodbye. It's a last show of respect. It's like sending someone off to the afterlife, if you believe in that."
Connor pursed his lips as his thirium pump regulator jumped. A quaking breath hissed out of his throat. He flinched when Wren placed a hand on his back.
"Connor, what's wrong?" she murmured.
Connor's eyes stung. "There are a dozen androids in a basement of an abandoned house. They shutdown a long time ago, but they're still there. I-I want to get them out."
He turned to look at Wren shakily. Her brow pinched. "Okay. Let's call Jericho."
Connor raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. He expected needing to convince Wren, but she accepted his request so easily. Wren moved away, dialing North's number on her phone. Connor watched her, his lips parted. His chest softened. The corners of his mouth tugged upward.
p/ZG9lcyBzaGUgY2FyZSBmb3IgbWUgbGlrZSBJIGNhcmUgZm9yIGhlcg==p/
…
After work, Connor and Wren met North, Markus and Josh at the Zlatko residence. The sunset cast an orange glow over the house.
North looked up at the house and grimaced. "I see why you want to get them out of there."
"Yeah," agreed Josh, falling in step with Wren, "this place is creepy."
Connor led the way inside. He paused, tilting his head as he registered new footprints in the dust. Someone had been there since he and Hank found the little boy. "We should split up and make sure there aren't any other androids upstairs."
"Good idea," said Markus. He led the way upstairs. Josh and North followed him while Connor trekked toward the basement staircase. Wren followed behind him. Connor appreciated her presence, as he did not want to enter the basement alone again.
They were silent as they walked into the first stall in the basement. Wren gasped when she saw the mutilated android. Connor ignored the warning in the corner of his eye, informing him that his systems overheated and his pump regulation accelerated. He knew that without the technical warning.
The android's arms were twisted at unnatural angles. Connor gaped at the thirium pump regulator inserted through the android's mouth, wires connecting to it down its throat to its abdomen, which was gouged open for them to see the intricate mechanisms inside.
Wren clutched the back of Connor's jacket. A tingle ran up his arms and spine.
"They didn't feel any pain," Connor muttered hoarsely.
"They were deviants, weren't they?" Wren breathed.
"Yes."
"Then… They were awake and alive through this…"
Connor pressed his lips into a hard line. "I know."
He backed out of the stall, Wren still gripping his jacket. They counted the android bodies in all of the stalls, finding exactly a dozen. Wren released her grip on Connor's jacket to head further down the concrete hall.
"Were there any back here?" she asked, rounding the corner.
"No," Connor called back, "just a memory-erasing machine." He waited for her to come back, but she didn't. A frown hardened the lines of his face. "Wren?"
No answer.
Connor wrinkled his brow. "Wren?"
When she still did not answer, Connor strode down the hall and around the corner. He relaxed when he saw Wren staring up at the apparatus. His frown deepened when he noticed Wren's stiff posture. He gazed up at the machine, wondering what Wren found so mesmerizing about it.
He stepped toward her, reaching for her arm. "Wren?"
She backpedaled suddenly, slamming into him. Her chest heaved with her erratic breathing, and Connor gripped her elbows to keep her from collapsing to the ground. He recognized the signs of a panic attack immediately. He turned Wren to face him.
"Wren, talk to me," he said firmly. "What's wrong?"
Wren's eyes darted around the room, glazed with tears. She didn't seem to see Connor.
"Is everything okay?" said North from down the hall.
Connor chose not to answer, focusing on Wren. "Wren, you're okay. Talk to me. You're safe. I've got you."
North, Josh and Markus rounded the corner, their expressions wrinkled with disgust. Their eyes broadened when they saw Connor and Wren. North gathered her brows and stepped forward. "Is she okay?"
"I don't know," Connor muttered. "Wren, look at me."
Wren's eyes found his at last, her breathing evening. "I-I'm okay."
Connor frowned. "What happened?"
"I…" Wren glanced toward North, Markus and Josh before meeting Connor's gaze. "I remembered something. I'm okay, really. I just… I need a minute."
"Here," said North, handing Wren the keys to the Jericho truck, "drive the truck closer. We'll work on moving the bodies, okay?"
Wren nodded, swallowing. Connor released his grip on Wren's arms as she took the keys and hurried out of the basement. He watched her go, his forehead tightening. He felt North's eyes on him and looked at her. She looked away.
"Let's move the bodies," she stated, "this place gives me the creeps."
It took them six trips to move the androids. Wren joined them on the second trip, helping carry and lay the bodies down gently in the back of the truck. After the final trip, Josh and Markus went upstairs to grab another android they had found earlier. Connor watched Wren as she trekked back toward the apparatus to examine it. Connor moved to follow her, but North caught him by the arm.
"Give her some space," she advised. Connor's brow creased. North softened. "She'll talk when she's ready."
Connor nodded and North released his arm.
"Wren," called North, "we're going outside. Come out when you're ready."
"Okay," Wren's voice sounded softer than usual.
Connor's gut tugged. But he heeded North's advice and followed her out of the basement and outside. He wanted to stand by Wren's side and bring a smile back to her lips. He and North stepped outside and immediately exchanged a glance.
A group of men sauntered toward Markus and Josh, who were lifting the final android's body into the truck. The leader of the group stepped forward.
"You shouldn't be here," he said. "This is private property."
Connor and North strode forward. The front door to Zlatko's opened and closed. Connor glanced back, relieved to see Wren. He turned back toward the leader of the group.
"The former resident no longer lives here. This house is going to be reclaimed by the bank soon," Connor stated.
The man's grey eyes zeroed in on Connor's LED. He curled his lip and looked at Markus, North and Josh. His eyes widened and a grin spread across his face. Connor shifted, his abdomen constricting uncomfortably. The man smacked his buddies as he guffawed. "Looks like we hit the jackpot, boys! We've got the damn leaders of those worthless skin-jobs!"
Connor clenched his teeth. North emitted a growl beside him. Markus raised his hands, palms forward. "We're just here to take care of our dead. We're about to leave."
The man stepped forward, dangerously close to Markus's face. "Your kind aren't welcome here. Those androids aren't yours to take. They were Zlatko's property."
Connor stepped forward. "We actually have jurisdiction here. I'm a detective with the Detroit Police Department. You should leave before you cause trouble."
The man turned his glare onto Connor, who regarded him calmly. He shoved Connor back. "We don't recognize your authority here, filthy blue blood."
"That's a shame," said Wren loudly, marching forward. "Because he's my partner. Maybe you'll recognize a human officer's authority." She flashed her badge at the man. "I suggest you and your little android-phobic buddies leave."
"You're protecting them?" sneered the man.
"Yes. Now go."
The man stepped so close to Wren that their bodies touched. Connor ground his teeth together, his lip curling slightly. He narrowed his eyes. "You know, you'd actually be pretty if you weren't a socket fucker." He spat on the ground at Wren's feet before stalking away, his friends in tow.
Connor looked at his friends. Josh trembled. Markus bowed his head and closed his eyes. North's eyes flashed. Her jaw tightened. Wren sighed as she faced Connor, Josh, Markus and North.
"I'm really sorry, guys."
"It's not your fault," said Markus.
"They hate us, even though we're free!" snarled North.
Wren shook her head. "They're just a vocal minority, unfortunately. The majority of the public is supportive."
Connor hung his head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought us here."
"We have a right to be here, to collect our dead and bury them. We're doing the right thing," retorted Markus. He sighed. "Come on. Let's go."
Wren placed a hand on Josh's arm. His eyes were wide as his body shook. "Are you alright?"
Connor's blue blood boiled. He pushed a hot breath through his nostrils and turned away from Wren and Josh.
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He tired to ignore the look that North gave him. It only sparked a twitching under his synthetic skin that set his teeth on edge.
Connor and Wren said farewell to the Jericho crew and hiked to Hank's car. Connor said nothing as they clambered inside. He started the engine and drove away from Zlatko's, allowing some of the tension to leave his body as Zlatko's house shrunk in the rearview mirror.
"I want to talk to Elijah Kamski," said Wren suddenly.
Connor whipped his head to look at her. "What? Why?"
Wren stared ahead. "I think he can answer some questions about my processor."
Connor frowned, creasing his forehead as he narrowed his eyes. "I can answer your questions."
"You don't have all the answers, Connor," said Wren gently.
His grip tightened on the steering wheel. "Kamski's dangerous."
"Like I've never been in danger before," scoffed Wren.
Connor scowled. "I'm serious, Wren. He plays twisted little games."
"I'm dangerous, too," said Wren darkly. Connor looked at her. She met his gaze. The soft yellow glow of a streetlamp glinted in her eyes before disappearing. "I know how to play games."
Connor looked ahead, clenching his jaw. "I don't think it's a good idea."
"I remembered something," said Wren, "from my time with Prometheus. Seeing the apparatus triggered a memory."
Connor's brow furrowed. "I thought you remembered the entirety of your stent with Prometheus?"
"I thought so, too," said Wren. "But I remembered something from Prometheus that I definitely didn't remember before."
"What was it?"
"They used that machine on me," Wren answered, her voice wavering. Connor glanced at her, his eyebrows lifting. Wren turned to meet his gaze. "They made me forget her."
"Her?"
"Juno," Wren breathed. This did not answer Connor's question, but he did not press for more information. He waited for Wren to elaborate.
He tilted his head. "If they made you forget this person, do you think they could have made you forget your family and your past?"
"Maybe," said Wren. "But I thought I forgot them before they turned me into a cyborg."
"Maybe you didn't," replied Connor.
Wren rubbed her face with her hands. "That's why I want to talk to Kamski. I want to know how my processor and my brain work. I want to know if it's possible for them to make me forget. I want to know if everything I've believed is a lie."
Connor drew in a sharp breath. "Alright. I'll find a way to talk to him."
Connor felt Wren's eyes on him. "You will?"
He nodded. "If it will help you, yes."
"How will you contact him? Do you think he'll agree to meet with me?"
"I think he will if I'm with you," Connor muttered. His thirium regulation quickened. "I'll send a message to Chloe."
"You're not telling me something," said Wren.
Connor looked at her. "That makes two of us."
Wren clenched her jaw and looked out the window. "Juno was an android. Not just an android… She trained me to fight."
Connor's brow gathered. "Why would Prometheus make you forget her?"
Wren inhaled deeply before uttering, "Because I loved her."
...…..
A/N: Thank you guys so much for the support!
Disclaimer: the songs used aren't mine.
Meet Me in the Woods by Lord Huron
Certain Things by James Arthur
Sister by Andrew Belle