Humanity for Hire

by Anknownymous

Gat had a big problem on his hands. Handcuffed hands. With no money and the worst idea of where he was, he had to find a way to get his family out and convince the Institute that Piper's life was worth more to them alive than dead. The job ended up costing him something he would never get back. [Sequel to Gun for Hire. Book 2 of the Trilogy].

9. Human or Machine?

[SEQUEL TO GUN FOR HIRE]
Chapter 9: Human or Machine?
Warning - character death. It is sudden, and you will hate my guts this chapter. Hope you kinda-sorta-enjoy nonetheless and have a lovely day!

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John stood at the balcony, overlooking the Institute below. He watched as his friends helplessly struggled against the coursers and synths - without any harm done, as was the deal, but the others didn't know that yet. He glanced over his shoulder at Father. Was this man truly his son, or a manipulator?

Well, two could play that game.

"What's your next wish, my son?"

Father's lips thinned in a small smile. "There's a synth that must be apprehended and returned to us; the nuisance that calls themselves the Railroad had performed a memory wipe on this synth, who is now the leader of a dangerous raider gang that has established a base of operations in Libertalia. It is located in Nahant's port and is a destroyed dockyard; one of our coursers will meet you there and assist you in apprehending the synth."

John nodded, then turned back to look over the Institute. He noticed how a lot of scientists in clean coats seemed to stop and gawk at the 'dirty' wastelanders resisting the coursers. "And you will keep your word? They'll be safe from harm?"

"Of course. For research purposes, we will copy their knowledge and a sample of their DNA to study the effects of radiation, but we will not deal with them any more than that."

"Will you release them?"

"In due time, yes. I believe it is fair to say that we both are working to build trust. It would be the Institute's best interests to know for certain that your colleagues will not pose a threat to us in any manner."

"How do I know you won't pacify them the moment I leave?"

Father stuffed his hands in the pockets of his lab coat, his body sagging with a weary smile. "I realize that this was not the most welcoming introduction to the Institute for any of you, and there have been many... Unfavorable stories about us, out there in the wasteland; but I assure you, we mean well and we really do have humanity's best interests at heart, though I will admit that to many scientists, the line between ethics and science can sometimes be... Blurry. However, if nothing else, know that you can trust my word. I keep what I give and will not disappoint you, father." He gestured towards the door. "There is also someone who has been anxious to meet you, if you'll follow me. Then I will escort you to our armory - where you can requisition and access anything you need - after your reunion."

"My reunion?" That piqued John's interest, but there was a dreadful feeling brewing in his stomach. He turned to face Father, still trying to gauge the validity of their familial connection as he studied the facial features of his 'son'. If anything, Father looked closer to his wife than him. Father gestured again and John reluctantly tailed after him through long cylindrical hallways - flashes of images came to his mind, something about televisions and commercials of futuristic furniture. He cast it out of his mind and commit the areas he'd accessed thus far to memory, just in case.

Just in case for what?

What in the world could he do? Or the Minutemen? Or even the Brotherhood, for that matter? He remembered some bright beam of light when he was split up from Nick and surrounded by synths, and an uncomfortable ghostly experience as if he was dreaming that he was outside his body. What that may have suggested was beyond him - and the unknown was always terrifying - but it was enough to drive the point home that the Institute would have been safe from any means of an assault.

Perhaps they could be sabotaged on the inside, but what John had seen thus far didn't exactly equate to the cackling evil scientists he envisioned in his mind. There were children here just as there were children in his settlements, and people with honest aspirations and honorable goals. That was just what he was allowed to see so far, though.

But... Perhaps all this negativity had been just a case of a bad apple falling from the tree? It was something to think about as he talked and toured more.

They wound down the spiral ramp, every step echoing. John forced a polite smile at a scientist - carrying a young child in their arms - who passed by, taking his army helmet off to hold over his chest as he nodded to them. They seemed confused by the notion and gave him a strange look, but he shrugged it off and looked back at Father as he picked up his stride.

"What's life like down here? What family values are typically passed on?"

Father glanced over his shoulder, brow arched. "That's a specific question; and an intriguing one. I would assume you already have ideas."

"Science, science, science," John droned with a bored tone, smirking when it wrought a humble chuckle.

"I suppose I did ask for that. Science is, of course, a value we emphasize most; however, science is such a broad term. Everyone here is passionate about what they study, and it is those values that dictate where their passions lie." As they reached the lower level, Father waved his hand aside as he continued to lead through another corridor, gesturing to a yellow door. "For example: Facilities. It may not sound like the most thrilling aspect of science, but it's an integral division that I dare say is the foundation of the Institute. It oversees the upkeep of the Institute, like our life support, security systems, power distribution, food and housing, mechanical engineering and maintenance; the list goes on and on."

"Life support," John echoed, looking up at the ceiling that seemed to stretch for miles. "The way we got in..." He didn't know how to word his question, and frowned. "How...?"

"An engineering marvel accomplished by our Advanced Systems division: the teleportation matrix." Father stopped and comfortably clasped his wrists behind him as he looked down the expansive atrium, smiling as people boarded the center elevator. He glanced over at John. "Do you know why we might need of such a thing?"

"Teleportation?" John tried to swallow the lump of anxiety that knotted inside his throat, clearing it as he met Father's eyes. "If you need that and life support, my best guess is that we're in some sort of underground bunker. Maybe salvaged from something the government or military had. During my service, I recall hearing rumors that there were a few FBI and CIA facilities that stretched for miles underground."

"Those rumors are true, and you are quite close indeed," Father hummed. "We're not in an old military or government police bunker, though, no; we are built upon the remnants of the Commonwealth Institute of Technology university. Come, let us continue this way." He turned and took the lead again, chuckling under his breath. "I won't be forgiven if I stall any longer."

Silence fell between them, save for their footsteps. John looked down at his dirty mud-caked boots versus the leather loafers Father wore, licked clean and shiny - probably lathered with some sort of fancy scientific mumbo-jumbo wax; what a pitiful existence for the scientist who felt his only option and 'passion' in life was reserved to stitching together clothes and coats, and to create the materials to maintain them to the Institute's standard.

John didn't want to think about what happened to the children who bore no love for science; especially when manual labor and security was already replaced by machines.

"Blue!"

His head whipped up and over to the source of the voice, watching Piper struggle to free herself from the restraint of a single courser who'd ensnared her wrist. He looked at Father, who cocked his head to the side and silently urged John to continue to follow.

"Blue, help me!"

John's brow furrowed; he didn't know what to say. He should have been safe to tell her they wouldn't harm her - not that she'd believe that - if Father truly intended to stay true to his word, but John didn't want to jeopardize their deal and threaten everybody's safety. All he could do was mouth a silent apology, and turned his back to her. Her next words dumped a bucket of ice-cold water down his back.

"Snap out of it, dammit! We have to fight, or they're going to kill us; I saw them take Nick apart and I'm next!"

"What?" John glared when Father froze, narrowing his eyes when the elderly man tiredly scuffled around. "You promised they'd be safe!"

"Yes, unfortunately our conversation happened after the prototype was already dismantled to recycle it's parts for new projects and research endeavors."

"And when did you plan on having the conversation that informed me of Nick's death?"

"Death? Machines cannot experience death. The real Nick Valentine died centuries ago." Father's forehead creased, audacious enough to be confused. "If you'd like, we can transfer what we extracted from the prototype and upload that into a new body. However, not all things may successfully carry over if modules of data have been subject to corruption."

Piper's cusses drowned out to the deafening white noise that buzzed inside of John's brain. His blood boiled and he hugged his army helmet to his chest ever tighter, as memories flashed by him in the blink of an eye. He hadn't spent much time with Nick, but quantity was never as important as quality; and the detective was instrumental in helping John keep the will to fight in his search for his family.

Now Nick was gone. Just like that. In a few seconds, in a few words... If only John was brought earlier to Father. If only he got straight to the point and made their deal right away. If only he was just a minute faster; it was a story he was all too familiar with. More memories - old, fuzzy, stretching from his life before the cryo pods - banged at the gates to be let in. And then all at once, like a light switch, he turned off. Hot blood snap-froze and washed over him with a practiced numbing cold.

"Piper," he murmured, turning to the screaming woman. He tried again, louder, to catch her attention. "Piper! Stop fighting."

"To hell with that!" Her black trench coat tore at the seams of her shoulder when she thrashed again. "I came into this world kicking and screaming, and I'm going out that way too!"

"You're not going to die, I promise you that." John ignored Father - even if he hadn't seemed to react, but appearances could be deceiving - and marched over to Piper, glaring at the blank-faced courser who calmly countered and overpowered her every effort to break free. John tossed his army helmet aside on one of the tables and grabbed her shoulders, staring at her hard in her eyes. Sweat slicked her complexion, and her pupils were dilated in fear. He squeezed her firmly. "Piper, look at me. Listen to me and my next words very carefully: no one else is going to die. I'm doing everything I can, but you'll just have to be... Patient."

"No." It trembled under her breath, and she weakly jerked her wrist away, unable to break free from the courser's grip. Her head hung in defeat and she chewed her lip. "They killed Nick, Blue. Just like that. They didn't even hesitate, or let him finish talking to me. And now they've copied me and want to kill me too - they told Garrett that much. They tricked him. They've got his family, and your family, and it's only going to be a matter of time before they get my family too. They're going to kill-"

"Look at me," John interrupted sternly, waiting until she did - it felt like ages. He cocked his head to the side and glanced over his shoulder, then back at her. "That man is the leader of the Institute and..." He dropped his voice ever lower, sighing it out. "He's my son, Shaun."

Piper's eyes widened in shock, and then her nostrils flared with contempt as she spat. "He's in charge of all of this? He ordered Nick to be killed, then!"

"N-no! At least, I don't think... I don't know." John tried not to look at the courser. There was no point to lowering his voice; even if Father hadn't heard them, the courser would and would just report it all. John reluctantly let go of Piper, urging, "just trust me. I've worked out a deal, they won't harm anybody anymore."

"At what cost, Blue?"

John stared at her long and hard. Hope shut off, and his fire extinguished. He turned around and collected his helmet on his way back to Father. "None you'll have to pay."

x - x - x

"Living room is clear," Sarah announced as she entered the one Luki was in, who was still combing through every single piece of furniture for any potential planted bugs. He fell on his haunches with a dejected sigh, raking his oily bangs out of his face - oh, what he'd give for a decent bath right now. He stopped when smaller fingers wove through his hair, gently guiding his head to lull back and rest against Sarah's thighs. He looked up at her, her upside down smile looked more like a frown - and no doubt what she was actually feeling. "Chin up, soldier. We haven't turned up anything; they aren't spying on us."

"We don't know what we're looking for, either. Anything could be a camera or a bug. They made cameras out of ravens." He waved dismissively at one of the vases on the dressers - or at least, what he thought functioned as one. "For all we know, they've learned how to construct and embed them in the actual ceramic itself."

Sarah left him, and cold air laced his nape. He worked himself up into standing and was too slow to stop her when she lifted the vase and hopped up on the bed, then dropped it on the other side. They both cringed at the sounds of it shattering, but it was soon replaced by Sarah smirking when she squatted on the edge of the bed. "Still don't see anything." She twisted to look at him, and rolled her eyes when he crossed his arms, thoroughly unconvinced. "I regret ordering you to search; I order you to give up your search. There. Done."

"Sarah-"

"We can't do anything whether they hear us or not, Luki. We'll just have to wait and see what they intend to demand of us; if they assigned us this room, then maybe they're going to want us to work for them like that asshole with the robot accent." She toed off her combat boots, crushing a few more pieces of the broken vase when they'd fallen off the bed. "If they can hear us, then your new mission objective is to make them regret it then; and this mission is top priority." She slid under the sheets - clothes and all - and smiled seductively at him; it contrasted the serious hardened look in her eyes, and her playful pat on the empty space beside her carried weight.

Within seconds, he joined her, tugging the sheets over their heads. She laid a series of quick chaste kisses along the chiseled line of his jaw and whispered in his ear.

"Moan."

"What?" Luki groaned instead, pulling away to frown at her - not that he could see her in the darkness. "No way. You moan."

That sharp inhale of hers made it abundantly clear that there were fatal consequences. "Giving me lip and disobeying my order, soldier?"

Luki rolled his eyes and sucked in a breath, steeling himself. He'd felt awkward and heat flushed at his nose when he faked a low and drawn out moan; his skin tingled when her hand accidentally caught under his shirt, though she didn't take it out. He was firmly held by his nape and she whispered in his ear the moment he finished.

"Moan again."

...Was this actually to conceal their conversation? He was sure he was going to land himself in hot water for this, but he had to ask. "Uh, is this foreplay, Sarah?"

"Shut up," she laughed and tightened her hold on his neck as she aggressively raked her blunt nails down his chest, goading a hiss from him.

This was not answering his question.

"Moan again," she ordered sternly, and the moment he did, she whispered in his ear. "We need to find things to write with, then we can use your pip-boy's light under here."

"Ooh, it'll be like reading comic books past bedtime," he snorted childishly, and there was a sudden deafening and heavy pause in the air. When she inhaled slowly, he moaned, grinning when he could almost hear her rolling her eyes on top of it all. "Ooh, Sarah, honey... You always know how to really get me going. Of course I'll read comic books with you."

Nevermind that small selfish thought, wishing she actually would - get him going, that was.

And maybe read comic books too.

"All these years and you still haven't matured a bit, dork," she chastised lightheartedly, the two chuckling in between breaths. Some of the tension melted away from his shoulders when her lips traced a path back to his. "Moan," she ordered again; and he was positive it was not to conceal their conversation when she unzipped his pants and teased him through his boxers.

Well. She did give him his new objective.

They seriously needed to get their priorities straight.

x - x - x

Pain pounded at the base of his skull and he sat up, groaning and immediately regretting it. He fell down with a huff and clutched his head, turning back and forth on his side. His tongue felt like cotton, and the world was so bright, it hurt to have his eyes open even for a second. He stole looks sparingly, and took his sweet time to sit up when he realized he recognized this room. Somewhat. Maybe. Maybe not at all.

It was hard to think past the fog gripping him. Was he medicated?

Another sharp pang split down his skull, making him wish he was medicated. He groaned and groggily stood, slumping his way over to what looked like a mirror. He felt as though he was trapped in a nightmare, waiting for the next horrible thing to happen to him; and it all started with a certain reporter roping him into this mess in the first place. The mirror reflected a horror scene and he looked down at himself as he roved a hand across his chest, his heart beating harder - though somehow subdued - at the sight of ghastly surgical scars all over his body.

Something hissed somewhere, and his head pounded when a perky voice shot up at what sounded like it was on the other side of the Commonwealth. He gripped some sort of table to stabilize himself and stop from swaying as he took a long hard look at the mirror. The nightmare never stopped. He reeled back in horror at the sight of his eyes - yellow glowing rings replaced his iris, and the sclera that was once white was now a dull grey mechanical part. He reached to touch underneath them, hands trembling.

"Ah, yes, your eyes. Those gave me quite some trouble," the perky voice sounded closer, and he held on to the table tighter when he nearly stumbled just twisting to look at who it was. "To be honest, I wasn't even entirely sure if they'd work - actually, I wasn't even sure if it was possible to bring you back to life; but it looks like you can breathe and see, so that's a success. Are you able to control your lens and adjust the angle of your cone of vision?"

He turned and nearly fell on the table, clinging to the edges for dear life. Could the world stop spinning? Could this asshole stop attacking him with questions that didn't even make any fucking sense? He had some questions of his own, too. Namely: "who the fuck are you?"

"Hm? Ah, how careless of me. Forgive me, it certainly wasn't my intention to be so rude. Introductions are well in order." The perky thin little man bounced on his feet too much, slapping a proud hand over his chest. "You may call me Adam." He picked out some sort of pen out of his oversized lab coat and came up, switching on some sort of light from the pen, and it made the world even excruciatingly brighter when he waved it over the eyes. "Do you remember who you are?"

It took a minute. He didn't believe what came out of his mouth, despite what he so clearly remembered last.

"...Leo."

x - x - x

Gat struggled to tame the leg that wanted to race up and down as he sat waiting on the couch, idly stroking away the hair of the girl that fell asleep on his lap. He looked down and smiled sadly, stroking Rose's cheek as he studied how peaceful she looked. He shouldn't have seen this - he wasn't allowed this moment of peace, and closed his eyes when they began to burn.

"Rose? Where are you?" His sister called out softly, and he looked up at the woman sleeping on the bed. She blinked blearily, rubbing her eyes, and visibly deflated with relief when her eyes fell on Rose. Then she grew rigid as her gaze snapped to Gat. "Does that mean...?"

"It's done." Gat bowed his head in shame and closed his eyes again, seeking meager scraps of comfort as he tuned in to the sensation of his niece's hair twirling around his finger. "We should be freed soon, but I doubt we'll be off with a merry wave. They're either going to keep watch on us so we don't spread their secrets, or..." He sucked in the corner of his lip, then sighed. "I'm a loose end. They'll tie me up or burn me." A deep, shaky, breath. He buried his head in his hand, his voice cracking and fading. "I'm sorry, Garnet. I ruined our lives."

Silence fell between them, and he jumped in his skin when a gentle hand came upon his shoulder. He hadn't heard the bed creak; then again, everything here was spanking new, and not rusted over 200 years. His sister limped closer and slowly knelt - wincing as she folded the leg that was broken - and smiled, calm as the ocean, burying the sorrow in the depths. She drew him in until their foreheads knocked together. "No, you didn't. You've given us our lives back."

"Garnet-"

"Listen to me. When dad was alive, you did everything you could to protect me - and then made sure he wasn't so that you could protect Rose too. You've had to give up your own life and heart just to take on his jobs to protect us. Now you're here. You've sacrificed everything you had left just so that we can keep living. But Garrett..." She sucked in a slow breath, hugging him tighter. "After we're free, you're not responsible for us anymore."

"W-what? No, I-"

"Listen to me. You're going to sacrifice everything until you have nothing left to sacrifice, and that's no life."

"You two are my life."

"No. We're part of it, but we aren't it. That woman... I saw the faces you made." Garnet drew back and kissed his forehead; her lips were wet, for some reason, and then he pieced it together when he looked up and saw tear streaks down her cheeks. She still smiled ever so bravely. "I saw the light in your eyes that wasn't there before get snuffed out when you found out she was your job - when she was supposed to be your life, your future."

Gat looked away. "She's... Not anymore."

Beeps alerted them, and Gat immediately scowled. He took his sweet time as he picked Rose up from his lap - stilling when she stirred every now and then - and carried her to the bed. He went to answer the door, grateful his sister lingered close behind him, a hand between his shoulder blades for support. He needed every bit of it. His legs felt like they were going to give away on every step. Another beep, and he rolled his eyes. "So bloody impatient." He hit the button for the door to slide open, crossing his arms when he came face to face with a blank-faced courser. "Yeah? What th'hell d'ya want now?"

"Your presence has been requested, sir." Chris'sakes, how can they even manage to sound so dead? "I am here to escort you."

"What'm I now, a dog?"

"I cannot answer that, sir. Please follow me." The courser's eyes flicked over Garnet, then back at Gat. "Alone."

"Garrett," his sister murmured with worry - rightly so. He shook his head and forced the most reassuring smile that he could as he turned around and gave her quick hug.

"I'll be alright, luv. Be back in a jiffy."

"Garr-"

"Promise." He stole a swift kiss on her cheek too, and squeezed her hand before he crossed the line and hastily pressed the button to close the door. Every sensation was engraved in his memory even if it were a matter of seconds, because he'd learned that that might be all he would have left, but he didn't want her to believe he really was walking to his grave. His sister and niece have been tortured enough. He turned to the courser and dismissively waved ahead. "Alright, go on. Lead me wherever."

"Actually, sir," the courser turned around and pointed to the other end of the hallway. "We are going this way."

"Oh, Jesus," Gat groaned under his breath. He shook his head and waved dismissively to the other end of the hallway, then. "There, alright? Go on, now. Lead me wherever."

"Right away, sir."

Hopefully it wouldn't lead him to his death.

x - x - x

Piper inspected every inch of the room allotted to her, but found herself gravitating towards the balcony the most. She stepped out and observed the bustle of this underground city, where a sea of white coats moved like ocean currents. She leaned on the railing and took out her notepad, drawing sketches of this place as best as she could.

No one would probably ever get their hands on this, but it was worth a try.

What the hell did John mean, though? Just what kind of deal did he strike that was worthy enough to stop the Institute from doing what it wanted to do with all of them? What kind of price was going to be paid, and who was the one picking up the tab?

Millions of questions raced through her mind, and she jotted them down on the very last page of her notepad as she jumped between that and the sketches. Her stomach gnarled in knots when she heard children laughing and playing in the most expansive open-spaced part of the Institute; this peaceful scenery was an illusion to hide the sick underbelly of what this organization was doing to the Commonwealth. It sickened her to know that the innocence in those kids were corrupted before they could even know any better to figure out what was moral and what wasn't.

Maybe that's why the Institute had no trouble doing what they did. Those kids eventually grew into adults who just didn't know any better, who didn't have the chance to learn about empathy and basic humanity in their childhood.

...But maybe this was all her own perspective clouding her judgment as well.

Could she be blamed, after everything she had just been through in the span of a week? After what everyone in the wasteland had been through in the course over the years? After what they did to Nick? If she was going to be spared because of John's deal, she was going to use this opportunity to get the answers everyone deserved, and to find out the root cause of why the hell the Institute needed to kidnap wastelanders and replace them, when they had their own population to 'copy DNA' from. Furthermore, it was baffling how not one soul questioned the wrongdoing behind their methods; all it would take was one simple question, and she wrote in her notepad.

'How would I feel if that happened to me?'

It wasn't like empathy was a hard thing to learn, with hardship easy to stumble upon. Maybe not down here. There was a slight twinge of jealousy at just how easy things were here, as she discovered during her room inspection. There was an actual working shower and toilet - no more lugging buckets of dirty water and boiling it to make sure it was actually sanitary. No more squatting over a bucket, too. No more hunting and grilling mutated insects, or eating 200 year old stale food.

All she had to do was press a button in some sort of dispenser, choose what she wanted, and out popped a surprisingly delicious and nutritious bar of some sort. She didn't understand what in the world the ingredients were on the label, and she was honestly surprised to see something like that even listed on there.

Something hissed inside and she tensed, sticking to the corner as she stole a nonchalant peek into her room. Her skin crawled at the sight of the courser she struggled with earlier - such a scrawny looking thing, but it gave her bruises on her wrist. She shuddered when the courser's eyes locked on her before it even scanned the room for where she was, it's monotone voice something that would surely haunt her for nights to come.

"I have brought your visitor, ma'am. Please let me know if there is anything else I can assist with."

What a sick fucking joke, a complete 180 of what he was ordered to do to her earlier. Now it was like he was a Mr. Handy in the flesh. She didn't dare antagonize the courser and lose this surprising privilege, though. Piper came into the room, smiling small when her gaze connected with Garrett, who's eyes widened in shock. She looked at the courser and mustered the most polite voice she could possibly have, despite all this crap. "Would it be too much to ask for privacy with him?"

"It is not a problem, ma'am, do not worry. Should you need anything, I am stationed to guard outside your door."

"Alright, thank you."

With that, the courser left, and a cold draft fell on the room. Neither knew what to say - what move to make. Piper chewed her lip when Garrett glared at the floor, his grey eyes growing sheen. Instinct propelled her and she reached for him, but he took a step back and held out his hand. "No."

"Garre-"

"You're not allowed to use my name, thing." That was like a slap to the face, and her jaw hung agape. Her throat tightened and she tried to approach him, but he barked callously. "Stay away, y'fuckin' freak! Just 'cause you look like her doesn't mean you are her, and you will never be like her, y'hear me?" His head whipped up in a fury, snarling menacingly. "You're just a fuckin' soulless machine with stolen memories. None of them are yours!"

"I swear I'm not a synth," Piper urged, trying to swallow the hurt. She understood, and she should have known better than to approach him like this. "I swear I'm not a synth," she insisted, but she wasn't sure if she was trying to convince him more than herself. "John worked a deal with the Institute and saved us. No one's dead, except N..." A lump choked her off. She refused to come to terms with it, but it wasn't a reality she could run away from. It still felt surreal, taking it's sweet time sinking in. She didn't want it to. "Except... Nick..."

"Oh, yeah, like I'm gonna believe that now. Y'think I'm really that bloody stupid?"

"Yes," she hissed, "because you're yelling at me. You should be able to tell the difference better than anyone else here."

"The difference, huh?" Garrett growled as he stomped up to her. "That's why I know you're not her. Let me ask you something, puppet. Listen and think 'bout all this real carefully... Did they stuff you in a tiny pod? Drown you in liquid that was 'safe to breathe'?"

Piper wanted to smack this asshole, and it was getting harder to stay calm, to stay understanding. Tears burned hot in her eyes and the world grew misty, but she refused to let it show that he was hurting her. She nodded to his question, wondering how he knew, wondering if he had to go through the same thing - and what that implied. The Institute could make copies of them at any time.

"And where did you wake up after that, puppet?"

"Here. I've been here the whole time." It was an answer she was so sure of, and yet for some reason, something felt like it was missing from a puzzle.

Garrett angled his head and stared hard into her eyes.

"Then when did you find out about the detective and the 'deal'? And why else would that courser be kissing your ass now, huh? Just think long and hard about that."

Piper froze, her breath caught. Goosebumps chased after shivers, and she was unhinged by doubt. "I... I had to of..." She was there. She remembered being there. She rolled up her sleeve and showed him the bruise on her wrist. "That courser gave me this when I was trying to break free of him." When, though? Too many things happened and it was all a blur, as if she was stuck in a dream. What was the order of events? Why did she still feel so spaced out? Was she really...?

"I'm... I'm not a synth... I can't be."

"You are. You're just a fucking puppet, and they ain't even gonna give you a chance to live the way the real Piper would. They're just gonna play with yer strings and manipulate you to fuck over the entire wasteland. The Piper I know would rather die than do that." He turned sharply and marched for the door, his hands balled into tight fists. He stopped and sucked in a noisy breath, but it was let out in a mournful cry when he stumbled and grabbed hold of one of the couches. She rushed to his side out of instinct, but the moment she touched him, he slapped her hand away. Pain zinged up her bruised wrist and she cried out, cradling it close to her chest. Within seconds, the courser was back in the room, weapon aimed at Garrett. The courser looked at her.

"Would you like me to evict him, ma'am?"

"No fuckin' need, I'd be happy to show myself out." Garrett seethed as stormed off, and the courser tailed after him, reminding him that he needed to be escorted in the facilities. Their voices faded and Piper was left standing, crying as she stared at the open door. Another face popped by - a courser by the looks of the long black coat, and he pressed the button to close the door.

Dazed, she gravitated to the balcony one last time. She took out her notepad, flipping through the pages. The last page of facts, the first page of sketches. Should it not be of facts, of interviews? She remembered them, but she didn't remember getting a new notepad. She looked down and smoothed her hand over her precious red jacket - but it wasn't precious to her. She took it off along with her hat, and left them on the chair.

Piper glanced beside her at a stack of comic books on a table, writing one last thing down in the notepad before she hid it in the stack.

...And jumped over the railing to her death.