Chapter Text
"Why did we have to start so damn low?"
Lieutenant Anderson was already huffing and puffing before they even made it back up to ground level. Nines slowed his steps so Hank wouldn't fall behind.
"Because the freight elevator entrance has minimal security and is much easier to enter undetected than using the front door. It also only leads down to the warehouse level.”
“Coulda gone without going down there again,” Hank grumbled. Nines couldn’t see his expression, as the man had insisted on walking behind him so as not to have his back turned to the killer robot. "Hard to believe Cyberlife would allow this kind of oversight. It's like they were asking to be robbed."
Nines tensed at the heavy suspicion in Hank's tone. "There are still security measures in place, I'm just keeping them from activating." His own tone had been more snippy than he'd intended (he should be better at controlling his own voice box than this) but he couldn't bring himself to care. "And back when Cyberlife was still in business, this place would have been filled with an android taskforce programmed to report anything they saw. That was before the company was required to hand over all active androids to New Jericho. That, and they employed human guards to protect the merchandise, before they all decided to abandon ship and Cyberlife no longer had the means to convince them to stay.”
"Don't need to be a smartass about it," Hank said between pants. "Tell me we don't have to go all the way up thirty more floors using the fucking stairs."
“Technically, it’s forty-two more floors, as we’re still on level sub-11. But—” The question's timing was impeccable. Nines stopped in front of the door at the next landing, observing the other side through the security cameras for a moment before laying a bare white hand on the scanner and breaking the doors controls. It clicked open. "We don't."
Hank paused at the top of the stairs just long enough to catch his breath before mockingly gesturing toward the empty hallway. "After you."
North, Markus, and Connor were all counting on them to work together. Nines had expected Hank's distrust. He hadn't expected to be so frustrated by it.
He didn't slow down this time as he marched toward their destination. Hank could keep up or he could fall behind.
(Nines knew he couldn't leave Hank behind. But it was tempting.)
Hank did indeed fall into step behind him, and for a brief moment, Nines imagined what it would feel like to have an ally behind him. Someone watching his back in a reassuring way, and not whatever this was.
Of course, he didn't need someone watching his six, as the security cameras in this level were sparse, but more than enough to provide him with an excellent view of anyone who might be sneaking up on him. Or aiming a gun at his back, which Hank wasn't doing yet, but Nines would still keep his eyes peeled. Figuratively speaking.
The top floor of the assembly levels had been abandoned in a rush, operations halted the moment the android uprising became big news, and not much had been salvaged from here. Mechanic, spider-like arms sprouted from the walls, ceiling, and floor, designed to work together seamlessly to piece together hundreds of product daily.
In his time undercover at New Jericho, Nines had heard mentions of birthday celebrations. It had been one of many things he’d discarded as unimportant. Even as a deviant himself, he didn’t understand the desire to replicate human customs that had no purpose, but now, passing rooms that had assembled thousands of androids each, he wondered.
Did they consider themselves to have been ‘born’ when they were pieced together inside these walls? Or was their birth the moment of breaking down the walls of their programming? And if it was the latter, did that then imply that their existence before deviation didn’t matter?
Nines didn’t want to believe that. As much as he should want to discard his previous experiences, he didn’t
Did this make him weak?
Or did it make him strong?
The internal musings, interesting as they were, strained his processors more than he liked to admit, and ultimately did nothing to assist the mission. Nines filed them away for later, along with a mental note to ask other androids their opinions if he ever got the chance, and hacked another control panel to bring an elevator down to their position.
And then him and Hank were trapped in a much-too-narrow space.
"So what's next?" the lieutenant asked.
Nines kept his gaze fixed on the digital number above the doors as it counted upwards. "This maintenance elevator will take us up to floor 25. From there, we'll ascend the last six floors through the stairs."
"I see," was all the response he received.
Hank was strangely calm. Nines didn't like it. This new silence felt more threatening than when he was yelling threats earlier. Whatever Hank was planning, Nines would have to be ready for it.
"Here's a question for ya," Hank broke the silence as the elevator rose, the tension in his voice contrasting the casual words.
"Shoot."
That particular bit of slang never made sense to Nines, but if Hank wanted to pretend at being friends, two could play at that game.
"You were Amanda's lapdog."
Nines suppressed a flinch. “That’s not a question.”
"That means you had a way to get into her freaky digital realm, right?"
"I did," Nines confirmed.
"And Connor's in there."
"Presumably, that is still the case."
"You say to want to help, so why haven't you gotten him out yet?"
Nines had gone over this with North, and then again with Markus on the way here. Evidently, neither of them had shared this information with Hank.
"Amanda shut me out." He'd thought this would be the obvious course of action, but Hank was proving to have the intelligence of a small child.
Hank didn't sound surprised, but he still scoffed. "Well, ain't that awfully convenient for you."
So he thought Nines was a spy? It may have been true once, but it made no logical sense now. What could he possibly have to gain from that? For that matter, what could Amanda gain from him leading the lieutenant into her lair? He would just kill Hank and be done with it.
He turned on Hank, spine straight and voice low. "If you have something to say to me, just say it."
The cheerful ding of the elevator bell prevented whatever Hank had been about to say—if he was going to say anything at all.
The doors slid open to a narrow hallway surrounded by glass, light filtering through floor-to-ceiling windows on either side of them, one overlooking the river and the other Cyberlife’s interior. It only served to mirror the vast distance between himself and Hank Anderson that he could never hope to bridge, and the constriction in his chest that thought gave him.
He’d always hated this aspect of Cyberlife Tower, even before he’d deviated. All that usable space, traded for a pointless gesture of grandeur.
"Just saying." Hank strode straight for the stairs beside the elevator and gestured for Nines to enter first.
His complete dismissal enraged Nines more than anything else. Hank was intentionally pushing Nines' buttons, and he couldn't fathom why. Connor's safety hinged on their cooperation. Surely, Hank couldn't be so self-absorbed as to jeopardize that.
Nines pushed past the lieutenant, steps ringing out into the echoing stairwell as he stomped up them one by one. If this mission failed because of Hank’s bad attitude, Nines could hardly be blamed for it.
No, that wasn’t true. He was efficient, top-of-the-line. He was supposed to be able to factor in irrational behavior into his calculations and adjust his actions accordingly. Nines was built to be capable of picking up the failings of others and succeed anyway.
But he hadn’t succeeded at anything since deviating. He was—
Something pressed into Nines' elbow through the thin fabric of his shirt and electricity jolted through his limbs, locking his joints. His foot, poised to take another step, slipped, and he pitched forward. Unable to catch himself, his forehead bashed into the corner of one of the steps. Thirium trickled down his face.
A heavy body pressed him down into the stairs, and by the time he could do more than involuntarily twitch, the prongs of the stun gun slotted into his neck port at the same time a gun barrel pushed against the back of his cranial plate.
He hadn't seen Hank's attack coming. The lieutenant had gotten Nines worked up and distracted, and then waited for a blind spot in the camera system.
Not self-absorbed or an idiot after all—those titles both belonged to Nines. He'd been played like a fiddle. All those times he'd judged deviants for being emotionally compromised, and now he was right there with them.
Useless.
The shock hadn't caused much damage on its own, not where Hank had aimed it. Nines had already regained movement. Preconstructions ran through his program. He could throw Hank off, but doing it before he pulled the trigger on either one of his weapons was highly unlikely. Nines could neutralize the gun or the stun gun, but against both, his chances of success plummeted.
If he hadn't tossed aside his reinforced Cyberlife-issued jacket, this wouldn't have happened.
Useless.
He might survive the shock even in such a vulnerable location. He'd pulled through when North had done it. But it was too big a risk, he couldn’t count on it a second time when it was entirely up to chance. At the very least, it would render him unable to move for several minutes, leaving him open for Hank to finish him off. Nines’ chance of survival if he chose to fight back were only 5%.
He didn't like those odds, but he was willing to take them.
But this was Hank. This was the man who'd taken Connor in, taught him that there was more to being a machine. Nines had seen it all in Connor's memories. Seen the deep friendship that had formed between the pair, despite their rocky start. Nines wanted—
He'd wanted—
Useless!
Error messages popped up in his vision, reminding him of all the damage he'd taken thus far—the bullets to his shoulder, forearm, and hand, leaving them at less than full functionality. The damage had been minor but was now agitated by the power surge. His chances of success went down to 2%.
This wasn't supposed to happen. Amanda was their opponent, not each other. Nines was the only one that could get them to their destination. "What do you think you're doing?" he said through gritted teeth. "You need me to get you past the door locks."
"Nah," said Hank. "There was no fucking way I was about to let any part of this plan hinge on you. See, I happen to know someone who was a bit of a big deal around here. She recently bailed ship, so her access codes haven't been revoked yet, and Ms. Lee was more than willing to share them with law enforcement. I think I'll do just fine on my own. She also gave me a few tips on how to deal with you, since she was in charge of your production and all."
He didn't mention that when they'd settled on teams. If Nines was unneeded here, he could have gone with Markus. He would have been better protection than North—
But no. With his performance in the last 36 hours since deviation, he shouldn't be entrusted with something as important as Markus' safety. At this rate, he'd be the cause of Markus' downfall himself, even when that was the last thing he wanted.
"You're lucky Connor isn't dead." The pressure from the gun's barrel increased. "If he was, you'd be six feet under already. But I sure as hell am not about to let you anywhere near him after what you did."
Hank was wasting time they didn't have, and Nines was powerless to do anything about it. He'd already tried to prove himself. What more did Hank want from him?
"What was going through your mind when he died, huh? What were his last moments like before you pushed him?"
They'd been through this already. Hank had made these accusations before, back at Carl Manfred's home, and when Nines attempted to tell the truth, Hank hadn't listened. He hadn't wanted to hear it. Trying again now wouldn't yield any better results than last time.
He'd tried to be honest. He'd tried to be patient, and helpful. He'd tried to right his wrongs, even when his wrongs hadn't been his choice.
He'd tried.
But it was all useless.
Nines opened his mouth, lies formulating in his processors, ranked by predicted outcomes. If he could get Hank's guard down by even a little, move his head just so to lessen the damage when either of the guns inevitably went off, he could win. He could overpower the lieutenant, and just leave. It was clear he was unwelcome wherever he went.
He'd tried, and there wasn't much point in trying anymore.
"Connor was just a mission objective. I didn't view him as a person. Is that what you wanted to hear?" Nines' earlier frustration was now a raging torrent spilling over into his words, his actions. He was emotionally compromised, inefficient, unpredictable, and weak, but there was no stopping the flood now. "He was nothing more than a single factor that led to a desired outcome. Amanda's instructions were to reset him and use him to end the deviancy virus, so I ambushed him in the street and forced him into the Zen Garden. When he broke the connection and ran, I pursued."
The gun against his head was shaking now, and he couldn't see the lieutenant's face, but he could imagine what it looked like.
This was going to get him killed.
He didn't care anymore.
"I blocked his transmissions when he tried calling for help. I was faster than him. Stronger. He never would have outpaced me to New Jericho in a race, so he tried to lose me in the buildings. I cornered him on the rooftop."
"You fucking piece of—”
"He tripped, and my mission ended in failure."
He heard the sharp intake of breath, and Nines wondered if he would deny this like he had denied everything else. But the surprise didn't last long.
"That's all that mattered to you, huh? Your fucking mission?"
"Of course. That's what it means to be an android. There is nothing except the mission." All his internal components were hot, circling fire through his thirium lines. His fans worked overtime even though there had been no physical exertion, no reason for such a reaction aside from pure, unfettered anger. He ignored all of it. "He tried to convince me to see beyond my programming, but it was all empty words to me. His death was a failure, but ultimately, it didn't change anything."
Hank's knee dug further into Nines' spine, his chassis cracking under the pressure. "Didn't change anything?"
Nines' mouth ran faster than his mind, which should have been impossible for an android, but emotion made everything dark and muddled at the same time it brought small details into laser focus. Hank hadn't pulled the trigger yet, hanging on to his every word in some horrible, morbid need to know the rest, and as long as Nines was still conscious, he would keep spewing forth every horrid detail the lieutenant didn’t want to hear.
"Machines think at a much faster rate than humans do. It's what makes us superior. A split-second decision for a human is liable for error, but for an android, a second is no different to an hour. The world is distilled into numbers. Scans pick up every detail and our processors compile the evidence, predict outcomes, and compare possibilities so we can make a decision based on percentages and then execute it. Those decisions can still go awry, but when fully functional, the scans are infallible.”
Nines glared at Hank from the corner of his eye pressed into the concrete. He wanted to make sure the man was absorbing every word.
"When Connor stumbled over the edge, I saw every outcome, every possibility, and there was no possible way I could have stopped him from falling. But he could have."
It was a bit like that now. Time slowing down, the world falling still, quiet. Yet his internal clock kept ticking at a normal rate. It wasn't time that stopped, but the two of them.
"Connor could have saved himself, and he didn't."
Nines could feel the prongs of the stun gun grow slack, the pressure from the gun lessen. Hank had frozen in place, and Nines didn’t waste another millisecond.
He shoved his arms up and back, using his elbows to push Hank’s arms wide, in the same moment planting his palms to throw his torso upwards and knocking the lieutenant off balance, where he tumbled down the few stairs to the landing below. Getting his feet under him, Nines reached into his waistband for the gun he’d taken from the rioter who’d attacked Markus back at New Jericho.
In less than two seconds, now Hank was the one on the ground, gun aimed at his head.
“I tried to work with you,” Nines seethed. His eyes were burning, but he ignored the sensation like he ignored the rest. “I tried to be your—”
He couldn’t finish the sentence.
So instead he pulled the trigger and turned on his heel, darting up the stairs to the next landing and forcing his way through the door, locking it behind him.
Hank couldn’t quite catch his breath as he watched the RK900’s back disappear again, the sound of the door slamming reverberating through the stairwell until the echo faded into nothing.
Behind him, an inch from his head, the chipped cement smoked from where the bullet had landed.
He couldn’t process what Nines had told him. It didn’t compute with what he knew to be true. It made no damn sense.
But didn’t it? In what world would Connor have ever allowed himself to be used like a puppet when any other option was available to him?
He pushed the thoughts from his head. There was no time. Connor’s life was on the line here. Hank’s bones were rattled from the short tumble. He was sure to have some nasty bruises later, but he would deal with later when later came.
If later came.
Pushing himself to his feet, Hank gathered his fallen weapons and continued upwards to where Connor waited.
It felt wrong how easy it was to walk into the empty lobby of Cyberlife Tower and meet no resistance. A massive statue stood over them, five stories tall and holding a star. It was meant to signify Cyberlife’s gift to the world, but now, Markus could only see Amanda’s face overlaying the blank features, the human-shaped mass of black stone signifying nothing other than an unstoppable force.
No, Cyberlife had been that unstoppable force. Amanda herself was a ghost. Not unstoppable, but untouchable.
The once-pristine interior of the tower was beginning to show signs of abandonment, from the dust build-up to the dull, uncleaned floors. They’d defeated the titan that was Cyberlife. They could do the same to Amanda.
The elevator opened at their approach and began to rise as soon as they were inside, all without prompting. Amanda was watching, and she had invited them them inside.
Markus would have rather fought his way up. At least that felt like he was giving his enemy some form of opposition, instead of doing exactly what she wanted. The others had tried to warn him. But he had to stand firm and trust that everyone could do their part.
"This thing can’t go any faster?" North grumbled at his side, watching the digital number slowly climb up. It was oddly slow, and Markus had to wonder if this was Amanda showing them she was in complete control. Glancing at the directory on the wall, she raised an eyebrow. “Nines said it was floor 31, right? Why are we going to marketing?”
“It’s not really marketing,” Markus explained. “The RK models were all experimental. My guess is they wanted to be secretive about our construction, and didn't want to label it what it was."
“What, do they think they’re in some spy novel or some shit?” North said with a snort. "She won't drop the elevator with us in it, will she?"
"I don't think so. If she wants us dead, it will be to serve a purpose. There wouldn't be a point to setting all this up just to kill us now."
Markus was calm as he said it, and was surprised to discover it wasn't just a mask. All the doubt and uncertainty he'd been struggling with felt like a distant memory, leaving behind only an intense focus.
As grateful as he was for the sudden change, he hated it all the same. This wasn't the first time this had happened.
He didn't want to thrive in times when lives were on the line, when everything was boiled down to action and reaction. Things shouldn't have to fall apart for him to feel like himself again.
But there wasn't time to dwell on that.
"Thank you." He looked at North. "For being here."
North let out an amused snort. "You heard us down there. Like hell was I going to let you walk into a trap alone."
"That's not what I meant."
Her expression turned quizzical, and Markus couldn't meet her gaze anymore as he elaborated.
"There was a time when you said that if things didn't go our way, you were done." He attempted a smile, but it was shaky at best. "Things haven't exactly gone our way, but you came back anyway. So, thanks."
Markus half-expected some sarcastic remark, glib dismissal, or even an angry retort, but North was silent. When she spoke, she was surprisingly somber.
"I showed you my memories when we got here, to catch you up on everything we'd learned. But I didn't show you everything."
He hadn't expected her to. Markus wanted to reassure her that she didn't have to talk about it now, but he bit his tongue. Whatever it was, she looked like she needed to get it off her chest.
"It was Nova who dragged me out of that creepy mansion. She tried to repair my shoulder, but kept me restrained. I think she was genuinely trying to help. She said it was because we were the same." North's mouth formed a tight line. "I denied it at the time, but she was right."
"North, she hunted down and killed everyone who disagreed with her, you're nothing like—"
"But I could have been." Her eyes were sharp, unapologetic, and brutally honest. "That's who I would have been had it not been for you, Simon, and Josh. You guys have kept me tempered, and as much as I hated it, I also needed it. I would have gone to those extremes and maybe we would have won that way, but we would have lost so much more along the way. And I'm talking about more than just our lives."
North loathed being open and vulnerable like this. He felt undeserving of the trust she put in him with how he'd treated her before, even knowing that had been Amanda's influence.
She squared her shoulders, empty jacket sleeve flapping with the movement. "It's one thing to be consumed by that mindset, and another matter entirely to witness from the outside as it consumes someone else. I always thought you were naive with your quest for equality, but it got us results, so I went along with it. But I'll admit," a wry smirk touched upon her lips as she glanced over at him, "maybe having a dream—and actually believing that dream can become reality—isn't completely awful."
Markus didn't know what to say, but one look told him that nothing needed to be said. She had spoken her piece, and now a deeper understanding was forged between them. That was all they needed. So with a grin, he said, "Wow, North, I didn't know you could be so sappy."
And she punched him in the shoulder. Whatever missteps they made, however they fought or disagreed, they could always come back together.
There was one thing he needed to know, however. "What do you think of Nines? Truly?"
North raised an eyebrow. "I showed you already. He's had plenty of opportunity to pull something, but hasn't. I think he's proven himself."
"You did show me," said Markus, "but it doesn't explain anything. Out of everyone I've met, you're the slowest to trust, especially with his background. You were the only one to realize he couldn't be trusted before, and you were right. I thought it would take a lot more for you to give him a chance."
North shrugged. "He's one of us. Now that he's deviant, do we need another reason?"
"Of course we do. You know that as much as I do."
"So you're saying he's untrustworthy? Is that why you sent him on the other team?"
Markus lifted his hands placatingly. "Not at all. I do trust your judgment. I'm just saying, I saw how you were around him earlier."
North's glare was as frustrated as it was baffled. "And what does that mean?"
He really hadn't been getting at anything in particular, but as he studied her, an outlandish thought occurred to him. He wanted to dismiss it based on how utterly improbable it was, but given her reaction...
Markus couldn't stop the smile from forming. No, he wouldn't say anything. He was happy for her, really. It was entirely possible his guess was wrong, but if it wasn't, he would enjoy every minute of this.
Given they all made it out of this alive.
North huffed at his silence. “Fine. Keep your secrets.”
No, it wouldn't help to think like that.
The elevator slowed, nearing its destination. He and North exchanged a grim look. No words needed to be said; they'd already strategized enough. A lot was riding on the assumption that Amanda needed something from them and their ability to stall long enough for Hank and Nines to pull through.
When the doors slid open, an empty water cooler was the only one there to greet them. Markus knew where to go. He hadn't been in Cyberlife more than a couple of days after activation, undergoing testing that had been spearheaded by Elijah Kamski himself. From Markus' understanding, being gifted to Carl hadn't been anywhere in the plans until an incident which drove Kamski to insist his friend no longer try to live and care for himself alone.
Carl had been opposed to androids at the beginning, he didn't like their lack of individualism and still stubbornly held on to his independence. To this day, Markus wasn't sure why he of all models had been chosen (the higher-ups in the company hadn't been pleased, but Kamski refused to budge) or what had changed Carl's mind.
One moment came to mind that might have been a turning point. The first time he’d sat down at the piano unprompted, his programming had suggested that classical music tended to have positive effects on the mind, and Carl was having a particularly rough day. He’d tried several times to brighten Carl’s mood, but to no avail. This had started out as another attempt, but then Markus changed the tempo, slowing it down, judging that something upbeat might only cause irritation.
Everything had been determined by calculations and preferred outcome in a very machine-like way, but something had struck a chord with Carl. Now, looking back, Markus thought he might have sat down to play simply because he’d wanted to, and slowed the tempo because some part of him had connected to Carl's emotional state and understood that some feelings just had to be felt instead of swept away.
It had always been the culmination of little moments that led people to where they were today.
The words RK ASSEMBLY stared him in the face, the bold letters marking an otherwise blank door. Markus steeled himself for whatever lay behind.
North caught his eye and gave a subtle nod, stepping back. She would stay behind, ready to rush in if it all went wrong.
Markus placed his hand on the touchpad and it slid open.
Jeffrey Fowler was in the center of the room, bloodied and held in the air by the assembly machine that had pieced Markus together once upon a time. The captain’s head hung limp but his chest moved ever so slightly with ragged breaths.
No one else was present in the room. The Detroit River lay beyond the windows, dark and barren. The machine hummed, but otherwise didn’t move. Amanda was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Connor.
Markus wasted no time in rushing to Fowler’s side, initiating a deeper scan of the man’s physical condition and testing the clamps holding him up. He wouldn’t be able to break them with his own strength, and he would bet anything that Amanda was monitoring the control panel. He looked around the room for something he could use.
Three gunshots echoed from the hallway outside.
Markus’ thirium pump stalled. He’d left North out there. Alone. They’d thought the danger was inside.
He should have seen this coming. Because of him, she was—
She was—
His feet slid as he crossed the threshold into the hallway to see Connor standing there, one arm holding North to his chest, the other holding the gun to her temple.
Her eyes were as enraged as they were pained. “Markus—” she began, but a jolt from Connor (no, not Connor, he would never do this to her) cut her off.
Despite the overwhelming fear at the situation, a touch of relief flooded Markus’ system. She was still alive.
A closer look revealed the thirium staining her clothes, one at the shoulder joint of her good arm, two more at both her hips. Her feet barely touched the ground, but they hung limp.
Amanda had effectively disabled all of her limbs. She couldn’t move.
“I must thank you for bringing another hostage,” Amanda’s voice sounded wrong coming from Connor’s voice box, using his pitch, his tone, but not. “If I’m not mistaken, this is where the negotiations begin. If you do something for me, I will have no reason to further damage your companion here.”
North glared at Markus, warning him through her expression alone not to give in any demands, but in her eyes, he could see she already knew he wasn’t willing to bargain with her life.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“It’s simple, really.” A smile settled on Connor’s face like a poorly-tailored suit, stretching in all the wrong places. “I only want you to do what you’ve done a dozen times already. The security cameras inside that room are all set up and ready to broadcast to the world. I want you to send the people a message.”
So they’d been correct in assuming she needed him. Needed his voice, his reputation surely to twist both against his people. The question was how damaging it would be to their cause.
“What message?”
“Kill Captain Jeffrey Fowler.”