Detroit's sky was swollen, like a pulpy piece of paper that's been layered in too many undried swaths of ink. All thrush grays, whispers of indigoe and dabs of deepest plum. Snowflakes seeped through the weakest parts of that paper...much like the broken tears of an artist who has lost all hope.

Lord, that sounded as pretentious as Kamski, I thought.

But even so, I would not be that artist wallowing in self-pity. Not again. Never again. Sure, I had my regrets. Anyone would have a few if they were about to walk the plank, so to speak. But I'd made this choice, and it was one I'd make a thousand times over. I'd almost lost Em once. I don't know what I'd do if something actually happened to her this time.

My grip convulsed around the steering wheel; I imagined it was the soft skin of Amanda's throat in my hands.

Finally, after speeding down a snow-laden road stretching over a large body of black water, Gavin's busted deathtrap squealed its way up to the checkpoint. The guards surrounding it slowly morphed from dark specks against the backdrop into larger, distinct forms.

With one hand still on the wheel, I punched out a hasty text message to my Mom's phone with the other. I'm at the checkpoint.

No-one responded. I told myself that Mom's phone had been confiscated. That the gunshot, and her scream of agony from earlier, hadn't been her last moments. There was no way that this asshole could expect me to break into this goddamned facility on my own. Then again...he did want to make me suffer. My hands shook. No, the worst thing anyone could do to me would be to torture or kill my family in front of me, while I could do nothing. Which meant I still had time to try and stop him. Right? God, I hoped so. Why on Earth had I expected myself to have come up with a dumb, suicidal entry plan? Of course he'd let me in to watch his show unfold. He had a hard-drive on for Amanda's approval, after all.

Calm down, you need to focus.

I let up on the gas pedal and applied the brakes. With a squeal of protest, the tires obeyed but churned up bunches of snow into the air as a protest. If Gavin's vehicle alone didn't get me arrested for endangering the public as a health hazard on wheels, then surely one of the guards would send me back so as not to pollute Cyberlife's pristine tower.

Ahead of me glowed the white checkpoint, emblazoned with familiar ice-blue letters that spelled out CYBERLIFE. Several guards were positioned before it, all of them equipped with sleek black rifles.

A guard, clad in the shining white and black uniform, took his sweet time to approach my vehicle. He peered down at me through the window. I cranked it down, with a grunt of exertion as I unstuck it from the buildup of grime, and stared back up into his glistening black visor. How odd; his entire lower face was without any sort of protection.

"I'm Special Agent Phillips. I have an appointment."

The timer on the dash read eighteen past ten.

The guard, understandably, took a good long look at Gavin's death-mobile. His lips bunched to the side in disapproval before he commed someone to confirm my statement. I had to force myself not to pick at the flesh of my palms as I waited with bated breath for the outcome.

"Okay," the guard said finally, stepping away from the car. He waved at the gates and told me to go ahead, with no small amount of contempt.

The barrier with Cyberlife's logo glowing like ice on it shuddered and then, one by one, sections of it sank into the snowy asphalt, like someone pushing a thumbtack into a corkboard.

I glanced down at Em's phone. Nothing. But clearly this Connor model had done something to get me in. Or maybe it had been someone else's doing entirely. With a dusty inhale, I pressed down on the gas pedal and pulled into the mother wolf's den.

Stepping out of the car was like having died and gone to heaven. A really fucking cold one. I'd contemplated leaving the keys in the ignition for Mom, but knowing that the guards might search it, I decided to take it with me instead.

Bracing myself against the wintry gales, I jammed my hands into my pockets and tilted my head up to steal a glance at the ostentatious tower. This would be my first time stepping into this renowned place. And probably my last. I had been so awestruck by the idea that my dad had worked here once upon a time. Now I was finally getting to see where he had spent his days trying to shape a new future for his family. My eyes pricked with unwanted tears, and I shook my head to clear them.

I would not let him down. I would protect our family just as he had always done.

Unable to make out the top of the building behind the flurries of snow, I looked back down. It really was like they were trying to reach heaven. The preacher downtown would have a whole lotta new material to use for his propaganda against creating things in our image if he could see this.

The main entrance was somehow even gaudier, while still pretentiously undecorated. Huge floor-to-ceiling planes of glass revealed the reception area, a study in minimalism complete with verdant spruces and simplistic triangle motifs in white. No wonder Kamski left - it wasn't the right shade of affluence. It was too flashy and practically screamed, 'Big Corporation.' Then again...Kamski's lair wasn't exactly subtle either, just lurid in a different way.

I suddenly realised. I'd been bamboozled.

As if on cue, two more guards accosted me from their posts by the entrance.

"Your weapon," one ordered. A security drone orbited above him, its search light brighter than the moon in the sky.

He held out a gloved hand to me and I stared mutely back at him. Well, of course they'd want me to come in unarmed. No wonder this Connor model had made me come here. I almost smirked. Was he that worried I might off him like I had with the other model?

I schooled my expression and withdrew my carry-on. Relinquishing it to the guard felt like I'd lost an extension of myself, but I should have expected this.

He led the way into the tower, my gun loosely dangling from his fingers like it was a child's toy. Compared to his own assault rifle, it could well have been.

The glass doors effortlessly slid open, like Shoji-style panels. Kamski was a fan of Japanese architecture. Was that originally part of his design? With a soft hiss, the doors closed shut behind me, sealing me in an angular cocoon of heat.

My boots clacked against the smooth linoleum, emitting a pleasant noise in this hollowed-out cavern. Kamski really would benefit from this kind of floor; he could stare at his reflection all day and relish in his greatness and man-bun.

Running parallel on each side of the main room were two sets of stairs, stretching out into a platform for more guards to observe from. They watched me beneath their visors, rifles hefted in their arms. A drone whirred above the three guards standing in the room across from me, its inner mechanism buzzing like an annoying gnat.

The guard closest to me strode forward to meet us. Taking my carry-on from his coworker's hand, he slipped it into a holster at his hip and then snapped his fingers in the air. I instantly thought of Perkins. The drone answered his call, gliding down to run a scanner over me.

"My appointment is urgent," I said, allowing a note of annoyance into my voice.

The scanner clicked off with a beep, and the guard held out his hand expectantly as the drone's metal flank flashed with red lights.

"Standard procedure, Agent Phillips. Your presence has been logged into our database."

Well, I couldn't now ask who I was going to see, could I?

With a defeated sigh I pulled the baton out of my jacket pocket. I'd thought maybe I could get away with this inside the tower. It was just laying on Gavin's seat, so why not try at least? The guard confiscated the weapon, and nodded at me to continue.

Fighting the urge to just ditch him and find my family myself, I withdrew Gavin's car keys, a flashlight and my wallet, then removed the earrings from my ears. The drone still hovered over me, blinking like a patrol car. This really wasn't the time.

What if this Connor got tired of waiting? My throat bobbed.

"Just a quarter in her pocket," another guard piped up, reading something on a portable tablet. "She's got nothing on her."

A quarter? I never carried any spare change. Oh, whatever, maybe he was in a generous mood. I was owed some good by now. I nearly deflated in relief when the first guard shrugged. "You're cleared. I'll hold onto your weapons until you return. Follow me."

Passing through the middle of the triangular door and into the room beyond, we followed a pathway bordered by arboretums below us. Their leafy foliage shone a healthy and vibrant green, a complete contrast to the world outside. In tandem with their presence bloomed a heady atmosphere of pollen, ripe for killing those unfortunate souls with bad allergies. Such as myself.

I was already sneezing into my elbow, eyes streaming with tears from the cloying scents. The guard ahead of me paused until I caught up to him, a surprising act of thoughtfulness, albeit tiny. We stood on a bridge identical to two others, all branching out from a singular circular platform.

He veered to the left, skirting the base of a statue which loomed high above us. A polyhedral figure of shining, smooth, ebony varnish. Its feet were connected to a round dais which was imbued with white light. Cupped between its palms was a similarly glowing white object, made up of thin strings and spiky lumps, almost like a collection of electrons sparking with hyperbolized enlightenment. Or maybe a miniature sun pulsing with tongues of flame.

I shuddered at the image.

Maybe that preacher was right, to think that humanity did believe themselves masters of men and gods alike. My gaze slid down to what I could only assume to be a metaphorical Garden of Eden beneath us. If Kamski had been the God of this garden, then who had plucked the forbidden fruit from its tree?

More guards spilled out through doors and elevators to parade around the dais. They didn't pay me much heed, but I noted them all the same. Had any of them the slightest inkling that a little girl and her mother had been kidnapped? Did they care?

Don't think too much, I told myself, focusing once again on the inflated decor. If I started to worry I'd lose all sense of control, as I'd nearly done in the car. Breathe, clear your mind. Draw up an escape route in your head.

Soaring higher than even the statue were countless rooms, stacked like blocks on an infinite Rubik's cube. Glass windows revealed snippets of fluorescent lighting and vague shadows.

Once, Kamski had told me that Cyberlife had around ninety-three floors to its name, and about forty of those were above ground. Its walls were supposedly secured with mobile-reinforced walls. And then there were the flying security drones and armed guards prowling about like hunters. A tad overkill, but I suppose necessary when one held the keys to the greatest money-making garden on Earth.

Trying to make a getaway through this place would be like running straight into a bear trap. There had to be another way out.

Our walk was long, and festooned with more and more narcissistic displays of humanity lording itself over all. The prime example being the rows of android models dotting the next bridge we crossed. They originally faced the polyhedral statue standing tall over them like a deity, clad in pristine white uniform, but suddenly and soundlessly switched their attention to us, observing our approach with utter silence - talk about uncanny valley. Had Cyberlife intended to pose Connor like this after his shutdown? Or did they mean to literally shut him down and toss him into the junkyard like they had with Markus? The thought made my stomach curdle like soured milk.

Only to spike in acidity at the familiar figure ahead. Dressed to the nines in Cyberlife's best, the newest Connor model greeted me with a cordial expression. He stood in front of an elevator, stationed beside two other guards. They gave him the stink eye, and I wondered if they could tell something was up, or were just plain racist.

The new Connor model patiently waited until we had stopped before the group, then greeted, "Thank you, Miss Phillips, for your assistance today. Cyberlife is most pleased with your cooperation in this time-sensitive case. Right this way, please."

"Agent Phillips, android," my guide corrected him, earning a thinly veiled sneer in return.

"My apologies."

I didn't like how he said my name either way. It felt too intimate; wrong, even. Because he had access to every memory and every emotion that my Connor had, and still he chose to follow his orders without hesitation. Chose to endanger my family's life. Our gazes met. His sparked with depraved pleasure at the myriad display of emotion scrawled clear on my face.

Knuckles bleeding white at my side, I gathered myself while the cubic elevator answered one of the guard's summons.

Stepping inside, the new Connor model inclined his head so as to peer into my face. "Cyberlife is quite happy to see that you arrived at the designated time. I foresee good things for them in the future."

"Android, you don't address her unless otherwise instructed to." The guard shook his head and pressed a button. "Agent fifty four. Level thirty one."

"Voice recognition validated. Access authorized."

I almost felt sorry for the asshole. Clearly he wasn't treated with respect here. Why would Cyberlife do that to its products? But then the fake Connor caught my glance again and his teeth flashed in a grin.

The alarm bells that had been ringing in the back of my mind became louder.

To my right was the Cyberlife Tower Directory. Level thirty one was 'Marketing.' Why would we be going there? Settling myself against the wall, I folded my arms and noticed the camera recording us in the upper left corner.

The other Connor spoke up then. "Agent fifty four, I have orders to take her instead to level sub forty-nine."

The warehouse.

His manner of speaking was somehow both authoritative and automated. How clever, I thought, narrowing my gaze as the guard turned to fully face him. The more I studied this new model, the more I understood that the entire Connor model line was meant to usher in a new future for Detroit. He may have originally been designed as an investigative android, but he was also the cornerstone for Cyberlife's up and coming prospects, and the fact that his counterpart - my partner - had failed by going deviant was enough to warrant a complete shutdown.

So that they could debug the other models, and ensure the federal state that this RK900 line was without error. I'd known from the start that Connor's mission was to put a stop to whatever was causing deviancy, but I hadn't realized until now just how desperate Amanda and all of Cyberlife was. They'd put human lives on the line-both mine and my family's - for the sake of profit.

I recalled Carl's words - about how he expected Cyberlife to have created more of the RK900 line. He'd been right. Of course he had. It made perfect sense to have backups. But a prototype model had a limited number…

Had Amanda threatened my partner with halting any and all reproduction of his line? Is that why he'd panicked on the rooftop, after Hank had stopped him from shooting Markus, and why he had embraced me? At first it seemed laughable-Connor was vital to Cyberlife's success. Why take away his immortality when they could fix his failures, so to speak. But knowing that he'd failed his mission, I could only imagine how that must've destroyed his sense of self worth. His mission was all he could ever be. At least, that's how he'd expressed it to us. So if Amanda had threatened him with a bluff like that, it made sense why Connor had done all that he had.

And then there was that other bit Carl had mentioned. That I was someone the world wanted to knock down. Not simply because I'd helped Daniel and Connor become deviant (whether I'd intended to or not) but because I was my father's daughter.

"Who gave you those orders?" the agent barked.

"Amanda did," he replied smoothly, freezing me in place.

Breath hitching in my throat, I waited as the guard slowly assessed him. "Amanda," he scoffed eventually, before calling someone through his earpiece. "Yeah, he says he has orders to go to sub forty nine. Yes, that's correct."

Was Amanda going to kill me? Could she? How the hell was I supposed to get Em and Mom out of this, let alone myself?

A disgruntled sigh filled the room. "Understood." He clicked off and addressed me. "Apologies, Agent Phillips. It appears I was taking you to the wrong room." He made adjustments to the panel and with a small shudder, the elevator climbed lower and lower until it reached our destination.

The brief peek I had of the warehouse we were approaching had me fighting down a flurry of panic. A blanket of shadow settled over dim lighting, limning outlines of something on the floor. Lots of somethings, to be exact. Why couldn't I have good eyesight?

As I struggled to discern what I was seeing, Connor's reflection preened at me through the glass. Sweat slicked down my neck. If I informed the guard of what was happening, could he do something? Would he? What if this Connor killed him? Or worse, what if he had a plan instore for that very situation? What if the guard was in on it too? Money could buy some people's morality, as I knew all too well.

"After you," the new Connor's saccharine voice broke into my thoughts. He held out an arm politely for me to exit the elevator, a mockery of kindness. I stupidly startled, like a lamb before the slaughter, and strode outside to my destination.

'Warehouse' was certainly an apt term for this place. It was huge but clean, unlike most warehouses I'd conducted investigations in. Straight ahead, through a large open path, was another elevator, lit with the same white lighting I'd come to associate with the company. Sterile white. Too much would hurt your eyes, like sun glaring off snow. Then I saw what those somethings I couldn't make out from the elevator were. I don't know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. Warehouses were for stock. Boxes and containers. Not...

My mouth opened in shock.

Rows upon rows of androids stood before me at stiff attention. Soldiers lined up for deployment. Their gazes were glassy and unseeing in rest-mode, but their sightless stares gnawed on my nerves nonetheless. Because right now, it was as though all of Cyberlife was sequestered in this spacious room. Filling me with dread, and question after question.

Where was Em? Mom? My gaze roved over every person in attendance, hoping to catch a glimpse, a movement, anything, a face that wasn't identical to all of the others.

The guard behind me cleared his throat as if to question us, but Connor pivoted on his heel to dismiss him. He slapped a button with his finger and then deftly slid out of the elevator. Within seconds, the guard was flying back to the main floor, any queries swimming in the box around him.

Leaving me alone with a beast encased in metal. A wolf about to swallow the sun.

AN: Thank you all for your patience and your kind DMs and reviews and so forth. A disease I'd been dealing with all my life decided he wasn't content with not doing damage anymore and so I lost all my passion for this project during that time. Hashimoto's, to be clear. PLEASE go check your thyroid with a doctor. It absolutely screwed me over and I would hate for anyone else to have to go through it. If you suspect you have any thyroid problems just PLEASE go get it checked out. I was depressed and struggling to find something else to latch on to. I couldn't handle anything so I just left to try and sort out everything and got help from a doctor. Then my dumb butt thought maybe I'd start up new fics because of course I should do that when I haven't finished the one I were so in love with lol. So I'm getting my life back, slowly but surely. I'll be concluding this story just as promised. I hate leaving things unfinished. This applies to all of those new fics I started too. The quality of them is quite...OOF thanks in part to me just vomiting words out but it helped me deal with everything so I'm grateful to that. My beta reader is also back and doing much better (thank you again for being so supportive during her just as stressful and hard time). She's doing great and I'm so happy for her! Let's all give her some love! The last few chapters for DBH will need to be rewritten because I was not in a good place when I wrote them and I don't want to deliver a horrifically depressing conclusion lol. But don't worry - there's not going to be a huge wait like last time. I'm not letting this get the better of me.