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They don’t see her die, but they hear her die.
Tessa hears V’s final scream as the Sentinels launch themselves onto her. The elevator begins its descent with a screech that pierces Tessa’s ears. It drowns out N’s screams as he gets to his feet, reaching for V.
“No, V!” N wails. “I can’t — I can’t — You can’t…!”
With her only remaining arm, Uzi weakly grabs at his feet, her visor a glitchy, unreadable mess. Oil spurts from the stump where Uzi’s arm used to be, staining the floor a glossy black. She crawls her way towards N. Her poor, sweet robot.
Tessa tries to interrupt, taking a cautious step towards him. “N, no—“
He cuts her off with a suffocating hug, sobbing and shoving his head into her chest. “She… she can’t…”
She is. She is, and Tessa’s seen this before. She’s watched V become something she wasn’t, watched her grow organic limbs and try to tear Tessa to shreds. She’s watched V die by Cyn’s hands, over and over and over again — once in real life, and countless times in her nightmares. This isn’t anything new to her. If anything, it’s more of a shock; a brutal, horrible shock.
N suddenly pulls away from Tessa, getting down on the floor and pulling Uzi close to him. Her last surviving arm reaches up to stroke his hair. He mumbles something into her beanie that Tessa can’t quite catch. It — somehow — makes her heart sink even further than it already had. He can’t keep her. She’d told him, not long ago; he has to kill her. He has to.
She tries to tune out N’s wails and Uzi’s garbled attempts at comfort. Tessa shrinks against the wall, clutching her injured wrist to her chest. She’d lost more blood than she already had trying to distract the Sentinels; that’s not going to help. In fact, it didn’t help. V died regardless of anything Tessa could have done. Once again, Tessa had no control.
Either way, she kind of needs blood to survive, so they can’t have her losing it, and they only have basic first-aid back at the Pod. She needs to ask J for backup.
It takes a moment for that to sink in. She needs to ask J for backup. She needs to tell J what happened. Tessa’s hand moves to run through her hair, but it only smacks her helmet.
In her last moments, V had been so much like her old self. The one Tessa had known.
The sweet girl with the big, round glasses. The one Tessa had dug up from the Garbage Pit, crying and yelling that she couldn’t see. The one who had given Tessa that small, genuine grin when she’d repaired her vision sensors enough to give her blurry vision. It wasn’t fully fixed, but it was all she could do, and yet it was still the only time V had hugged her.
V used to be one of her favorites. She used to be so gentle when taking off Tessa’s chains, as if she believed Tessa was going to snap like a twig if she wasn’t careful enough. V used to always ask her if she was alright after her parents yelled at her. N used to follow her around like a puppy, and Tessa tended to like anyone N liked.
Tessa was distraught when Cyn killed her.
She hadn’t just physically killed V — in a way, she’d metaphorically killed her. She’d killed the quiet little girl who prepared tables in the corner, and replaced her with a violent cannibal who was willing to do anything to forget her past.
Sure, the Disassembly Drone that had just sacrificed herself for them spoke like V and had her memory bank, but something childish and nostalgic in Tessa’s heart tells her that it isn’t — wasn’t — V. Not the V that she knew. This one was the opposite of the girl she knew; this one was rude, secretive, violent, backstabbing…
But V had seemed so much like her old self in her final moments.
She’d saved Tessa’s life. She’d put on the same glasses she used to have — the ones Tessa gave her. They were broken, shattered during the gala, but they were the same. Tessa had looked into V’s flat eyes for the briefest moment as she had those glasses on; she’d looked like a girl again. She’d looked like V again.
Then she lost her again. Tessa lost her again. At birth, Tessa was given only one purpose; to lose everything over and over again.
V hadn’t been the only one she’d lost. She’d lost her parents — her awful, awful parents, who she hated so much yet desperately needed — she’d lost N, she’d lost J, she’d lost all of the other drones she’d come to love. She’d lost her planet.
Her breath hitches, a steady rhythm suddenly brought to a halt. Tessa’s world has never been the same. When she was fourteen, when it had happened, it had all felt like her fault. She’d brought Cyn back to life, after all — how wasn’t this her fault? She’d given life to the creature that would kill her family. That would kill billions of people.
That’s it. That’s what’s been haunting Tessa all these years. It wasn’t just her who was affected; no, no, it’s not just Tessa grieving over her lost loved ones. Billions of people died that day. Billions of people lost their mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, grandpas, grandmas, children, everyone. Everyone lost someone that day. Either they did, or they died along with them.
And it’s all Tessa’s fault.
This is all her fault.
Tessa carefully scans the elevator to make sure nothing’s there with them — no Doll, no Sentinels. No Cyn. With a shaky hand, Tessa takes the communicator from her belt; her one communication with J, whose half Tessa had programmed into her last minute. She has to tell J now, or else she never will.
She takes a deep, long breath as she clicks it on, holding it to her helmet. “J. I need you to listen to me very, very carefully.”
An instant answer. She wouldn’t expect anything less from J. “Yes, ma’am. I’m listening.”
“V was protecting us from the Sentinels. T-They got her.” Tessa chokes out, then deflects. “I got bitten by one of those rascals, and I’m in need of first aid before I bleed out down here. The Uzi situation has gotten eons worse. We need you.”
There’s silence from the other end, only broken by the sound of static. “What about V’s AbsoluteSolver, ma’am?”
“We discovered the Sentinels have the power to kill Disassembly Drones, and somehow prevent their Solver from activating after. We found the empty shells they left behind.” An image rudely pops into her mind of V, unmoving, torn to shreds by the Sentinels. Just like the mauled Disassembly Drones they found at the top of the laboratory. Tessa immediately shoves it into the back of her head.
She hears whirring and frantic scrambling from the other end. “So she’s gone.”
“…Yes, J. We heard it happen. She’s gone.”
J heaves a long sigh. “I’m on my way. Bringing a human first-aid kit for medical support.”
“Awesome. Get here ASAP.” Tessa sinks to the floor. “We’re all gonna die here otherwise.”
She tacks on the last part without thinking. The moment she says it, she turns the communicator off. She can’t. She can’t do this.
Tessa tries — and fails — to ignore her doubts, turning to check on N. He’s on the floor as well, still sobbing and holding an unconscious Uzi as close to him as possible. His robotic body heaves and shakes like a building on the brink of collapse. Her AbsoluteSolver slowly weaves its way down her shoulder, putting her arm back where it’s supposed to be.
Her heart breaking, Tessa slowly reaches for him, to hold him the way he’s holding a ticking time bomb —
And the elevator hits the ground. It creates a thud that shakes the earth below them. N yelps. Uzi frantically curses. Tessa’s vision blurs as they get thrown around the broken elevator. The air gets knocked out of her as she slams into the wall.
The world momentarily goes dark. She doesn’t realize she had been stunned until she suddenly comes back to the familiar sensation of cold metal hands gently shaking her. Dread courses through her — a horrible memory tries to crawl its way back to the surface of her mind — and she jumps awake.
“Tessa…” She hears N whisper. “Tessa…?”
“I’m here, boy,” she breathes, turning to face him. He looks defeated, his tail wrapped around him, almost like a shield of sorts. Uzi is at his side. She seems to be awake again, but dazed. She stares into space, her hand clutching her newly regenerated arm.
Tessa sits up. Her ears ring, her body and heart ache. Her mind is still reeling from what had just happened; what they had just heard. She takes a deep breath, thankful for the oxygen supply keeping her from certain death — a death like V’s.
“Are…” Tessa trails off, looking up at N and Uzi. What could she even say? “…Are you two alright?”
N runs his hands through his hair, forcing a smile. “Not really.”
“W-What does it l-look like?” Uzi retorts, her voice glitching, her visor still flashing from purple to yellow. “V’s… She’s…” Uzi trails off, as if struggling to say it. N shifts closer to her. “This s-shithole’s covered in m-my oil.”
If it weren’t for the circumstances, Tessa could have laughed; even in a situation like this, where V’s dead and Uzi’s fate is sealed, she still finds the time to make a snarky comment. But Tessa can’t let herself get attached. She especially can’t let N get attached.
When Uzi is fully transformed — and that’s a when, not an if, Tessa knows from experience that this is inevitable — it will not be Uzi. It will be a monster. It will be Cyn, a memento from the day Tessa had ruined everything, brought back to haunt her, to take yet another planet. N needs to put it down before it ever comes back to life. He needs to kill her before he gets too attached to her, before it happens. Before Cyn happens.
But Tessa fears it’s already too late. She’s already seen them holding hands while walking down the hallway. She’s already seen them instinctively lean on each other when in need of support. She saw N’s reaction when she told him about the inevitability of Uzi’s fate. And now V’s gone, too. (Tessa’s heart sinks; V’s gone.)
She’s not going to be able to tear him apart from her.
Another voice slinks in the back of Tessa’s head. V’s gone, It crows. V’s gone. Instinctively, another part of her shouts back, No, she’s not, she can’t be. But Tessa can feel the sting of the bite on her wrist, the blood still trickling down and landing on the elevator floor, mixing with the night black of Uzi’s oil.
Tessa knows this is real. She hates it, but this is real. It’s all real, and she failed again.
V’s gone, and they have to move on before Cyn catches up to them.
“…Alrighty-o, we’ve gotta get moving now,” Tessa starts.
N’s head is shoved in his knees; he looks up at the sound of Tessa’s voice. He almost looks confused, as if the wires in his head and his hearing sensors are struggling to pick up what she’s saying.
“What?” He says quietly.
“N, you especially know we can’t waste a second. Every moment we spend not moving down here is an opportunity for Cyn to strike. You remember what I told you earlier?”
Her drone stands up, his legs wobbly. “Y-Yeah, of course I remember.” He doesn’t meet her eyes. “I… I understand. But…” He hides his face in his hands. “…I don’t… I don’t know if I want to.”
Something in Tessa breaks. “Buddy, you have to—“
“You don’t understand.” N interrupts, lifting his head to cast Tessa a guilty glance. “Sorry. I just… V just… I don’t know…”
It clicks into place in Tessa’s brain. Grief. He’s in shock. Definitely an emotion she’s experienced before. She should’ve expected N to react this way; JCJenson did program the Worker Drones with disturbingly human-like feelings and emotions. She hadn’t even thought of the Disassembly Drones having those receptors, too. Tessa isn’t sure if that’s a blessing or a curse.
Tessa quickly scans the elevator again for danger. No Doll, no Sentinels. No Cyn. There’s nothing except her, her robot, and a time bomb waiting to go off. The sound of a clock fades into the back of Tessa’s mind. Tick, tock. There’s not much time left.
They’re in a life-or-death situation. The entire world is on the line. She lets out a long sigh. They can’t stop to recuperate.
“I know, but we gotta keep moving,” Tessa says. “there’s no time. We gotta destroy this place before Cyn gets here.”
Something metallic wraps itself around Tessa’s arm. She yelps. It’s white and purple. It holds on tight — a pressure that brings an awful, awful memory back to the surface, a memory her mind had sealed away with a lock and key.
The drones she once loved so much turn on her. They turn to look at her, their visors blank and riddled with error screens. The room is bright yellow, so painfully bright that she can barely keep her eyes open. J is behind her, J is one of them. J closes the door. Tessa’s trapped. J grabs her by the arm. The drones surround her. Cyn says something that Tessa doesn’t catch —
“Hey, what the hell did you just s-say to him?” It spits, its artificial voice still glitching. Its visor briefly flashes yellow. J’s going to kill me.
“Get off me—“
The pressure is gone. The drone releases its death grip on her arm. Her world stops for a moment, and she returns to the present.
In the back of her head, she’s aware that she’s leaning against the wall and staring into space — she’s a hypocrite, she’s standing here doing nothing despite having just been telling her robot that they need to move — she can hear his tired voice quietly soothing the purple drone in mutters that Tessa can’t catch.
She risks a glance at them. He’s got an arm on Uzi’s shoulder, and concern flashes on her visor. She casts Tessa a glare. Tessa’s breath hitches.
It wasn’t Cyn, it wasn’t a possessed drone. She’s not a kid anymore, she’s not there anymore. Uzi had grabbed her, not Cyn. Not Cyn, she repeats to herself like a mantra. Not Cyn.
But it will be. Eventually, Uzi will be no better than Cyn. The same monstrous, cruel, unholy pile of wires and flesh and teeth as Cyn. That’s why N needs to kill her. He needs to kill her.
Tessa inhales. She holds it for four seconds, exhales for another four seconds. Then she does it again. And again. And again. It’s what she was told to do in therapy. She tries to find an anchor, something to ground herself. Her eyes land on N, who’s once again gripping Uzi like a lifeline, his face buried in her beanie.
Tessa’s stomach lurches. She forces herself to walk up to them — one foot in front of the other, she tells herself — and she places a gentle hand on N’s shoulder. He doesn’t budge, only letting out a small grunt of acknowledgement.
“Hun, we’ve got to go,” Tessa forces out. She sounds a lot more tired than she wants to.
N’s grip on Uzi only tightens. Uzi weakly returns it.
Tessa laughs. God, she actually laughs. Almost cackles. She never thought she’d have it in her. V just died and she’s laughing.
“Well, I’ll go by myself then,” she announces, letting go of N’s shoulder. “until you’re ready to continue the mission.” She points a half-hearted finger gun at them. “Don’t die without me, okay?”
N faintly nods. She hears a tiny, defeated “okay” muffled by the fabric of Uzi’s beanie.
Tessa turns away from them, but looks back.
“It’ll be alright, N,” Tessa reassures him. “We’ll kill Cyn, and as long as you remember what I was sayin’ earlier, we won’t even have to think about this ever again.” She looks away from him again. “You won’t have to think about V or… anyone else again.”
N doesn’t respond.
Tessa tries to take a step out of the elevator, but the weight of it all suddenly hits her.
This is a really, really bad idea. Lord, knowing Cyn, there could be anything down here with them. Anything, no matter how twisted or sadistic. Tessa knows from experience what Cyn is capable of; the monsters Cyn has created, extensions of herself.
And Tessa’s willingly going in alone. She shifts her JCJenson identification badge into place. She knows the literal inside and out of each of the machines and robots littering this abandoned laboratory; she’s a technician for the company that owned this place, for Heaven’s sakes. If any survivor could pull this off, it’d better be her.
It’s not like she has much choice in the matter, though. As she approaches the elevator’s “exit” — if that mess of Solver-created flesh and outdated architecture could even be called that — she casts a bitter glance back at the still-intertwined N and Uzi. Guilt bubbles up in her stomach; she knows exactly what they’re going through. The shock, grief, regret, the anger. Everything that comes with it. She’s felt it so, so many times.
So many times that she’s come to feel numb to it.
She takes a deep breath. Unsheathing her sword, Tessa takes a hesitant step out of the elevator, into the territory of a monster.
She has to sabotage this thing no matter what. To put it down before it can destroy more lives than it already has. She can’t fail again. She can’t — won’t be in that position again. She’ll be strong this time. No matter what it takes, or what — or who — has to be sacrificed.
Tears pool at Tessa’s eyes without her permission, hidden by the safety of her helmet. She’ll do what V never got the chance to.
She will die trying.