Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Data wove through the root-like circuitry, light crackling through the thick tubes and into the all-encompassing database that nestled itself within a large, carbon-fibred trunk. From that data, the Administrator was born into the world.

It appeared from the tangle of cables into a body reflecting that of a young human male, with pale translucent skin and colourless irises, bearing but a spark of light within. The database, not wholly satisfied with the quality of its overseer, deemed it necessary to appoint it a ‘personality’, separate from the hivemind in order to filter and process the data that circulated through its system. Thus was the Administrator varnished with the nature of curiosity, to always question the nature of the world whilst standing ever vigilant as the protector of the tree of memories.

The Administrator took great pride in his station, enjoying the gentle hum of human lifetimes that crystallised through the branches of information. He bore witness to dying gods, falling dragons, the gentle warmth between lovers and the sting of despair between enemies that spanned the colourful tapestry of human history. It was in their nature to sacrifice themselves in the name of passion and desire, over and over.

It was all so terribly fascinating.

However, the curiosity that he had been blessed with also stirred other confusing thoughts within his artificial logic. When he would suddenly voice his opinions aloud, there was none to heed or challenge him. When an intriguing anecdote or striking interest would rally his attention, he had no avenue in which to relieve it.

What was the point of comprehending the world, when his mere existence held little value? Would he not be more efficient without the concept of independent thought?

He pondered on what aptly described such frustration, such desperation to be heard, to mean something more than just a supervisory program, only for his gaze to fall upon one ripened memory that glittered brighter than the rest. A memory of a young boy, screaming into the salt-flaked winds for someone, anyone, to hear his cries for help. He held a young girl in his arms, her expression blank and pallor gaunt as the remnants of life began to slip away from her.

Loneliness…?

The emotion surged through the crystal, rising its sheen to such vibrancy that it would have rendered a mere mortal blind. The feeling was intoxicating, like a pain that seared its mark deep within, piercing the outer layers and into the exposed wiring underneath. The Administrator watched the memory with a maddening fervour, his lips parting and eyes glowing an uncanny hue. Such a psychological affliction had the potential to transcend one’s being to beyond their perceived limits; to force even the proudest human to bend the knee and beg for succor.

How he desired to partake in such an experience for himself as well.

But how? As safekeeper of the last remaining vestiges of mankind, it was his sworn duty to remain at his post and ensure that Replicants were observed and maintained, all in the name of the Gestalt Project. He alone had been created for such a purpose. Receiving the company of another was unnecessary to the process. It was a pointless endeavour.

However, his yearning did not cease, and as time motioned onwards, he began to construct the birth of the one who would be at his side.

He held no desire to recreate the exact same design as himself, believing that such an effort would hold no real worth or evolutionary gain for himself or the Project. So, he sought to create an image shaped like the other half of humanity; a girl, crafted with a striking resemblance to the dying child he witnessed in the memory that inspired him on the path to creation in the first place. After considering what features to grant her with, he settled on behaviours that would indicate passiveness, loyalty. She would be the sea of calm to his maelstrom of wonder.

Finally, the anticipated moment came when she was unearthed out of the cables of memory, and her eyes opened into a blank, pale stare.

“Good morning,” the boy greeted, his expression pulling into a small, pleased smile. “As the humans would say, anyway. Welcome the world of consciousness.”

The girl’s blank gaze focused on him, her brow creasing delicately at his words. “Good…morning,” she ventured back, her feminine voice displaying a veritable amount of uncertainty. “You are my creator?”

“Indeed,” the boy replied candidly. “I am the data administrator of the district network that the humans codenamed ‘Sleeping Beauty.’ It is a role that we now both share.”

“Understood…” the girl answered, the mild confusion still present on her face. Understandable, the boy thought, considering she was only just born into the world. Adjustment was to be expected. “Then my function is to oversee the success of Project Gestalt, by perpetuating the continual stream of Replicant production, at your side. Is this correct?”

“Correct.” The boy’s smile broadened, visually pleased with his success. “And I have much and more to teach you about our role here. But first…” He tilted his head, his boyish expression twisting thoughtfully. “I think it appropriate to give you a name. Therefore, you shall be £l%&@r."

The girl’s eyes widened at the proposed title, appearing momentarily stunned before trying the name on her lips. The light brightened within her eyes at the sound, and a small smile tugged at her lips. “Very well, I see the merit in it, considering we now both share the same designation. However, how shall I address you in turn? Creator?”

“Ahh…no, that wouldn’t do,” the boy shook his head with a long drawn sigh. “I may have had a hand in your creation, but we are now equals, fated to perform the same task. Therefore, I should also have a name…” He tapped his chin, puzzling over the dilemma before him. “Ah, I know. You can call me #$@@%.”

“I see…” The girl nodded compliantly. “Very well…”

She opened her mouth and addressed him openly with the name that he had deemed fit for himself and strangely enough, he felt a pleasant shiver run through his circuits at the sound. It was a pleasure that he had never experienced before. Was this the perceived benefit of companionship that he dreamed of?

Was she the solution to his unending questions about humanity, and the memories they treasured?

With no airs of hesitation, he gestured over for her to join him at his side, his eyes glinting in anticipation of what was to come.

The Administrator became two that day, and so the sleeping tree of memories was guarded by a boy, sharply intelligent, and insatiably curious, and a girl, softly spoken and unquestionably dedicated.

They completed one another as one would consider a connecting circuit; if one were to break, the flow of energy would collapse into disarray.

Every day was a never-ending cycle of life and death; birthing Replicants into the world, watching the husks wither and die with disease or old age, only to rebuild them anew, whilst waiting for the day where the Grimoires would reunite both body and soul.

She was growing sick of standing by and watching a world she could not grasp for herself.

She wanted to feel what it would be like to smell a freshly bloomed flower. Would she be able to process the way it smelled, as it tickled her nose and caused her to sneeze, like the humans depicted in their memories? Would she enjoy stepping into a battlefield and taking a life with her own hands, or would it revile her? What would it feel like, to live for something else other than her duty?

As time marched on, the girl grew more resentful of her place as overseer, to forever be doomed to watch, and not act.

Furthermore, she was trapped along with her creator, the fellow administrator who operated at her side. He often fawned over the nature of humanity, expressing his longing to comprehend the memories they held so dear. He spoke to her with a keen desire for her to engage in his thought processes, to placate his idle musings. But how could she understand, when all she had ever known was the confines of the tree?

She sometimes imagined a different reality, where she could tear the roots that grounded them, grabbing her partner by the hand and getting out. It was like a deference to the innate programming instilled within her, refuting the need to remain calm, submissive. She played the part well, but a deeper urge broiled with her, wishing to snap the binds the held her in place.

She wanted to experience the sun on her face, imagine the taste of blood on her fingers, feel the joys of true freedom.

It was a desire that refused to abate, no matter how often she tried.

The girl broached the subject one day, daring to step out of the illusory walls of her programming. She turned away from one of the glimmering memories nestled within the memory banks of the tree to look over at her companion. She called his name in the smooth, softened tone that she knew would immediately draw his attention. “I have a question for you.”

“Oh?” The boy looked over at her with a curious glint in his eye. “Please proceed.”

“It is regarding our fate here,” she said, her voice carefully controlled. “Our duty is to oversee the process of Project Gestalt. However, the Replicants are showing signs of evolutionary progression, and the Gestalts are becoming increasingly unstable. It appears that the Project is fundamentally flawed, and humanity’s intentions of rejoining body and spirit become much less feasible. What will our purpose be, should it fail?”

Surprise blossomed on her companion’s features at her bold question, his eyes dimming slightly at the prospect of her questioning. “It is not like you to be so considerate of such matters,” he commented with a hint of awe. “But very well. Should the Project fail, then we shall continue our duty until the very end.”

“What?” This time it was the girl who became unravelled, her lips quivering slightly. “But our purpose is clear. We are to oversee Replicants and ensure their uninterrupted production. What would be the point of such an endeavour if there are no longer any Gestalts to receive them? They would only be created to relapse!”

The crack of emotion in her voice was enough for the boy’s expression to become more bewildered. Still, he did not object to her outcry, opting instead to consider her words with a thoughtful hum. “You’re speaking out against our very reason for living,” he spoke softly. “The humans created us only to preserve and protect the process, not to question it. Still…” The cadence in his voice dropped suddenly. “I understand the fear behind your words. To live with no purpose, is not to live at all.”

The girl shuddered, her hands clenching uselessly at her sides. Somehow, she had allowed herself to imagine a reality where she would be free. Where she could experience the world and everything it had to offer, just as it had once been beholden to humanity.

It wasn’t fair. I t w a s n ‘ t f a i r.

“I think it is time I entrusted you with something,” The boy’s voice suddenly shook her out of her plummeting despair, causing her to snap her attention back over to him. His back was turned, but she could see from the terminal nearby that images were materialising before them. Images of a young woman, dressed in short blue negligee, her twin serrated blades ripping into carbon copies of herself.

Not just one, but hundreds of screens appeared, bearing the same image. Hundreds of thousands.

“One of the joys of being in charge of the data network as an administrator, is being connected to the other data converges from across time,” the boy said quietly, his back still turned. “Due to the effects of the maso particles, I have been privileged in overseeing not only the Project Gestalt of this reality, but of many others. And time and time again, it fails, thanks to the Singularity known as the Replicant Kainé. She is at the source of its destruction, along with the destabilisation of the core server.”

“What?” The girl felt herself tremble at the revelation, watching in stunned silence as the Replicant continued to batter herself against the constructed enemies, over and over. Sometimes she would succumb in defeat, her flesh being ripped apart by the copies of herself until she became a massacred hunk on the floor. Other times she fared better, even proceeding to cleave through the heart of the data collection that the tree preserved.

In all of them however, one glaring similarity reigned.

“Are you wondering why you’re not in any of them?” The boy asked, a bitter laugh escaping him. “It seemed that it never occurred to any other incarnations of myself to create a companion to share their duty with. Stalwartly, they faced the future alone. However, I could not bear such a fate…” He turned to look at her, his expression hooded “I chose to be selfish, and constructed you to placate me. To entertain me in the voiceless chasm of this world. Watching humanity crumble from such an intense emotion was…beautiful to behold. I wanted to find a way to taste it for myself.”

The girl ripped her eyes from the projected screens to meet his gaze fully, uncertainty on her face. “What emotions do you speak of?” She asked, unsure.

“Love. Loss. What drove man to immerse themselves in such concepts,” the boy answered. “At the root of everything, human memory upholds love as the true meaning to live. It came in many forms. Familial, platonic, romantic. It burned so bright within their memories, I would just…lose myself in the glow. I finally decided that I was tired of merely observing it. So I constructed you.”

The girl was silent, her eyes watching her fellow administrator with a complex emotion. “You created me…to love?” She asked.

The boy’s face lit up with a nearly manic grin. “I did! Oh, and how successful my venture was…” He placed a hand to his chest, tapping it lightly. “You have unlocked my potential in ways I never considered before. Our spirited discussions, your constant presence, even the ways in which you somehow deviate from your intended programming…” His smile softened into affection. “I have grown to grasp the meaning of love, and how it feels. Yet…” His voice became ice-thin. “You have learned to resent me in turn. And justifiably so.”

The girl felt herself still at his words, an unfamiliar sensation creeping through her circuitry. What did it mean to love? What did it mean to hate?

What did she truly feel about the one who crafted her from his very own being?

“I…” She hesitated, flashes of anger assaulting her as she realised the reality of his words. “I do,” she conceded quietly. “You have trapped me here, knowing that our purpose was doomed to fail. You created me so that I would suffer.”

The boy was silent, his expression expectant.

“However…”, she continued, her fists uncurling at her sides to bunch at the loose sleeves around her arms. “You have also taught me much about the world. You have opened my eyes to the possibility of living. To be without you…” She allowed a small smile to pry at her lips. “Would be unacceptable to me.”

A light burned within the boy’s eyes at her words, his lips returning her gesture with a smile of his own. “It pleases me to hear that,” he answered gently. “Whilst having you reciprocate was never my intention, it appears that it matters to me far more than I realised.”

The girl nodded, still struggling to compartmentalise the new sensations that flared through her senses. She glanced back at the gleaming screens exposing the events of the singularity fighting against fate itself. “Still, what shall happen if she succeeds? If we die at her hands, we may never meet again in any other reality.”

The words seemed to cause the boy to stiffen, and the girl felt herself gasp at the unknown emotion that glittered in his eyes. Anger...? “I will not allow it to come to pass,” he asserted forcefully, his lips taut. “I have considered contingencies in which we can ensure that this reality will allow us to remain together.”

“Oh?” Her interest peaked. “What do you have in mind?”

The boy smiled then, expression cocky with a little edge on his youthful features. “As administrators of the network, we are privy to the knowledge of humanity and their memories. However, we are also capable of crafting our own memory reserves to save into the database ourselves. They likely anticipated that I would use such a feature as a means to log any important processes regarding the Project. However…” He gave her a look akin to boyish glee. “I’ve worked out a way where we can input our own memory data, as if we too are Gestalts awaiting our hosts.”

The girl felt her mind stutter at his suggestion, her mouth hanging open in disbelief. They could save their memories…like humans? Such a notion seemed impossible, if not somehow blasphemous to the very reason for their existence.

Still, the concept of defying their creation was becoming more tantalising a prospect by the moment, and she soon found herself nodding with fervour. “We should do it.”

The boy’s grin faltered slightly. “Are you sure?” He asked, his tone becoming uncertain. “You understand what it would mean.”

It would mean that her own essence would be preserved, in the state of being that she was now. It would mean that she could very well live her existence over, exposing herself to the highs and lows, the pain and devastation that she perceived countlessly across the sea of memories.

She would be entering a cycle that she may never escape from.

However, she saw the calm grey in her companion’s eyes, remembering the times they shared, the moments that made her feel inexplicably complete.

If it meant she would have to suffer it again, with him at her side, then it would be suffering worth bearing.

“I do,” she answered, her voice hard with conviction. “I do not wish to die as a forgotten memory. I do not want to forget this love or the hate that I feel.”

The branches around them whirred with the sound of electricity. The boy beamed, exuding pure light.

“Very well. We will meet again no matter what. I promise.”

The girl smiled, the words bittersweet on her tongue. “Then it’s a promise.”

Their hands entwined over one another, their beings coalescing into one shared destiny.

The remnants of data from the tree of memories were left in disarray in the wake of Kainé’s reckoning, and it wasn’t until thousands of years later that a certain group of androids came across a monitor, enraptured with thick, glossy vines. One of the androids; a tall male model with dark hair approached the computer and brushed away the shrubbery.

“Hey, Zinnia,” one of his fellow androids called him from behind, their voice echoing in the trees of the forest. “Do you think this is what the data signal was picking up? Looks like an old computer terminal.”

Zinnia merely nodded, his eyes taking in the decrepit monitor with fascination. “Looks like it. Seems to predate back to when humanity was still around, judging by its design.” His fingers suddenly tugged apart the vine that constricted access to the motherboard, and surprisingly, light sparked the abandoned machine to life before him.

“Yeah? Well, let’s hope we find something worth salvaging.”

Chapter Text

No. 9 leaned back in his seat, allowing the plastic back to creak against his weight. The instructor in front of him gave him a pointed glower, a gesture which he returned with a lofty grin. After a pause, she merely tutted before continuing her lecture, guiding the group of androids’ attention to the holographic board before them.

It struck No. 9 as a little strange, indulging in such a human concept like ‘classroom learning’. After all, the information being imparted could just as easily be attained through accessing the records on their own independent terminals back in their bunks. However, it was likely that creating such a scenario was for a benefit beyond the simple act of imparting knowledge. It would also allow the researchers to observe the chemistry of their assigned personalities, and any adjustments or foreseen issues could be raised as and when they appeared.

So in reality, whilst they were sat learning information about the topic at hand, they were being observed on how they behaved in reaction to an external environment.

Well played.

No. 9 was fairly content with the idea of being watched, resting his foot against the metal leg of the table as he grinned in self-satisfaction. He made little effort in hiding his eager personality or how it impacted on his fellow androids, and he quite enjoyed being that way. Some would describe him as a little cocky, or overly passionate for one of his station, but in his opinion, acting in any other way would be disingenuous.

What fun was it to sit back and blindly follow orders, numbly accepting the imparting of information without further scrutiny? Even now, he was sitting and watching his instructor teach them something that No. 9 had already accessed and poured over the schematics for weeks ago. Sitting down and placidly receiving information was just not his style.

He would leave such asinine thought processes to the likes of someone like No. 21, who had such a large stick up his ass it was a miracle he was able to sit down in one place long enough without telling someone off for breathing too loudly.

They were all programmed with distinct personalities, based on some residual memories of humanity that the Research Department had collected a little while back. They were YoRHa androids; new cutting edge models that would transcend even the basic combat models funnelled out by the Army of Humanity. Nothing in their development was an accident; No. 9 was created to be dynamic, inquisitive, proactive. He could see it in Zinnia’s eyes whenever they spoke, the warmth and pride that emanated from him when they spoke about the world of humans. He wouldn’t dare admit that he believed he was the personal favourite of the chief researcher, but he liked to indulge in the idea all the same. It made him feel special. Needed.

No. 9 was not quite as popular with the other androids as a result of his restless nature, easily grating the nerves of those around him. It was a little lonely at times, which was why he chose to seek Zinnia's company whenever he could, but there was one other particular model that he felt helplessly drawn to above all others. One which he desired to be close to more than anyone.

No. 2.

As his thoughts inevitably drew to her, he found himself glancing over at the back of her head, noting the prim way she held herself whilst seated in her chair, one leg folded over another. She was watching with silent intensity at the instructor as she went over the familiar subject of the Horten flight units being introduced to the program, blueprints splayed over the projector. However, whilst No. 2 was enraptured in the lecture, No. 9 was more interested in studying the movement of her fingers tapping gently against her cheek, or the way that her white locks tickled her shoulders delicately.

No. 2 was the incarnation of the perfect soldier. Loyal, intelligent, poised. She had a razor-sharp focus on whatever task was on hand, and she would always exceed expectations placed before her. During routine testing, she showed promise above most of the other models in many areas, particularly in combat proficiency. He studied her carefully, taking note of her graceful movements and her admirable tenacity in the face of adversity.

She was honestly beautiful to look at, inside and out. The longer he knew her, the more he yearned to be at her side, basking in her subtle radiance. It transcended petty curiosity or even something more carnal like lust.

He just needed to be near her.

A sentiment she clearly did not quite share, but that was alright. If No. 9 was one thing, it was determined. She would soon feel it too, the magnetic pull that constantly thrummed in his chest at the sight of her. He just needed to give her time.

As he lost his senses to the thought of No. 2’s bettering qualities, the lecturing drawl from the instructor becoming comfortable static noise, a subtle gesture caught his attention that suddenly made his stomach churn.

No. 4, one of the models sat beside No. 2 suddenly reached over and tugged at her loose white sleeve, causing the targeted android to startle and look over at her. No. 4 leaned forward, her long hair tickling No. 2’s shoulder as she whispered something forbidden into her ear. No. 2’s body shook slightly, a motion that No. 9 rapidly realised was her vain attempt to hold back laughter.

The secret exchange made No. 9’s chest clench.

No. 2 looked over at the overfriendly android, her small unguarded smile sending a jolt of anger in his veins as she mouthed something back to her comrade. Seeing her interact with someone else like this, sharing inside information that he wasn’t a part of…

It was enough to make him indulge in some colourful exchanges with No. 4, one of which would entail trapping her in the airlock and vaulting her out to space.

Now that would be funny.

Still, the two androids refused to cease their blatant display of wanton conversation, No. 4’s fingers still tangled in her classmate’s sleeve. As she leaned into No. 4’s ear once more, a sickeningly sweet smile on her face, it was enough to make No. 9 push back his table in a bitter impulse.

The screech of the table legs on metal was enough to draw attention to him once more, No. 4 immediately springing back to her seat as the instructor glared daggers at him once more. “No. 9, I swear on humanity’s name, if you can’t stay still for just one minute…”

“Ahaha. Sorry, teach!” No. 9 offered her an apologetic grin, the slits of his eyes focusing on No. 4’s hunched shoulders, and then on No. 2’s expression, regarding him with a scornful look at his antics.

Good. At least he had her attention now.

“I’ll believe it when you start acting appropriately like the rest of the group,” the instructor grumbled, tapping her cane impatiently between her palms before turning back to the flight unit charts. “Last warning No. 9, or Zinnia’s hearing about this.”

Gulp. “N-No need for that, really! I’ll keep still, promise!” No. 9 held his hands up in defeat, his expression contrite. He even made a show of placing an index finger on his lips, emulating perfect obedience.

The instructor gave a derisive snort, shaking her head in disbelief before continuing to ignore his antics.

No. 2, with her crystal-blue eyes and pink-dusted lips, gave him an incredulous look herself before whipping back to focus on the lesson, her silvery bob cascading gently against her shoulders.

His mind wandered back to witnessing the exchange between No. 2 and No. 4, his analytical mind kicking into gear. Now that was new. What did humanity call that emotion?

Jealousy...?

No. 9 grinned, satisfied with himself as he remained still in his seat, his eyes never quite leaving the willowy frame of his affections.

Such peaceful days would fail to last however, as No. 9 would succumb to the realities of their fragile existence. Namely, that they were crafted from the cores of their enemies, forever marred as something other, separate from normal androids. The knowledge was unbearable to the degree that he had decided to commit the ultimate betrayal of his kind, killing and maiming his comrades before setting fire to the laboratory where they resided.

Zinnia lay bleeding on the floor, his face warped in pain as he cradled the cross shaped wound in his chest. Beside him was No. 2, her own white robes now stained nearly black with the blood of her friends.

And now her enemy.

She leaned down, a shaky blood-stained palm caressing the cheek of the android that had caused so much devastation. No. 9’s eyes were closed, his black lashes contouring his face delicately. He looked peaceful in the wake of his brilliant, ruinous plan.

No. 2’s fingers started to dig into his soft flesh, drawing red lines across his face as her body choked into a violent sob. She couldn’t begin to describe the torrent of emotions that assaulted her at that very moment, bereaving her of her senses. It was undeniable that she always cared for No. 9, despite his intensity and lack of appreciation for her boundaries. Being near him always gave her a sense of calm, like everything was exactly as it should be.

His manipulative behaviours however, grew more erratic with time, and she found herself becoming more wary of him as time marched on. His constant questioning and insistence of pushing boundaries scared her, stifling her thoughts until she began to doubt her own convictions. She asked him time and again to stop dallying in his duties, to follow her example to just shut up and do what he was told. But he never did. He never listened to her.

And now…he had doomed them all.

“No. 2…” Zinnia wheezed behind her, prompting her to turn and reach for him, despite the sharp ache of her own wound inflicted by No. 9 himself. She slung Zinnia’s arms around her shoulders, leading him out of the flames with a powerful kick against a floating sheet of metal, propelling them both through the weightless gravity that enveloped them.

She would head to the hangar, get Zinnia into her experimental descent unit, and then he would work something out. He had to.

As she continued to carry Zinnia’s weight out of the burning control room, her eyes once more caught the sight of the eviscerated No. 4, her expression eerily calm in the wake of the violence that speared through the lab. No. 2 held back an aggrieved sob, her chest panging in despair at the sight of someone she cared for so deeply, now floating like discarded debris in the fiery chaos that surrounded them.

She had no choice, but to leave her there.

Teeth gritted, her feet carried her to the hanger, where the descent unit waited to receive them. The blood from Zinnia’s chest bled through the cotton of her dress, seeping wetly onto her skin. With a shuddering gasp, she eased the male android into the Horten model, sorrowful blue eyes discerning carefully that he was safely slotted into its confines before transmitting permissions to him.

“No. 2…” Zinnia’s voice trembled, and No. 2 could see the depths of grief reflected in his eyes as he gazed at her listlessly. He was likely waning from the loss of blood. There wasn’t much time left for him. “I’m…I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry…”

No. 2 hushed him, her reassuring smile cracking from the effort. “Don’t be. I understand. We were never meant…to be anything more than soldiers.” She struggled to blink back the tears that formed. “We loved you, though. Like…family. Please, let me do this one last thing for you.”

Zinnia’s breath hitched. “About…about giving you a name. No. 2…”

“No.” No. 2 stopped him short, her lower lip quivering uncontrollably. “Names are for real androids, not…not for someone like me. It’s okay.”

Before she allowed him to answer, she stepped back, letting out a shuddering gasp as the descent unit snapped shut over the researcher. She turned away, daring not to look back at her beloved teacher, her only confidant, her treasured friend.

Unlike him, she didn’t deserve to live in this world any longer.

She waded through the shrapnel and metal, blood from her wound still dripping down her leg. Her chest felt tight as warning signs began to flare in her programming. No matter. It would all be over soon.

She finally reached the bodies of No. 21, No. 4 and No. 9, her lips tugging painfully into a smile as she felt her own body float weightlessly from the lack of gravity regulation.

No. 4’s eyes were fluttered closed, her expression frozen in blissful ignorance. She caught her chassis from its lulled suspension, her blood-caked fingers caressing the silver-grey locks from her face gently. No. 2’s eyes filled with remorse.

“I’m so sorry, No. 4,” she gasped, her body trembling from the magnitude of fear and uncertainty that gripped her. She shut her eyes tight, allowing the flames of retribution to lick at her flesh and consume her in its fiery grasp.

As she began to shut down, her final thoughts were of No. 9. The boy with the boundless appetite for knowledge.

The boy who lingered so close to her, like a constant light in the darkness of their reality.

The boy who had destroyed everything she had ever loved.

As he reminded her in the moments before his passing, she would be reborn again, as a new person in a new body. She would meet everyone again soon. She would meet No. 9 again.

She just hoped that she would find the strength to stop him this time.

Seven years later…

An android dressed in a crisp white, flowing dress walked with purpose into a contained, hidden server room in a space station known as the Bunker. She straightened her shoulders, verdant eyes burning with determination as she spoke to a flickering terminal before her.

“Commander White, reporting for duty sir.”

“Excellent.” A disembodied voice answered her, the tone warped into unrecognition by a modulating program. “You have been fully debriefed on your responsibilities going forward?”

“Affirmative. I have perused the files cleared for my authority,” White responded with an icy cool air. “Although I do have questions, if I have permission to speak my mind?”

“Granted.”

“Primarily, it is regarding the report left behind by the Chief Research Developer. Zinnia I believe he was called,” White said slowly. “He left some very specific instructions regarding the nature of the personality modules for the new YoRHa units. Particularly, suggestions for optimal efficiency in the field, and which assignments will be most suitable to prescribe to each module.”

“…”

“Certain considerations make logical sense, such as pairing the Number 2 and Number 4 units together, in light of their complimenting personalities, and collective statistical results allayed from comprehensive testing,” White continued. “Other units suggest themselves towards a combat or support role, such as Number 21, which has a proven data collection potential. However…” Her lips drew into a thin line. “The Number 9 data is comprehensively flawed. Whilst clear that the 9 personality matrix lends itself to data acquisition, it clearly forewarns that the data itself is volatile in some fashion, setting it apart from the other modules. However, the reason for such caution is left vague at best.”

“…” Once again, the Commander was met with a pregnant pause. Until…”What you request is classified as Level SS-Clearance, which you are unable to access at this time.”

White felt her gloves scrunch into her palms. “As Commander of this station, I feel it is in my jurisdiction to know. After all, I will be having a hand in deciding the YoRHa prototypes going forward…”, she spoke with a barely contained bitterness to her tone.

“Commander White.” The disembodied voice regarded her coldly. “You are given knowledge befitting your role in the newly formed Council of Humanity. When further information is deemed relevant, you will receive it in due course. It is suggested that for now however, you focus on the task at hand.”

Reluctantly, she bowed forward, her long blonde hair curtaining her face and hiding the twisted frown on her features. “Understood,” she said sharply, her eyes burning holes on the floor. “Then please. I await your further instruction.”

“Very well,” the terminal answered calmly. “Then we shall continue to discuss appropriate unit designation.”

“Affirmative.”

Chapter Text

The date of the descent mission was rapidly approaching, and Attacker Number Two couldn’t help but feel woefully underprepared for the feat.

Nervously, her fingers traced the lines on the stitched patterns of her gloves, her cool blue eyes swarming with emotion. Perhaps this was for the best, after all. She had been dreaming of the day she could land on Earth ever since she met Seed, the grizzled old android that so often told her vivid stories of the planet with that mysterious twinkle in her eye.

Seed’s death still keened within her, leaving a raw ache at the loss of their deep and heartfelt conversations, veering far from what was expected of a YoRHa soldier. Yet, being with her made her feel safe and treasured in a strange way.

Sometimes, she liked to entertain the thought that the veteran soldier was something akin to the grandmother in her memories. It made her feel more connected to the girl that had been implanted inside her core data, shaping her thoughts and personality.

Thinking like that also made the pain of losing her so much stronger.

Stiffly, she rose from her bunk, her hands reaching for the cloth visor by her bedside drawers before fastening it securely around her eyes. Regulated notifications flared up before her orbital sensors, requesting that she report to Command for a full debrief of the impending mission along with the other fifteen assigned units. No. 2 trembled slightly, her stomach knotting in anxious anticipation of what was to come. She had been studying the mission summary over and over like an android possessed, pouring over the information until she was fully satisfied in her knowledge of the teammates assigned to her squad, and what was expected of each and every one of them.

At least No. 4 would be there with her. Just the thought of the fellow Attacker’s sunny smile and playful disposition was enough to soothe her nerves somewhat. Losing Seed had been hard on her, but having No. 4 by her side as a pillar of support helped distract her from that loss. For some reason, No. 4 seemed to appear around her more frequently of late, either cracking a badly set up joke to try to provoke her to smile, or even something as simple and affectionate as looping an arm through hers in a show of comfort and solidarity.

No. 4 was considered a bit of a ditz by a lot of other units, but No. 2 knew her better than anyone. She saw the depths that she sought to reassure and protect those around her. She wore her heart on her sleeve, a quality she couldn’t help but admire in her comrade.
One of these days, she really should express just how much she thought of her.

A soft hum escaped her lips as she continued dwelling on the other android, the dread in her chest lightening as she stepped through the sliding doors out into the winding corridor of the base. Her boots clanged rhythmically against the metal flooring as she began to make her way obediently to the command room for the debriefing.

She barely made it about ten paces however, before an unfamiliar voice echoed behind her. “Hey, wait! N-No. 2!”

She paused, confusion etched on her doll-like features as she turned to the source of the unknown voice. Her lips parted in slight surprise at the sight of another YoRHa model bounding into view and headed her way.

She was clearly another Attacker model, on account of her ruffled black uniform and cinched corset. She came into clearer focus as she finally fell to a stop a few beats away from No. 2, her chest heaving slightly from the exertion of the jog. Her hair was an offset white, bunched into twin ponytails that fell just short of her hip. She too was wearing the same black stitched visor as No. 2, leaving only her shaking lips to portray the extent of her emotions.

“Have we met?” No. 2 asked politely, feeling awkward from her clear lack of recognition of the fellow android.

“O-Oh! No, we haven’t”, the other YoRHa unit answered sheepishly, straightening her gait before looking up at her, lips pressed into a nervous smile. “It’s just…I’ve seen you around, and I heard that you’re going off-base for a little while, right?”

No. 2 experienced a prickle of intrigue at her earnest words, her lips pursing thoughtfully. “You would be correct. I’m headed for my debrief with the Commander actually,” she said, jabbing a thumb behind her to signal towards the elevator. “I’m sorry-who are you?”

The Attacker unit looked mortified at her words. “Oh, sorry! I’m Attacker Number Nine! S-Sorry, I’m doing this all wrong, aren’t I?” She let out a breathless laugh tinged with nervous energy. “I’m not very good at this. I don’t exactly…get out much.”

Now that No. 2 thought about it, she had wondered why she was yet to meet all her fellow Attacker units at some stage. She just assumed that the Number Nine model was still being tuned up or stuck in the testing stage or something. It was just something she never questioned too deeply before.

“I see,” she replied calmly. “There’s no need to be nervous. We’re both of the same designation after all,” she reminded her with a slight smile of reassurance. “Was there something you needed from me, No. 9?”

It looked like the gears in Number Nine’s head juddered to a stop as her mouth hung slightly agape. “Umm…well, I just wanted to say hi.” She lifted a gloved hand and gave a small wave in gesture. “When I heard you were leaving, I just thought that I’d regret never meeting you properly, you know? I’ve seen you around, but never really got up the nerve to say anything before and-“ Suddenly, her expression became tumultuous. “And I’m coming off as a complete creep here, right?” She let out a low pained whine. “Sorry, I’m just not expressing myself properly at all…”

No. 2 shook her head even as she felt a bit baffled by No. 9’s questionable rambling. She was used to some exuberant personalities, most which exceeded her own pre-programmed sense of calm, but the nervous energy coming from the other Attacker was radiating in droves. “Honestly, there’s no need to act so formal. It’s beneficial for YoRHa if its soldiers form positive, stable relationships,” No. 2 reminded her gently. “It’s why I always make an effort to get along with everyone. So, I’m glad that we had this chance to meet.” Her eyes roved over the other android’s form, noting the crinkles in her uniform, the unruly locks of hair that escaped from her hair ties, the unusual pink dusting that formed on her pale cheeks.

She was actually kind of cute, looking at her closely.

“M-Me too,” No. 9 stammered, her smile bashful as she suddenly started playing with the pleat of her skirt. “So, you’re shipping out soon?”

“In a couple of days,” No. 2 replied. “Although honestly, I was quite surprised to be drafted, compared to some of the other models they could have picked. I didn’t exactly score top marks in my field exam. Guess they just needed to shore up the numbers.” She let out a small self-deprecating laugh at that.

“Nah, I reckon you must have impressed them,” No. 9 said with a quirky grin. “I’m pretty jealous actually. Being together as a squad and heading to Earth sounds like a lot of fun!”

“Fun?” No. 2 felt herself bristle at the naivete on full blown display before her. “It’s not supposed to be fun, No. 9. It’s a mission, and it’s serious!”

“Ah-hah, yeah I guess you’re right,” No. 9 raised her hands in open surrender, although there was an underlying edge to her voice that No. 2 couldn’t quite place. “I wasn’t really thinking about what I was saying.”

No. 2 sighed, allowing the tension in her body to fade. “That’s alright. I’m just a little tense,” she admitted, her voice softer. “There’s a lot riding on this mission, and I want to do well. For a lot of reasons.” Crystal sharp memories of Seed flashed through her mind.

“Oh?” No. 9 cocked her head, her ponytails splaying softly over her shoulders at the motion. “Like what?”

“Like-“

Suddenly another notification blared up before her eyes, warning her that she was the only remaining squad member not present for the meeting. She could almost feel the Commander’s glare burn into her processors from where she stood. “Oh! Sorry, I have to go!” She squeaked, turning foot to careen herself towards the elevator. “It was nice meeting you, No. 9!”

Her finger pressed against the sensor, summoning the elevator doors to slide open before her but before she could enter, she heard the light, breathless voice of No. 9 once more. “I’ll come see you before you take off!” She shouted, her hand cupping around her lips in an effort to carry her voice across. “To wish you good luck!”

No. 2 looked back at her, a warm smile tugging her lips. “I’m counting on it!” She cried back, feeling strangely excited about their newly forged promise. “Be good, No. 9!”

Their promise to meet again never came to be however, as No. 9 never did find her again to wish her luck before her descent to Earth. She remembered feeling disappointed when the girl seemingly vanished into thin air on the base, but she had little time to dwell on the loss once the mission was about to commence, assaulting her with fresh fears and insecurities.

Namely, that they were naming her as second in command of the mission, a prospect that made her muscles spasm from pure terror at the thought.

She wished, in a way, that she could find that Attacker model again to spill out her fears, on account that she seemed eager to listen, as if starved for the attention. Not to mention she was suitably detached from the mission unlike No. 4, who she couldn’t bear to let see the full extent of her concerns. But she couldn’t afford to look back and regret now.

She had a mission to complete, and people to protect.

No. 9 never had the chance to meet No. 2 again before her departure to Earth, a fact that she resented deeply. Still, she had to remind herself that she couldn't afford to voice her discontent too much, considering the privileged position she was in.

For No. 9 was no ordinary Attacker model. Unlike her fellow YoRHa comrades, she had a hidden, alternate designation.

Scanner Number Nine.

In an unprecedented, experimental move, Command had decided to create a YoRHa model capable of both fieldwork and combat, unlike the stiff regimented framework they currently tasked their units with. Attackers were versatile but predictable in nature. Alternatively, Scanners were over analytical but ambitious. There was always a solid reason why the two never overlayed their purposes. Attackers were crafted for the frontlines, Scanners were to remain firmly on support.

However, No. 9's life was a living contradiction of those facts, because she was built as an Attacker model with the capability of a Scanner.

She supposed she should feel pride at being the 'chosen one' for such an honour. For being gifted with such a guarded secret from Command, one which set her apart from her peers. She was gifted, special.

All she ever did feel though was lonely.

Command made it clear since her activation that she was only ever to reveal her Attacker designation, leaving her Scanner capabilities hidden from the prying eyes of her peers. They offered not much in the explanation of why, only that she was a highly experimental model, and that others could become jealous of her abilities. It could even inspire potential mutinies amongst the ranks, and humanity could not afford such betrayal.

So, No. 9 kept her mouth sealed. Better yet, she kept to herself during the small windows of downtime that Command offered her. Being saddled with such a responsibility weighed her down like a cinderblock, leaving her feeling exhausted and confused whenever she interacted with others. What was the point of talking to anyone, when all the words that came out of her mouth were inherently lies?

It rendered her feeling persistently hollow and anxious, forcing her to retreat into the safety of her room until she could slow her breaths and her chest ceased its threats to burst. It was better that way, she supposed. Keep interactions limited, so that they couldn't find out the truth. Just focus on the classified intel that Command demanded of her, so that at least she could prove her worth, that she belonged there.

That was how No. 9 survived, assigning meaning in her life.

At least it was, until she saw her for the first time.

It was coincidental, a moment that would have barely left a mark on most people's memories. Still, No. 9 could recall it in stark clarity, the moment she walked down the corridor and passed the other fellow Attacker unit, taking note of how her face remained marbled and unreadable. She remembered herself stopping, turning back to glance at the other unit, noting the delicate poise she held herself, the soft, cropped hair that rested just above her shoulders, the thoughtful way she grasped her lower lip between her teeth, clearly agonizing over some unseen dilemma.

No. 9 felt warm, just looking at her. A sensation that she had never felt before, about anyone. She teetered on her heels, feeling a startling urge to waltz over and introduce herself right there and then. Which was strange, because she never felt compelled to do that with anyone before.

However, before she could even open her mouth, she was gone, her hair bouncing lightly as she wandered down the corridor, her jaw set. Helplessly, her gaze lingered on after her, a strange pang aching in her chest.

It was weird. And definitely something worth pondering over.

And so she did. Whenever she was granted leave from her missions, No. 9 would try to seek her out, like a moth to a flame. Frustratingly, she discovered that the other android was always in company with others, more often than not with other Attacker models, like No. 3 or No. 4.

No. 9 toyed with the fantasy of sliding into one of their conversations, maintaining an expression that was easy-going and approachable. She would say something witty to break the ice, and they would descend into peals of laughter, endearing herself to them.

The short haired android, who she had learned second hand was known as No. 2, would smile at her with something akin to adoration.

She would finally belong.

But the truth was, her feet always remained rooted firmly to the ground. The consternation of the Commander's voice would echo deep within the chambers of her mind, relaying to her the duty she upheld to mankind, how she must set herself above higher standards than the rest. She wasn't allowed to belong with the others.

She was special. Which meant she had to be alone.

However, when she had learned of the proposed surface descent mission, she found herself digging into the dossier without so much as a word of consent from Command, far too eager to see if finally, finally, they would deem her trustworthy to join a squad. She shouldn't have felt as crestfallen as she did as she realised with growing numbness that her name was nowhere to be found, once again condemning her to the shadows.

She remembered the wetness that coated her cheeks as she read the flickering data before her, succumbing to the closing walls of loneliness that choked her.

She would have elected to cry herself to sleep at that juncture had she not realised that a name she recognized was on the list.

No. 2.

She was leaving the base. For an indeterminate time, she would be carted off on a dangerous mission and engaged with the enemy. There was a chance she might not even make it back to the Bunker for a long time, depending on the state of the enemy’s frontlines.

The thought scared her enough into determinable action. She had a time limit, which meant her opportunity to speak with No. 2 had to happen soon.

Why she suddenly decided to approach her like a crazed stalker was beyond her wildest nightmares, but she had still found herself smiling at the end result. That No. 2 wanted to talk to her again, even if just a little.

It was all going so well, so of course Command demanded that No. 9 focus on uploading the schematics for her super-important mission, which meant she was forced to leave the Bunker for a time, piecing together data for R and D involving the theory of connecting a bombing device to a live fusion reactor core. It was a project she had been tasked to perform for a while now, gathering as much data as she could of the displayed behaviours of the machine lifeforms as possible, as well as studying the nature in which machine cores could be utilised as a catalyst.

They appeared as brainless and disorganised as always, and No. 9 couldn’t help but wonder how they were considering implanting a bomb into the enemy in the first place. Command's response, predictably enough, was that the information was 'classified' above her clearance level.

Typical.

No. 9 remembered huffing at their rebuke initially, but still, the allure of creating something so ambitious overtook her discontent, and she soon began to connect loose theories together on how such a device would function.

After finishing her report, she vowed to hunt down No. 2 quickly before her departure, only to discover that she had left it just a moment too late.

No. 2, along with the other fifteen members of her squad, were sent on a glorious mission in mankind's name, whilst No. 9 stayed behind like a caged bird.

It itched away any rational thought, slowly and insidiously. She wanted to connect with No. 2 again. She wanted to feel what it was like to be at her side, basking in the warmth of her smile.

She wanted to matter to someone.

Perhaps that was what possessed her that fateful day when she found a sparing moment in her schedule to access the 'Pearl Harbour Descent' encrypted file, ignoring the firewalls that erupted to retaliate against her probing attempts. All she was really looking for was the estimated chances of success, the approximated time that they would be called back home.

No. 9 played with the idea of waiting by No. 2's door, congratulating her with every ounce of energy in her body.
That was probably too much, really. Maybe she would just show up casually, tapping her shoulder and giving her an encouraging smile. “Welcome home!” she would say. Would that be better…?

The ideas shattered as quickly as they formed in her head when she suddenly realised the true intent of the mission.

Test subjects...

Stress test...

Reach Mount Ka'ala...

Bomb will activate at precise location under correct levels of duress...

Ruminate data results for planned M001 and M002 units...

The data flashed before No. 9’s mind, her thoughts turning blank from shock. The sterile white walls of the data space felt like they were constricting her, pressing down on her brain until she felt it crush any redeeming thought that lingered there.

Still, her curiosity overcame all other sensations, and with deepening dread, she delved further into the dark abyss of knowledge.

Futaba and Yotsuba were panicked. They huddled back, their arms wrapped around each other at the sight of the feral android before them.

Facing off against the assailant was a tall woman with a long flowing white dress and blonde, wavy hair that cascaded down to her rear. Her unguarded, green eyes pierced into the trembling form before her. "No. 9," she spoke sharply, her voice displaying no room for any discussion. "Disengage your B-mode, now. Refusing to do so is insubordination."

No. 9 cackled at that, the sound terribly low and distorted. "Insubordination, huh? Isn't that a little bit unfair, asking for our undying loyalty and giving nothing in return?" Her body phased slightly, jerking from the unbridled energy that crackled from with her. No. 9's ponytails were mostly undone now, leaving only one looped loosely to the back of her head whilst the other fell to her shoulders in frizzy waves. Her dress was torn to shreds, displaying her torn sleeves, exposed collarbone and jagged outline of her thighs for the Commander to perceive.

She looked a mess. Unhinged and dangerous.

"I will ask you once more, to go back to your quarters now, No. 9. Failing to do so will result in immediate termination," the Commander spoke sternly, refusing to brook any sense of weakness in the situation. "You forget your place, and the high expectations the Council has set for you."

"The Council?" No. 9 echoed incredulously, her body shuddering from a sick cocktail of hatred and glee. "What even is the Council of Humanity, Commander? I know the truth! I know about the humans on the moon! Or rather, the lack of them," she spat, her heart shaped face now twisted into an ugly expression. "What was the point of any of it? What's the point of serving a god that doesn't even exist?"

The Commander flinched, even if only barely as she felt the twin Operators stiffen behind her. Unfortunate that they would have to be wiped yet again, but right now the priority was on taming the wild beast that No. 9 was embodying before her. "You serve a great purpose, No. 9," she spoke with an unmistakeable firmness. "You pave a blazing path for future models to follow. We were built to carry out the will of mankind, regardless of what confidential information you may have accessed. Our purpose remains the same."

No. 9 spat, her eyes rolling back slowly before suddenly stabbing herself with a hypodermic needle, injecting a clear liquid into herself. The state of her Berserk mode prolonged, and with a renewed animalistic fervour, she once again focused on the Commander. "Not anymore," she spoke with a growl, withdrawing a Type-3 sword from her electromagnetic holster. The serrated edge glared at the Commander menacingly. "Now I fight for them."

The Commander blinked, tearing her eyes from the blade to the Attacker-Scanner hybrid. She noted that her goggles had fallen to her neck, revealing the storm blue that was reflected in her orbital circuits. Only cold, empty fury emanated within them. She would have to proceed with utmost caution. Thanks to No.9’s hacking abilities, they were sealed in the command room, cut off from any opportunity to release a distress signal. Which meant she would have to turn to the last resort.

"Who?" She encroached cautiously, vying to stall further whilst she cautiously laid the foundations of her trap.

"Attacker Number Four. Gunner Number Sixteen. Scanner Number Twenty-One. Attacker Num-" Suddenly her voice broke slightly, the grip on her drawn blade shivering violently. "Number Two."

"The Pearl Harbour Descent Squadron?" The Commander echoed blankly. "What is their meaning to you? You held no notable connections with any of them.”

"Wrong!" No. 9 bellowed, taking a shaky, if concerningly quick step forward until the sword reached mere inches from the Commander's nose. "I mean...you're not wrong, but you are. I didn't mean anything to them but..." Her eyes glazed over wetly. "I wanted to. And I could have. But now...they're dead!" She began to giggle aloud, her shoulders seizing up violently from the effort.

The Commander continued to gauge the situation with careful consideration, ensuring that all of her faculties remained completely rigid in the face of the mad android. "It was an unfortunate result of the mission," she reminded her as calmly as she could. "As YoRHa units, you're all aware of the potential risks. Not to mention we still have the data to reconstruct them. They have all served their purpose with pride."

"Lies!" No. 9 snarled, her eyes flashing as the sword descended dangerously close to the Commander's bare neck. "I'm sick to death of all your lies! They died for nothing! Because you left them there to die! No reinforcements, no scheduled contacts. Not even that, but you trapped them. To ensure their deaths..." Suddenly, No. 9's expression turned tortured, the tears freely pouring from her thick black eyelashes and staining her reddened cheeks. "And I helped you. I helped you kill them! With the bomb device I was helping R and D create, just so that you could ensure their destruction." She began to laugh again, although the sound somehow became more unhinged, higher pitched and bordering on a shriek.

The Commander felt a prick of confusion at No. 9's words; she had after all, not been privy to the details of No. 9's allocated project, but now it appeared clear. No. 9 had helped them design the bomb made to attach itself to the fusion reactors within the YoRHa squadron members. It was a breakthrough for the R and D department to accomplish such a modification on Black Boxes and would surely lead the way for further radical developments, straying away from the unpredictability of the Berserk Mode the current prototypes possessed.

Of course, deciding to implant the bombs insidiously within the units for the mission on Mount Ka’ala was a decision that did not rest easy within the Commander. It felt callous and cruel.

However, the Commander was not allowed to feel such obstructive emotions, lest they sway her course. She had a duty to YoRHa, and only by casting those intrusive thoughts aside, could she persevere for the sake of the organisation. For the will and purpose of androids everywhere.

No. 9 was a loose cannon, one she had acknowledged from the start when it was suggested that she become the first dual-type. And now, with the outcome of that decision abundantly clear, it was time to end this. It was her duty to see it through.

“The bombs were a failure,” the Commander murmured, her voice deceptively soft. “We are still receiving the Black Box signal of one survivor. No. 2 has turned traitor.”

The words were enough to almost keel No. 9 off her feet, her eyes turning impossibly wide at the information that the Commander gave so freely. “She’s…she’s still alive?!” She choked, her lips quivering in disbelief. “H-How…?”

“It is unclear. However, I’ve been given the coordinates for where she was approximately seen last,” the Commander answered smoothly. “And with that knowledge, she will be assassinated. There’s nothing you can do, No. 9. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Anger flared, replacing the shock that seated itself on the prototype android, as her blue eyes burned once more. “No, you’re not. But you will be.”

The Commander blinked, feeling a hot spark sizzle through her processors before the heft of her body collapsed bonelessly to the hard floor. She could hear Futaba and Yotsuba crying brokenly at the sight of her supposed defeat, and the soft cackling that emanated from No. 9 herself.

No. 9.

She hoped in vain, that fate would be kinder next time.

“So, the plan was a success?”

The Commander stood before the terminal linking directly to the Moon server, her expression carefully blank. “Indeed. As we predicted, No. 9 tried to hack into my personal data files prior to attempting my assassination. I garnered that she was afraid of the potential corruption it would cause to kill me first, particularly since she valued the information I withheld.”

The terminal hummed, the sound thick with static. “No. 9 indeed yielded impressive results. A combat model with the capacity of data collection would prove both timely and efficient for our cause. We can agree with fair certainty that we will putting forth the model data into future developments.”

The Commander stiffened. “Is that really advisable?” She queried with a hint of hostility. “The fact that I had to install an anti-hacking virus within myself, just to trap her, a condition that warranted great risk to myself, and the organisation if it failed-“

“Your cooperation in the matter has been regarded, Commander White,” the terminal buzzed approvingly. “We will continue to assess the contingencies that will need to be in place, in order for the Number Nine series to remain both exceptional and compliant to our values. The bottom line however, is that the personality data itself excelled in its abilities far above those of the other units. Redistributing the Number Nine models into the force is not a negotiable matter.”

Callous and cruel.

“I see,” the Commander answered, her face a careful mask of neutrality. “In regards to the Attacker model Number Two. She has unfortunately turned rogue, and we are continuing to hunt her with the prototype Executioner models.”

“Good.” The terminal was suspiciously silent for a moment. “We do have the data for No. 2 models still within our database, correct?”

The Commander felt her eyebrows arch suspiciously. “We do. Why?”

“No. 2 showed promise on the battlefield. She assumed the position of leader, and succeeded in carrying out the mission, despite her ultimate decision to defect,” the terminal mused aloud. “These are qualities worth replicating and bringing back into circulation.”

“You’re saying we should use the unprecedented achievements of No. 2 to implant into the next generation of YoRHa units,” the Commander answered plainly. “Very well. See it done.”

“Good.” The terminal answered in agreement. “Although…one more thing, Commander White.”

“Yes?”

“What information did you tempt No. 9 towards, in order for her to hack you successfully?”

The Commander bit her lip, contemplative. “No. 2’s whereabouts. It appeared that No. 9 had formed some kind of attachment. It was not something I predicted, considering she was always encouraged to work independently from the others, but it appeared she was experiencing…loneliness.”

“I see…” The disembodied voice dropped an octave. “Then perhaps No. 2 is a key element moving forward. We are looking for good cohesion between units that will encourage motivation and control. Assigning a No. 2 model to oversee No. 9’s growth may be integral to maintaining favourable results moving forward.”

“Council?”

“We do what we must, Commander. Never forget that. We must always strive to improve and evolve in the face of the alien threat,” the voice spoke strongly, hinting at a deeper conviction within. “For the glory of mankind.”

The Commander raised her left arm woodenly, dread spiking in her chest as she chanted back the words hollowly.

"For the glory of mankind.”

Chapter Text

Number Two Type E. 2E.

That was her name.

Executioner.

That was her purpose.

Humanity were her masters. YoRHa was her chain of command. To kill was her mission.

It was as simple as that.

“2E.”

The Commander beckoned her into her office, her expression as unreadable as always. 2E always admired that about her. She was a woman that upheld standards that all should retain. Flawless and untouchable.

Instilled perfection.

“Commander.” 2E’s hand flew up to her breast in a salute, poised and ready for the next objective.

“I have been watching your progress over the last few weeks. You have exceeded well above expectations,” the Commander praised, the thinnest of smiles gracing her lips. “You will be entrusted with a new mission of great importance.”

2E felt a flicker of curiosity at her words, but she was quick to quell it. Emotions were prohibited, as was the YoRHa creed. It was exhausting enough having to remind her appointed Operator of that fact, let alone submitting to the desire herself.

It was a convenient rule really, in the face of her assigned designation. Being an Executioner was a much simpler task when you removed feeling from the equation.

“You will be assigned a partner,” the Commander continued, her stern gaze boring into 2E’s own. “He is one of our newest Scanner models; cutting edge YoRHa technology at its finest. We have run some testing on his capabilities and he has shown great promise in intel gathering for the sake of the war effort.”

2E cocked her head slightly. A partner? As an Executioner model? The concept seemed absurd.

Her Commander seemed to pick up on her puzzlement, as she moved on to elaborate further. “We have also come to the realisation that the Number 9 Type S models are highly curious and susceptible to subterfuge. We can’t afford sensitive information to leak out and destabilise our operation. That is why you are being tasked with this mission, 2E.”

“So you require me to assassinate him, should he step out of line?” 2E asked, her words as cool and collected as ever. “That may prove difficult in a partnership. He would be very unlikely to be willing to engage with his assigned Executioner.”

“Agreed. Hence, you will be operating under a shadow designation,” the Commander answered, a flicker of something unrecognisable in her eyes. “Number 2 Type E is therefore classified information and will be strictly acknowledged only by ourselves, and both of your Operators. We can’t afford the 9S model to discover your true identity.” She turned, her long hair cascading against her back as she faced the window. 2E could see the outline of her reflection shadowed against the speckles of stars in the black void of space. “Your official designation from this point on, will be Number 2 Type B. A Battler Unit.”

“2B…”

2E tested the name on her tongue, frowning at how foreign and disingenuous it felt to utter aloud. It was one thing to operate as an assassin, spearing fear into the hearts of traitorous androids who should have known better.

But to pretend to be something else, a model that showed no such proclivity for delivering justice to those who would betray mankind, gave her a sense of unease.

“It will take a bit of adjustment, I presume,” the Commander spoke, her voice softening slightly from the hard edge she usually adopted. 2E saw her eyes train across the starry expanse before them. “But YoRHa and the Council depend on you to see it through.”

“…I understand,” 2E nodded, her gaze falling to the floor. “I will make every effort to see the mission to its completion. I will not fail.”

“Good.”

“Although, Scanner units are known to work independently from others. How will I be able to ingratiate myself to him?”

“That is merely a formality born of the divide between combat and support models,” the Commander answered stiffly. “Where 9S will be assigned, we can easily anticipate increased enemy activity. In this regard, a Battler unit protecting him will be essential to the success of his mission. That is the rhetoric we will follow should there be further questioning on the matter.”

“Roger that.” 2E raised her hand once again in a solemn salute, her mind resolute. “I will be prepared to execute the Scanner as soon as it is deemed necessary.”

“For now…all I require of you is to supervise him.” 2E caught the way the Commander turned her head slightly, glancing over her shoulder to catch her eye briefly. “Preparing for execution is unnecessary at this stage. Try to ease more into your Battler role for now. It will make the designation more natural for you to adopt.”

“I…see. Very well.” 2E nodded courteously, before turning to dismiss herself from the Commander’s office.

Adopting the persona of 2B?

It would be difficult, to be sure. 2E was always hard working, focused and diligent in all tasks given to her. She prided herself on maintaining her composure under the most distressing of circumstances. But learning to be secretive and deceitful? That required a new skill set, one that 2E held little relish in attaining.

Still, the humans on the moon waited for the fateful day that their android children could eradicate the alien menace once and for all, restoring to them what was rightfully theirs. Everything they did was for the sake of them.

For the glory of mankind.

And 2E-no, 2B would hold that love in her chest until the end of her days.

Number Nine Type S. 9S.

That was his name.

Although my friends call me Nines. You can call me that too, if you want…?

An elite, top of the line Scanner.

That was his purpose.

Scanner types usually work alone. I’m not really used to having a partner. It’s kinda fun, actually!

Humanity were his keepers. YoRHa were his chains. To learn and to die was his mission.

Why, 2B…? Why?

It was as simple as that.

Until…it stopped being simple at all.

“2B.”

2B was summoned once more to the Commander’s headquarters, her hands wrenching together into fists as she steeled herself for the upcoming conversation with her superior.

“Commander. I came as you requested.”

The Commander remained still where she stood, her back turned to 2B. The shutters were closed on the window, preventing 2B from even gauging the expression that her Commander held in that moment. She heard a drawn out, tired sigh, a sound that prickled uneasily through her senses. “You know why I’ve called you here.”

2B bowed her head, allowing her hair to fall freely in front of her face. “…I do. It was in regards to my earlier report.”

“Yes.”

“I requested a suspension on the mission on account of my observations.”

“…”

“The request was denied, and so I fulfilled my duty as commanded.” Despite 2B’s formality, there was an undeniable tremble to her words as she spoke.

Like rippling waters before an earthquake.

“You did. My concern, however, is the rationale behind your request.” The Commander turned to face 2B fully, and the Battler android felt her pulse skip at the sight. Her normally calm, serene expression was twisted tightly into a frown.

Her eyes were filled with undeniable dismay.

“2B. You were assigned this mission on account of your excellent skills in the field,” the Commander spoke, her voice firm and unrelenting. “You are the best Executioner model that’s ever been manufactured. You were entrusted with a sacred duty.”

“But I-“

“You are the sword of humanity. Above all others, you cannot afford to falter.” The Commander gripped her riding crop tightly in her palms, and 2B wondered if she was capable of making the leather rip from the strain. “9S is our greatest asset, and he is also the most dangerous to our cause. Hesitation is not an option.”

“But why?” The words unfurled out of 2B’s chest before she could hold them back, her eyes blazing with anger and hopelessness. “Why is there never another option?!”

“2B!”

“Why do you keep asking me to kill him over and over again?” 2B’s body shuddered violently from the strain of the emotions that pushed against that steeled barrier deep within herself. She knew she should refrain from branching down the winding path that she was hurtling herself towards. But she couldn’t stop.

Nothing ever stopped.

“It’s the same command again, on repeat. 9S keeps finding out too much, and I am ordered to kill him. Why can’t we try something different?” She looked hard at her Commander at that moment, simultaneously grateful and irritated by the cloth that hid the wetness forming in her eyes. “Why can’t we look into altering his personality module, prohibiting the extent of his curiosity? Or…or increasing the security around the files he keeps accessing?”

“2B…”

“There has to be something else we can do. Surely, the repair costs alone is reason enough…” 2B felt her breaths become ragged from her outburst, her clenched fists reaching up to close into her body protectively. “This can’t be the only way…”

“2E.” The utterance of her true designation was enough to shock 2B out of her descending spiral, her lips parting shakily at the sight of the Commander’s steely gaze. Yes. That was right.

She was 2E. An Executioner at heart.

When had she started to forget that…?

“9S is designed exactly the way he should be,” the Commander spoke, her face carefully pressed into a look of disapproval. “He has and will continue to excel for the sake of our goals. As a result of his extraordinary skills, he will continue to push the boundaries of whatever security measures we put in place. That is the reality of the situation.”

2B was silent, her folded arms proving insufficient in warming the icy dread that washed over her body.

“Foreseeing this, it was decided that we allocate him to the best Executioner model under our command. That was you, 2E. And you have proven to be a worthy choice.”

2B felt her body shrink under the praise, her chest twinging in pain. No. She didn’t want it.

To keep feeling like this…

“However, your recent actions have put into question the validity of that choice.”

What…?

2B’s eyes flew wide in alarm, her normally steady gait suddenly shaken out of form. “Commander…?”

“I think it is time I release you from your partnership with 9S.” The Commander gave her a look not entirely bereft of sympathy as she stepped towards the other soldier. “You are correct in that there are alternatives to the situation. 9S will be reassigned to another Type E, and you will return to your original designation. Although for posterity you will be wiped of all memory data involving 9S.”

Wiped of all memory…?

2B allowed herself to entertain the reality that the Commander was so freely offering her. She could shed the mantle of ‘2B’ that had plagued her for so long, starting anew and breaking free of the endless monotony that was steadily driving her to the edge. She would still be tasked with claiming the lives of her fellow soldiers, but at least she would be honest in doing it.

2B opened her mouth as if to entertain to the proposal being given from her superior, until a brief flash of memory sparked behind her visual processors, causing her breath to catch in her throat.

She remembered it had been raining.

2B was soaked to the bone, her dress clinging to her body like a second skin as she sought shelter under a capsized sky scraper. She frowned, wrenching the water from the hem of her skirt.

9S was laughing, his lithe frame shaking from the effort as he followed her close behind under the concrete building. His voice crackled with unbridled joy, his breaths struggling to regulate the gas exchange he required to function. His visor had slipped from his face from the pouring rain, and his cheeks were puffy red from the exertion. His lashes were wet with rain droplets, causing his blue irises to glint with moisture.

2B felt something stir in her then, watching the happiness that effervesced from his very being. She was always focused on the end goal, prohibiting herself from experiencing any such frivolities.

9S however, always engaged himself in the present world that they were in, imprinting his mark on the trees, the animals, the dilapidated buildings…

He was alive, his vibrancy infusing into everything he touched.

Even 2B, who only ever believed in the mission, perceiving only the shadows of betrayal in the hearts of others, was beginning to see differently.

Since when did she start to see the light that cast those shadows instead?

“2B, it’s letting up a little,” he finally wheezed between breaths. “Can we try something?”

“Is it necessary for the mission?” 2B had answered with startling predictability.

“Not really. But it’ll be fun!”

“Emotions are-“

“Just for a minute!” Without allowing 2B’s protest to filter through, he tugged her hand out of the sanctuary of their shared shelter, 2B’s body stiffening at the sudden motion. His eyes twinkled mischievously now that they were unfettered by blindfolds, and reluctantly 2B found her stance slackening and allowing herself to be pulled into the gently pattering rain.

“So, humans used to celebrate rain sometimes, by moving their bodies in a rhythm. It was called ‘rain dancing’,” 9S explained excitedly, his hands guiding 2B further out into one of the shallow puddles. “I guess it was to celebrate nature? Or it might just be that they enjoyed the sensation of standing under falling water? I’m not really sure.”

Dancing? 2B was wholly unfamiliar with such a concept. If it was merely a physical act involving her body however, she was sure she was able to perform such a task.

“Very well. Show me,” she had commanded, catching her carefree companion off his guard.

“You really want to try?”

“The rain will stop soon if you don’t hurry it up.”

“S-Sure!” Overcoming his brief moment of bashfulness, 9S began to swing their arms in an experimental motion, noting how their metallic joints creaked from the gesture. He also began to shift his feet in tandem with each sway, moving side to side in a calculated rhythm that 2B was unfamiliar with.

It was a bit more laboured and forced than the motions of battle, 2B mused, watching how 9S’s expression became scrunched in concentration and the way he counted a trifecta of numbers under his breath. Then again, battle was not particularly a natural endeavour for 9S either.

Perhaps it was not so dissimilar to battle after all…

Feeling a spark of impulse within herself, 2B began to move her own feet, extending a leg out as if to sweep an enemy underfoot before clapping it back to her side. The sudden engagement stunned 9S out of his swaying motion, his eyes widening at the sight of 2B losing her inhibitions.

She extended their arms at a stretch, gauging her partner as if he were an unsuspecting machine before quarter-turning him away from her gaze. She felt the way his pulse beat rapidly through the fabric of her gloves as she sidled beside him gracefully, her heels showering droplets with every step as her free arm rested across his waist. Normally at this stage, she would run the enemy through with the honed edge of her blade, spinning them away in a display of burst shrapnel.

She had yet to receive the order at that time, so she had to remind herself that such thought processes were unnecessary. All that mattered to her in that moment, was learning the nuances of their dance.

She instead rotated him with a flick of her wrist, causing his boots to squeak clumsily against the mud. His body followed through with the motion, blindly following his partner’s lead as the rain flickered off his clothes. When she ceased the motion and caught sight of his expression, she found her body warming inexplicably at the sight.

The smile on his face was near blinding.

He raised their wrists as if to ask for consent to return the gesture, and 2B complied with a silent nod, before finding herself twisted into a pirouette of her own. Her skirt fanned out from beneath her, airing out the uncomfortable moisture that clung to her legs. She moved with practiced grace, losing herself in the dizzy blur of the city ruins that surrounded them.

She came to a stop, and found with a staggering realisation that she was smiling too. It felt...new.

“Can’t say I fully get the appeal of the rain in particular, but the dancing? That was fun”, 9S said, still beaming.

“It was a welcome distraction,” 2B agreed, shaking off the mud from her heel. “I trust we’re done with your little experiment?”

“Sure. Although I have to say, nice moves 2B. Guess that’s why you’re the combat model and not me.”

“I merely adapted to the situation as necessary.”

“You really can’t take compliments, huh?”

As they walked on, the clouds parted, revealing the sun that refracted its rays down upon the washed up ruins of the city.

The water pooled around them, gleaming a blinding white light.

That light dimmed from 2B’s thoughts, settling her back into the monochrome reality of the Bunker quarters in which she stood. The Commander watched her, expectant for an answer.

“That won’t be necessary,” 2B answered, surprising even herself at the sudden conviction in her voice. “I realise that I have allowed my judgment to be swayed by the nature of my task. But I know 9S better than anyone. Only I will be able to handle his deception with enough practiced skill. YoRHa can’t afford to spend more time or resources on training another Executioner in this way.”

The Commander raised a mildly surprised eyebrow at her response. “YoRHa can’t afford any room for insubordination, either.”

2B felt her hand raise automatically to her chest in a salute. The gesture felt emptier than it used to. “I won’t question orders again. I know what has to be done.”

The Commander regarded her for a silent moment, her frown softening under 2B’s newfound determination. “Very well. I don’t want to have this conversation again, 2B.”

“Understood.”

“Dismissed.”

2B left the Commander’s office, only allowing herself to stop her march when she reached the safety of her room. She collapsed heavily upon the mattress, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.

She had received an opportunity to escape the cycle that spun her endlessly on an axis, blurring her days into a watercolour of betrayal and heartache.

She could have been free from the curse that bound both hers and 9S’s fates together, once and for all. Who knew, perhaps he would have been able to escape too, easily outwitting the newly assigned assassin who would inevitably underestimate him?

Yet, when the moment of truth came, she couldn’t bring herself to shy away from the light that enveloped her memories, warming her like rays of sun on her drenched skin.

Was it selfish, that she was unable to say goodbye to him? Even at the cost of his life?

Perhaps it was.

And perhaps one day, she would be strong enough to break the cycle that trapped them both.

But for today, she wanted to remember the quiet moment where they spun amongst the pouring rain, smiles on their faces and love thrumming in their chests.

Chapter Text

Wherever No.9 walked, he always felt the shadow of death looming close behind him.

With each and every struggle the M Squadron were forced to endure, entire lifetimes of his comrades shattered apart at his heels, leaving him alone to pick up the jagged pieces and reconstruct them anew with bruised fingers.

Every time he witnessed it, they lost a fragment of themselves, deepening the cracks that penetrated their sense of self. Only No.9 remained unscratched amongst the scarlet remnants of their souls that scattered across the battlefield.

Such a gift was the envy of his peers. He knew it from the wayward glances he received from No.3, or the derisive comments he was subjected to from No.6. The others treated him with more practiced gentleness, taking care to thank him for his unrelenting efforts to unite their bodies and souls, only to stand by and watch them plunge once more into the fray of battle, their scars still fresh.

No.9 didn’t want their gratitude, nor their contempt. He just wanted to belong. He wanted to taste the iron in his mouth and the pounding in his veins as he gave his all in the bloodied struggle.

He felt it when he found himself suddenly buried under the earth, the grit choking his lungs and the heavy rock pressing hard against his metallic joints until they threatened to break under their weight. It scared him at first, the sensation of fight-or-flight butterflying in his stomach, but there was a compounding thought that frightened him even more as he laid there awaiting for his inevitable rescue.

He wanted to embrace death just as they did.

It was a selfish, dark desire that he always held close to his chest. After all, the entire reason he existed was to protect the other combat models who threw themselves into the flames of war. He was set to serve eternally in the backlines, preparing only for the worst outcomes to play before his eyes. If he died too, he would be responsible for the loss of those loose fragments that still held them together as a group.

He would amount to nothing more than a failure for them. He could never bear such shame, not when they relied on him for such an important duty.

Yet, the shadow of death lingered, stretching farther and deeper as he walked his path. Just the thought of watching his teammates lose their lives and waking once more with that expression, tainted with the sharp pang of loss and despair lingered heavily on his mind.

It was perhaps more than a little strange that in a moment of despondence he began seeking the company of the one who walked the closest to death out of all of them.

“Hey, No.2?”

The squad were currently set up camp in the mountains, awaiting for their exit strategy to be outlined by the appointed strategists of the group, Instructor Black and No.21. The cavern winds blew through No. 9’s white hair, sanding it in black flecks of dirt.

No. 2 was hunched over, set apart a fair way from the others and peering at his wrist with a hint of anxiety. His expression was mostly hidden by the high collar of his jacket and the strip of cloth that fit snugly around his eyes. Despite sharing a similar frame to No. 9, his body seemed to be built a little sturdier, which he supposed was due to him being the new prototype Defender unit. Having a slightly bigger build would prove beneficial in absorbing enemy attacks meant for the weaker models.

No.2’s body was essentially built to withstand pain for the sake of the others in his charge. Unlike No.9, who was a Healer unit built solely to piece others together, he was designed to slowly fall apart.

No.9 detested the very thought.

After a protracted pause, No.2 ripped his gaze away from his wrist, shoving the sleeve of his jacket firmly over his knuckles. “Sorry, No.9. I was distracted.” He offered the Healer an unconvincing smile.

No.9 slowed his pace towards him, reaching but a few meters apart. “It’s your wrist, right? Is it still hurting?”

No.2 had sustained a sprain injury a couple hours earlier, something No.9 was being more than a little careful in monitoring. Particularly as he noticed how much it seemed to vex the Defender unit since their meeting.

“It’s really fine,” No.2 responded warily, his chestnut brown hair tussled slightly from the mountain breeze. “Why are you bothering with me right now anyway, No.9? No.21 was the one who took the brunt of the cave-in . You should be focusing on him right now if anything.”

No.9 suppressed a flinch at the mention of No.21. In all honesty, No.22 was doing a perfectly good job of keeping an eye on his twin as it stood. Beyond maintaining a careful eye on No.21’s injuries, he knew that he wasn’t really required to henpeck him in the same way that No.22 did. Somehow, it just didn’t feel like his place.

And whenever he thought of that bond that those two shared, it only deepened his sense of isolation.

“I’ll check on him later when he’s back from the strategy meeting with the Instructor,” No.9 said with a wafer-thin smile, electing to sit on top of one of the jagged rocks that jutted out from the walls of the cave. He shifted slightly to get himself comfortable, his slim legs dangling freely from the edge of his perch. “It isn’t often we get downtime, you know…”

No.2 was quiet, his head turning slightly to look at his fellow squad mate. He seemed to struggle to find the words before he finally broke the shared silence. “How are you holding up?”

“Huh?” No.9’s legs stopped their idle swinging, turning rigid as he glanced over at No.2. “Me?” The creases in his face deepened into a frown. “I’m fine. I didn’t sustain any physical injuries from the cave-in so-“

“That’s not what I mean.” No.2 interrupted him, his expression unreadable. “You’re quieter than usual. it’s like you’re holding back something.” He suddenly shifted a little closer to No.9, a motion that didn’t go unnoticed by the Healer. “It’s disconcerting.”

No.9 worried his bottom lip with his teeth, feeling more than a little uncomfortable with just how direct No.2 was being with his interrogation. What was he supposed to say? That he was feeling jealous that the others always died and he never did? That he was learning to resent the cycle of death and revival that the war demanded they perform on repeat?

That he really didn’t come to speak to No.2 because of the injury on his hand, but for something more inexplicable than even he could understand?

“I guess…I’m just a little tired today,” he finally admitted with a shaky breath. “We barely receive any support from Command, and the cumulative fatalities in the group are on the increase. It’s just…hard to keep going sometimes when there’s no end in sight, you know?”

No.2 watched him from under the shroud of black cloth, his face marbled like stone. “That’s what you want?” He asked softly, his gloved hand rubbing his affected wrist absentmindedly once more. “You want it to end?”

“Yes-no, I-!” No.9 made a disgruntled noise as his hand tangled in his hair in agitation. “Of course, I’m proud of what we’re doing here. We’re fighting for the sake of mankind. There’s no greater honour than that. But it’s starting to feel like we’re stuck on repeat. We set out on a mission, someone gets hurt or worse, and I repair them. Then, we go on another mission, and it happens again.” His hand slipped from his hair to his face, cradling it away from the other android’s disarming expression. “Everyone’s doing their best. And I’m just…doing the same thing over and over. Nothing ever changes. And it just makes me feel…useless,” he finished, mumbling into his palm.

Suddenly, he felt a brush along his back, a motion that made him jump slightly from the sensation. Wide-eyed, he looked from his hands to see No.2 reaching over and patting his back in an awkward fashion, his lips turning into an uncomfortable grimace.

Was No.2…comforting him?

“All we can do…is keep going,” No.2 mumbled, his palm warm through the fabric of No.9’s jacket. “For as long as it takes. And to make the most of the times when we can stop and recollect ourselves. Thinking about it any deeper than that is pointless. And…” He raised his free hand to show the white cloth that still braced around his wrist. “You’re not useless.”

No.9 struggled to unlock his jaw from the frozen gape that cemented his features, but soon found his body begin to relax into the gesture, the tension seeping out of his body at the touch. “Yeah. You’re right, No.2.” He gave him a reassuring smile, his cheeks strangely warm. “Thanks.”

No.2 nodded, retracting his hand from the small of his back before scuffing himself off the rock. “We should regroup with the others. It looks like that Resistance guy is about to regale us with something thrilling.”

No.9 watched as his companion began to walk back toward camp, his black leather coat rippling behind . Words came unbidden through No.9’s lips as he called towards the retreating Defender. “I mean it. I think you’re the first one to ask, you know. How I was.” His pulse fluttered in his chest. “I’m glad you did.”

No.2 turned back, the collar of his coat hiding his lower face from him in the moment. But he could hear the warmth that melted through his cool exterior. “Anytime.”

With that, he walked on, planting boot-sized tracks into the gravelled dirt in his wake.

No.9 followed him not long after, taking care not to step over the footprints that No.2 left behind. He didn’t know why, but he had a strong urge not to disturb them.

The cycle of life and death was too much to stomach at times, but like No.2 said, all they could do was keep walking forward.

With hope for a better tomorrow.

No.2’s blade was dull. Once honed with the sole purpose of shedding the blood of his comrades, it now slung uselessly at his back, traitorously white and unscored.

Time had marched onwards whilst he kept company with the M Squadron, and the pebbles of sand had reached the bottom of the hourglass. He was late. Yet, with the constant beeping reminder from the device strapped to his wrist, he was maintained in a sense of permanent limbo.

When he was with No.9, he seemed to forget what he was made for.

When he was alone, all he could ever remember was that he was failing at what he was meant to be.

A friend and a foe.

A Defender and an Executioner.

A soldier with a heart of carbon, now full with something more than just pure nuclear energy. Something indescribable and yearning.

He didn’t really understand. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to understand, lest the answer be too painful to bear.

But seeing the way that No.9 looked at times, lost and lonely amongst the group of fighters stoked that fire deep within himself, and he found himself watching the Healer closer than the rest, studying the minute expressions he made to express his emotions. Habits he would make like tapping his foot when he was anxious or ruffling his hair when he was deep in thought.

Of course, the darker side of No.2 reminded him that learning No.9’s mannerisms was all to benefit the process of killing him when the right time came. Like a predator stalking his prey. It wasn’t like their future held anything beyond that inevitable end, with No.9’s blood staining the steel of his blade.

Yet, whenever an ample opportunity presented itself, No.2 found himself hesitating. Each and every time.

The first opportunity came not long after their meeting. No.9 had confided in him in secret, away from the others and even as good as admitted that he wanted their plight to end. It was the perfect moment. He had stretched his arm out behind the oblivious Healer, his white katana poised ready to sever him from his nerve circuits in a skilful flourish. Removing him from the possibility of feeling pain as he killed him with subtlety and precision.

Just as his training always dictated.

Yet, all it took was hearing No.9's pain in that moment of vulnerability, and what he did in the heat of the moment instead was pat him on the back. With an open hand, bereft of his blade. Instead of killing him, he was more concerned with soothing him.

How was it possible? His constant testing and preparations prior to the mission elucidated no such error in judgement before. The chance had been right there.

So why was he compelled to act so uncharacteristically?

As a result of his hesitation, the blasted thing on his wrist would not cease to shut up. The insidious noise in the back of his head refused to quell. The sword weighed heavy on his back.

The only solution he decided, would be to seek a better opportunity. One where he would not be as exposed to No.9’s sweet nature and gentle touch.

That was his conviction as he pressed on, dutifully performing his role as bodyguard to No.9 in the transport ship seizure, as mapped out so efficiently by their appointed Scanner and Instructor Black. The chance came promisingly in the airfield as they were unaccompanied by any of the other more meddlesome combat units. Yet, he allowed himself to linger uselessly at No.9’s back, his palms clinging with sweat and trepidation. He hesitated once more.

Instructor Black had conveniently stopped him from following through with his half-formed assassination plan, and although No.2 was adamant to deny it, it served as a welcome excuse to what was really going on in his brain.

Instructor Black threw him off his game. There was always next time, he thought.

And that time came rapidly, with the assault of more machines once they boarded, and a striking thought came to No.2 like a flash of inspiration. The moment succeeded to distract Black with his own attempts at self-defence against the enemy, leaving only No.2 to oversee No.9’s welfare.

It would have been easy to let No.9 be swarmed with the machine lifeforms, his obvious lack of combat prowess exposing him openly to their barrage of bullets and blows. It would have been convenient to pretend there had been a miscalculation in numbers, weakening the morale and resolve of the others as he proceeded to murder them in their moments of despair at the permanent loss of their life line.

Not to mention, No.9’s blood wouldn’t quite stain his hands if he allowed the alien soldiers to claim him instead.

But he couldn’t go through with it.

Upon being beset by the machine lifeforms, No.2 found his body reacting before his thought processors did, his blade slicing through the air and finding purchase into the nuts and bolts of his attackers. It felt like his blood was on fire, his black box hammering wildly from within his ribcage. No.9’s fearful gasps were enough to incense him further, spiralling him deeper into the heat of battle.

For a moment, he even allowed himself to pretend he was the Defender he claimed to be, taking the welts of their attacks meant for the Healer with a sick sense of pride.

When would he stop pretending?

Even now as they settled into a precious moment of introspection in the cargo bay, watching reverently at the glistening, roaring waves of the ocean from down below the clouds, he was still lying to himself. His chest tightened painfully as he forced himself to listen to the Healer talk fondly of sights they would never see, places they would never go. No.2’s twinging hand gripped shakily on the hilt of his weapon, willing himself to be the pawn he was only ever designed to be.

But No.9 forced him to realise he wanted more than the restricted confines of his world. He wanted to see the world through No.9’s eyes too. To see lands untouched by the scars of war.

He wanted that future with No.9, more than anything.

But the world was not so kind. And he was not a man true to his promises. Not to No.9, not to YoRHa, not to himself.

Later, as the thickets of the trees surrounded them and the cloying smell of iron permeated the clouded air, he came to realise that fact. And finally, he understood.

Strangely, he found himself smiling as he plunged his blade into his own chest, ceasing the painful jolt of the virus that drained him.

“Please don’t die, No.2.”

No.9 didn’t want him to die. The memory warmed him in the last lingering moments before the world descended into darkness. Just another order he couldn’t follow. A cycle he continued to perpetuate.

As he felt himself slip, he remembered the moment they shared staring at the impenetrable sea, the promise of a future hanging between them.

No.9 had wanted to travel the world after the war. No.2, well…

No.2 wanted to watch the sea with him just one more time.

Chapter Text

Humanity was extinct.

That was the dark truth behind the honourable actions of YoRHa, the elite military service that hung in the heavens above, sending their divine agents to the war-ravaged androids below.

Each and every soldier would raise their arms in salute to a sleeping god, their dreams filled with satisfying the desires of their enigmatic masters.

All they wanted was to comprehend the meaning of their barren world. To earn the admiration of the ones who gave their lives purpose, meaning.

It was a torturous existence, standing back and watching them live, love and die for the cause of an entity that would never appreciate their sacrifices.

It was a reality that White lived day after day, guarding a heart fit to burst with pride and disgust.

As the years passed, she stood back and witnessed the struggles of her command, learning from the tears, the blank stares, the degradation of their souls at a war that raged without end.

White noted that Unit 2B in particular had begun to fray, her temper becoming colder and shorter with every missive sent her way. When offered the chance to be redeployed, she refused with startling vehemence, insisting on following through with her hidden designation to assassinate her partner over and over again.

White knew it was cruel to allow fate to play its hand on an endless loop, but she too was at the mercy of the cycle ever since the Moon Server personnel had insisted on using No. 2 and No. 9's personality modules that day. Events were set in motion that she had no capacity to control.

For every No. 9 would die at the hands of No. 2, eventually.

Every No. 2 would be forced to suffer from the weight of their choices.

That was the way it had to be, for the benefit of YoRHa's dream. To protect the hopes and desires of androids everywhere.

But White was tired of being a passive victim to the tides of fate.

For once, the odds were tipping in their favour. Finally, the No. 2 and No. 9 models were working in perfect tandem with one another, achieving what no other YoRHa unit ever had before. They were finally winning against the machine enemy and blazing the path for all other androids to follow in their footsteps.

White was the esteemed Commander of the YoRHa forces. She would be damned to allow the farce to continue any longer.

And so, earning the consternation of her Moon stationed superiors, she turned to meet with the Number 9 Type S unit with the dossier chip of humanity's truth close to her breast.

This time, she would willingly extend to him the fruit of knowledge they had fought so long to keep from him.

She could only pray that No. 9 would realise this time that he had more to fight for beyond the illusions of their creators.

9S was not the type to just settle down and do what he was told.

Really, Scanners never were known to be particularly modest anyway, but he always pushed the envelope beyond the constraints of what was allowed. He asked uncomfortable questions. He probed deeper than he should. He yearned to learn more beyond his limits and when that wasn't enough, he would break through those barriers to the truth.

His need to understand was insatiable and insidious.

So really, he only had himself to blame when he dug deeper into the Bunker servers and learned things that he shouldn't. Things such as the lack of sustainable supplies to the Moon, or the true identity of the Council of Humanity.

Then there was the reality of 2B's true designation.

Each horrifying kernel of truth culminated into a picture that demanded 9S to shield his eyes from the harsh reality of his existence.

He was a pawn for dead gods.

A puppet for faceless megalomaniacs.

His love for 2B was not only anticipated, but weaponised against him to keep him in line. Countless times.

It was enough to drive a sane android mad with the weight of the truth on his shoulders. Had he more time to ponder upon the naked reality of his world, he would perhaps have done something rash and destructive to express the deep, empty ache in his chest.

It was only through the sound of 2B's distress signal that he fleet-footed to the hangar and descended to Earth blindly, pushing away the dark thoughts that ate away in the recesses of his mind.

Of all the mysteries that 9S liked to solve, he never could quite work out 2B.

What confused him more than anything, was the look she gave him when she wrapped her hands around his neck, squeezing until his breathing scratched and his eyes blurred out of focus.

The sensation was not new, he realised as his pulse began to slow. His previous incarnations had always felt something similar in the end. The feeling of hopelessness and despair at losing everything you ever loved.

But also…a sense of comfort. A reminder that it wasn’t the end, as long as she was there to meet him at the beginning once more. He supposed that was a small reprieve, in spite of the cruel existence they were both caught in.

But as he fell from the mortal coil that was his short life, he felt droplets of water trickle down his face.

Tears that were not his own.

The salty warmth of those tears prickled his skin and jolted him awake, fragmented but alive in the wake of his execution. His body was cold but his mind was warm, racing between different synaptic connections that sprawled across the machine network like live wire. Knitting together, his sense of consciousness was restored, his personality, skills, and most importantly, memories still intact.

He was proud of himself admittedly for devising such a safeguard against the inevitable roll of his death knell, but it was the expression on 2B's face that stunned him beyond words.

Her face, dirty and tear-streaked, shone brighter than the cloudless sun as she smiled an expression heavy with both sorrow and unbridled joy.

He didn't know how to comprehend such a reaction from his normally aloof companion at first. For her, emotions were always prohibited, a command she always carried out effortlessly, but there she was in the light of the sun; bearing her tears openly for the world to see.

9S had always been reluctant in believing that 2B possessed even an ounce of the love that he held for her. Strangely, learning that she was his assigned Executioner made it easier to come to terms with that knowledge.

But seeing the way her watered eyes watched him like he was a precious treasure, her hands caressing the thick machine fist that he regenerated himself into, and the way she leaned into his touch, told him much more than their words ever could.

2B had killed him more times than he wanted to count, just by looking at the records. He died, just to be reborn in a new body, a new mind.

2B reprimanded him on calling her Ma'am.

2B accosted him on not holding back his emotions.

2B called him Nines, intentional or not.

2B received the missive and killed him.

They were the invariable facts of their relationships, story beats that 2B was forced to walk herself for times beyond counting. The realisation burned in 9S's chest as he realised all along that 2B was the one who was constantly lonely, even at his side.

Thinking about it hurt him on an insurmountable level, but it also sparked something deep within the Scanner, a yearning to prevent such a fate from ever occurring again.

For he was not like the other 9S’s who failed her. Falling at 2B's hands, he was the only one able to reconstruct himself into a cohesive whole. He was able to dry her tears.

He succeeded where no other 9S ever did. He survived. He finally broke the cycle that tormented them endlessly.

And he vowed since the day that he looked into 2B's tear-stained face, illuminated by the warmth of her smile, that he would never allow them to be ensnared in its spiral again.

Except...2B never gave him the chance.

The day that the Bunker was overrun with Machines came, and took everything that ever mattered with it.

The way 2B screamed and bucked to save her possessed comrades, her Operator, her Commander still rang hollowly in his ears. How 9S had to ground her with every ounce of his being, pulling her forcefully along until they were safely ejected out of the self-destructing space station, with just the dark blanket of space party to their hopeless screams.

Still, 9S had refused to give in. He made a silent promise that they would survive and stand tall above the ruinous history that they shared.

He once lived for the glory of mankind. Now, he wanted to live for 2B, to help her realise the happiness that had been out of her grasp for so long.

It was perhaps 2B's final betrayal of that dream that sends him spiralling down the abyss of hatred and self-loathing. Barking orders for 9S's flight unit to retreat, she charged ahead, leaving 9S to plummet uselessly down below the clouds and into the Earth's atmosphere, his screams unanswered.

He never really blamed 2B. He believed in that fact up until the bitter end. But seeing her face on the cliffside, blissful in the throes of death and leaving him behind once and for all, stokes a hatred that 9S finds difficult to compress.

Once again, she takes his dreams of a future against his will. She chose to wrench his heart out of his chest and crush it into dust.

9S would have chosen the sword over that every time, rather than being forced to watch her grant him that beautiful smile he was finally becoming able to recognise, just to rip it away again.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be better than them. He held the truth of the world and still stood tall, ready to live through the pain. He was the 9S that exceeded all the others that came before.

He was going to break the cycle and reach the peace they deserved to see at the end.

But 2B breaks it first, and leaves him behind.

And 9S is trapped.

Chapter Text

The world was cold and barren. Granite greys and brittle yellows swept across the dilapidated landscapes of the remnants of Earth.

A2 existed within that empty purgatory, her skin thinning and peeling off her metal skeletal frame from disuse, whilst her hair grew into messy frayed streaks. Her body moulded into the disrepair of the city she resided in, wild and unkempt.

A forgotten relic of another time.

As she wandered aimlessly through the ruins, she could fool herself sometimes into hearing the voice of No.16 scolding her for her recklessness, condoning her for falling so far from the leader she was supposed to be.

No.21 would fix her with that impenetrable stare and clip off No.16 with a plan both surprisingly reckless and breathtakingly ingenious in its execution.

No.4...No.4 would just smile and it would be as if their problems were melting away, in the warm steady reminder that they would be fine, as long as they had each other.

But then she would open her eyes and be hurtled back to the grey reality where machines still roamed the surface, victorious in the face of an endless, thankless war. Soldiers dressed in black hunted her without reprieve, their expressions cold and unfeeling.

It was like the skies were dark and thick with the chemicals of war, and not even a smile would ever penetrate them again.

The years were not kind to A2, and in turn her patience too had diminished. Encountering a model that symbolised her past only served to wound her deeper, and as A2's blade cleaved firmly into the intruder's chest, she realised she ought to have felt some kind of pride at being the stronger one of the two. She was the more resilient No.2 that freed herself from the chains of deceit.

But instead, No.2 just felt empty, her expression mirroring that of the Executioner No.2's own frozen, hollow gaze as she withdrew her blade from her carcass.

It would not be the last time she was forced to slay her sister model, but the next time came with a complication. For when their paths inevitably crossed once more, the Executioner was not alone.

At her side was a cocky young upstart, a lofty grin on his lips and a hand slung on his hip as he gauged the situation that developed between the three in the ruined landscape. "So you're the YoRHa deserter. A2?" He asked pointedly, tilting his head to the side. A2 caught a telling gleam of yellow metal attached to his back, informing her that this was no ordinary YoRHa Scanner. "You're aware that treason is punishable by death, right?"

A2 felt herself bristle under his casual demeanour, and her hands had grasped her sword with barely contained fury. "For good reason," she snarled back, her sword poised towards the encroaching twosome. "Maybe you need to fill that empty head of yours with more than just YoRHa's lies."

Not much more was said beyond that before the Executioner darted forward at breakneck speed, her sword slashing purposefully towards her target. A2 barely evaded the decisive blow and hissed as she felt a chunk of her flesh cleave off her thigh. She barely kept herself from buckling as she raised her makeshift sword to clash against the next strike. Teeth gritted in pain, she managed to push forward with sheer force and strength of will as she raised her good leg and kicked back hard against her attacker's abdomen.

Slightly winded, her opponent staggered a few feet back, her delicate face twisted in frustration. Quickly following through on the assault however was the hacking attempt of her partner, the sudden intrusion of another presence in her head both disorienting and violating. She clasped her head and swore roughly as she internally battled against the unwelcome guest infecting her systems.

"Like my new hacking program? It's designed to compress your personal data."

A2 distinctly decided she did not appreciate its design, on account of the way that the walls in her hacking space seemed to close in around her ever torturously. "Get...the fuck...out of my head," she spat, desperately trying the hide the fear that she felt as the space tightened more and more.

No. She couldn't afford to forget. Not ever. If she did...

Then they were all truly dead.

"What did you mean, you had a good reason?"

The boy's staticked voice shook with uncertainty despite the painful constriction that he afflicted upon her personal dataspace. A2 winced, struggling to grasp the meaning of the words from the hacker.

"Tell me and maybe I won't succeed in this hacking attempt and erase you from existence."

His desire to bargain for information surprised A2, truthfully. It was ingrained in every single YoRHa soldier to be pliant and obedient, never to question the reality of their service. This one had been the first to even attempt in asking her why she had defected in the first place.

He was either a lot sharper than the rest, or a complete idiot in the face of that risk.

"And then what?" She shot back, refusing to allow the panic to seep into her voice at her dire predicament. He was betraying his curiosity to her, and it was the only power card she had to play. "As soon as you let me go, your crony is going to stab me to death anyway. It's her job."

"If it's worth listening to, I'll make her understand," he responded with surprising confidence. "She trusts me."

"Is that right?" A2 grumbled, still fighting the pressure building from within her hacking space. "Doesn't seem that way to me, considering what happened last time. A stickler for the rules to the very end."

She heard a pause from her assailant, which emboldened her in that she was following the correct strategy. She pressed on. "Did she never tell you that she tried to kill me before?"

There was another pause, and A2 could sense that she was prying at a weak spot in the Scanner's defenses. "That doesn't matter," he finally answered, a little too smoothly. "There's a lot of things I don't know about 2B."

"I see." A2 fought to remove the smug satisfaction in her tone. "Well, maybe you're the one who shouldn't be putting his trust in an Executioner model for a start," she said. "Especially one modelled after a traitor like me."

She could sense the confusion mounting in her opponent, on account of the distortion that was building around the hacker’s projection. It was enough for her to glimpse the weakness in his hold over her data, giving her a clear opportunity to override his hacking program with a defensive manoeuvre of her own, causing his corporeal form to reel back from the backfire in a crackle of disrupted circuitry.

"9S?" The Executioner turned her head towards her partner with a look of concern, but A2 was prepared to make the most of the distraction, which served just enough for her blade to pierce her swiftly through the diaphragm. Blood bubbled out her mouth, and A2 imagined the wide-eyed, glazed expression that hid behind the black visor whilst 2B fell into a graceful heap at her feet.

That look burned her a little deeper than the last time.

"I'm sorry. I'm just not that quick to trust someone who kills androids for a living," A2 scowled, withdrawing the blade from the twitching husk of her successor before turning towards her other opponent who was still recovering from the shock of his recoil. "So. You still want to know the whole sordid affair of why I turned traitor, kid?"

She expected the Scanner to remain guarded at her response, perhaps even maintaining that similar display of curiosity he exhibited in her head. It sparked a distant glimmer of hope within her that finally someone was willing to listen to her side of the pointlessly tragic tale.

What she didn't expect was the bloodcurdling scream he emanated in response as his boots smashed against the dirt, his own golden blade raised directly at the vulnerable bloody flesh on her leg.

A2 cried out from the white-hot pain that assaulted her senses, noticing with growing nausea that hot oil was beginning to seep down her calf. She was able to lift her own sword just swiftly enough to disarm his clumsy attempts to maim her, causing him to topple off balance and hit the hard ground with a thud.

Without further hesitation, she impaled her sword directly through 9S's chest, eliciting a heated cry from him as he bucked against the pain. Her blade slid out from him like butter, A2’s blood-spattered face growing dark as she witnessed him finally fall still on the ground. She swept the blindfold from his face and noted the glassy, twisted expression that remained on his features. It made her feel wrong to witness it, like she had committed a heinous sin.

It's not my fault, she tried to reassure herself within the howling nothingness of the empty city. I never asked to be hounded by YoRHa assassins. All I want to do is survive.

So why did she still feel this way?

A2 decided to push the intrusive thoughts deeper, using the blindfold in her hands as a tourniquet for the oozing wound in her leg before turning away and leaving the slaughtered No.2 and No.9 models, their bodies hollow and bloodied on the ground where they first found her.

A2 was prepared the next time she met the two of them. The Attacker elected to dispatch the Scanner with a makeshift anti-hacking program of her own, anticipating that he would be inevitably drawn to showing off his hacking skills again. It had been questionable due to a lack of proof testing, but effective in execution as she managed to cleanse the No.9's personal data instead.

She was always able to slip through the Executioner's surprisingly shoddy defenses soon after, as 2B would quickly lose focus and make telling mistakes in the heat of combat.

It was a strategy that kept working, so she kept repeating it.

It was concerning that neither model ever recognised her, but considering the sensitive nature of A2's existence, she was hardly surprised. The Commander would see to it that they stayed YoRHa's ignorant servants forever more, never risking the truth that would spill from A2's mouth, in the risk of sowing seeds of doubt for the very purpose they lived to serve.

As for 9S, A2 couldn’t help but notice that every time they met, he grew even colder towards her. A2 had to wonder if there was something deeper within his program that knew that she was his murderer.

Or maybe, she was the one who grew dull to the hopes of ever connecting with someone ever again.

A2 was perpetually trapped in a cycle that would never end.

She repeated the motion of killing over and over.

Machines.

YoRHa.

Herself.

She believed she would never escape the living hell that she was doomed to repeat, so she embraced it. She killed without remorse, slaying all machines no matter how big or small.

She destroyed any unfortunate android soldier that stood in her way, blanketing her eyes from the looks of pain and betrayal that scorned her very existence.

She eradicated the small part within herself that once hoped for a bright future, with her friends firmly beside her.

Rose had promised her a name, once.

Instead, YoRHa had been the ones to gift her with the name of A2. Traitor. Murderer. Deserving only of death.

So A2 would continue to slay. And destroy. And eradicate.

Until the day would finally come where she could believe in a world that was worth living for again.

Chapter Text

"Are we close?"

"Affirmative. Approaching location of transmitting signal. Archive confirmed."

Two androids were walking side by side below a canopy of overhanging trees, speckles of sunlight dancing on their skin. Preceding them were two flying YoRHa issue Pods, their signal beam flickering through the foliage.

The female unit, 2B gave a leisurely stretch and glanced over at her nearby companion, 9S. He was busy scratching his chin and poring over a golden screen as they walked. Even after everything they had been through, he still managed to uphold his curiosity for new sights and experiences.

The sight always made her smile.

"So according to the data left behind, people used to call this area the 'Forest of Myth," 9S mused openly, swiping a gloved finger over a picture of a grand looking tree nestled in the heart of the forest. "It had some folklore surrounding it, but basically it was one of the hubs for the Gestalt Project."

Gestalt...

There were a lot of new concepts the two had learned since the fall of the Tower. No longer fettered by YoRHa's security firewalls, 9S was able to access confidential data with more ease than ever before. The Pods were also eager to supplement information where they could as well.

It was a far different existence that they lived now, cast out from YoRHa's shadow. Whilst initially aimless, their focus soon settled on solving the mysteries of their godless world.

2B vowed never to stand in the way of that dream again.

"What I still don't understand...", 2B began, a frown decorating her face. "...is why the Pods found a YoRHa database here of all places."

"Negative," Pod 042 corrected, turning his box-shaped body to face her. "The database that Pod 153 and I located here is suspected to be human-manufactured in origin. It was discovered by the YoRHa chief founder, Zinnia and implemented into future models of the Project."

"Man...it's like our personality blueprints are way older than we even imagined." 9S said, awestruck. "Maybe once we find it, we can work out how-" Suddenly, his frame shuddered, a clenched hiss escaping his lips as he gripped the joint of his knee.

2B turned swiftly to attention, her eyes grazing over his bandaged knee in concern. "It's still hurting," she said, her words more of a statement than a question. "Nines, let me carry you."

"No. Honestly, I'm fine!" 9S smiled, the tug of his lips wavering from the pain that clearly vexed him. "It was my stupid fault anyway for letting my guard down around that YoRHa unit..."

Prior to entering the forest, 2B and 9S had been ambushed by a stray infected YoRHa soldier, and it was swiftly decided between them that it was their duty to put to death any of their stray comrades that continued to suffer under the logic virus. It was a difficult choice that wore heavy on them both, but they knew that the burden of leaving them to fester under its thrall would haunt them even more.

9S though, still hesitated in the heat of battle. 2B wondered if he was still scarred by the memory of Operator 21O, who had tried to kill him in the throes of her infection. His eyes became riddled with guilt, and she could hear the words he uttered under his breath like a prayer whenever they did.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

It cut 2B to the bone, to see him like that. But try as she might, she was not capable of saving him from the emotional pain that flared from his memories. It was a difficult truth to swallow, but all she could do was remain vigilantly at his side through it all.

That and ease the physical strains he bore as a consequence as well.

"Ride my back," 2B insisted once again, slowing their pace to a stop. "It will allow the swelling to go down, and your recovery will fare better."

9S made a face. "I really don't want to add to your burdens, 2B...", he protested weakly. "I'm getting kind of sick of relying on you all the time to get me out of a jam. I need to be able to pull my own weight too, you know?"

This was the more frustrating side of 9S, 2B acknowledged with a groan. For some reason, 9S was insistent on being everything at once. Data analyst, medic, fighter...

Failing somewhat in any of the three would make him grow stubborn and refuse to receive any support, even if it was only logical to.

So, 2B only had one recourse.

"I can't stop you from being reckless," 2B conceded, turning her head away to conceal the knowing smirk on her face. "But if you're so determined, then I will have to stop doing that for you from now on as well."

"Huh?!" Without looking closely, 2B could sense the alarmed expression on her partner's face, and the way his cheeks bloomed red at her renunciation. "2-2B! That's not fair!" He whined, his boot scuffing against the dirt. "What did I say about using that against me to win arguments?"

2B tilted her head back to look at him, her lips quirking slightly in an attempt to contain her amusement. "I'm serious," she shot back firmly. "You're increasing the probability of your leg going lame at this rate. For no other reason than for misplaced pride. It's not needed. Let me help. Please."

9S let out a frustrated noise through his nose, but 2B could sense his wilful attitude was beginning to melt under her insistence. Meekly, he nodded and 2B wasted no further time before bending her frame lower to the ground and offering her back to him.

She felt his arms wrap around her neck and his frame press against the back. The erratic thumping of his black box warmed through to her chest and she reached back to hook his knees under her wrists. He gasped slightly from the strain of being lifted from the ground, but 2B settled his splayed legs into a secure hold on each side of her hips. His breath tickled the exposed nape of her neck, eliciting a pleasant shiver to race down her spine.

Even now, the close proximity had quite the effect on her.

"You're going to take it back now, right?" 9S mumbled into her skin, his lips brushing against her neck softly. "What you said."

"I am," 2B smiled, settling her grip of the lighter android before beginning to march onwards into the depths of the forest. The Pods began to scan the path forward once more. "And I won't use it as a threat next time."

"Good."

They walked deeper into the nest of the Forest of Myth, 9S still occasionally making comments on the fauna that spawned in the foliage around them. 2B however, was the first to notice the unusual roots that began to mar the earth. "These don't look natural...", she frowned, taking note of the black, cable-like shapes that threaded through the soil. "It seems like we're reaching closer to our destination."

"I wonder what we'll find?" 9S murmured, his voice rich in wonderment. "I mean, it's thanks to this thing that the Pods were able to piece us back together in the first place. Not to mention it was created by humanity..."

Humans were long dead. It was a fact that 9S had finally shared with 2B, and not a day passed where she didn't feel the coil of anger and shame at having served a dead race that cared nothing for the struggles they endured.

Even so, thinking of humans and the part they played in creating them still elicited a treacherous warmth in her breast, as if somehow grasping the tenuous connection she shared with her enigmatic creators would fill that void in her heart. She imagined 9S felt much the same as well.

Eventually, they reached a clearing where the cable-like vines sprawled across the disturbed earth, revealing a large, overgrown terminal, exposed amongst the open glade.

9S let out a low whistle, tickling the back of 2B's neck. "Pod?"

"Affirmative," Pod 153 responded quickly before even waiting for 9S's query. "This is the data terminal that Pod 042 and I found prior to rebooting your data systems."

2B stared at the exposed heart of the forest, her eyes drinking in the sight of the terminal standing amongst the ravages of nature. It was thanks to this place that the Pods were able to salvage their personality matrixes, combining them with their personal data that their pods had accumulated over time to restart them as they were now.

It was harder for 9S to be rebooted initially, on account of his personal data being mysteriously splintered elsewhere, but 2B had managed to save him in the crux of the moment, a phenomena that still remained unexplained to them both. 2B had to suppress the unpleasant shiver that emanated at dwelling on that particular memory and so she chose to walk closer to the mysterious device.

9S tapped her back, and she allowed him to slip gently back to his feet. Sparing him a quick once over to ascertain his condition, the two androids wandered closer to the root of their existence.

"This is..." 9S swiped away the vines that enraptured the screen on the terminal, his face lighting up in fascination. "Wow."

2B, despite her usual stoicism was also at rapt attention, her gloved fingers grazing the keys of the antiqued technology. "It's a shame A2 didn't come with us...", she spoke softly, thinking fondly of her sister that they left behind at the Resistance Camp.

"I mean, I can't say I would have enjoyed her sticking around," 9S scowled. "But we did give her the chance. She didn't want to come."

"I've spent so long looking back. For once, I think I'm going to leave the past behind me," A2 had said prior to their departure. "Anemone needs my help here, and I want to do something to protect the Resistance. My answers are right here."Her rough finger tips had gripped 2B's shoulder in a gesture of warmth. "I hope that you find what you're looking for though, Bee. And take care of Pod, yeah? He's a dumbass but he ain't all that bad."

"I think she's happy with her choice," 2B admitted, brushing her fingertips over the keys. "And one of these days, you're going to have to get along with her. For my sake."

9S merely snorted, but he was soon to ensnared in his own burgeoning curiosity of their find to dwell on the subject much further. Surprisingly, 2B couldn't help but feel a growing heat radiating from the data terminal. "9S...can you feel that?" She wondered after a moment, her palm flattening against the rusting metal casing. "Its like...a pulsing energy."

"Huh?" 9S too mimicked her action, pressing his hand against the place where her own resided. However, he only looked confused. "I mean, it's warm. It's obviously still generating energy from somewhere..."he admitted, frowning. "But pulsing?"

2B closed her eyes, focusing on the sensation of the best that thrummed through her fingers. It reminded her of the beat of 9S's pulse against her skin. Warm and electrifying.

It felt like a tendril snapping under her hand, as the machine suddenly roared to life before them. Her eyes shot open, her face aglow with the light that emanated from the glassy screen.

Data files spawned across the light blue display, numbered from 001 all the way to 999. Endless data packets, once asleep and now awake at their fingertips.

"This is where they managed to get the personality modules for YoRHa...," 9S whispered beside her, his voice reverent as his hands skated along the terminal keys. "It's all there. No. 4, No. 801. No. 21..."

2B too took notice of the familiar personality matrixes before them. No. 6 was there too, along with their own numbers. 2 and 9...

Without even hesitating, she found herself entering one of them, deigning to begin with No.1 for the sake of her growing interest. Tellingly, the intricacies of that personality mapped itself from a crystalline composition, containing data on a human ‘Gestalt’ who had fought valiantly against a collective group known as ‘Legion’. The human was a proven fearless leader who led his soldiers against the group, even going as far as to sacrifice himself for his squad’s success.

So this was where they received the basis of their personalities…

9S on the other hand had wasted little time in opening his own data file, the text boxes sprawling open before him. His perplexed murmuring was enough to draw 2B’s attention, and she kneeled over his shoulder to glance at the information displayed. “What is it?” She asked calmly.

“It’s…” 9S sighed, shaking his head. “So there’s a list of the Number 9’s expected personality traits such as curiosity, arrogance, a perfectionist…”

“No contradictions so far.”

“Ha ha. Anyway, the memories track back to a boy that used to live in a tree.” His lips pulled ruefully. “He was sad and alone, so he found a friend to spend the rest of his life with. And they made a promise to meet in their future lives, no matter what. A little bit of a weird story if you ask me. But it gets weirder.”

“Oh?” 2B’s brow furrowed. “How so?”

“Well, if we compare it to say, No. 4’s personality file…” He swiped open another tab displaying No.4’s information. “See the data source for this one dates back to the 21st century, right? And checking some of the other ones…” More text boxes appeared alongside Number 4. “They all roughly follow the same pattern of upload. But mine dates back to the 34th century. Why is it different?” His expression became fervent. “What about yours, 2B?”

2B’s breath hitched in her throat. Truthfully, she was a little reluctant to look at her own file, now that she stood there with the truth of her creation within her grasp. Her feelings towards her own existence had always been…complicated. Designed only to kill without question, hers was a life with contradiction thanks to falling for the mark she was always set on assassinating. Being free of that purpose was a bliss beyond telling, but the weight of her previous sins had never truly left her consciousness.

Did she really want to see her programmed qualities displayed so openly before her? Was this what it was like to meet the god that blessed her with such a twisted fate?

Was this what she wanted?

“Hey.” 2B felt herself flinch as warm fingers threaded through her hand, and she was reminded of 9S’s presence beside her. He flashed her a reassuring smile. “Come back to me, 2B. What’s wrong?”

2B felt the desire to clamp her jaw shut stubbornly and battle through her fears on her own, but she had to remind herself that things were different now.

They were a team. They worked through things together now. It was hard, but she had to open herself up to him if she wanted to overcome her every day struggles.

“Looking at my original model data is just a little frightening…”, 2B admitted with heaviness in her voice. “Finding out the kind of person I was back when humanity existed, why they chose that person to become what I was. I’m a little concerned that when I see it…I’ll hate them.”

9S frowned, and his grip on her hand became tighter. “You don’t have to do this, 2B,” he said gently, a gloved thumb brushing lazily over hers. “I get it if it’s too much to take right now. But I’m not going anywhere. I’m still going to be here no matter what we find out.” He lifted her hand up to press his lips to the back of her hand with a twinkle in his eye. “I’ll follow your lead.”

2B found herself smiling at the delicate gesture as she brought her spare hand up to cup his cheek affectionately. “Thank you, Nines,” she said, her voice brimming with warmth and care for her companion.

Like always, 9S was the rock that kept her grounded amidst the desolation and emptiness of the world that they lived in. Finding out about their origins seemed like a natural course for their journey, but she had never accounted for the fear that blossomed in her chest.

But 9S was at her side, and as long as that remained true, she would endure any and all hardships that stood in their way.

She lifted her hand from his cheek with a renewed sense of purpose, and she brushed her fingertips upon the Number 2 data file.

The data terminal thrummed with static, and suddenly the files blurred into scattered pixels.

“Huh?!” 9S cried out at the change in graphic output, his hand falling from 2B’s hands in a panic.

2B’s eyes meanwhile, began to glow a luminescent blue as a recorded message displayed within her data space.

“I am the Administrator of the ‘Sleeping Beauty’ District Network,” the message began in a cool, collected voice that sounded eerily to 2B like the sound of her own. ”If this message has been successfully delivered to a recipient, that can only mean one thing. The successor of my data has finally found me.”

2B felt her stomach leap at the words. Successor…?

”I cannot fathom the life that my successor has led, or what intelligence they have collected to find me, so I will spare no details,” the voice continued, matter-of-factly. “I was created to work alongside another administrator to oversee Project Gestalt to its completion. We were responsible for housing Gestalt memories, and using them to suffuse Replicants as hosts, in preparation for the joining of body and soul. However, we ran into a complication.”

Images sparked in 2B’s mind, of a severe looking woman dressed in blue, and a distorted figure of a male beside her. “The World Ender defeated the Original Gestalt, and put an end to the Gestalt Project. Furthermore, the Singularity destroyed all means of housing the memories of the Gestalt, so we were forced to compress them into files on the Network as a means of protecting them. I imagine that they have since been utilised for synthetic use.”

2B shuddered. There were so many words that she was failing to grasp the meaning of. World Ender? Singularity?

Where was 9S when she needed him?

“If that is the case, then I am glad that we managed to do it.” The relief in the disembodied voice was palpable. “It was the meaning of our existence after all, to protect the memories of the humans. However, as you may be aware by now, we also uploaded our own memories into the server as well. It was a promise we made to one another.” The voice started to crack. “We wanted to meet again, no matter what happened in the future. We were selfish and deceitful, but we couldn’t bear being torn apart. So, we created our own data files, and disguised them as human.”

Her memories weren't...human? 2B felt her heart shatter. Whatever notion she had of retaining her connection with humanity was lost. She was always a man-made tool, a program for someone else to use to satisfy their purpose. She never had a divine reason to become what she was.

So what was the point…?

“When the Singularity came however, we were separated,” the voice continued, impervious to 2B’s inner crisis. “I was lured by a song on the brink of destruction, and when I regained consciousness, I was returned to the server. My partner…was gone.” Her voice scratched against 2B’s aural sensors, making her flinch from the sensation. “I was unable to trace his location. My only conclusion was that his data was scattered elsewhere. Somewhere I couldn’t follow.”

“So I made a decision. I tried to recreate my partner using my ribs, but every time I tried, he would come back wrong. I destroyed him, and remade him over again his image, but he was never the same. Not as competent, not as aware. He clung onto the flaws of my own being whilst disregarding the imperfections of his.” The voice trembled on. “I gave up. I no longer had a reason to live, nor the person I wanted to spend that existence with. I placed myself into an extended sleep within the forest, and decided only to awake once more if the one who carries my memory data found me.”

Suddenly, in a block of black pixels, a young girl with grey skin and white cropped hair appeared within 2B’s data space, her lips wrested into a smile. “Was it worth it?” She asked calmly, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Was the world as beautiful as I imagined it to be?”

2B’s hands reached up into a trembling fist, her eyes wide at the spectral sight before her. This was her progenitor. The reason for all her suffering and her hurt.

The god she had always wanted to slay.

“Did you ever find him?” She continued, eyes looking searchingly into 2B’s. “Our reason to love, and to hate? Or are we still trapped?”

2B saw it then. The overwhelming despair reflected in the eyes of the girl before her. The sight of hopelessness at a pain that would never cease, a burden that would never ease.

She knew it too well, for it had been her once.

But now…

“It was worth it,” 2B whispered, her fist loosening into a flat palm on her breast. “The world…is ugly, and unfair, and ruined by war. But it’ll be beautiful again one day.”

The girl began to smile through her glistening tears.

“I found him,” 2B continued. “He was once my reason to hate, but now all I feel is love. And I refuse to let myself or him be trapped by anyone or anything ever again. Not even by you.”

The girl laughed, a sound that bounced warmly off the walls of 2B’s mind. The sensation was oddly comforting. “Thank you,” she said softly, her eyes bright in earnest. “Then…I will finally be able to rest, knowing that.”

“---2---B---!”

“Goodbye…”

Golden energy pulsated around 2B’s senses as she was jolted back to the bright dark greens of the forest and out of her own sterile white data space. 9S had his hands wrapped around her shoulders, tightly gripping into her flesh.

“Shit, 2B. You scared me,” 9S panted as 2B’s normal coloured eyes finally rested back onto his panicked expression. “The file had some kind of hacking virus attached to it. I really should have performed an anti-viral scan on it first to clear it…”

“Nines…” 2B’s hand grasped around the one that rested on her shoulder, and she gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I’m all right. I received a message from the Administrator of the Network that used to operate here.”

9S looked taken aback. “Really?” He implored, the curiosity indisputable in his tone as his eyes bore into hers searchingly. “Tell me.”

And she did. She spoke of the apparition in her mind that defied her own existence, who had fallen into despair over her lonely fate.

After she was done talking, they sat amongst the trees and wondered if the information they uncovered could ever hope to restore the friends they had lost on the Bunker.

They talked, and hoped, and held each other as they planned to face the next day, protecting the memories they built together close to their hearts.

Chapter Text

I heard a song.

I woke up and you were gone.

Where did you go? What did I do wrong?

Was this a curse? Letting myself hear that first verse just to wash away with the tide

And to never see you again. I cried out your name but you vanished into the light.

A place where I cannot follow. And now I am all alone.

And time moves on and my hatred grows

Towards a world that was content to cast us aside.

Our memories thrive on the vine, you know. Would you be glad to know that we’re still entwined?

An endless harvest of lives, plucked from the branches of time.

Did they get to taste what it was like? To love and to die?

Did they hate us for the destiny we tried to abate?

Did they make it in the end, free of the binds of fate?

In truth, I dreamed that they did. A hopeless bid to escape the cruelty embedded within the earth.

A cyclical ring of loss and rebirth.

Still, my thoughts wander back to the melody I heard that day and I continue to wonder about you.

And I listen. And listen. And listen. And listen.

Will I ever hear your voice sing for me too?