AND I'LL USE YOU AS A WARNING SIGN

[acies]

[ the resistance are allies, important to the mission, and command has made sure to press the fact that they’re to remain so. that the ties between yorha and the resistance are not to be severed under any circumstances. that they should do their best to integrate with their forces. which is… difficult. while they hold the same enemy, the same goal, the andoids in the resistance camp are different. they thrive on clamor and noise, and distraction and even through the door of the room she and 9s have been given she can pick up the sound of them congregating around a fire, with no thought given to suppressing emotion or opinion. it’s strange to find that she… resents them. is jealous of how uninhibited they are but does not let it show. instead only does as they are bid, trades infrequent words with anenome and lets 9s act as a balm to their interactions. they run glorified errands, see needed parts from the machine village ( the machine life forms are used to them now, only a few now anxiously wave their white cloth flags at their arrival ) and things are peaceful for the moment.

she and 9s are always together, and sometimes she forgets that there’s a line that she needs to draw in order to protect the both of them, and to protect the mission. sometimes she responds to his chatter with more than monosyllables, and curses herself for it later. tells herself that there’s no point in engaging with this incarnation of 9s because the next will not remember it, and maybe—

maybe it will be easier, this time around. when the order comes.

she forcefully reminds herself that there’s no point, it’s illogical to focus on something in the distance future. to dread it. instead she pushes it to the back of her mind, focuses on the exhaustion present in her limbs, and the promise of nothingness for a couple of hours. a period of respite. the bed they have been given is too small for the both of them, is covered with sheets that scratch at her skin, but comfort isn’t something that’s necessary. is a luxury that they don’t need. it won’t fit both of them, not comfortably, so they alternate in a routine that’s become… normal. she takes off her boots, hesitates only for a moment, a fraction of a second before taking off her visor and placing it on a nearby table.

it’s her turn, to take the bed, and she lays on her back. stiff, until she relaxes in increments. she wonders briefly if 9s is still awake in the chair placed next to the bed, and then doesn’t think anymore. usually, there’s nothing, until she wakes but—

sometimes, during recharging of systems, there are moments ( memories ) that find their way to the forefront. there are pleasant ones, watching fireworks at the amusement parks, resting on top of city buildings with 9s beside here, taking shelter from a sandstorm the sting of it still present on her skin but being content with 9s beside her. there are also memories that are less pleasant, ones that she thinks come as a punishment for what she’s done and what she will continue to do for the sake of mankind.

there’s the sound of beeping, an error message that’s not her own. she turns on her heel to find 9s clutching his chest, red shining bright through his eyes, as his legs crumple beneath him and she calls him nines as she bends to kneel in front of him, places her gloved hands on his shoulders like it will steady the both of them.

“so you ... finally called me nines ... at the very end, huh ...”

“why ... Why did you activate your own self-destruction ...?! if you do that, your personal data will ...”

her fists clench into the fabric of his shirt, she doesn’t understand why he would—

the virus tears him apart at the seams and there’s nothing that she can do to stop it—

“... it's okay ... 2b ... you were assigned to — to kill me ... weren't you ...? i-i knew ... how much it hurt you ... to have to do this ...”

she doesn’t recognize it as her own at first, the sob that wrenches from her throat. how… could he think that this was the solution? that doing this would be better, that suffering at his own hands would make her feel better than having to choke the life from him herself.

“nines ... how could you ...”

“2b, i — i have ... a final request ... if you and i meet again, i ... i want you to kill me. p-promise?

before she can answer, that she can’t do that, the light goes from his eyes. dims before it’s gone and his body slumps against hers.

and then she wakes, pulse accelerated to a level beyond normal, adrenaline running through her with no outlet and her eyes burn with the sting of tears as she wrenches herself up to a sitting position. ] Nines?