Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Yancy had no one on the outside. That’s probably why they chose him. In his ten years in prison he never got a single visitor, package, letter or call. Not that he could or did blame them.

He quickly learned to adapt to prison life after he had arrived, and to be honest he never minded prison itself too much. His guilt about what he had done on the other hand, was a different story. It ate him alive almost constantly. He still had nightmares, and could feel the blood on his hands even after he woke up.

He never intended on escaping. He had everything he needed in prison. He knew he didn’t deserve to be out there.

For ten long years, he was fairly satisfied. He would take back what he had done, if he could, but he didn’t hate prison. It was dull and boring, but he told himself he preferred it over the hustle of the real world.

Shortly after his ten year anniversary there, he started hearing whispers about a war brewing. A Third World War. Yancy brushed it off. Even if it was real, there was no one out there he cared about who could get hurt. And it’s not like anything in the prison would change. Nothing ever did.

It was all so sudden.

One night, Yancy lay down in his bunk. His last cellmates sentence had recently ended, so he had the cell to himself. He was right on the edge of sleep, blissfully oblivious.

He heard the metal of his cell door creak as it was opened. He sat up and saw two guards. They looked almost solemn…

Yancy grew nervous with the serious feeling in the air. He always behaved, and never caused trouble. Why would they need him?

One guard spoke up “ Daniel Jones, we need you to follow us”

Yancy cringed, hearing his birth name. He got up, his heart pounding in his ears. He knew he hadn’t done anything wrong recently. He tried to tell himself he was jumping to conclusions. That he was fine, but his gut told him otherwise.

He came over, trying not to show his fear. He had learned quickly that fear did nothing.

Yancy spoke, in his thick Brooklyn accent “ Can I ask what’s goin on…? I don’t think I did nothin wrong…”

He saw one of the guards get out a set of handcuffs. That’s when he knew he wasn’t jumping to conclusions. Something was truly wrong. He had done nothing to warrant any sort of forceful transfer.

It was stupid, he knew. There was no way it would work, but he felt like a cornered animal. He wasn’t thinking straight.

He grabbed the guard with the cuffs by the front of his shirt and swung him full force into the wall. He didn’t stop to look back, or assess the damage.

He heard other guard speak into a handheld transceiver “ Code green, I repeat, we have a code green”

Yancy cursed as he ran through the hall as fast as he could. He knew how to escape. He had known how since a year after he got here, but with all the guards aware of this would make escape near impossible.

He sprinted to the door he had found the code for, skidding about corners, and panting softly. He didn’t understand what was going on. He hadn’t caused any trouble. He felt his eyes grow hot but he pushed back the tears. Survive now, cry later.

As he rounded another corner, he ran directly into a group of guards. A few moved to get him, so Yancy ducked, and swiped his leg so one fell into another.

He started to run again, until he felt a sharp pain in his calf. He fell to the ground, and only had enough time to realize it was a tranquilizer before the world around him faded and went completely black.

He woke up with no knowledge about how long he was out. He could hear voices, and decided to try to observe before he did anything. He felt cold metal beneath him as he tried to assess the situation.

He heard a few unfamiliar voices mixed with the guards' voices.

“ Are you sure about this? With… enhancements, he might become even more dangerous…” he heard a guard say.

He intentionally twitched, to test his mobility. He found there were straps around his wrists, and ankles.

He heard an unfamiliar voice “ he is one of the only options we have. No one will notice he’s gone. And even if they did, he killed his own parents. We won’t have nearly as much of an uproar as we would.”

His breath caught in his throat. Nothing about that sentence was comforting to him. Whatever they were doing, they clearly didn’t want the public to know. That itself was worrisome.

But despite the obvious immediate danger he was in, he couldn’t help but feel most cut by the mention of his crime. Whatever they were doing, him being a monster was the justification. It didn’t matter how much he regretted it. The situation didn’t matter. That’s not what the public would be told. That’s not what the public was told when his face was all over the news.

All they knew was that he was a murder. All the family he had left knew was that he killed his own parents. No one had bothered to get his side of the story. None of his friends cared to reach out.

No one would notice. The truth in this statement terrified him. They could do whatever they wanted and no one would ever know.

“ but think about it.” Another voice said anxiously. “ you’re giving a murder some never seen before abilities.”

It felt like a punch in the gut. They were clearly planning something awful. But they didn’t seem to hesitate at the idea of hurting him. They only hesitated for their own well being.

And this ‘ability’ talk made him uneasy. Like every other boy, as a kid he fantasized about being a superhero, but this seemed much different.

The first unfamiliar voice spoke again “ we’re out of options. The public would literally riot, if these experiments were done with civilians and even most criminals. And this is imperative to the win for our country. We have to get the technique down before we start using it”

He grew more anxious and fearful. His body involuntarily trembled as he tried to understand and calm down. His mind was either going so fast he couldn’t process a thing, or he wasn’t thinking at all.

He heard the talking stop.

“ He’s awake,” said the unfamiliar voice.

Chapter Text

Yancy felt his heart stop. He felt like a wounded animal surrounded by vultures. There was nowhere to hide and no way to run. Completely trapped, with the hungry sharks circling.

He heard them come over. He was afraid to look. It’s not like keeping his eyes closed would fix anything, but part of him felt like he could deny the situation was happening if he didn’t see it. As long as he could pretend it was an awful dream he’d be fine. Maybe he could even convince them he was still asleep and they would leave him alone for a bit longer. But that would only be postponing… whatever they had in store for him…

He heard the unfamiliar voice speak again “ Mr. Jones, playing dead won’t serve you.” The unfamiliar man's voice was rather bland, almost bored. How could he be so bored when Yancy was so horrified..?

Yancy opened his eyes, and winced at the bright fluorescent lights that filled the room “ I don’t go by that name…” Yancy muttered weakly. He still felt groggy from the tranquilizer. He looked over at the unfamiliar man. He looked a little older, maybe in his late 40s. He looked rather tired, and not the type that a good night's rest could solve. He wore a lab coat over a blue dress shirt and slacks.

The man looked down at a clipboard “ I’m afraid I’m not going to call you by your street name, Mr. Jones”

Yancy cringed again at the name. He hated anything connected to his past. Including the name he had in the past. But it was easy to see that the man wasn’t going to do anything to help Yancy feel more comfortable.

The man continued “ My name is Xander Pitch-Markova. You will call me Doctor Pitch” he said, his voice still flat.

Yancy couldn’t help but notice no one seemed to care about his shaking, and fear. No one seemed to care to think about how confused and terrified. he was. It was crushing to think that while his whole world was being ripped apart, these people acted like it was just another day.

Yancy felt more anxiety bubble in his chest. They didn’t care. Not only did the people out there not care, these people didn’t care about any pain they put him through. His breath was shaky, and he had a hard time forming full sentences and thoughts in his head.

“ I don’t understand what's goin’ on. I haven't done anythin’ out of line for ten years! I’ve been good!” he finally managed out. He was one of the best behaved prisoners. Why was he being forced through this?

Doctor Pitch flipped through some papers “ Ten years of good behavior doesn’t bring your parents back now, does it?” he said blandly, as if the words weren’t vicious.

Yancy felt his body go cold at the statement. It felt like a punch to the gut, as he felt the air leave his lungs. “ T-that ain’t fair! I faced t-trial and got a life sentence, not this!”

Doctor Pitch finally looked at him “Yes, but things change. These experiments aren’t for fun, but out of necessity. Not that a murderer such as yourself would care, but this is for the greater good of the country.”

Yancy couldn’t stop his fearful shaking “ I-I ain’t some lab rat!” he shouted.

The room was quiet for a moment before the Doctor spoke again “ You are completely right. You’re not a lab rat. Lab rats are born in captivity, and have hardly done anything wrong, besides perhaps biting someone's finger. You have killed human beings. You have killed your own flesh and blood. I’d dare say morally speaking, this is better than any animal based testing.”

Yancy felt every insecurity and regret he had being prodded at and ripped open with no remorse. No one ever cared to ask why he did it all. Not that his reasoning made him any less guilty, but there were factors going into it. He knew he had done awful things, but he also knew he wasn’t an awful person.

He tried not to crack right then and there. He forced himself not to start sobbing like a child. It’s not like it would help him. He doubted they would feel any sort of pity for him, and if anything would just grow annoyed. He gathered himself just enough to talk again.

“ Youse all are talkn’ about abilities and experimentation and enhancements… What are youse all even doin to me..?” he asked wearily.

Doctor Pitch flipped through the pages “ All though I think telling you will only cause more panic, making these experiments more difficult, law requires I be transparent with the process and changes…” he said grudgingly.’

Yancy watched anxiously. At least he would know what’s going on… but the fact that all of this was apparently legal terrified him.

The doctor looked at him again for a long moment, assessing him. Yancy once again felt like prey. The doctor finally spoke again, “ I understand you've been in the penitentiary for ten years, so I wouldn’t expect you to know much about current events. But as always, technology is advancing. Making any possible war increasingly dangerous. The nuclear bombs of the second world war were extremely destructive and tragic, but almost primal. And risky. A nuclear war could have been caused, causing the destruction of the human race-”

Yancy grew impatient “ Yah, I took highschool history” he said irritably, trying to mask his fear. He didn’t understand where this was going

Dr. Pitch gave him a sharp look “ Anyhow,” he continued pointendly “As the world and technology advanced, it's been clear weapons like that won’t work, if we want any survivors. With another heavy chance of another world war, we need a new weapon.” He walked over to the desk and picked up a blueprint “ If we can perfect the balance between machine and man, then perhaps we have a decent chance. A bionic soldier,” he said.

Dr. Pitch held the blue prints so Yancy could see them.

Yancy felt sick.

It was a basic diagram of himself, no details, just his basic body shape. But the details started with where they were planning on putting the mechanics. Right at his left knee, a mechanical limb. Starting at his right arm, a mechanical limb, and finally, perhaps most horrifyingly, a decent chunk of his face, on the left side, including his eye, mechanical. But he had all these parts. The only way for them to put mechanics there was to-

His breathing became jagged and shallow, as his body entered full panic mode. His vision became blurry as ringing filled his ears. He could hear speaking, but nothing registered. Saying he had a pit in his stomach would be like calling a canyon a pothole. The world around him started to fade. He tried to force himself to stay awake. He couldn’t let the vultures know he was dying.

But his mind kept flashing the image of the diagram. All he could think about was the pure anguish he would be forced through, so that they could create a weapon. He tried to push the thought out so he could focus on staying awake and alert. He still heard people talking but he couldn't make out a single word. It was as if it was a whole different language.

His body finally gave up, despite his best efforts. His vision closed off, and his body went limp. Once again, the world faded away from him.

Chapter Text

This time he didn’t bother to play dead. With an understanding of the situation, closing his eyes felt dangerous. He knew full well he could do nothing to stop whatever was coming. But to stay alert almost made him feel better.

He opened his eyes, and quickly assessed as much as he could with his limited mobility. There were two guards stationed at the heavy duty door. Not any guards he had seen at the prison though. It made sense to him, because this… place didn’t seem to be physically connected to the prison.

His eyes darted about the room. It was unnaturally clean and white. The air was hard to breathe, because of the heavy smell of disinfectant and chemicals. He saw a couple other people in lab coats looking over some papers on an impersonalized desk.

His eyes finally landed on Doctor Pitch, who was on the other side of the room. He had a coffee mug sitting next to him as he typed on a computer that looked mounted onto the wall.

The metal felt cold beneath yancy, and he could feel his wrists getting rubbed raw beneath the straps. As he stared at Dr. Pitch, the physical pain faded, as pure hatred for and fear of the doctor took its place.

He knew neither emotion would get him anywhere. Not if they were raw. If he could possibly harness the anger and let the fear increase reflexes… there would have to be a window of opportunity for him to try anything though. Mindlessly yanking at the restraints would only put them on guard and wouldn’t get him anywhere.

But how long did he have? How much longer before they literally took off parts of him and added new ones?

The thought made him feel like vomiting. The heavy smell of chemicals with the unsavory hint of lemon that the disinfectants held wasn’t helping his nausea.

Doctor Pitch pressed one last key. He picked up the coffee mug, and took a swig of it, before setting it down and looking at Yancy once again.

The Doctor looked tired, like last time, but more irritated as well. He got up “ that set back our schedule. And showing up passed out had already heavily delayed things. We’re on a tight schedule, Mr. Jones” he said sharply.

Yancy kept any emotionally charged words back. He couldn’t have them more on guard than they were. He couldn’t let them know how he’d love to smash the doctor’s mug over his head…

“ Why can’t youse just operate on me while I’m passed out..? Youse ain’t gonna do it with me awake, right?” He tried to keep his voice steady, but it still wavered.

Dr Pitch picked up his clipboard “Since all of this is done legally, there’s technicalities and formalities that are required. One of which is the specific sedative they issued. In order for it to give a properly artificially induced sleep, the subject needs to be completely awake. You were hardly awake for 15 minutes last time, not allowing time for everything to be fully functioning.”

Yancy tried to shift, feeling uncomfortable on the hard metal, only to feel the pain in his wrists again. He tried not to think about what was going to happen. He tried not to think about how they saw him as less than a rat here.

He forced those unhelpful thoughts back.

The two other doctors were now watching him as well. He turned his head to look at them. There was a woman, maybe in her mid 30s. She had brown hair pulled into a bun, a grey button up and black pants.

The other looked the youngest of anyone in the room. Yancy was 28, but this Doctor looked just a little younger. He also seemed the most anxious. The young blond doctor was tapping his pen absently on his leg. When Yancy looked at him, the doctor looked down at some papers in his hand as if there were suddenly the most interesting things he had ever seen.

Yancy took a note of that. Either this kid had a conscience and was anxious about what they were going to do, or he simply was afraid of Yancy. Although Yancy hoped it was the former, either could be worked to his advantage.

Dr Pitch spoke again, snapping Yancy out of his thoughts even though his words weren’t directed at him.

“Weller, please make sure Jones stays awake for the next 20 minutes. I have to finalize the procedure paperwork” The Doctor said with tired irritability.

The young blond doctor ( Weller? Yancy figured it was his last name) nodded nervously. “Yessir” he said anxious.

Yancy tensed up, his throat tightening “ Youse mean it's gonna happen now?” He thought he would have at least a few days to come up with a way to get out, or even to just come to terms with it.

Doctor Pitch looked back at his computer “ In approximately 30 minutes” he said flatly.

Yancy felt his body go completely cold. No time. It was all so sudden. He was so scared. 30 more minutes with his limbs, and just 20 more minutes till they sedated him. He couldn’t even try to enjoy his last moments with his own limbs, because he was completely unable to move. He had no clue how functional the robotic limbs would be, and he was willing to bet they had no clue either. Why else would they be testing it? Now that he thought about it, did they expect him to fight for the country with these enhancements? The government who pushed him aside like this? Who deemed him less than a common lab rat?

It was all too much, too fast. He felt his world numb in an unpleasant way. He felt the table get tapped. Not harshly. He looked over and saw the young doctor “ Mr. Jones, I’m sorry, but you have to stay awake” he said softly, anxiety lacing his voice. Yancy could tell that the young blond didn’t want to do the operation. He clearly hated this.

Yancy took a shaky breath, and nodded. If he passed he could postpone this longer, but he had a feeling it would take more than postponing to get out. And he wasn’t sure what that more would be.

Yancy had a hard time staying in the present, and keeping his mind from drifting. The young doctor, out of desperation, started a conversation to keep him there and awake. Maybe even calm down the poor prisoner. The young doctor was told the basics of Daniel Jones. A dangerous man who killed his own parents. All sources, even Daniels own court statements, said that his parents were good people. They hadn’t done anything wrong.

Evidence showed that Daniel was truly a monster, but what the young doctor was seeing was simply a terrified man. A terrified human.

“ My name is Benjamin Weller” The young doctor said, trying to start a small conversation. “You don't have to call me Doctor Weller or anything. Benjamin or even just Ben is fine with me” he said

Yancy looked at him, surprised at the casual tone. It wasn’t like the others, who were acting like it was a normal day. It was like Benjamin was truly trying to start a conversation and comfort him.

Yancy took a breath “ I’m Yancy. I don’t like being called anything else..” he muttered.

Benjamin nodded, but wasn’t sure where to go with the conversation from there. The air was tense and still thick with the smell of the disinfectant. Yancy took a hold of the conversation.

“ Youse clearly don’t wanna be here, doing this.” He said bluntly.

Benjamin shifted uncomfortably “ I… Don’t” he said softly

“ So why are youse here? Why not quit?”

The young doctor looked around. He told himself it was just to keep him awake. He didn’t want to tell Yancy anything personal, but if it could keep him up…

“ I never had a lot growing up. My sister was always sick, so I decided when I was young I would go into making the world a better place. I decided to be a doctor. I’d never struggle financially like my parents and would help people like my sister. I graduated early from highschool and soon med school. I was offered a contract for this, but they never really told me everything about this. They told me experiments, yes, but they didn’t tell me it would be forceful. They didn't tell me it was going to be this big. I guess I should have realized how sketchy it was, but I didn’t, and now I’m under a contract.”

Yancy looked at the ceiling. “ Funny how a single moment can damage everything, hm…” Yancy said softly.

Benjamin looked at him for a moment, surprised by the sincerity of his statement. How regretful his tone was. “ Can I ask something personal?” he asked

Yancy looked back at him again “ I guess…”

The young doctor blurted it out “ Why did you do it? Why did you kill them? You don't seem like a…” he trailed off.

“ A monster?” Yancy finished

Benjamin nodded nervously, worried he had crossed a line.

Yancy looked at the ceiling again “ I don’t usually talk about it, but incase is the end of the line for me, someone might as well know the truth… I was honestly a good kid. And my parents were good parents. I got good grades, I had good friends, I was in the theater club, and life was good. But at around 16 I dabbled in some stuff I shouldn’t have. And things got bad fast. I got involved in illegal stuff, and substances. I didn't realize how truly dangerous all of it was until I was neck deep in all of it. My uh… new ‘friends’ got involved with another group of friends. A gang war. It went deeper than physical violence. They wanted to hurt each other on the deepest levels. They saw I had a good relationship with my parents” his voice cracked.

He took a moment to regain himself. Benjamin felt pity for him. The story only made Yancy more human to him. And that made doing what they were doing harder for Benjamin.

Yancy was soon able to continue “ I was 18. They threatened me. They put a gun to my head and told me if my parents weren't dead in a week, I’d be. I was young and stupid. Two lives for one is hardly a bargain. A life in jail wasn’t worth living anyways. My parents were good, and I had messed up. I regret it every day. Everyday I wish I would have lived that week to the best I could have. Everyday I wish I spent that week with them and just accepted the end. But I didn’t. My mind was skewed. I was scared. I went home that night, and I did it. I didn’t even consider going on the run. I immediately turned myself in. The guilt was too much, and it never faded…”

Benjamin watched him with wide eyes. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but it wasn’t that. He wasn't expecting anything truly laced with guilt. He didn’t think it would be so human. He had figured it was some fit of rage, something unhinged. Benjamin wasn’t sure what to say.

Dr. Pitch finished the paperwork and got up, grabbing a syringe. Yancy realized they had been talking the 20 minutes. Benjamin looked at Dr. Pitch, dreading the upcoming events.

Doctor Pitch flicked the syringe to get rid of any air bubbles. The female doctor came over, also ready for the procedure.

Yancy felt his heart practically stop.

Time was up.

Yancy opened his mouth to try to say something. He wasn’t even sure what he was going to say, but he felt the sharp needle stick into his neck. He gasped in pain, and his eyes watered. This was it. When he woke up he wouldn’t be fully him. And he never would be fully him again.
His mind went fuzzy before it went blank. His mind seemed to go to sleep before his body. His head flopped to the side, as he was unable to hold it straight anymore. The last thing he saw was Dr Pitch set down the syringe, before his body fell asleep as well.

He was dead in front of the vultures.

Chapter Text

He wasn’t sure how long he was out. He couldn’t even begin to guess. There were no dreams, and it didn’t feel like any normal sleep. He felt like he was floating in a black isolated void. He always thought floating would be nice, but this wasn’t. He felt detached. He wasn’t sure what he was detached from but he felt like he needed to get back. He needed to find ground, and stand. Not float.

He couldn’t even feel his body in this weird conscious yet sleeping state. He was just that. A conscious.

Occasionally he felt a harsh, sharp pain. It felt detached, but woven in every fiber of him. Everything felt so abstract, only causing his anxiety, fear and uncertainty to skyrocket. The first pains were just above his left knee. He couldn’t move. He couldn't scream. He was trapped in his head. But even that was foggy.

Next pain was in his right shoulder. The pain seemed to come in waves. One moment very real and excruciating, and the next, nonexistent and everything went abstract.

He almost preferred the pain. He knew he wasn’t dead yet when he felt it. He felt more real, more grounded when it was there.

The final waves of pain were in his face. They were more extreme than the rest. But Yancy was still completely trapped in his head. No escape from the pain. No way to move, especially since he couldn’t even really feel his body. Only the pain. The lack of ways to express his anguish only echoed in his mind. It was painful, and only being able to think about it, amplified it.

He felt like he was drowning in the pain and thoughts. But at least when drowning in the ocean, the pain will end soon enough. Not this though. There was no end. He wasn’t sure how long it had been, but it had been far too long.

Without any warning, he was dragged out of the void like state. His eyes immediately shot open and he started gasping for air, panicked. He could feel everything now.

He heard Benjamin “ Sir, his heart rate is faster than normal”

He could hear beeping. The beeping had been present the whole time he had been there, but it had never been noticeable. Now it pierced his skull. The fluorescent lights flickered, but it wasn’t just a nuisance anymore. It was overwhelming. The same smell of disinfectant filled the room, but this time it was accompanied by a wrenching metallic smell. The cold metal under his skin felt like millions of needles, poking at every piece of flesh they could.

“ I can see that,” Doctor Pitch said irritably. He headed to a metal stand with some tools on it. Yancy's eyes followed him, as he tried to stay calm and present. His world was spinning, but as his eyes followed Doctor Pitch, he saw his right arm. His new right arm.

His breath caught in his throat, and his hyperventilating stopped abruptly. He was too shocked to even breathe.

It was dark grey, almost black metal. It was sleek, and hardly reflected any light. It had grooves where the metal was sealed together, and a small panel. He flexed his new hand. It moved just like his old one. But he couldn’t feel it. It moved just like he wanted, but only his eyes registered that it moved.

Doctor Pitch picked up another needle. Yancy's eyes widened, like a terrified cornered animal. It was all too much. It was all too overwhelming, but he didn’t wanna go back to his previous abstract feeling state

“N-no!” Yancy shouted fearfully. Benjamin flinched at the shout, but Yancy didn’t care at this point. He was terrified. “N-no I don’t wanna go back!” He pleaded. He felt pathetic, but dignity was the least of his concerns.

Doctor Pitch wasn’t quite sure what he was talking about, but figured it had something to do with the previous serum. “ Mr. Jones” he said, tired annoyance laced in his voice “ It’s not the same sedative. This one simply takes the edge off of your adrenalin. Your body is in overdrive, and it could fry the machinery, if your body hasn’t accepted the forign limbs yet.” He said

Yancy was once again forced to acknowledge that his panic and horror didn't matter. Just the fact that it could mess up their work. If it could take his body off of ‘overdrive’ then maybe it could calm his senses too. But he didn’t want any sort of injection. He didn’t want even one more thing that didn’t belong, becoming a part of him. Being in him, altering him. Even if it could numb the growing pain.

“ I-I’ll calm myself down” he said quickly. “ Just g-give me a minute”

Doctor Pitch looked annoyed, but said “ Three minutes. Three minutes to get your vitals down.”

Yancy nodded “ y-yeah- t-thanks” he said shakily. The doctor went back to the computer, recording how the procedure went.

Yancy moved his left foot a little. The one he knew they were going to replace. He couldn’t feel a thing and was too scared to look.

He looked to Benjamin who was monitoring things like heart rate and blood pressure. Benjamin looked ueasy and even a little sick. He wasn’t sure how to force himself to calm down after all of this, but he knew he had to. One more out of place thing in his system and he felt like he’d lose his mind.

He steadied his breathing forcefully. He heard Benjamin mutter, just so Yancy could hear “ Heart rate is going down, good job, keep it going”

Yancy nodded, thankful for the words of encouragement and the confirmation that it was working. After three minutes, Doctor Pitch looked at his watch and got up. He checked over the vitals one more time, before walking over and observing Yancy. “ It looks like his body has mostly accepted the forign limbs. It will take a few days for us to know for sure, but for the time being, everything looks according to plan..”

The female doctor jotted down some notes, as Doctor Pitch spoke. Doctor Pitch waved over three unfamiliar guards, who came over quickly.

Yancy went tense, but he could easily assume he was just being transported. He knew they weren't done with him. The experimentation wasn’t complete, he could tell as much.

Doctor Pitch watched Yancy. “We need to test a few things, but we can’t do that with you fully restrained. For now you're being transported to a cell, as a 24 hour recovery period is required.” He looked at his clipboard and muttered “ Even though we’re already behind schedule…”

If he was being transported, maybe he could run? He’d have to be smart. A window of opportunity. Some way he knew could work, otherwise they would up security after foiling his escape. He felt the strap around his left, still human arm get undone. He looked over at the guard doing so, as the guard clipped a handcuff around his left wrist. The other guard undid the right strap. Yancy bent the arm, trying to understand how it worked. He still couldn’t feel a thing.

“ Sit up,” One of them said. Yancy was used to being ordered around. It never bothered him. But were they not even going to give him a second to recover? To look at the new part of him? He knew this wasn’t his window of opportunity and he had to go along. He sat up, and his mechanical arm was also cuffed, behind his back. He could see his legs now.

His prison pants leg on the left side was rolled up, revealing mechanics starting just above the joint. It was made of the same material as his arm. Dark non reflective metal. The area where mechanics met his body felt raw and painful. The straps around his ankles were undone as well. He moved so he was sitting on the edge of the table. Two of the guards grabbed his arms so that he wouldn’t make a run for it immediately after standing up.

Yancy took a breath and slid off the table to his feet. He felt pain jolt through his whole body, like lightning originating from where his leg ended. He gasped in pain and his knees buckled. The guards kept him upright. He saw Doctor Pitch scribbling down notes, and for a moment he felt animalistic rage. For a second he was about to rip himself away from the guards and bash the doctor's head into the wall. While Yancy stood here unable to function due to pain he just stood there, writing notes as if it was a highschool science fair exhibit. Not Yancys world collapsing.

But Yancy forced himself to calm down. That wouldn’t help. Maybe he could get rid of Doctor Pitch before anyone could stop him, but he was in pain, there was no visible way out of the building or even room by himself. And security would only be increased.

He was finally able to straighten himself up and stand back up. The two guards lead him out. The third guard scanned a clearance card. There were security doors every 30 feet or so that required a clearance card. Yancy took note of that. The area looked like an odd mix of a hospital and prison. Sterile and white with high security. He limped a bit as he was led along. He could hear the metal of his left foot clink on the floor as he walked. The sound made him cringe. He was led down a hall, and a guard opened a door to a room that looked similar to solitary back in prison. Yancy had always been well behaved, so he never went in himself, but he had seen them. He felt the cuffs get taken off, and he was nudged in.

This wasn’t his window. He could hardly walk. Running and fighting would be impossible. He limped over to the bed and sat down. The door was shut and he could see Doctor Pitch through the small window. He took a shaky breath and finally asked a question that had been weighing on his mind.

“ Youse said this was to create the perfect bionic soldier. For the war? What’s gonna happen when youses done with the experimentation? Am I gonna be forced to fight?”

Dr Pitch looked almost amused with that suggestion. Not quite, but it was clear he thought Yancy was stupid. “ You could never be trusted. War Zones are unsafe enough without soldiers having to worry about getting killed by someone on their own side in the middle of the night. No, you won’t be fighting. Once we’re done with the experimentation you will be executed.”

Chapter Text

Executed.

The word hit him like a truck. When he was originally put on trial the death penalty was considered. He remembered his constant fear, and anxiety. He remembered how his heart stopped whenever anyone walked into his cell. He was always terrified of whatever news they may bring. He remembered thinking about how pointless it was. He had killed his parents to save his own life, and he’d end up dead anyways.

He remembered the relief that flooded him when it was finally decided. A life sentence. Not a life cut short.

Of course a life in prison was hardly worth living but what came after scared him more.

He wasn’t sure what he preferred. The whole afterlife thing so many people believed in, or just plain… nothing. On one hand if there was an after life, he knew he was going straight to hell. That was scary to him. His guilt was hell enough.

But if there was nothing, then he could take no condolence that his parents still existed in some way. He knew they went to heaven. If there was one. His parents deserved a heaven.

But after he was formally sentenced he stopped thinking about it. He didn’t want to think about it. But now it was staring him in the face again. But this time it wasn’t just being considered. It was decided.

While drowning in his thoughts he had failed to notice Doctor Pitch had already left. Yancys fists clenched onto the thin knit sheet like blanket he was provided. He tried to stay calm. He couldn’t panic again. It didn’t help anything. But he had to take escape more seriously. Before he had wanted to play it safe, because he had thought there was no deadline. Now he knew he had an expiration date. Risks would have to be taken. He wondered how long they were planning. It couldn’t be too long. There's only so many experiments and tests they could do.

He could have days or weeks. But he couldn’t wait anymore. He couldn’t wait for a shot he knew he could make. Just a shot that might be possible.

He took a breath and snapped himself out of it. He let go of the useless blankets and took a good look at ‘his’ hand. He opened and closed the fist. He could hear the mechanics shifting and gliding. It was soft, but still there. It was just like moving a real hand. And It moved just like he wanted it too. But it couldn’t feel anything. If he was looking away he’d have no way of knowing if it was moving.

He ran his human hand along it, trying to become familiar with the new part. It was cold, and smooth, with small grooves, where it was welded together. He found a small panel on the inside of the forearm. He thought for a moment before trying to pry it open. It didn’t take him to realize it was screwed down. He sighed and looked at his foot. He pulled up his uniforms pant leg. He found it was the same as his arm, without the panel.

He took a breath. Now for the scariest part. The part he had been intentionally avoiding even thinking about. He brought his human hand to the left side of his face, where the metal was. It started just under his hairline. He traced where the metal met skin, It went around his eye, and followed the edge of his nose, before it curved and met where his ear started, and then went back to his hairline.

He closed his eyes and felt his eyelid. It was a thin metal sheet. Part of him was glad there was no mirror. He didn’t want to know how horrific he looked. He took his hand away and opened his eyes.

He tried to stand up again, but felt his knees buckle under him as the same lightning-like pain shot through. He cursed as he hit the ground, and winced as the metal of his arm made a loud ‘clang’ against the concrete floor.

He grunted in pain. The agony radiated from where the metal knee met his skin. He figured it just hurt the most because of the weight it had to support. He didn’t even realize he had been hyperventilating until a few minutes later. He forced his breathing to steady out. He heard the door open and he went tense. He sat up, and there was Benjamin, with food and a clipboard.

The door shut behind him. The young doctor was obviously uneasy. He knew now that Yancy wasn’t a monster, but he had just helped with the operation… He was sure Yancy had at least distaste for him.

Yancy used the bed to stand up, before sitting back down on the edge of the mattress, which only added about as much comfort as a gymnasium mat.

“ Youse ain’t gotta be all tense” he said. “ Even If I was a violent monster I’m in too much pain to do anythin’” he said honestly.

Benjamin nodded “ Alright… Well I just was sent in to bring you dinner and ask some questions”

Yancy nodded “ Figured.. Why don’t they just send Pitch in? Or that other lady? No offence but theys clearly got more experience.”

The young doctor nodded “ No, you're right. They do.. They sent me in because they didn’t want to do it” he said.

Yancy noticed Benjamin fidgeted. A lot. It was small, hardly noticeable things. Yancy wasn’t even sure if the young doctor even recognized it himself. He tapped his foot quietly, or ever so slightly swayed. Poor guy was obviously anxious. Yancy could see he was ordered around by the other doctors. And not just in a co-worker or even higher up worker situation.

“ Well to be honest I’d rather be questioned by youse than any of them.” Yancy said. Benjamin seemed to be the only person here with any sort of conscience or humanity.

“ Thanks- I think..” Benjamin said, handing him the food tray.

Yancy took it. It was hard to calculate how to hold an object without feeling. He accidentally held the tray too harshly with the mechanical arm, causing the thick metal of the tray to crack. He quickly set it down beside. “ Sorry- there's no feeling in that arm. I ain’t able to feel how tight I’m holden’ something..”

Benjamin looked at the crack in the tray that was built to be sturdy. Strength was one of the goals of the experimentation, but it was amazing to see it in person. It was also terrifying. Yancy wasn’t the only one who would undergo these experimentations. They had to perfect it. But It meant plenty of people with scary backgrounds would be given this strength. He could see Yancy wasn’t one to jump to violence… But other, more scary people with these abilities… the thought terrified him.

Benjamin jotted down what Yancy said. “ Have you noticed anything else? Mobility, pain, et cetera”

“ I think I can move fine.. But it hurts wherever the metal starts.. Especially my leg..”

The young scientist wrote all that down “ That all makes sense. And was expected… Honestly I’m surprised you're not in more pain… this is one of the very first times, but the last ones…” he trailed off “ Anyways, your leg has already been used more than your arm, and obviously your face doesn’t have to hold weight, so it makes sense that your leg hurts more”

Yancy frowned. He hadn't thought he had been first but he wondered what he had to say about the 'last ones'. “ Can I get some pain killer?” He asked Benjamin

Benjamin cringed a little “ Sorry, I can’t get you any. We have to monitor the pain levels.”

Yancy was annoyed with the answer, but knew it wasn’t the young doctor's decision. He grabbed the plastic spork and looked at the food. It wasn’t a five star meal but it was basically exactly what he had in prison for the past 10 years, so he didn’t care. He put the tray in his lap and cut into the side of the rubbery meat.

“ I guess I should have expected that…” Yancy muttered.

“ Sorry-” Benjamin said quickly.

Yancy shrugged “ It's fine. It ain’t youses decision. Youse got any more questions?”

Benjamin looked through his notes “ Just a rate your pain scale. 1-10”

“ Probably a 7. I think shock might be mufflin’ it though”

The young doctor circled the small 7 on his papers “ It's probable… Well, thank you. Just put the tray through the slot in the door when you’re finished… And sorry…” he said, this time referring to everything, not just the lack of painkillers.

Yancy looked at his colorless food. Part of him felt like him and the doctor had way more in common than anyone suspected. A rough spot led him to do things that he heavily regretted. Yancy couldn’t help but feel that in some other, not nearly as messed up world, the two would be fast friends. But the world wasn’t that nice. “ It’s fine. It ain’t youses decision” he said again.

Benjamin nodded and tapped on the door. A guard let him out and the door was closed again. And Yancy was left alone with his thoughts, and his own body that wasn’t even all his anymore.

He had been a mess of different experiences and contradictions for a long time. Now he just had the body to match.

Chapter Text

His 24 hour 'rest' period didn't consist of much. He tried to stand multiple times, with long periods of time in between. He didn't want to damage or push himself. He just needed to see how possible running was. He slept, but only a little. Letting his guard down truly scared him, but he knew he had to be rested if anything would work. He was brought two more meals and there was no more questioning.

He was more than used to boredom. It was his fear that bothered him. For ten years he had everything taken care of for him. Free clothes, free food, no bills.

He knew after he escaped, he couldn't even do what normal people did. He'd be an escaped convict with no connections and no way to blend in.

But he wasn't going to wait here to be slaughtered like cattle. After 15 or so hours, ( he wasn't sure, he had to guess by the meals) he found he could properly stand. It still radiated intense pain. But it was possible to push through. And possible was all he could hope for.

He wasn't sure how long it normally took an amputee to recover but he had no doubt this wasn't a natural healing process. He wondered how many people they had tested this on before him.

He wondered how many were truly awful. He had met people on death row with understandable stories. People who had done awful things but weren't awful.

And then he had met true monsters. People who scared him to his core. People who had hurt groups of people and showed no remorse. People who would only change the fact that they got caught.

But even then, he wasn't sure if anyone he had ever met deserved this. And if anyone that came before him deserved this. And anyone who came after.

Even if it did win any upcoming war, he wondered if it was a win anyone who knew could be proud of.

But that was the issue. No one knew. And even if he could say, no one would listen to the ramblings of a murderer.

He learned a long time ago, once you have blood on your hands, no one can see the skin underneath.

After another hour, give or take, he had convinced himself he could run. He would knock out a guard, grab the key card, and run for his life. He didn't know enough of the building to plan out anything else.

He decided to sleep for his last few hours alone. Attempting escape while tired and injured wouldn't help.

His thoughts kept spiraling in his head, making sleep near impossible.

What if he failed? Would they kill him immediately? Or if he did succeed, how long would he last on his own? Would he simply be a wanted criminal or would they send more than cops after him? And in the end, was it all worth it? He'd die some day.

Why fight a battle when you can only delay failure.

He didn't know. He couldn't think of a point. He didn't have enough information to even guess if he'd make it and if he'd survive.

But he boiled it down to pride. Death comes but he wouldn't let them bring it.

Eventually he drifted off on the pale blue mat like mattress. Later on he heard the metal of the door creak. The sound jolted his senses and he was wide awake.

He sat up, pretending to be a little groggy. He looked up at the guard, who had handcuffs in hand. " Get up," he said.

Now or never.

Yancy got up and came over. He moved so it looked like he was holding out his wrists, before kicking the guards shin with his metal foot. He could hear the guard's bone crack as the guard gasped in pain and fell to the ground. But Yancy didn't have time to show remorse. He quickly ripped the lanyard of the guard and ran.

He heard shouting of the guards as he scanned the card. It was taking too long to process. Only three seconds but three seconds could cost him everything. He hit the security door with his metal fist out of frustration. The door started to give out with just one hit, even before the three seconds. It finally opened due to the security card but he noted he could force it open if he needed.

Sirens started going off, and red lights flashed. He cursed and sprinted down the hall. Pain jolted through him with every foot fall but he didn't let it slow him down. He pushed past it. His heart was racing as he scanned the card at the next door. Three seconds that felt like three lifetimes passed and he ran again.

He could hear people on every side but not his section of the hallway.He had to hide and wait them out. He kicked a vent open as a decoy, then rushed to a door, and forced it open before going in. He quickly but quietly shut it, trying to catch his breath.

It was pitch black in the room, but to his shock, half his vision went to a green night vision. As much as he hated how altered he was, that could come in handy.

He heard guards in that section of the hall now, rushing back and forth. He'd see if he could wait it out. He glanced around the room and saw many cabinets. Each was labeled with different experiments. He wasn't sure what most of them ment but he also didn't care. Until his eyes landed on one cabinet with a small label. 'Bionic Soldier'.

He went over to it hesitantly. He wondered if there would be anything of use in the cabinets. Probably not but it was worth checking. He moved slowly so his metal foot didn't make too much noise.

He opened the drawer, careful to not make a sound. All he saw were names… he ran his human finger along the files, trying to find anything useful. He noticed everyone had a red stamp either saying 'executed' or 'deceased'. He kept looking through for anything helpful, not letting himself think about it.

Until he came across his old cellmate's name… the one who had been told his sentence had ended. His stomach churned and he felt sick. He took the file out, and saw pictures paperclipped to it.

He put a hand over his mouth to stop himself from vomiting. His surgery had been botched. He put back the file.

Whatever it takes to leave.

Whatever it takes, he would do.

He leaned on the wall, trying to stop the nausea. The guards couldn't be heard out in the hallway. He hoped they had bought the idea he went through the vents.

He headed over and put his ear to the door for a bit. He could hear no one. He finally opened the door, slipped out and rushed along. He had to get out. Whatever it takes.

He opened the door. Someone was there. He couldn't register a thing about them. He was in a frenzy. He tried to move around them but they moved in front of him. They were talking quickly but he didn't care.

He swiped them aside with his metal arm, but was shocked to hear the wall and bones crack. He had forgotten about the raw power in his arm. He looked over quickly.

And there was Benjamin. There was blood trickling from the back of his head. The wall was cracked. Benjamin looked at Yancy with a weak look of fear.

The same look of fear he saw on his parents' faces.

And just like that, the life left Benjamin's body. His head dropped, as if he had fallen asleep in class.

Benjamin was gone.

Chapter Text

Yancy felt horror fill him. Everything he had tried to distance himself from. Everything he tried not to be, was right there in front of him.

Monster.

Murderer.

Heartless.

He took a few steps back, his eyes swelling with tears. Even if it was just a random guard or worker, more blood on his hands would be painful. But this was so much worse.

Benjamin was the only one who showed him any humanity. The only one who even tried to understand.

Benjamin's body was slumped against the wall, as blood stained his white lab coat. Yancy wondered what he had been saying… He could only guess the young doctor was trying to reason with him…

And Yancy had told him not to be afraid. Yancy had told him he wasn't a violent monster.

Yet here he was.

Yancy realized he had no time. He couldn't morn. He had to run. He took a breath and shook his head. Benjamin wouldn't come back no matter how long he stared. He started to run again. There were no guards for a bit.

He had to assume they were searching other areas because they had already 'thoroughly searched' this area. He knew how fast they had to move, so it was hardly as thorough as it should be. He noticed the same thing back in jail whenever there was contraband or a runner.

He prayed to whatever might care, that he wouldn't run into anyone else. He clearly didn't know how strong his new limbs were, and he didn't want anyone else to die...

He was able to use the clearance card. He noticed many of the same architectural patterns as the prison. He knew he was close to an exit when the security doors were more frequent. He heard voices near, but not too close.

His heart pounded. He was so close… he couldn't fail… as he rushed along he noticed an occasional window. He knew he was no longer in the middle of the building, but the outer edge. A door had to be near.

He ran along the wall but lost his patience. Typically he wouldn't even attempt to break the glass. They were made to withstand everything. He'd seen prisoners throw heavy chairs at this type of glass and it just bounced off.

But he had to wonder if this new limb would have better luck. He skidded to a stop in front of a window. He took a breath and brought his fist back.

It was a risk, he knew. The crash would alert people, but he wasn't finding a door he could quietly go through. He could keep looking, and possibly be found, or break the glass and run for his life.

He made his choice, and punched the glass with his metal fist. It shattered, as he had hoped, but didn't expect. He felt an electric pain from his shoulder that caused him to let out a shaky gasp. He didn't allow himself a moment to recover. He could already hear people running closer and shouting.

He quickly climbed out of the window, primarily using his metal limbs to reduce his risk of getting cut.

He heard guns firing. He knew it was to kill. He had gone too far. He ran as fast as he could in a slight zigzag pattern, in an attempt to not make himself an easy target.

The area surrounding the facility was an empty field, but surrounding the field was a forest. On the border of the forest and field, there was a fence. He guessed it was about 7 feet tall.

Yancy had no clue how large the forest was. He could be hours away from civilization or minutes. He knew he couldn’t run forever. They would find him eventually if he didn’t get far enough fast enough. Now that he thought about it, they probably put a tracker on or in him just in case. He’d have to find that as soon as possible.

He heard a bullet hit metal, right to his side. He flinched hashly, before realizing it hit his mechanical arm. He didn’t have time to assess damage or even look at it. He would have to wait till he was in a space where he could hide and could breath.

He saw a parking lot near the edge of the field. He knew no one would have left their keys in the cars and he didn’t have time to search. He had hotwired a few cars when he was in the gang, and he had been pretty quick at it too. He just had to hope he remembered.

He ran to the parking lot, trying to tune out the shouting, the bullets, the sirens. He ran to the fence without slowing down, before jumping, and climbing up the rest of the fence. One at the top he jumped to the ground. He was met with an earth shattering pain from where his bionic leg met his skin. It slowed him down for a second before he forced himself to get over it. There wasn’t time. He could feel the pain later. He could remember the fresh blood on his hands later. But right now there was no time.

He made it to a small blue car. He knew how to pick most locks, but there wasn’t enough time to even try. He thrust his metal elbow through the window, and it gave way as if it were a brittle sheet of ice. The arm still seemed fully functioning, and he couldn’t even see any damage in the split second.

He reached in and unlocked the door. He didn’t bother to look back at the people running over. It would only distract him. It was a miracle that he was this far, but a single distraction could stop him. He pried off the panel covering the wires quickly and got started.

He didn’t let himself think about it, sticking to muscle memory. Around 20 seconds later he heard the engine come to life.

Relief filled his chest, and even a little hope accompanied it. He wasn’t even sure if he had expected or dared to hope he would have made it this far. He clambered in and quickly pulled out, before stepping on the gas. He shot off down the small road leading away from the isolated facility.

Doctor Pitch stood in a room with monitors. He stood with his hands on the desk staring at the cameras facing the road. He had been trying to find Daniel Jones through them, but for some reason, he couldn’t find him till he got to the exterior. None of the security cameras could seem to catch a single glimpse of him. Even the tracker that they had in the mechanical arm had seemed to go offline. When he was informed that the prisoner had made it outside, he checked the cameras and sure enough, there he was, running through the field.

His fists clenched against the desk as he stared at the car disappearing into the forest. That was tens of thousands of dollars, and far too many government secrets escaping. How he managed to not show up on the cameras, and how his tracker wasn’t showing up was unexplainable to him. He heard the radio buzz, and a guard speak “ He’s out of our sights- what’s the read on the trac-”

Pitch hit the transceiver button “ There is no read. The tracker is offline.”

There was silence. Everyone knew the risks of one of them escaping. Not only could the public find out, but the prisoner was physically dangerous, and there was even possibilities of the murderer selling the secrets to enemies for refuge. They had to get him back, no matter the cost.

And Doctor Xander Pitch-Markova was ready to pay whatever cost it took.

Chapter Text

A man sat at a three screen monitor in a backroom of his home. He took a deep breath as he watched from the cameras he had hacked his way into. He flexed his hands, trying to get the cramping to go away. He hadn’t expected the last 20 or so minutes to happen. He had always hoped someone would make it far enough, but part of him had thought it was never going to happen.

It was almost invigorating, he couldn’t lie. He had been lying low for so long, that the moment of adrenaline and remote action excited him. But that wasn't the point. This wasn’t an adrenaline junkie's fix.

He got up and grabbed his jacket, and pulled on his boots. He headed out the door swiftly, grabbing a supply bag. The action was nowhere near over.

Yancy had the pedal to the floor, not allowing himself to lose even a second. He knew they’d be after him, and he had to get as far as possible as fast as possible. The sun was setting, but with his new mechanical eye, it wouldn’t slow him down. If anything, it would only give him an advantage.

The forest stretched on for about 20 minutes, before the trees thinned out. Not too far out, he could see civilization. It looked so normal. The sun was setting, behind him was a normal looking forest, ahead were buildings and houses with perfectly normal people. There were only faint wisps of clouds painting the sky which was gradually turning a beautiful orange.

It all felt so wrong. In the movies he had seen when he was younger, things like his situation were met with either the pitch black of midnight or a huge thunderstorm. It was accompanied by heart pumping action music, and dramatic lighting and effects.

But here he was, his world crashing as the world flaunted its beauty.

He snapped back to important matters. He couldn’t be in a densely populated area. Or a populated area at all. He was too noticeable.

He slowed down, knowing getting pulled over wouldn't help. He tried to steady his breathing. Trees were scattered about, but he wanted to find a thicker area to find refuge. He turned down a road so he wasn't heading straight into the town.

He wasn't sure where he was. The prison was in Texas, so he could only guess he was in or near Texas still. Not that it mattered. He had no connections anywhere, so lone survival was his only option no matter where he was. His hands gripped on the steering wheel as he thought about all of his ‘options’ he had ever had. His life or theirs. To run or die. To think or act. While others were deciding colleges, houses, jobs, lovers, he was deciding if he should live.

He heard the steering wheel creak and crack under the grip of his metal hand. He quickly loosened his grip before he could break it. He was tired of breaking things.

Not too far off he could see the trees thicken again, and a pond even closer. He went through his options, but none of them were too good.

He could keep driving, to create more distance between him and the facility, but risk being seen by any passing car, and risk running off of low energy and slipping up.

He could pull over and pass out, but no doubt the cops were looking for this car, and his guard would be down.

His last option was probably his best bet, he thought. He could ditch the car in the pond, and head into the forest to set up camp. He could search for a tracker, and rest deeper in the safety of the trees. In the morning he could create distance on foot. The roads were too risky anyways.

He slowed down and pulled off to the side of the road. His sight was gradually shifting to a green night vision as the sun went lower and lower behind the trees and horizon. He kept the car running but put it in park. He got out and did a quick search of the car. He found a small basic first aid kit, but that was the only thing besides some trash and jumper cables. He took the kit out and set it in the grass.

He moved to the side of the pond and found a large rock, about 10 or so pounds. He picked it up, feeling lopsided. While he felt the normal strains of the rock scraping against his fingers and the slight pains of an awkward grip on an awkward object on his left hand and fingers, he felt nothing on his right. He knew this would be the new normal. He just hoped he could adjust. He carried it over to the car. He took off the break and took a breath, before tossing the rock onto the gas and quickly stepping away.

The car shot forward, into the murky pond before sinking. After a moment, it had completely disappeared under the water. Without another moment, he picked up the first aid kit before he took a deep breath, and headed towards the thickening trees in a gentle jog. He didn't want to use more energy than necessary, but he knew he couldn’t stand around. His footfalls still sent pain through his body, and the adrenaline was wearing off. Before long he couldn’t see the road beyond the trees and he allowed himself to walk. Eventually he convinced himself he was far enough into the forest to sit down and rest. He sat down with a soft groan. He was tired, hungry and in agony.

Crickets could be heard as wind rustled through the trees. The stars and moon were bright and luminous, just above the leaves. The grass was lush and healthy under him, and the air wasn’t even cold. He opened the first aid kit and dug through for any pain meds. He found a few tablets of pain killer. He didn’t have water, so he took them dry, leaving an uncomfortable lump in his throat

He ran his human hand over his skin, trying to find any bumps or scabs that could show a tracker under his skin. It was frustrating to him, because he knew if there was one, it could be anywhere. Deep in the mechanics, deep in his body, on the surface of his skin, but anywhere. Or there could even be none, and he could panic, searching everything, only to find nothing. It could even be under that stupid pannel he needed a screw driver to get under.

He searched a bit more before running his hand along his metal arm to see if he could find anything obvious. He found a dent, and twisted himself to look at it. His eyes widened as he realized it was where the bullet hit. All it left was a tiny dent. He supposed it made sense since he was a prototype for literal war, but it was still insane to him.

He took a moment to look around. There were no signs of people being close… He realized if he did have a tracker, they would have found him by now. They had more resources. He couldn’t outrun them if they knew where he was. He relaxed a bit and lay down in the grass.

The stars sparkled and shone through the leaves as he stared. He hadn’t been able to just admire the sky in years, he realized. In the prison he had yard time, but it was always day, and it wasn't as if he stared at the sky during that time.

Fresh air, free of the artificial smells of disinfectants, cleaners, and mystery meat filled his lungs. He closed his eyes, trying to keep his mind clear.

No matter how much he tried to avoid it all, one thought kept chasing his conscience.

Benjamin.

He had always thought he was a good person who had done bad things. He had been hit with heavy circumstances and big mistakes. But he was inherently good.

Now he was forced to rethink this train of thought. He had told himself for years that if he could do it all over again, he would have chosen his own death over his parents.

But once again, he had sacrificed a good person for his own survival. And once again he was forced to face the fact that he didn’t deserve to be here, alive, while good people were gone from his own actions.

He tried to shut his mind up so he could get some rest when he heard-

“ Hey- Yancy”

He shot up quickly, his heart skipping a beat.

His eyes landed on a man in neutral colors, with oil and dirt smudges. He wore a light tan polyester shirt, darker tan military grade combat boots, a heavy duty brownish green denim jacket, and dark brown pants. The man held an industrial flashlight on dim.

Yancy had no clue who this man was, or how he knew his name. He scooted back and scrambled to his feet. He noticed a bag on the man's back.

“ W-What do youse want-” Yancy said quickly

“ Whoa there buddy, calm down. I want to help you.” The man said, keeping his distance.

Yancy took a step back “ What's in the bag?” He demanded

The man set the bag on the ground and stepped away from it “ I’ve just got some tools. A screwdriver, pliers, a wrench, stuff like that. I also got some oreos and a capri sun.”

“ wh.. Why’d you set it down?”

“ I know you don’t trust me right now, which is understandable. So you can look through it yourself, to assure yourself that I didn’t bring any weapons. Also you can have the snacks.”

Yancy hesitated as he stared at the man, before noticing text and boxes in his vision. One box was around the man's eyes as if he were a diagram. Text over the box said ‘Steady Eye Contact’. Two more boxes were around the man's hands, labeling them with ‘Open Palms’. One more was at his knees. ‘Uncrossed limbs’.

He saw text across his vision in the middle. ‘Character: Trustworthy’

The text surprised him, but he could see the point it had. He just hoped it was right. He hesitantly made his way to the bag and opened it. There was no bomb, like he had half expected. There was nothing outside of what he said. Just tools, a sleeve of Oreos, and a juice pouch. He felt his mouth water a bit as he pulled it out, and checked for any signs of tampering.

The packages were secure and intact. He had so many questions for the man. How did he know his name? How did he find him? What else did he know? He brought tools, and wasn't suprised at seeing him. He clearly knew quite a bit. Did he have any sort of plans or was it just a care package of sorts? Why would he even want to help him? And what about the text in his vision? It clearly saw body language but could the man be just that experienced of a liar?

He looked at the man, and decided to start with simply asking “ What’s youses name..?”

The man gave a friendly smile “ Illinois, at your service”

Chapter Text

Yancy poked the juice pouch with the plastic straw once he was sure it was safe " So… why did youse bring all this..?"

" Well, I'm sure you're hungry, and I didn't know if you needed repairs or anything"

" Youse knew about all the… cyborg stuff?"

" I did"

Yancy was even more confused. How did he know? Surely everyone who knew was working for them. Maybe it was a trick? He, for some reason, doubted it.

"Bu-"

Illinois held a hand up and switched off his light. He had clearly heard something in the forest. Yancy heard it too.

People.

Illinois grabbed the bag and the first aid kit. He rushed to a thicker clump of trees and bushes, waving Yancy along. Yancy followed quickly, and ducked behind a bush where the new man was hiding as well. Illinois could see perfectly through the darkness, in between the thick branches of the bush. But he could tell by Illinois squinting, it was near pitch dark out.

He heard the people talking, and could see their bottom halves without exposing the hiding spot. They were heavily armed. They had thick armor like gear, along with weapons in holsters and in hand.

It wasn’t difficult to conclude they were there for him. He had no doubts they would shoot on sight.

There was a radio beep, and a man spoke “ Squad A, any signs?”

Another beep, and a static voice “No, Sergeant”

The man spoke into a radio again “Squad B, any signs?”

“ No, Sergeant”

This went on, with six more squads. Finally

“Doctor Pitch, anything on the tracker?”

Yancy went stiff. So there was a tracker. Then how had they not found him? His chest rose and fell quicker, as he began to panic again. Maybe it was a malfunction? But even then, it could start working at any time.

“No. It’s still offline. I can’t find anything" Pitches voice snapped through the radio. Yancy bit his own lip harshly, hearing Pitches aggressive tone. His human hand, holding the juice pouch was shaking. How was it offline anyways?

He looked over at Illinois anxiously, only to see Illinois look almost… smug. Yancy knew he couldn’t talk. The smallest sound could result in gunfire, but he had so many questions ricocheting in him. He knew so little when everyone seemed to know everything.

He heard the man speak again. “ Alright, let’s keep moving. Quick”

He heard them move on, and saw their boots disappear into the woods. The two stayed down for a while longer, before Illinois got up “ We should probably get going now.”

Yancy stood up " What do youse know abo-" he started wearily, but Illinois cut him off.

" A lot. I know a lot. Let's get going. I can explain a bit while we're in the car" he said, grabbing Yancy's metal wrist and tugging him along.

" And youse ain't gonna just turn me in..?"

" Buddy, I've risked my life way too many times for you already, to just turn around and hand you to them. If that was the case I would have just waved them over. I told you before, I just want to help you. Now move faster, I still need to get the tracker out"

Yancy's eyebrows furrowed as they moved quickly yet carefully between the trees. Even though Yancy could see better, Illinois took the lead, still dragging him by his metal wrist. Yancy held the Capri Sun in his other hand, careful not to spill any. He hadn’t even gotten a sip.

“ So there’s been… a tracker in me… all along? How did… they not find it?” He had to speak between pants for air. He hadn’t even gotten to recover since his last little run.

Illinois grinned a little as they reached a car, at the edge of some trees “ It took quite a bit of work honestly. I’m really proud, get in the car and I’ll explain”

Yancy's eyes darted about. He could tell the man was probably trustworthy. Not only body language, but he couldn’t come up with how he could be working with the facility… Yancy couldn’t help but be wary.

The man got in the car “ Chop chop, Yance. The longer we sit here, the more likely they’ll find us” he said in almost a playful and light tone. It was as if he saw this as a big game of tag.

Yancy got in the car. “ Alright now tell me about the tracker” He said quickly as Illinois started the car. He didn’t even bother to get after the man for the shortened version of his name. He needed answers.

Illinois headed down the road and Yancy ducked down a bit so he couldn’t be spotted

“ For sure.” Said Illinois “So your tracker was coded at a specific… frequency. This frequency is what their computers pick up. So long story short, I remotely shifted the frequency so I could track it, and they can’t. At least for now. They could catch on and search through frequencies. But even then, it’d be dumb luck on their part if they found it before I get it out. Plus, they said it was offline. They think it's deactivated or something stupid like that.”

Yancy sipped at his juice, trying to comprehend what was going on. He finally spoke again “How’d youse do all that..? How’d youse know about that place at all..?”

“ I had some connections in the past.” He said vaguely. Yancy didn’t like the sound of that, much. Before he could ask a question, Illinois looked over and chuckled a bit “ You enjoying that juice, kid?”

Yancy looked down at the withered and flat juice pouch in his hand, and then looked at him with a glare, almost forgetting about the vague and worrying statement just made, “ I ain’t no kid.”

“ Hey now, no need for that. I know you’re not a kid. Here, I take it back." Illinois said, with an almost amused tone.

" I feel like youse ain't takin' me seriously" he said. He hated how as he said this, he was slumped in his seat to not be seen, with an empty juice pouch in his hand. He could see why someone wouldn't take him seriously.

" Don't worry, Yance. I'm a casual person but I'm taking you completely seriously. I just don't thing me acting all serious would help you after what you've gone through tonight"

He felt his throat go dry, as he thought about Benjamin. Did he know?

" How much do youse know about tonight anyways? And how do youse know my name?"

Illinois turned down a forested road " I hacked looked through your files and records. In one of the court transcripts you asked to be called Yancy. And I kept finding that in all your recorded interactions, up to date. I figured I'd respect that. As for the escape, I know everything. I was hacking the camera feed. So I was watching everything, while they couldn't see a thing"

Yancy was stiff " So youse saw…"

Illinois nodded " I saw what happened with that doctor. But I also saw your face. You obviously felt awful about it. I was kinda worried you'd just stop running all together. It's not like it happened from some… thirst for blood. It was a simple fight or flight reflex. He stopped your flight. Impulse and reflexes led you to fight. It's why I didn't want to intercept your path. I had to find you after you calmed down a little"

Yancy looked away. It was good to know the man didn't think he was a monster, at least.

" And youse saw the court records?"

"The court records, yah. But I feel the blank and blurry areas of the situation and files say a lot. Look, Yance, I get what you're trying to say. I know they probably convinced you that you deserved this so they felt less guilt. You clearly got some moral compass, so it was probably already upsetting you"

Illinois glanced at him, before looking at the road again " Good and Bad can be blurry, but I think you're not some monster on a rampage. And I'm not scared. I'm aware of what I'm getting into, and I'm still running full force, got it? I'm gonna help you, so chill out, buddy. I'm not gonna just ditch you because of things you did in tight situations"

Yancy looked to the side " Got it…" He said. No one had been so… calm about it all, but so blunt. He could tell he wasn't sugar coating. He was saying what he ment, and that comforted Yancy. Straight honest answers.

Illinois talked to Yancy so… normally. Yancy hadn’t been treated normally in so long. Either they were scared of him, or looked down on him.

Illinois soon parked at a small, but nice looking cabin, only five or so minutes into the forested area. He got out and grabbed his supply bag. He opened it up, and tossed Yancy the sleeve of oreos, which he fumbled to catch, but dropped. He huffed as he bent down, and grabbed it, before getting out of the car.

“ Alright bud, let's get that tracker out” Illinois said, before flashing a smile.

It was an easy smile, as if he wasn’t on the run from the government, housing a weapon and a fugitive. As if the two had been friends their whole life.

Yancy wasn’t sure what to expect at this point, but for once, he wasn’t expecting something bad.

Chapter Text

The air was filled with the sounds of crickets, and the sound of wind rushing through the trees.

Illinois insisted on helping Yancy walk to a tool shed. Yancy was hesitant, but Illinois didn't allow him a moment to argue, before putting the fugitive's arm around his neck so he could be used as a crutch. He held the sleeve of cookies in his hand. He still felt childish, but he hadn't gotten decent junk food in years.

“It’s dangerous to walk on it for too long, bud. You used it a lot today… Strain could cause your leg to get infected, or just flat out reject the mechanics.”

Yancy frowned as he walked alongside Illinois. It was more of a limp, since he didn’t feel a need to fake strength anymore. “ How do youse know so much..?”

“ It’s common sense,” he said, unlocking the shed door, leading to a slightly messy workshop area. He had car parts, wires, and tools scattered about. He led Yancy to a workbench

“ Even with a completely normal amputation, when environments are completely sterile and controlled, it takes weeks for it to fully heal. In the best conditions and circumstances. It’s been barely twenty four hours, and I’m sure they had to attach stuff to your nervous system. Which means like any medical addition, it could easily be rejected. Now sit down, please”

Yancy sighed. He set the Oreos on the workbench, before pulling himself up carefully, and sat down. He started to feel the pain come back in dull waves. He figured since he was starting to feel safe, adrenalin was wearing off.

He felt like he should be a little scared or worried, sitting on a table with tools. He felt like some sort of panicked response was appropriate, but he felt oddly safe. Of course, he wasn’t strapped down this time, but it might have also been the casual air to things.

The men's casual tone and language wasn’t remotely close to threatening. The shed looked fairly standard. Yancy remembered his dad had a part of the garage that looked similar. He cringed a bit at the memory. It all looked so normal…

He watched Illinois get a screwdriver and pliers, and spoke again " So, youse like to tinker and stuff?"

" a bit, yah. I'm a mechanic. Can you put your leg up on the table? Oh don't give me that look, you know which one."

Yancy puffed out his cheeks a bit, and sat sideways so his mechanical leg was on the table.

Illinois got started, finding a small, nearly invisible, panel on his calf. He put the flathead tip in the groove and started to pry it off.

Yancy bit his lip anxiously " Youse ain't gonna damage it or anythin… right?" He asked

" Have a little faith, buddy. I'm no stranger to mechanics. I know my way around anything with metal, wires and gears." he said, as the flat tip successfully caught enough of the metal for Illinois to use leverage to push it up.

The air smelt of gasoline, and dust, Yancy noticed. It wasn't the smell of pies, cookies, or flowers, of course, but it still felt personal. Comforting.

Yancy watched him and wondered how he knew exactly where to find the panel. But he could hack into court files, cameras, and even the tracker itself. Him having access to the blueprints wasn't unbelievable. He tore open the bag of oreos, but with little control of his right hand, it ripped too far, and more cookies then he was willing to part with, fell on the floor.

It was just cookies, but it frustrated him. He couldn't even do simple tasks.

Illinois tsked " Don't worry too much about it. I got more inside"

Yancy started irritably " It ain't about the snacks. It's abou-"

" Control," Illinois said with a knowing smile, as he popped off the panel. Yancy blinked.

" You haven't had control in so long" he continued as he worked with the pliers "you've been stuck on a set schedule. Set meals. Every choice made for you. The one nice thing you got, you feel it's ruined. I get it. I'm not belittling you. We'll get you more good things, and you'll learn to understand these additions"

Yancy looked away. The mechanic read him like a book. He saw Yancy. He wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing.

“Finished” Illinois said. Yancy looked over and saw a small disk-like object in the pliers. Illinois dropped it on the floor.

“ Alright, Yancy. Have fun.”

“ huh..?”

“ I want you to destroy it. Consider it ceremonial. That's your last shackle, right there. The last chain, holding you to your imprisonment. Use anything you want in here. I got hammers, wrenches, and even a welding torch, if you’re up to it. You’re the boss of you now. Look at this as your promotion.”

Yancy swung his legs around so he was sitting on the edge, his legs dangling off the workbench. He stared at the chip “ That's a big metaphor…”

“ I know” Illinois said “ Take control, Yancy. It's big, but it's yours.”

“ I never wanted to be free… Before all of this” The fugitive said “ I got used to prison life. Cause I knew I deserved it. And even know I have to wonder if I des-”

“ Even if you were a true, cold blooded, malicious murderer, I still don’t think all this would be deserved. What they did to you was evil. Maybe prison was warranted, but all this? I wouldn’t encourage a jailbreak if everything was humane. Back in the day, even people with the death penalty were given more dignity and respect then you’ve been given. You do not deserve to be altered against your will. You do not deserve any of that.”

Yancy stared at the chip, thinking. He finally slid off of the table. He limped a little as he went to the chip. Illinois leaned on the wall and watched. “ You deserve human decency. If they didn’t give it, then you should take it”

The air felt heavy in Yancy's lungs “ Am I even human anymore?”

“ I’d say so. Just as human as the thousands of people who have lost limbs before you. From soldiers with prosthetics, to the pirates with peg legs, way back when. You just got cooler replacements.”

A little air passed through Yancy’s nose, in almost a laugh at Illinois’ last joke-like statement. And to be honest, the reasoning made sense, and made him feel a little better.

Illinois grinned at the almost-laugh. It was good to see him show a little comfort. A little vulnerability.

Yancy took a breath, and set his metal foot on top of the tracking chip, not yet pressing. Hesitating. He looked at the mechanic nervously. Illinois had a small smile on his face, as he gave him an encouraging nod.

No more hesitation. He put his weight on the foot, and heard the tracker crack easily. It was a fragile object, but the meanings were not. He took his metal foot off and stared at the cracked pieces. He felt a relief fill him. Free…

He looked to Illinois for approval. The man smiled, and gave it.

“ I’m proud of you. It’s a big step, towards even bigger ones.” he said sincerely as picked up the panel.

Yancy felt a pride surge in his chest as he went and sat back on the workbench. He put up his leg and Illinois got back to fitting the panel back on. He wondered why Illinois was so kind, and was going through so much to help him. Why he was so sincere, and personal. What was his motive? He knew the man only meant good, at this point, but he still felt curiocity claw at him. He grabbed an Oreo that had been spared from the fate of a dusty floor, and took a bite as he watched.

With a tiny pop, the metal panel was in place again. Illinois stood up straight, and kicked the shards of the tracker aside. “ Alright, bud. Let's get you inside to get some rest. We can focus on everything else tomorrow.”

Two hours. Daniel Jones had been gone for two hours. With the car, he could already be cities away.

Doctor Pitch paced his office. Everything irritated him. Every sound felt like scraping on the inside of his skull.

Doctor Weller was found dead, no doubt killed by the prisoner. He wasn’t looking forward to the paperwork, and contacting the young doctor's family. Especially when there were more important, and time sensitive issues at hand.

Everything was on the line. That rat had endangered all he had worked towards. Everything he had built. He put his hands on his desk, and tapped his fingers on the metal surface as he stared at the computer screen. He was losing hope that they could find the tracker.

But that raised questions. When did it go offline? And how? Daniel didn’t have the things required to even get into it, let alone disable it. So the prisoner couldn’t have done it…

He had outside help, Pitch realized. Despite every resource saying he had no one, someone helped him. He slammed his fist onto his desk harshly, cursing. Some pens jolted, and rolled off of the surface.

He didn’t know who it was, but he would find out, and they would not go unscathed.

Chapter Text

It took Illinois a bit to get his guest to even try to sleep, but eventually Yancy lay down.

Illinois understood he was shaken. Not everyone enjoyed that rush of energy that came with new and dangerous situations.

He left the guest room, and headed into his own room. He opened a door to what was meant to be a closet, but instead, his three monitors, and other technical equipment sat about.

The security camera's view of the facility was shown, flicking between areas. Illinois sat down, and flicked through a few. He had no audio, but he didn't need it to know what was going on.

It was chaos. Doctors rushed to make sure nothing was stolen or tampered with. Guards stationed at damaged doors, and the window. Other unfortunate prisoners in a panic from the alarms and shouting. The young doctor carried out on a stretcher, covered in a blanket.

He shifted through, looking for anything alarming. He knew he should be sleeping. He hadn't slept in a bit, but in his defense, this whole adventure wasn't expected. Hoped for, but nothing else.

He found he couldn't even try to sleep these days. He'd been stuck in that cabin for way too long, and had grown restless. He had filled every moment with projects. Many didn't even matter. Reorganizing, hacking pointless things, building objects that would never get used.

All this time, he had been waiting. Waiting for someone, like Yancy, to finally have the sheer willpower to even try to run. Now that the waiting was over, he didn't have to try to convince himself he was being useful while hacking some company's program. Now he was actually useful. No more waiting. It didn't make sleep any easier.

Yancy was used to nightmares. More often than not, he dreamt about his parents. No matter how pleasant, or different these dreams started, they all ended the same.

Him standing in the middle of the living room, covered in blood. He never told people about it, back at the prison. He hadn't wanted them to think he was weak.

It wasn't all that bad, once he stopped hoping it would stop. He didn't wake up disappointed anymore. Just sad.

Tonight, his dream was back at the facility. As one does in dreams, he didn't question it.

He was back on that sorry excuse for a mattress, watching the door. He was waiting for something. For what, he couldn't remember. He felt like it had something to do with the heavy metal door.

He sat there, watching the door for what felt like hours. Until finally the door clicked, and opened.

There stood Benjamin, clipboard in hand, and his clean white lab coat. Yancy felt surprise upon seeing him. He couldn't remember why, but he felt like Benjamin standing there shouldn't be possible. Benjamin stepped in and the door closed behind him.

The young doctor tapped his pen on the clipboard in a small fidget. He smiled at him, before saying " I was just sent in to ask you some questions. Is that okay?"

"Ask away" Yancy said, trying to not show how shocked he was to see Benjamin there. Why was he so shocked anyways?

Benjamin looked at his clipboard, reading a note, most likely. " Are the pain levels consistent?"

Yancy's eyebrows furrowed as he thought. there was no pain. But he felt the words fall out of his mouth but not voluntarily. Not that he fought it " Yah. Nothin new"

The young blond doctor nodded, and scribbled something down. After a moment he said, quite casually " do you feel any guilt?"

Yancy felt like a sledge hammer hit his chest. Yancy wished he could think he misheard Benjamin, but he knew he heard him loud and clear. He did feel guilt… but for what? He couldn't remember what was making him so uneasy. He looked into Benjamin's eyes and it got worse. Almost as if his lungs were squeezed.

Benjamin looked at him, patiently awaiting an answer.

Yancy tried to talk, but his mouth felt like cotton. Finally he could just choke out " Y...yah"

Benjamin's face went from the nervous innocence of a child, to flat, and cold. Yancy felt a chill.

" Good," Benjamin said darkly.

" W- wh…" Yancy found it harder to speak. He couldn't remember, until he saw a red stain forming on Benjamin's lab coat, near his shoulders, as though blood was dripping from his head.

Suddenly he wanted to forget, but he couldn't. All that filled his thoughts was that terrified look on Benjamin's face as he realized Yancy truly was a monster. The seconds before he died.

He whimpered " B-ben I didn't m-mea-"

" Shut up. People don't make this kind of 'mistake' three times. You don't just 'accidentily' murder people, Daniel" he hissed

Yancy drew back, shocked and scared " I… I'm sorry…"

" 'Sorry' loses its meaning, when you keep hurting people" he spat. " You always say you regret it. That you'd take it back if you could. That was your chance. Someone's life, or yours… And as can only be expected from a monster… you saved yourself"

" Please- Ben, p-p-please…"

" You didn't even give me time to beg…'

Yancy felt the walls closing in. His body felt like lead. He was immobile. He couldn't form any words.

Benjamin scoffed “ Are you scared?”. He took a step forward and Yancy flinched. His fear was met with no sympathy. Benjamin just laughed “ I was scared too. You scared me.”

Yancy wished he could argue. He wished he had any sort of defense.

But he didn’t. He felt Benjamin was right. Even if he could find the words, there was nothing he could say.

“ You’re a monster… I was stupid to ever think otherwise..”

Yancy’s eyes opened and he shot up, sobbing. He covered his mouth, trying not to be too loud. He could feel the metal of his face on his fingertips. He couldn’t stop shaking. He was used to ones about his parents, but this was new and he didn’t know how to handle it. He looked about the room. It was all so new. He felt like a parasite, or an intruder in this normal looking, peaceful seeming home.

It was a lovely cabin, with wonderful, fluffy mattresses and warm quilts. It was beautifully normal. Yancy didn’t belong. He was a killer. He was a freak. He belonged in that cell, doomed to be killed.

He tried to quiet his sobs. He didn’t want Illinois to hear him. He couldn’t help the gasps of air between sobs. He pressed his hand tighter on his mouth, but it was too late.

Illinois came in, sweatpants and a loose tee on. Yancy could see him just fine in the dark with the night vision, but Illinois was squinting just a bit in the dark. Illinois looked a little tired, but not in an annoyed, or detached way.

“ Hey bud, what's up?” He asked, casually, but gently.

“ Just… a b-bad dream” Yancy managed out.

“ Wanna tell me about it?”

Yancy’s first instinct was to say no. That he was fine, and that Illinois should go back to bed. On the other hand… 10 years, he had hidden this. Maybe not this exact dream, but he had woken up in tears many times before.

He spent more nights then he could count, biting down on his blanket to muffle his sobs. He didn't want that anymore.

" youse okay with listenin'…?"

" I wouldn't ask if I wasn't"

Yancy looked to the side as Illinois sat on the edge of his bed " That Doctor…" Yancy said softly

"I was in that cell and he came in… he asked me some questions until… until he grew angry." He wiped his human eye, realizing the mechanical one was dry. It made sense that the mechanics couldn't couldn't cry, so he wasn't surprised.

" He was harsh… but right…" Yancy said weakly. " I…" he cut himself off. He didn't want to spill his guts. He didn't want Illinois' pity. He was still a stranger, after all.

" Yance, I think this response proves you're not evil or bad. A malicious, cold hearted, evil person wouldn't be so upset over this. He'd just be a cut loss to them. A small price for what they wanted. I know you're fighting with yourself, about worth, and who you are and how you should define yourself. That's your battle. I can't fight that for you. I just know you aren't any sort of monster. A monster wouldn't cry over this"

Yancy stared down at his metal hand. He flexed it and heard the joints gliding along. He sighed weakly “I don’t want to cry over this…”

“ No one really wants to cry. No one wants to hurt. But hurting is human.”

Yancy looked aside, still confused as to why the man was helping him. He helped him survive, and that was already more than Yancy could ask… but here was this man he had never met before tonight, not only saving his life, but comforting him. He felt gratitude fill his chest. Did his motive really matter? He was genuine, and that was all Yancy needed.

He nodded softly, wiping his eye, and calming himself. “ Thanks…'' he said softly.

“ Sure thing” Said Illinois lightly, getting up. “Get some rest. You’re safe here”

Yancy knew he was right. For the first time in years, If only for a second, he felt safe.

Chapter Text

Early the next morning, Yancy woke up to the scent of waffles, eggs, and bacon. The sun shone between the crack in the curtains, over his eyes. He yawned softly and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He could see the world outside was orange with the sunrise. He closed his eyes, and yawned, wondering what time it was.

A little line of green text appeared at the corner of his vision, causing him to jump a little, before he realized it was the time. 6:16 A.M and 21…22…23 seconds. At least he’d never need a watch, he thought bitterly. All it cost was two limbs and a decent chunk of his face.

He sighed. He wasn’t used to sleeping in even this much. Prison worked on a tight schedule. Weekends might as well not have existed. 6’oclock every morning. No ‘snoozing’ allowed.

But the smell of fresh, good food made it so he didn’t even want to go back to sleep. He got to his feet, but let out a small grunt like whimper as he put the weight on his foot.

He took a breath and swallowed the pain. He didn’t really know why. Who was he putting a tough facade on for? Definitely not Illinois, who had just helped him through a nightmare. A nightmare. No doubt, Illinois knew he was a wimp.

He looked down at his feet. He still wore his prison uniform, but it was covered in dirt now. He had no shoes on. There was nothing to hide the metal foot from his view. No way to pretend it wasn’t there. At least with his face, he hadn’t looked in a mirror yet. It was something he hadn't been forced to fully face. The other additions though, weren’t nearly as ignorable to him.

He shook his head, and walked out with a limp. He tried to walk normally, but there was no more adrenaline. He couldn’t deny the pain. His metal foot clunked on the floor, in a painful contrast to his human one. He found his way into the kitchen and dining room area.

Illinois looked up from some bacon sizzling on a skillet. He gave a small smile “ Hey Yance. Take a seat. You really shouldn’t be walking right now. I was gonna take you your food”

“ Sleepin’ in feels weird…” he said, as he limped over to a chair and sat down “ Do youse ever sleep? I got a sneaking suspicion youse were already awake before you came in last night.” He looked at the stack of waffles, and a pan of scrambled eggs. He had obviously been awake for a while, if he had gotten any sleep at all.

Illinois smiled a little, as he turned back to attend to the bacon laying in the popping oil “ Oh sure. I sleep sometimes. Once every blue moon.”

“ Wow. Youse seem so energetic for a guy with an awful sleep schedule” Yancy said, as his human hand ran over the grooves of his metal arm. The texture was mesmerizing. “ Must drink a lot of coffee...”

Illinois chuckled “ Nah. I’m just a naturally energized guy. Believe it or not, I actually don't like coffee. It tastes weird, and caffeine makes me anxious.”

He put the various foods on the table, and put the bacon on a plate. Yancy moved to get up, so he could help Illinois set the table. He was stopped when Illinois tsked softly " You have to try not to walk. Even crutches would be a dangerous game for you, cause of your arm."

Yancy sighed but didn't try to stand up again. Illinois finished setting the table. He took a seat across from Yancy, and grabbed a plate " Dig in"

Yancy stared at the food in front of him. Along with the waffles, eggs, and bacon, the table held a bowl of syrupy fruit, butter, whipped cream, a jug of milk, and a container of apple juice. Yancy hadn’t had anything close to this in over ten years. He felt his mouth water as he grabbed a plate with his human hand, then took a waffle with the same hand. He was careful not to use his mechanics. He didn’t want to break anything.

“ So… Youse have a breakfast like this every mornin..?” Yancy asked as he spooned some of the fruit onto his waffle, careful not to dribble any of the syrupy juice.

“ Not really. Only on special occasions” Illinois said, cutting into a waffle. He could clearly sense Yancy was about to argue about there being a special occasion, because the next thing he said was “ I mean, your first morning as a free man? That's huge.”

Yancy went quiet. It was really big… But why did this stranger want to celebrate it? He was still so confused as to what could have made the man so motivated to help him.

“ Ten years in prison is a long time…” Yancy started carefully “And I’m sure I’s forgot some things..” he glanced at him “ Did I ever know you before..?”

Illinois shook his head, “ Nope.” He said, before putting a piece of waffle, pinkish with the fruits juices, in his mouth.

Yancy shook his head “ That don't make sense… I don't get why youse… would endanger youses life for a total stranger. And help them through a nightmare like that. Youse act like we’re old friends…” His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at his own plate, trying to understand.

Illinois smiled a bit “ I know life hasn’t been too nice to you. But there’s good people out there. And I try to be one of them. I know about the suffering in that facility, and just want to help who I can. No need to overthink it. Now shush, and eat.”

Yancy looked back and stared at him for a long moment, thinking, when the boxes and text started to appear again, pointing out things he never would have noticed.

A box around his hand, which was picking at a small bump on the table cloth. ‘Fidgeting’

Another was around his torso ‘Relaxed Posture’

Another around his eyes ‘Avoiding Eye Contact’

One last one went around his whole body ‘Leaning forward’

The diagram disappeared, and text appeared in the center of his vision again ‘Analysis Complete: Mixed Messages. Conclusion, Half Truth’

Yancy tore his gaze away and started to cut his waffle. Half Truth? What part was true? What part was a lie? Why was he lying? Or maybe just leaving things out? But why?

He felt a panic fill his chest. Up till now, he had figured his intentions were pure. And Illinois had told him his intentions were pure. So were they half pure? Yancy didn’t know what to do, so he took a bite of the waffle that had looked so appetizing only a minute ago. Now he wasn’t hungry.

“ You alright buddy?” Illinois asked “ You just went pale. Are you sick?”

Yancy shook his head, and put another piece in his mouth. It was rude to talk with your mouth full, he remembered. If he could just regain his hunger, then he’d be fine to avoid conversation for the next half an hour or so.

Illinois’ brow furrowed in a concerned manner, but he didn’t push.

Yancy didn’t find himself able to eat anything more than one waffle, two pieces of bacon, and a tiny bit of eggs. Illinois got up “ I’m gonna get you some clothes you can use, till I can get you your own. You wanna take a shower?”

Yancy looked at his mechanical hand, resting on the table “ Can I?”

Illinois shrugged “ I think they would have taken showers into consideration. Plus, you see how non reflective it is? I'm willing to bet it's mostly for stealth reasons, but that's a modified version of stainless steel. A metal that doesn’t rust. Expensive stuff though… This modified version is so new that no one has made an easy way to produce it.”

Yancy frowned, but nodded “ A shower would be nice…”

Illinois offered him a hand to help him up, and Yancy hesitantly took it, in his own human hand. Where was the safety he had felt earlier? Now he was filled with a feeling that this was a trap. That didn’t make sense though. If it was a trap, then wouldn’t he just call the officials already? Unless there was a different sort of personal gain?

Maybe Yancy was thinking too in the box. Illinois did just say the metal on his arm was expensive…

Illinois helped him up, with a friendly smile. Yancy wondered how true the smile was… or maybe the man just had a much more sinister reason to smile.

Chapter Text

Illinois got him some sweats and a plain tee to use, saying he would get Yancy some good clothes of his own on his way home from work the next day . Then he helped Yancy to the bathroom, and told him to take as long as he needed.

Yancy's mind felt fuzzy as he entered the bathroom. He wondered if he was just being unnecessarily anxious. He leaned against the door, and closed his eyes, trying to justify the diagram's conclusions.

It only made things worse. Illinois wasn’t working for the government, that was for sure. No officials would have such a personal approach. But a scavenger or con man would.

He was able to hack into the facility, which probably took skill, and guts. It probably wasn’t his first hacking job, and with how much danger involved, it had to have a good payoff… Even without the diagram, it didn’t take a genius to know doing all this for a stranger was suspicious, to say the least.

He was a mechanic, or at least that's what he said. There was no doubt he had experience in mechanics, but maybe he did the under the counter stuff? Black market things. If Yancy's limbs were made from… Expensive material, then wasn't it too much of a stretch to think that someone who works with that type of thing would…

He felt a little queasy.

What was that thing Illinois said about fight or flight? ‘He stopped your flight. Impulse and reflexes led you to fight’. Illinois knew about the strength, and the damage Yancy caused when scared. That would explain why he was acting so friendly and keeping him as calm as possible. He knew Yancy was dangerous. No matter how much he said Yancy wasn’t a monster, he knew what could happen…

Yancy took a shaky breath. There was one piece of hope for him to cling onto. The first reading said his character was trustworthy. Illinois, as a person, was trustworthy… The other reading was about one statement… But what was the lie? Why would he lie about his motivation if it wasn’t malicious?

He dropped the clothes on the floor and went to turn on the shower, but froze at the mirror. He finally saw his face. His new, metal, frankenstein of a face. The eye had no pupil. It was just a pale blue, almost white. The metal around it was the same, non reflective metal, with faint lines to show where it was welded together.

His hair, which he usually kept pretty nice and well kept considering the limited supplies he had in prison, was now dirty, and messy. His prison uniform that was usually perfectly clean, was covered in dirt, and even a few faint bloodstains from the operation. He couldn't stand looking at his reflection for another second. He grabbed a towel, and used his human hand to prop it over the mirror. He fumbled a little as he avoided looking in the mirror, and only used one hand, but he finally got it.

He was finished about 30 minutes later. Despite his constant anxieties and doubts, the clean, comfortable clothes felt nice. His hair was back to clean, and so was he. It wasn’t too awfully hard to fix his hair without the mirror. Back in prison their mirrors were just reflective sheets of metal that had usually slightly bubbled over time, so the already inaccurate reflection was often warped. Needless to say he had learned to take care of himself with little help from the mirror.

Sure he felt nice, but he wondered how safe he was. He wondered if he should leave, when Illinois left to work the next day. He quickly shut that idea down. Jumping to conclusions was one thing, but leaving his only possible hope for safety and survival was just plain stupid, when all he had to go off of was one satement that was a half truth.

He left the bathroom, and used the wall as support. Before he could get a few steps, Illinois was at his side, pulling Yancy's human arm across his shoulders to help him walk.

“ Where you headed?” Illinois asked. “Do you wanna go to your room, the living room? Or maybe the backyard?”

Yancy frowned a bit at the eagerness, worried that it was a manipulation trick… but he seemed so sincere.

“ I uh… youse got a tv? I know its cheesy but… cartoons would be nice...”

Illinois nodded with a smile. “For sure. I’ll get you to the livingroom and you can watch whatever you want”

Yancy muttered a near silent thanks as Illinois helped him walk along. They made it to a nice, quaint looking living room. It wasn’t stunning, or eye catching in any way. It just felt nice and calm. As Illinois helped him sit down on the sofa, he realized the whole house felt that way. It was almost a cabin, with a woodsy feel to it. The smell of bacon still hung in the air, and the lights were more of a warm yellow orange, in contrast to the blinding fluorescent lights used in both the prison and the facility

The TV buzzed to life, snapping Yancy out of his thoughts. Illinois handed him the remote and sat on the sofa beside him.

Yancy tried to clear his head, and enjoy the mindless cartoon that he had never heard of.

The facility was in a frenzy. Everyone was rushing about to assess damage, up security, to get to meetings.

Doctor Pitch was sick of meetings already. Every few hours, officials wanted updates. He had none. There was no sign of Daniel Jones. Doctor Pitch couldn't help but consider alternative routes of retrieving the fugitive.

He heard a firm knock and already knew who it was " Come in, Miss Adams" he said in tired annoyance.

She opened the door and hooked her thumbs on her black utility belt. Her dark eyes looked nervous.

Katherine Adams was a strong but lean looking woman, with long black hair pulled into a tight bun. While Doctor Pitch was in charge of the Bionic Soldier Project, she was in charge of the facility's security as a whole. She was in just as much hot water as him.

" We aren't finding a trace. We've contacted police across the country to look out for the stolen cars license plate but still nothing" she said.

Pitch stared at his screen, thinking. Adams was a hard worker, but one who played by the rules. Even when the rules were pointless, and only complicated things…

He knew she never liked what was going on in the facility, but knew it was for a greater good. So he'd appeal to 'the greater good'.

"Miss Adams, I have reason to believe he had help"

"What..? I thought all the people chosen-"

" Have no one. I know." He snapped, before taking a breath, "I'm trying to figure it out" he continued, calmer. " But for now, we need to consider the fact that he is probably being hidden by someone, if not multiple people."

Katherine shifted uncomfortably " We can't just get a warrant for everyone's house. If someone is hiding him but we have no clue who it is…"

Pitch finally got up and looked at her. " You're right. We can't just search everyone's house. We're bound by law, as government employees''

"Doc… what are you suggesting..?”

" I'm suggesting we hire some people not as concerned with the law" he said bluntly

"No. Absolutely not." She said, "We can't break laws like that to-"

" to reatreave a murder, who is practically a weapon and could give enemy countries far to much information that could result in out countries downfall? We break a few laws, to save everything else."

Pitch knew it was true, but it wasn't exactly why he wanted to retrieve the fugitive so badly. This whole project could get him everything he had ever worked for. This one man could ruin it all. The operations had already been put on hold, putting them even further behind schedule.

Adams looked uneasy " What if whoever we hire tells others and-"

"They won't. Simple human greed will be enough. We'll tell them they'll get paid after they get him here, dead or alive. With a pretty penny over Daniel Jones' head, they wouldn't risk someone else getting him first" he said matter-of-factly. He had carefully thought over every factor and was ready for any rebuttal she had.

" And if higher ups find out we did this, then what?"

Pitch watched her closely " then we find a scapegoat. We say someone in the facility leaked the information, and the hunters were looking for him, to sell him off to some enemy country. They would believe our word over the hunters, anyways, if it were to happen."

Katherine fidgeted with her belt " I don't like this. We'd be sending untrained men after… a person modified to be a weapon of war"

"Untrained Men makes it sound like we're sending innocent lambs to the slaughter. This would be a group of experienced criminals." Pitch responded, picking up his mug for another dose of needed caffeine, before realizing the cup was empty. He set it down, as Adams responded.

" It doesn't matter, experienced or not, they'll probably die. I think it would take a whole trained squad to safely detain him. A group of criminals couldn't just… kill him or bring him in"

Pitch looked her dead in the eyes " Then we use their bodies as bread crumbs to find him." He said coldly " We'll stick some trackers to them, and if they're found dead, it's safe to assume the fugitive was there, and search for anything else. Then get another group of hunters and repeat the process"

Katherine looked almost sick. " That's not okay…"

" Please, Miss Adams. Enlighten me on what we should do, then. We have no leads. No tracks. We're blindly searching, with a very time sensitive issue" his tone was sharp. He didn't break eye contact.

" I… don't know" she said, her voice wavering a little.

" We don't have time to not know. I'll do all the legwork so you can claim ignorance if worst comes to worst. You keep the squads looking, and I'll start finding a group." He said, not leaving room for argument.

She hesitated, before nodding.

Pitch grabbed his mug and headed to the break room to refill his coffee. The greater good. He just had to keep them thinking about the greater good.

Chapter Text

After a few hours of watching cartoons with no real meaning, Yancy found himself calming a little. Watching children's animations proved to be a fun, low-stress activity for him to calm down with. He watched quietly, but after a while, he noticed his finger flicking across the groove of the panel in his arm. He wasn’t sure how long he had been fidgeting with it, but now he couldn’t think of anything else.

A few moments passed as Yancy tried to stay engulfed by the comfort of the cartoons, but reality had a way of being heard. “ Hey, Illinois…?” He finally tried hesitantly.

Illinois turned down the volume to just a soft hum and looked at him. “ What's up, bud?” He asked.

Yancy hesitated, then said,” I uh… youse got access to the blueprints… right?”

Illinois nodded,” Yup. I've hacked into those too.”

A moment of silence, only filled with the mumbling cartoons before Yancy spoke again” Can youse help me understand them? Like… startin' with under this panel?” He asked

Illinois looked almost excited as he got up,” Of course. I can actually go print them out if you want, and I can help you understand them.”

“Yeah… that'd be nice,” Yancy said, a little nervously. Ignorance was great, but he knew he had to learn about them sooner or later.

Illinois smiled,” Alright, I'll be right back. “ He said, before quickly leaving the room.

The smell of bacon was gone now, giving way to a cozy type of smell you'd expect to find in a cabin-like it. Yancy wasn't sure how to describe it. It gave him the same feeling as a forest after rain, but it didn't smell the same. Not that it mattered. It just felt calm, and abnormally normal.

Illinois came back, a little bit later, with a toolbox and some paper. He set down the toolbox and lined some papers together on the coffee table” The blueprints weren't formatted for printer paper, so I had to make do” he said, as he pieced together the paper puzzle for Yancy.

Yancy looked over the technical nonsense. The numbers that seemed to not represent anything, the words he had never seen and the diagram with lines he didn't understand, very similar to the one Pitch showed him.

He looked down at his mechanical hand and flexed it. It made as little sense to him as the diagram.

Illinois looked over the blueprint,“ So you wanted to start with the panel, right?” He asked as he straightened some papers.

Yancy nodded, “Yeah. I know it’s probably just how to get to wiring or somethin bu-”

Illinois shook his head, “It’s not.” He said, sounding a little more excited, like a kid who just found a limited edition Lego set. He got a screwdriver,“ Do I have permission to take off the panel to explain what's in there?”

Yancy still wasn’t sure about Illinois. He had calmed down a little, but the back of his mind kept telling him that Illinois wanted more than Yancy was willing to give. He seemed so excited about the bionics, but Illinois was a mechanic. It was possible he was just fascinated and excited about the technological wonders of it. Yancy could admit, out of the morbid context, cyborgs were a pretty cool concept…

He hesitantly held out his arm for Illinois. He wanted to know what was in there, and couldn’t unscrew it himself.

Illinois spun the screwdriver between his fingers, before taking Yancy’s arm carefully and undoing the screws. “ Alright, so since they designed these bionics to be for soldiers at war, they made these parts with limited resources in mind. They had to make you strong, with no need for a recharge. It’s not like there's outlets in the war zone. Or time to charge, or time to risk someone's power source dying in battle. So they used a straight-up nuclear power source. If the blueprints are accurate, it's encased in a thick glass tube in there, but… just be careful when we get this sucker open, otherwise, you’ll leave a crater where this house is”

“ Oh wow” Yancy said nervously. “ So, like- a whole bomb in my arm?” He asked, his voice wavering a little.

Illinois smiled a bit, “You can make anything into a bomb, bud. It’s just about how much it takes to make something blow. The glass is probably super strong, and your arm is practically indestructible. The only time there's any real risk, is if you’re in a situation like running from the facility again, but with the panel off. Other than that, I think you’d have to intentionally break the glass. But I’d still be careful as possible when you don’t have the panel on. Just in case”

Illinois got one screw undone, and Yancy could see purple light come from under the small crack in the panel. It was a strong light, that looked out of place against the dark, non-reflective metal.

As the other screw was loosened, Yancy could see the light seemed to almost flicker. He stared, mesmerized, as Illinois lifted the panel.

In the forearm, there were a few wires and such, clumped together against the walls of the metal, but nestled in the middle was a small glass vial. It was only about two inches long and about as thick as a pinky finger. The top of the vial was attached to a gray wire that went deeper into the arm. In the vial was a vibrant purple liquid that pulsed a little, as if it were alive. The light lit up the inside of his arm, showing the small shadows of the wires against the metal. It reminded him of shadows from a fire on a cave wall.

Illinois stared at it, a bit of awed fascination,“ Oh wow… I recognized the stuff they said they used on the blueprints, but it’s so different to see it in person. This stuff is insane… like this small thing could power your limbs for about a century with no issue. Not a lot of info is available to the public about this stu-” His tone seemed to get more and more excited until he looked at Yancy, staring at him with unease.

Illinois shut up and gave him a sheepish smile,“ Sorry, I just nerd out a bit over this stuff…” He went a little more serious, “Yance… I know everything surrounding these parts is traumatizing for you. I’m proud of you for wanting to learn about them. If at any point, you need to take a break, I get it. But… all the horrific things they did aside…”

He looked at his arm,“ This is amazing technology. I mean, imagine if this was available to people who need prosthetics? A fully functioning… Well, a fully functioning just about anything. Please understand that my excitement is coming from the positive healing that can come from this technology. Not the harm they did to you”

Yancy stared at his arm for a bit, realizing Illinois was right. This stuff was pretty insane, and somewhat cool if the situation wasn’t so painful. “ I get it… If youse a mechanic, I can only imagine this is a playground”

“ Not a playground,” Illinois said, carefully screwing the panel back on. Yancy relaxed a little as the purple was covered more and more,“ That makes it sound like it's fun. It honestly upsets me that they have this huge technology, and do this. They hurt people, and use what could be an amazing asset to the two million amputees in America alone… as a weapon”

Yancy’s brow furrowed. Illinois knew a lot about amputees, it seemed… numbers, how long healing should take… He shoved that thought process away and nodded. “ I… never thought about the good it could be for people…”

Illinois finished screwing the panel back on, and Yancy suddenly asked,“ How are they gonna get soldiers to do this? I mean, like, are they gonna chop their limbs off too?”. Yancy knew it wasn’t anything that affected him, but he had been curious.

Illinois thought for a moment, “What’s your physical pain level right now?” He asked.

Confusion filled Yancy’s face. Why did he change the subject? “ I dunno, only really hurts when I stand up. Otherwise, It's pretty dull”

“Exactly,” Illinois said. “Along with the mechanics, I’m willing to bet they’re working on some rapid healing stuff. I haven’t really dug into the medical mumbo jumbo of the documents, but there’s no way someone can heal as fast as you have without any sort of enhancements.”

He paused, before saying“ I don’t think all soldiers will do it. It’ll probably be a volunteer basis, with some bribes. Maybe a higher rank, more benefits, or something like that. Promised a speedy recovery too… and of course, the surgery would be done with way more respect than you've been given…”

Of course. Because they would be heroes, doing it for the better of the country. Pitch said, quite clearly, what Yancy was to the cause. Less than a lab rat. Far less than any human, worthy of respect.

Cartoons still hummed in the background as Yancy finally spoke again,“ Maybe youse could help me understand the rest later… I wanna take a break”

Illinois nodded and set down the screwdriver. “Sure thing, Yance. I get it’s all a lot. Take a breather, and we can see the rest when you’re ready”

Denial wouldn't solve it though. Denial wouldn't fix his missing limbs. Denial wouldn't make him safe. Denial wouldn't bring his parents, and Ben back. Denial wouldn't wash away the guilt.

Denial was hardly a proper bandage, but here he was, frantically trying to cover the ugly wounds with the pretty lies of omission.

Chapter Text

The smell of pork roast wafted through the air. Yancy had wanted to help with dinner, to not feel useless, but Illinois insisted that he had to walk as little as possible. That every step meant a higher risk of infection.

Which meant, for the moment, Yancy was back to watching cartoons. He had pieced together that most of them had come out when he was in prison, so he had never even heard of most of the ones that were playing. He honestly didn't mind the new ones, but when a classic from his childhood came on, he was mentally sucked back. To before any of the messes.

He closed his eyes, and let himself indulge in a ghost of a memory.

Around 12, or 13. He never got involved with gangs until 16, but the beginning of his teenage years was particularly carefree.

He remembered the smells of his mom's cooking. She always had the best shepherd's pie. Mashed potatoes and biscuits on top. It didn't smell like the roast Illinois was making, but just the memory seemed to warp the smells.

He had forgotten most of his home and childhood, but only because he never let himself remember.

Now that he was indulging, so much came back. The feel of the slightly soft brown sofa his parents got shortly after he was born.

The dent in the coffee table from when he had fallen because he was trying to surprise his mom by changing the light bulb.

The faint floral pattern on the rug, with a faint stain in the corner from when his dad tripped and spilled some grape juice. He remembered his mom teasing his dad for always being so clumsy.

He felt his throat tighten, and he opened his eyes. He had a good childhood, but now he could remember why he never thought about it.

The nostalgia was poison. It felt like a sweet, blissful high, but then it crashes. When it inevitably does, he learned you're left gasping for air in a harsh present.

The weight of the realization pressed on his chest, just like it did every other time he let his mind wander and slip

Things would never be like that again. Ten years and the thought of never going home to his parents still landed like a violent punch in the gut.

Yancy tried to hold back his tears. Being in a home environment again hurt. It was just enough of the poison to leave him with a dull pain at almost all times, and more than enough to drown him if he let it drag him under.

Illinois came in “Alright bud, I thin-" he stopped mid-word" Hey, what's up?” He asked, his voice going softer.

It took Yancy a moment to notice that his mechanical hand was clenched, gripping onto a throw blanket beside him. He took a breath and let go.

"Just... thinkin" Yancy said.

Illinois came over and sat by him. " Do you wanna talk about it?"

A moment passed before shaking his head, "not about what I was thinkin about. Not about the past... but I do wanna know what's the next step? I mean, I can't go out into society, so am I just gonna be here, leeching off of youse forever?"

Even if Illinois had pure intent, the idea of just... sitting in the cabin for the rest of his life gave him an empty feeling. Back at the prison, he was fine with sitting there forever. So much had changed since then. Yancy didn't know how long it had been, but he figured it was a week or less.

A week or less ago he was living, satisfied, in prison, with all his limbs. He was content. Sure, there were issues, but it was manageable. Now nothing was the same.

Illinois shrugged," Do you want to do more?" he asked, " I mean, what do you want a next step to be?"

Yancy didn't expect the questions to be shot back at him. He tried to think, but was interrupted by Illinois getting up and offering a hand,

"Let's have this conversation over some food," He said. Yancy grabbed Illinois' hand with his own human one and got up.

Illinois pulled Yancy's arm over his shoulders and spoke as he led him into the dining room," 'next step' is always a tricky question. Even people in completely normal situations are always asking that, and struggling to figure it out."

Yancy sat down in front of a plate" So youse got an answer...?"

" Well, the absolute first step, no matter what destination you aim for, is you healing and learning control of your limbs. Even if you want to just stay here forever, I think you'll feel better if you have confidence in your ability to... exist, I guess" He said, dishing out some food for himself.

Yancy soon did the same, only using his human arm again. He was still too scared of breaking anything. Illinois logic made sense to him, but it wasn't a forever plan. He couldn't just focus on healing forever. "So, what are even my options?" He asked, poking his fork at the tender meat.

Illinois smiled," Well, you can stay forever if you want, but I got a feeling you don't wanna sit still. I could teach you how to do mechanical stuff and you could help me with the projects I bring home, so you have something to do. But I got a feeling that's not what you won't either."

Yancy shook his head a bit as he stabbed a carrot with his fork and ate it. It sounded like a very unsatisfying existence. Just mechanics for the rest of forever.

Illinois ate a bite of his own before saying "They've made your body into one of an ideal soldier, though, Yance... I've seen the security footage of the bionic solder stuff. It's all horrific. And it's not the only one happening. Most of the subjects are just like you. People who made mistakes got one sentence, but are now serving a completely different, and less humane one. There's some human-animal hybrid testing, some unnerving genetic stuff..."

Yancy felt his stomach twist.

"There's this one guy, life sentence for killing a guy out of self-defense. He was injected with some modified bird DNA. He died after a few days of writhing and pleading as his body warped"

Anger filled Yancy as he thought about that. About the horrors, others have... and would endure there.

"That's just one example. Over a hundred have died with the bionic soldier thing alone. Some executed, some during testing, and some on the operating table."

Yancy's mind flicked back to his roommate, who suffered on the operating table. How everyone at the prison thought he was let go, but he actually died on the operating table.

Less than a rat.

Yancy's vision blurred in anger, thinking about the lives that had been disregarded. His mechanical fist tightened around the fork's handle, crushing and bending it as easily as one could crumple paper.

Illinois seemed to notice "hey-"

"Why are youse tellin' me all this?" Yancy muttered, cutting him off

Illinois looked at him," You know what it's like to be strapped down, and screwed over like that. Sure, we need a way to win a war, in the very likely case of a World War soon. But if it's built off the back of throwing people away and treating them as nothing... That's not a win I think most of us want. With determination to get others out of that situation, you were in, with my technological abilities, and with your enhancements..."

Yancy's mind was blurred. He tried to pay attention and tried to comprehend what was being said. Everything was muffled.

Illinois' next words were loud and clear, though, pulling Yancy back to reality. He stared at Illinois as he said, very seriously,

" I want you to consider taking down the facility."

Chapter Text

It was two days since the fugitives escape. 49.76 hours, to be exact. Pitch was acutely aware of the time being lost, and was beyond exhausted. He had spent the whole day organizing, researching, giving update reports, and it was all amounting to nothing.

Though, the entire time, he had a different tab pulled up on his computer. When he had gone home the previous night, he hardly slept. He was too busy researching.

Eventually, he had found a group of 'freelancers'. He had let out a slight scoff of amusement when he read the word choice for the group. By definition, it was true, but if what he found was also true, these were no businessmen. They seemed more like assassins. It took quite a bit of digging on the dark web to find them, but Pitch knew how to find information.

He had set up an 'appointment' (the formal use of words never ceased to amuse him) with the men that night after work. A bar in town.

Pitch photocopied some documents, about Daniel Jones, to show them. It was highly illegal, of course, since it was classified documentation. He hardly cared. He knew how to cover up his tracks. Not only that, but he had fail-safes and safety nets in place.

Once he got off of work, he went home, but only to compile the documents, and to change.

He put the papers in a manila envelope and got dressed in clothes that would blend in better at a bar. Just a polo and tan slacks. He stuck the envelope in a backpack, then paused.

He grabbed a jacket and slipped a handgun inside. The doctor had a concealed carry permit but didn't carry it often. Pitch always knew he could easily step on the wrong person's toes. Without his youth, hand-to-hand combat would be a sure loss.

He got into his car and made his way to the address that was sent. He didn't trust these men in the slightest. With a little common sense, he knew they would probably be armed, but they also seemed like much younger men. In their 20s. He had found the newer generations underestimated people like him. He had gray overwhelming his once back hair. Heavy bags showed under his gray eyes. He knew no one would see him as a threat.

Which gave him the advantage of being underestimated, if things went south. People never seemed to understand the importance of that advantage.

The bar was nothing special. It was wedged between two other businesses that no one seemed to care about. It was almost a little dingy. A few of the lights looked as if they could flicker out at any moment. The corners had a bit more dust in them than the health code should allow.

He had never been one for the drinking scene. It wasn't hard to remember when he walked in and the smell of cheap alcohol hit him. When the sound of drunken laughter reached his ears. It was pathetic. People wasting far too much time and money on a fake dose of euphoria.

In the corner, he saw the men he was supposed to meet.

There were four of them sitting around a table, near a back door. They were talking, and glancing across the bar every few moments. Pitch saw they had drinks, but they didn't look alcoholic. That was a good sign, the doctor thought. At least they were competent enough not to drink on the job, but that was the bare minimum.

Pitch made his way over to the table. The men looked at him, as if debating internally, to figure out if he was the client or not. One of the men spoke," You Xander?" He asked, eying the doctor skeptically.

The man had a faded brown flannel tucked into jeans that were probably once blue, but were now a grayish tone. Pitch could already tell he was the fire cracker of the group. The way he sat forward in his chair, elbows on the table, as if he was ready to shoot up and fight in a moment. The fight in his eyes even with no immediate threat.

Pitch nodded, "I am" He said. He had opted to use fewer formalities. In the lab, superiority and a professional air served him. The criminals there were restrained, and he didn't need their cooperation. Here, he knew that keeping things a little more comfortable for them would yield the best results.

" May I sit?" He asked.

The men exchanged glances. Pitch could tell they hadn't been expecting an average looking middle-aged man. They were clearly still skeptical. The Doctor raised a brow," Or I can take my request elsewhere." he said.

" Sure, take a seat." said one with dark blond, clean cut hair. He was the brains, Pitch noted to himself. The man dressed a bit nicer then the others. Not eye catching, but he clearly cared more about the others when it came to appearance. With his blue short sleeve button up, and clean black pants, Pitch could easily see him working an office job.

He sat down and put the backpack on the table. " May I ask what to call you all?" He wasn't sure if they would use real names or not, and frankly he didn't care. He decided to attempt pleasantries anyway. If they didn't want to say their names, that was fine by him. It didn't matter, especially since they would probably die during this task.

If they didn't, Pitch had plans to get rid of them regardless. They would be loose ends, knowing more than Pitch could afford. All he had to do is tell his higher-ups a few lies about them catching Daniel Jones to sell him off to another country, and the panic alone would ensure that the group was taken care of.

The better dressed one spoke first, "We use a single letter, for anonymity. You can call me J" he said.

The next to speak looked as if he had never been outside. "I'm S"

Pitch assumed he was the tech wiz of the group, most likely the one he had briefly messaged. He had black curly hair, thick glasses, and was built like a twig. He wouldn't stand a chance against the bionics, or anyone for that matter. He figured that S was kept away from the action.

"I'm F" said the one in faded clothes. His eyes were icy and narrow as he watched Pitch.

The last one was tall, and large. He looked as though he could rip a wood plank like paper. The muscle. It was easy for Pitch to deduce he was the quiet one, who got the manual labor done. He wore a dark blue tee, that was a bit tight on his build.

Pitch watched as the last one seemed to think, and observe for a moment. Finally, he spoke. "P" he said.

Pitch nodded, mentally noting the letters. More importantly, he noted what he had learned about their roles in the group.

" Alright." He pulled out the manila envelope,

" I'd like to start out by letting you all know, this target is extremely dangerous." He looked at them for any sign of backing out, but none of them showed any. A bit of interest. A bit of boredom. No hesitation.

He slid the envelope across the table, to J. "This has most of the information on the target. Anything additional you may need, I can most likely find out"

J pulled the papers out of the envelope, and paused as he saw the photos, paper clipped to the files. Daniel Jones, right after the operation, still sedated and asleep. Another right after he had made it out of the building, and the security cameras had finally spotted him. Another of him scaling the fence, and one last one of his initial mug shot, 10 years ago.

" Is this a joke?" J asked, staring at the photos. The question was surprisingly sincere. He sounded as though he was begging for it to be a joke.

The others looked as well, all giving some sort of surprised response upon seeing the photos of bionic features.

Pitch tapped his fingers on the table, before speaking," I work at a facility, that works on human enhancements, primarily. The goal is ultimately to create next forms of evolutions, or in this man's case, weapons of war." He took half a second to assess the groups reactions. Shocked, surprised, doubting even, but nothing that was a threat.

" As I'm sure you all know, worldwide tensions are rising. We've been trying to create an ideal bionic soldier, to avoid things like the atomic bombs of the Second World War. This man our most successful subject to date. He escaped, and now our project has been put on hold."

S was more fascinated than shocked. He took one of the papers, holding information about some coding in the eye.

F glared," I don't trust this. You're saying you work for a facility, that I'm guessing is run by the government. So why would you turn to us, and not something more reliable, with more resources. Like the FBI or something like that"

Pitch shook his head" There are laws that have to be followed for us. Procedures, and formalities. What I'm doing right now isn't on the government's behalf. I am here because I know he had outside help. I don't have a clue who might have helped him. I'm currently trying to figure it out, but this is time sensitive. With privacy laws, it's growing very difficult to find anything."

J flipped through the photo copied documents," So you're counting on the fact that we don't follow law...?"

"To put it simply, yes" Pitch responded.

S looked at him," If this guy is modified for war, then this is an impossible job"

Pitch shook his head, "His body is modified for war, but from what I've seen, he's a coward. During his escape, there was only one fatality. One of the youngest doctors we had. I'm certain the subject knew this doctor was softer. Not a fighter. He seems to be the type to strike the weak, isolated. If you all cornered him, I don't believe you all would have too much trouble"

Although Pitch did think Daniel Jones was a coward, he knew they would have trouble. He was modified and would be high on adrenalin if cornered.

"And you have no information on this outside help? You have no clue how dangerous whoever could be harboring him is?" F asked, an irritated edge to his tone.

"I know they have technological abilities. They hacked Jones' tracker, and the security cameras. We tried to track how or where, but their job was seamless. Hardly any signs of it"

S frowned, looking at some of the papers, "sounds like an inside job, if you ask me. That's near impossible to do remotely..."

Pitch had considered that, but he had no leads or places to start on that theory. "I'll look into that. So will you all take the job?"

F glared," What's the payment? This is involved with the government, and looking at these papers, those limbs look super overpowered"

"Five hundred out of pocket, as an upfront payment. For search and travel expenses. Two hundred thousand if you get him to me, dead or alive, it really doesn't matter. Ten thousand more for whoever is harboring him."

" And where's the money coming from?" J asked, "You aren't here on the government's behalf. So they aren't funding it, I'm guessing"

" They don't know they're funding it. I'll use some funding for the project." Pitch said simply. " The upfront payment will be out of my pocket, cash. The rest will be from there"

There was a hesitance among the group, but they all seemed to turn to J. As the brain, what he said would go, it seemed.

" So?" Pitch asked

After a moment, J nodded.

" We're in"

Chapter Text

‘ I want you to consider taking down the facility. ‘

It had been a full day since Illinois said it, but the sentence still ricocheted around his head at full force.

That would mean he had to go back. He would risk getting caught. He would have to fight. Despite how many people's blood stained his hands, he had never been good at fighting.

In the gang, they tried to teach him how to fight. Yancy was always more muscular, so the others thought he would be a good fighter. Yancy could remember how disappointed they were when they realized he wasn’t really a quick thinker. He wasn’t a great dodger, he wasn’t agile. He was strong, but had a hard time properly aiming punches. He was durable but easily discombobulated. He wasn’t as good as they had initially thought.

Ben had been an accident due to the strength he still didn’t fully understand. He tried not to think about what he did to his parents, but he didn't even fight there. It was really more of an ambush.

There's no way he could effectively ambush the whole facility. Nor did he want to. He didn’t want to fight. He didn’t want to risk getting caught.

It didn’t help that he was still skeptical of Illinois’ intents. One moment, Yancy was sure he truly meant well. That Illinois really wanted to stop the suffering, and it was all true.

The next, he wondered if hardly any of it was.

‘I know life hasn’t been too nice to you. But there’s good people out there. And I try to be one of them. I know about the suffering in that facility, and just want to help who I can.’

Maybe it was a truly innocent half-truth. Possibly a lie somewhere in there was to preserve Yancys mental state, and not to mislead and manipulate him. Like those white lies adults told to kids purely for the kids' sake.

What if Illinois wanted to use Yancy though? What if he wanted the resources on Yancy, or to use him to get more resources from in the facility? Yancy was altered as a weapon. Could someone be able to wield him like one with the right approach? Was that what Illinois was trying to do?

“You look upset, Yance. What’s up?”

Yancy was snapped out of his thoughts, and remembered where he was.

They were sitting in the living room, with the TV playing cartoons softly in front of them. Crickets could be heard through the cracked window, which also allowed a gentle breeze into the room that smelt of the forest outside. The smells of the casserole Illinois made after he got home from work still lingered in the air as well.

Yancy glanced at him for a moment, trying to fully ground himself.

Illinois still had an oil smudge on his cheek that he had missed while quickly washing up after getting home.

The convict wasn’t even sure what to say. What he even wanted to say.

Illinois smiled at him softly,“ you don't have to tell me” he got up, “Let’s do something else though” He said, heading to a closet. He got out a thousand-piece puzzle, and set the box on the coffee table.

"Cartoons are fun, but I think something more engaging and interactive would help you more," Illinois said lightly.

They had a few puzzles back in prison, but they hardly used them. Plus, too many of the pieces were missing for it to be enjoyable.

He slid off of the couch, onto the floor. He was careful, as he moved, not to put much weight on the mechanical leg. Illinois had been very adamant about him using it as little as possible. While Illinois was at work, he walked a little. It was mostly to use the restroom, though. It had hurt, but not as much as Yancy thought it should.

He scooted over to the table and took the box, thinking. It depicted a pretty mountain landscape, with a lake glistening in front of it.

“Well… why not, I guess…” Yancy said. He fidgeted with the box, trying to open it with just his human hand.

“ Yance, you’re never gonna be able to use it if you don’t practice.”

“But I could break th-”

“ The 10 dollar piece of cut up cardboard? I have more puzzles anyway. This would be a good way to practice being aware of where your hand is.”

Yancy frowned but nodded. He had to use his hand eventually, he told himself. He brought the metal hand onto the table and carefully used it to pry open the box. After a moment, he fumbled, and his mechanic thumb went through the cardboard box.

He couldn’t even open a box. How was he going to function anywhere if he couldn’t even function in the calm, no pressure living room.

Before he could grow more upset, he heard Illinois and was once again pulled from his own head.

“ It’s a learning curve, bud. There's no shame in not being a pro on your first try.” He said.

Illinois always seemed so calm. Yancy couldn’t help but calm down just a little as well. He nodded and took the box again, and paid close attention to where the bionics were. Soon he got it opened, so he dumped the pieces on the table.

The two looked for the corner pieces. Illinois didn’t force any conversation. He didn’t push pointless small talk on him. Yancy was thankful for that. He shuffled through the pieces. He knew his search for corner pieces wasn’t thorough. He was too focused on his hand. If he wasn't watching it, it was hard to know where it was.

“ I'm never gonna get the hang of this, ‘Nois… It’s so much…”

“ It’s a lot, but I personally disagree with you. As humans, we have a remarkable ability to adapt. I think you’re gonna get the hang of it. I mean, you ran on a limb you can’t even feel, when escaping”

Yancy hesitated, realizing he was right. When he walked, he needed support. Not only because of the pain, but because he had to stare at his feet. Even then he would stumble a bit. He had found that out while Illinois had been out that day.

“ Why was I able to do that…?” He muttered, mostly to himself.

“ It was life or death. Survival instinct kicked in, and some deep part of you knew how to function. You were able to use your hands too. It’s in you. Now you just have to find a way to tap into that knowledge without a life or death scenario”

Yancy started shifting through the pieces again,“ It was mostly brute force stuff… that's not how I wanna function…” He said, thinking about what the gang saw him as.

Big dumb muscle.

“ I know. I’ll help you. I’ll help you relearn the basics. And I’ll help you learn whatever you need, depending on your next step”

The next step. Just thinking about the decision he had to make churned his stomach. His thoughts were dragged back to the facility. The disregarded people.

“My old cellmate… He died on that table…”

Illinois looked a bit surprised at that. Yancy was pretty sure it was the first time he saw anything like that on his face.

“ August Maine.” Yancy said softly,“ We called ‘im Gus. Good man… He had no one. Was on the streets. It wasn't his fault, though. The world just hated him. He got jumped, and only lived because he killed his attacker. But he couldn’t get a good lawyer. He was the type to help the underdog. He was kinda our… unofficial welcome comity.”

He took a shaky breath,“ Self-defense. Gus was there because he didn’t kneel down and just die. He was there for self-defense.”

Illinois showed concern, but didn’t interrupt. Yancy stared at the mess of puzzle pieces.

“ I found his papers when runnin… He died during the surgery. He died on that table that I was strapped onto.” He choked up a bit, “He was less than a lab rat to them… Part of me thinks they was right about me. But not Gus.”

He saw a corner piece, and carefully picked it up, between his dark metal thumb and pointer finger.

“ My next step…” He mumbled, staring at the piece.

The room was quiet. Illinois put his hand on the table, near Yancy to show his support without making him uncomfortable.

“ Next step depends on my final destination…” he said weakly,“ And that's a big decision… But I think I've made it…”

He set the corner piece flat on the table, putting the first piece of the large puzzle into place. He took a moment, but when he spoke, his voice held resolve, and even a bit of anger. For once, certainty filled him.

“ I wanna bring that place to the ground”

Chapter Text

It was the dead of night. 1:37 AM, according to the text in Yancy's vision.

Once again, he found himself trying to quiet his cries from yet another nightmare. He kept rubbing his hands on the sheets as if trying to wipe off the blood.

Benjamin's final emotion. His final look of horror kept flashing through Yancy's mind.

Yancy knew he wasn't supposed to walk, but just sitting there wasn't helping. He carefully got out of the bed, and limped out of the room.

He leaned on the wall and stared at his feet as he made his way to the kitchen. He was very careful with every metal step, lowering his foot slowly to make sure he wasn't loud.

He knew this wasn't prison. It wasn’t like he would be punished or yelled at for leaving his room, but he didn't want to disturb Illinois' sleep.

Or disappoint him.

The house was dark, but that didn't hinder Yancy. He had to admit, the night vision was useful. He made it into the kitchen and grabbed a glass cup with his human hand. If he cracked the thick tray in the facility, the simple glass cup wouldn't stand a chance.

He set down the glass and turned on the faucet, before picking it up and filling the glass. It took a little longer since he made sure the water pressure was low.

As the cup filled, he realized he wasn't even thirsty. It was just something to do. A distraction. He let out a soft sigh as he set down the half full cup and shut off the faucet.

He picked up the glass and headed to the table. A second of inattentiveness was all it took for him to lose track of where the mechanics were. He tripped on his mechanical foot and tumbled to the floor.

The glass hit the ground and shattered half a moment before he hit the ground. He tried to catch himself with his forearms to prevent his face from hitting the floor. He winced as the metal clanged against the floor, and a jolt of pain was felt in his shoulder. He whimpered softly and rolled onto his back, away from the glass.

Pathetic, he thought as he lay on his back. The water soaked through his shirt. His shoulder hurt so much from the sudden strain that his eyes started to tear up. All he wanted was some water.

It was no surprise when he heard Illinois’ door open. He braced himself for whatever Illinois had to say. Disappointment maybe? Annoyance? Yancy closed his eyes as he lay there, accepting defeat. Illinois didn’t seem mean, but Yancy knew everyone had their limits. He wouldn’t be surprised if someday (if not that night) he accidentally pushed Illinois to that point.

After a moment, the lights flickered on and Yancy heard him.

“Hey bud, you alright…?”

Yancy forced his eyes open and squinted, adjusting to the light before sitting up carefully.

“ Yeah I'm good… just gettin some water.” he mumbled. He felt humiliated as he glanced at the glass shards sitting in the water. “Sorry…”

Illinois grabbed some paper towels and a broom, “It’s no biggie” He said lightly as he slipped on some slippers so he didn't cut his own feet.

No scolding. No disappointment…

Illinois started cleaning, “Next time though, you should call for me. You really shouldn’t be on your leg right now”

Was that a scolding? Yancy decided it wasn’t. “I know… sorry.” he said again. He wanted to help Illinois clean the mess, but his shoulder was throbbing agonizingly. He clenched his jaw, trying to deal with it.

“ Forgive me for calling your bluff, though. I don’t believe for a second that you’re up just for water. You seem like your head is somewhere else.”

Yancy looked down,“ Nightmares again…” he admitted grudgingly. “I didn’t wanna bother cause youse got work and stuff, and it's late. But I couldn’t just sit there… Hurt too much…”

Illinois swept the glass into a pile and sat next to Yancy on the floor.

“ Do you wanna talk about it?” Illinois asked gently, like a parent would. With concern.

“It was Ben… I'm kinda used to the one with my parents, but this is so… fresh…” Yancy stared at the floor. “In this dream, I could just sorta hear him. This time he wasn’t angry… he was begging. Everything was black, and I could just hear pleads. When I could finally see, I had already… I had already done it”

Illinois thought for a moment, before saying “How about we give him a funeral?”

“Huh…?”

“ I think if we did a little unofficial funeral, you could get a little closure. I don’t think it can fix everything, but I think it could help you a little. You could properly apologize and pay your respects”

“Apologizin won't bring him back… It won't fix what I did”

“ Yancy, as harsh as it sounds, nothing will. Nothing will bring him back. Nothing will bring back your limbs. Nothing will get back those ten years”

“ ‘s this supposed to make me feel better?”

“ Let me finish. You can stress about all the things you can’t change forever. You can let guilt consume you and become a shell. Or, you can start by accepting those things happened. You can forgive yourself and instead of fixating on what's been done, you can focus on what you can do. The past is important, but I think it's mostly important because it's the foundation of the future.”

Illinois smiled softly at him, “If you only focus on the past, then the past becomes pointless”

“ He probably hates me though… It might be disrespectful or somethin…”

“ You know, Yance… I honestly don't think the dead hold grudges, if there's anything after”

Yancy looked at him, wiping his eye. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion,“ I murdered him. Youse gonna tell me he ain’t holdin a grudge? That don’t make sense. Anyone would be upset. And I don't blame ‘em”

“ If there is any sort of after life, it's beyond… this. It's beyond everything here. I think in any sort of afterlife, Benjamin would be able to see why. Even if there was a situation where it was really out of cold-blooded murderous rage, I think people further on wouldn’t see a point in bothering. I think they would be able to see a full picture, and not hold onto things that we see as big.”

Illinois paused for a moment before saying, “Granted, I’m not the religious type. I dunno what others believe. I dunno if I think there's any sort of after life, or if I think there's not. But I think if there is an afterlife, they see grudges don’t matter. At the end of the day, I don’t think it matters to him if you do a funeral or not. An apology won’t bring him back. But maybe it can help you start healing”

“Maybe… “ Yancy mumbled. He looked over at Illinois, wondering once again if he was doing this to take down any defenses Yancy could have, and to defuse any possible fight or flight, or if Illinois truly wanted to help him. Either way, Yancy could see the truth to his statements.

Plus, how was he supposed to take down the facility if he couldn’t sleep, and not focus on the future like Illinois said?

Anger simmered in him. Benjamin didn’t like the facility. Maybe Ben wasn’t less than a lab rat, but what he wanted was disregarded. Through obligation and contracts, he was stuck there too. No good came of that facility. Yancy didn’t think he would ever forgive himself, but if it took trying to heal to take that hellhole down, he would.

“Yah… Youse right. It's worth a shot”

Chapter Text

Yancy spent the day in Illinois’ work shed, trying to carve and chip away at a stone. He wanted to make Benjamin a gravestone himself, but he had no artistic skill, and he was right-handed, to begin with. He kept chipping too far no matter how careful he was with the mechanical arm. His accuracy of what he wanted was off.

The whole time, while Illinois was at work in town, Yancy was struggling with the stone. He was so focused he hardly touched the snacks Illinois had put in there for him so he didn’t have to get up.

It was a frustrating process of over-correcting and clumsy mistakes.

Illinois had told him a gravestone wasn’t necessary, but Yancy insisted. He wanted to prove to himself he really was serious. He wanted to make sure this wasn’t easy so he could be sure he was apologizing the best he could.

As he worked, he thought about how he really didn't know Benjamin. Benjamin was nice, and he knew the basics about why Benjamin was at the facility, but at the end of the day that's all he knew. He truly did feel like, under different circumstances, the two would have been friends. Benjamin had seemed to be a kind, likable guy.

Yancy wasn’t, but he felt in some other universe, where he never got caught up with the wrong crowd in the very beginning, he could have been a good person. Maybe that version of him, that Daniel who wouldn’t need a fake name to hide from the reality of who he was, could have been best friends with Benjamin.

Instead, here Yancy sat, carving a headstone for a good man he never knew. Instead, he was learning how to use a robotic limb while wrestling with guilt, logic, and even anger. Instead of being Daniel Jones, a boy with the potential to be whatever he wanted, with the potential to do good, and make people smile, he was Yancy. A Frankenstein monster of a person, with unbearable guilt, constantly ripping at his insides.

He finished creating the makeshift, clumsy-looking gravestone shortly after Illinois got home. Yancy felt like the stone was offensive to Benjamin's memory. Like spitting at a person instead of giving flowers. Several spots were chipped too deep or, making some letters unrecognizable. Other lines of the letters were too short or too long. There were no curves in the letters, efficiently making it look like a caveman made it.

As he was considering tossing it (both the gravestone and the idea), Illinois came in.

“ How's it goin?” Illinois asked, leaning on the table.

“ It’s as good as it's gonna get” Yancy replied, defeated. “ I don’t know nothin about him, so it ain’t too personalized, and it ain't pretty, but I… did the best I could”

Illinois smiled“ As long as you did the best you could, you did perfectly.” He came over to help Yancy up, “There's a spot near the edge of the clearing with a bunch of dandelions”

Yancy carefully got up with Illinois’ assistance. He held the stone carefully in his metallic arm. “ Ain't Dandelions weeds? That sounds sorta disrespectful…”
“ Yeah, most people classify them as weeds. But I think they're amazing.”

Yancy frowned “why?” He could remember his mother every summer and spring, tirelessly trying to get rid of the large patches of yellow weeds in their lawn.

Illinois helped him outside,” They're strong. They grow and thrive anywhere the seeds land. Kids wish on them like they wish on stars. They just… feel like an embodiment of hope.”

The patch of yellow and white flicked softly in the wind. Hope, but for what? A better future? A patch of joy someday? Or just peace. Satisfaction. Hope for rest, or an opportunity to breathe and just be. Hope for the day that there’s no more ‘next step’ because, in this hopeful future, the destination is met.

Illinois helped him walk to the patch of hopeful weeds. “ I ain’t ever been to a funeral…” Yancy said. “ I don’t know how this works…”

“ This is for you, Yancy. It works however you want”

“Youse ain’t gonna help me here…?”

“Only because I know you don’t need it. Think of this all as a… first-grade art assignment. You’ve been coloring in the lines for so long. Coloring sheet after coloring sheet. Everything defined. You don’t get to make things for yourself. I’m giving you a blank sheet of paper. No wrong answers here. No lines. Nothing to help with.”

Yancy looked to the dandelions, before nodding and setting down the rock, so the name was facing the sky.

“It’s a pretty day…” Yancy said, carefully sitting on the ground.

Illinois sat next to him, “It really is. Warm, pretty, bright. It has been for a few weeks now…”

Yancy pulled his human leg to his chest, letting the metal one rest in the grass. The dark metal of his foot seemed to deny light. Despite the warm light covering them, making almost everything seem bright and beautiful, the metal refused to do the same.

“Ain’t it funny, how the worlds so pretty? Everyone always sayin they hate the world, but they forget the world is so much more than… whatever we are. I feel like that’s part of the problem. Us thinkin it’s just… us.”

Illinois just listened, with a bit of a curious look on his features. Yancy could hear chirping in the trees. He could hear the wind overtaking the leaves. The sounds of the world.

“ Those birds up there. They ain’t bothered by us. While my own world is just… fallin apart, theys just singin. It’s another day for them. Another beautiful day with sun, and warmth.”

He looked at the poorly crafted grave. “ It was an accident… I pushed him out of the way. I didn’t know how strong it was… but it was still me… I wish I could tell him, face to face, that I’m so sorry. I'd do anythin to explain myself. I guess closure really is what I need”

The mechanic still listened. Yancy glanced over to see if he seemed bored. To his relief, he didn’t. Illinois was listening intently, looking interested. Yancy still wasn’t sure of Illinois’s motives. Maybe it was just to keep him calm and subdued… but at this moment, he needed this. Even if Illinois was using this for his own gain, he was right. Yancy needed closure.

Yancy looked at the grave. “ I’ll never get an answer back from him. I didn’t even know him well enough to know if he’d accept this apology… But…”

He went quiet. Even the soft wind was louder. But that was okay. This was for Yancy. No one needed to hear him. He just needed to say it.

“‘m sorry, Benjamin… I really am…”

—

Everything was a dead end. Everything that S had access to, at least. He typed away at the monitor, huffing at every beep that meant ‘no luck’.

J, their unofficial leader, looked over his shoulder, leaning on the back of the chair. “Any progress?” He asked, looking at the code that he had no chance of understanding himself.

“No. I’m trying to hack into the place myself, just to see what route whoever did it took. It’s a top-secret facility, though. There really is no clean way in. Xander said it himself. The hacking job was seamless. But every way I’m finding would leave an obvious trail. The more I’m looking, the more I’m convinced it was someone on the inside.”

J frowned, “so you think whoever hacked it was in the building…?”

“Not necessarily. The person would have to have been in the security control room. Which is where Xander said he was when I asked. Whoever hacked it only hacked wherever Daniel Jones was. So they weren’t concealing themselves somewhere in the building, either.” S said, cleaning his thick glasses with his shirt.

“I think the place was bugged. But nothing big. Otherwise, the facility security would have found it. There's something called a ‘Micro Interception Chip’. MICs aren’t produced for sale. Even illegally. Everyone understands it’s too much of a risk. Producing this stuff is like opening Pandora’s box.” He put his glasses back on

“But on the rare occasion that an MIC is made and made well, a person can remotely control or spy with little to no show of it. It’s rare, but I think it makes the most sense here. If Xander will let me, I can take a good look over the system. It would be in a control room, in a main computer. I don’t think it’d take me too long to find it, if a MIC is what’s being used”

“So it was an employee?”

“Or a past one. Someone sneaking in without the hacking assistance is super improbable. So it was someone, who at some point, had or has access to the inside of there.”

J nodded “And if it’s an… MIC, and you get it, then what?”

“Well, the next step is childs play.” S said with a shrug. “The MIC chip would have a direct connection to some sort of device the hacker owns. We track that, find them, and do our job”

Chapter Text

Although Yancy’s dreams held past moments and distressing emotions, he found it more bearable that night. A normal dream peppered with regrets. There, but not overwhelming.

He spent most of the day, sitting at the coffee table and working on the puzzle. Now that he had a goal, he was more eager to learn to use his hand. He tried his best, only using his own human hand only when necessary.

He would never forget Benjamin or his parents. He knew he would probably never even really forgive himself, but now he had a motive. A purpose. A want. The boiling sorrow had reduced to a simmer.

Now there were new emotions to deal with. Yancy set down a piece carefully, feeling a sense of satisfaction as it fit with the rest. Not deal with. Harness. The anger bubbling in him, the determination he felt slowly making its way through every fiber of him, the desire to fix whatever he could gradually filling his mind. He knew he could use all that.

It wasn’t revenge he wanted. Although thinking about Doctor Pitch made his jaw clench, he didn’t want anything unnecessary. He didn’t want to hurt anyone.

He picked up another piece, and put it in the pile of blue pieces he figured was the sky.

With more emotions than pure guilt and distress, he felt more ready to learn and grow as much as possible. He had decided he would ask Illinois more about the mechanics when he got home.

Throughout the day, he carefully worked on the puzzle. He made sure he kept his eyes on his hand and was gentle with every movement and every puzzle piece pinched between his metal fingers. By the time Illinois got back, Yancy had only damaged a few puzzle pieces.

Illinois set his bag by the door and came over. “So, how was your day?” He asked, sitting on the floor, on the other side of the coffee table.

Yancy carefully put down another piece. “ It was okay… just thought a lot, and worked on the puzzle”

“You finished the borders” Illinois noted with a small smile, looking over the puzzle pieces and the finished outline.

“ Yup. Youse been gone for eight hours and I’ve only finished the edges” Yancy said, putting a green piece in the pile of pieces he figured were depicting the trees.

“Be fair to yourself, bud. It looks like you’ve been using the bionic hand more, which is great” He said, picking up one of the few damaged pieces. It was a little bent, but otherwise okay.

“I mean, look a this. You have unnatural strength in that arm. You punched
through bulletproof glass, right? It looks like the worst damage here are a few bent pieces. Maybe the puzzle is nowhere near finished, but you’re improving a lot here. I think that’s way more important”

Once again, with Illinois sincerity came an internal struggle with Yancy. He still couldn’t shake the supported feeling that Illinois was hiding something. Yet in moments like this, Illinois showed nothing but true, honest sincerity and a desire to help Yancy. It was an exhausting, ever-consistent battle in Yancys head.

Eventually, he came to the same conclusion he did before. Even if Illinois’ motive was to use him later on, the mechanic was still giving good advice and feedback. He would, of course, keep an eye out for anything frightening… but for now, all he could do was try to improve.

Yancy nodded, flexing the dark metal hand. “I… I’m pretty proud of myself” He admitted, “I think I am getting better…”

Illinois smiled, “You really are”

A small proud smile met Yancys lips, for a brief moment. In prison, it was hard to find ways to ‘get better’. He was in the same place every day, with the same schedule. To ‘get better’ implies working towards something. It implies improvement. Under a lifetime prison sentence, there's nothing to work towards. Prison becomes the final destination.

He had forgotten the pride that came with improvement. A job well done. The feeling of having some sort of purpose. He always thought he was satisfied in prison, but now he wondered if it was just a lie he convinced himself of. He didn’t have a purpose there, so was he ever truly satisfied?

‘Getting better’ also meant there was more to go. Somehow, the knowledge that there was something to reach for was comforting. More to improve, more pride to feel. He never realized how empty his ‘content’ prison life was.

How would ‘taking down’ the facility work though? It was government ran, so surely one facility wasn't that important. Would it be useless in the end? He frowned as these thoughts filled his head, overshadowing the rare taste of positive emotions.

“So… when I heal, and can finally… function, then..?” Yancy asked.

“Once you can function like before, you gotta learn to really use the bionics,” He said. “For this whole thing to work, we need every upper hand we can get. If you can learn to harness the strength, tools you have now, that's a huge advantage.” Illinois said.

“And our plan for the facility?” Yancy asked.

“We have to find a way to destroy everything in there. The computers, the documents, the supplies. We need to destroy all progress they have, and their supplies to do more”

“Then they’ll start again…”

“ Of course they will, Yance. But that’s not any reason to just sit here. They’ve been drawing about one prisoner a day from different prisons across the country. The facility has been up and running for about seven years. The Bionic thing is new, but testing on people isn’t.”

Illinois put a hand on Yancy's shoulder, “You can’t stop everything. As long as there's living life, there's gonna be suffering. But you really shouldn’t let everything you can’t do, affect what you can do. It’ll take them years to rebuild. Years where this whole thing isn’t happening. That's hundreds, if not thousands, saved from this”

As usual, Illinois had the perfect thing to say. Illinois words left him calmer. Things always seemed to make a bit more sense when Illinois explained in his no-stress manner. It was hard to remember how stressed he was when Illinios was so calm about everything. So convinced that everything is, or at least would ok be soon enough.

“Youse right. Thanks” He said.

He had more questions about what exactly their plan was, but he honestly didn’t want to worry about it at the moment.

However, he still wanted to ask about the rest of his mechanics. Yancy noticed grease smudges on Illinois's face and clothing, before looking back to his puzzle. He resolved to wait till Illinois was able to take care of himself.

He felt a tinge of guilt, thinking about how much Illinois had been sacrificing for him. His time, resources, and safety.

Illinois got up, “I’m gonna go take a shower. Do you need anything first?”

Yancy shook his head, “Nah, I’m good”

“Alright, see you in a half an hour or so”

—

Illinois wiped the fog from the mirror and got out the blow-dryer. As he went about his mundane after-shower routine, he let himself get lost in thought.

He had waited a long time for someone to escape. Illinois had always been slightly wary during his wait, though.

He always took a look at each of the new subjects' files and often observed the current behavior through the security cameras. Many were like Yancy, it seemed. Victim of circumstance, and made a bad choice in a bad situation.

It would be a lie to say that was all of them, though. Some of the people he had seen go in there seemed like true, cold-blooded killers. It was scary to see, even remotely. They still didn’t deserve the inhumane experimentation. Even the plain death penalty was more merciful than the fate all of them faced.

Despite them not deserving it, he was glad it was Yancy who escaped. Yancy was an anxious guy, for sure. A troubled overthinker, but he had a good moral conscience and was good company in general.

He grabbed his hairbrush and worked it through his damp hair. Everything seemed to be going as well as he could expect, but he was still worried about factors outside Yancy's knowledge. Or more importantly, what would happen if he found out.

Illinois shook his head and pulled on a clean shirt. He’d handle whatever came. No point in stressing about things that might not even happen.

Chapter Text

Yancy didn’t make too much progress on the puzzle while Illinois was in the shower. He tried not to let it get to him. It wasn’t till Illinois set a Capri Sun, and a bag of chips on the table next to him, that Yancy realized he had been in almost a void of thought.

He snapped out of his trance and looked at Illinois, who once again sat on the floor with him. The mechanic had a juice pouch and bag of chips of his own. Yancy picked up the juice and carefully poked the straw into it.

“Thanks…” he said before adding, “Hey, I was wondering if youse could tell me about the rest of the robot stuff?”

Yancy didn’t like how every word for what was now on him sounded almost comical. Like some cartoon character. The term ‘cyborg’ fit perfectly for what he was, but the word felt like it belonged in a silly kid show. This wasn’t silly. He still didn’t know what to call his new parts. ‘Mechanics’, ‘Bionics’, ‘robot stuff’. None of it felt right. For now, he had to stick with those, until he could find a more appropriate feeling term.

“Sure thing,” Illinois said, getting back up, “I’ll go grab the blueprint papers from last time”

The fugitive felt bad that he was making Illinois get up, right after sitting down, but he didn’t seem to care. Soon, Illinois was setting the blueprints on the floor, connecting them like before.

After a brief moment, Illinois spoke up, “Alright bud, I think the best place to start now is your fingers, is that good with you?”

Yancy's eyebrows furrowed and he nodded. He set his metal hand on the table and looked at his fingers. What was special about them…? Why would they start there?

He looked at the papers spread across the floor, before directing his attention to the specific section Illinois was focused on. It had a diagram of his mechanical hand, but the fingertips were open, showing things inside.

The thumb and pointer fingers were opened at the top to show two small metal points, that were more of bumps on each finger. Yancy recognized it as a taser, since some of the guards kept some. But it looked much more high-tech and smaller. The guard's tasers had small points, but a little taller, and there was a small wire connecting them. The ones in the blueprint looked sleek, compared to the tasers he had seen before.

There was a small screwdriver in the ring finger. If Yancy was looking at it right, it looked like extended a little. The same went for a blade in the middle finger. The pinky looked like it was left alone, just a simple finger.

Yancy frowned, staring at it, “All that’s there right now?”

Illinois got up, “Sorta, I think.” He came over and sat on the coffee table, on a small spot with no puzzle pieces, “Can you give me your hand for a second?”

Yancy nodded and extended his hand to the mechanic.

Illinois looked closely at his fingertips, “I can’t imagine they gave you anything that actually works at the moment, or the blade and stuff like that. But as a prototype, they had to make your bionics as accurate as possible.” He said.

Yancy couldn’t feel it, but he saw Illinois push up on his middle finger. It seemed more of an upward brush. Yancy thought he was just observing, but after a moment the fingertip opened to show a small empty spot that end at the first joint in the finger.

After a moment of observation, Illinois spoke up again “Okay so it looks like there's a spot where they can put in the attachments, but they didn’t give you any. But I can make some, so no problem. I got the blueprints right here anyway” He said, before doing the same to Yancy's pointer finger.

The pointer finger opened to show the very same seek taser that the blueprint showed. But it seemed dead. Illinois pressed his finger to it, causing Yancy to flinch. He thought Illinois was going to get shocked, but nothing happened. He let out a breath.

“Youse scared me,” Yancy muttered.

“No need for that, I knew it was probably not working. Plus, tasers just shock. I’d be fine.” He gave Yancy a smile, “I appreciate you caring though, Yance”

“Sure thing…” he mumbled awkwardly. He wasn’t good at accepting positive statements from others. He was most definitely out of practice.

The taser was composed of the same dark metal as his arm, for the most part. Illinois looked over it for a long moment before saying, “It’s disconnected from the power source in your arm. I think all I’d have to do is get back into your arm, find the ‘loose’ wire, and connect it to the power source. Then it’ll be working”

Yancy frowned, “Do we need it working…?” He asked. He didn’t want to hurt more people.

“Tasers aren't typically deadly. It just catches a person off guard. If you’re cornered, it can be a great way to get away without killing anyone. The one in the thumb is perfect for behind attacks too. If someone has you in a chokehold, you can just jab it over your shoulder. None of this means you have to use it. You can choose to never use the taser, and only ever use the blade for things like opening packages. But if you have every tool you can get, at least you have the option available in a tight situation.”

Yancy nodded with a small sigh, “I get it” he said, mostly to himself. He didn’t feel comfortable with having a weapon on him, but as far as some were concerned, he was a weapon. He would have to get over it. Or, not get over it, but accept it.

He was starting to realize he had been clinging to what his normal used to be. There was no reasonable hope that he would ever get to live a completely normal life, and whenever he was faced with whatever his new normal was, he grew afraid. He would have weapons on him or be one for the rest of his life.

However, he understood Illinois was right. It was a tool, that he could use however he wanted. Maybe his normal would never be what he had once hoped, but he still had some control. He could do good or bad. He told himself that having everything working didn’t make him bad. It’s what he did with it. With that thought, he resolved to let Illinois help get everything to its intended weaponized state.

“Youse right,” Yancy said with resolve, finally more towards Illinois. “Is there anything else we should go over?”

“Yeah, just a few more,” The mechanic said, before pointing to a spot on the diagram. “You have a storage compartment here. Nothing too big, but it could be helpful with smaller things”

Yancy focused on where he was pointing, before seeing it was the calf of his mechanical leg. It was probably the mildest of the features, which Yancy was grateful for.

He didn’t know how to read blueprints, but looking at pictures wasn’t too hard. The pictures on the blueprint showed the leg, opened to reveal a hollow space from just above the ankle, to just below the knee. There was a bunch of writing about ‘reinforcement’. He didn’t understand most of it, but he understood it was mostly just saying they had to do extra things to make sure it didn’t crumple like a coke can when strained.

After a moment of observation, Yancy nodded. “Got it”

It was difficult, but Yancy was trying to focus more on understanding than feeling, at the moment at least.

“So the last part to focus on is your face. Or more specifically, your eye. Ready?” he asked.

Yancy nodded “Ready as I'll ever be”

Illinois picked up a few parts of the blueprint, “This is another part I’m gonna have a hard time not nerding out over. If I get too much, please tell me”

The fugitive nodded again “I will. But I get it… without the context, all of this is… pretty cool” He admitted.

Illinois smiled, “thanks for understanding. So first off, anything wireless has a high potential of being hacked. Anything on the internet can be hacked. Even things off the internet that are wireless can be hacked with the right tools if it connects to anything wirelessly. You have a basic database there, but it can only be updated with a good ol’ fashioned hard drive or something like that.”

Yancy frowned and nodded “How would a hard drive be uh… connected?”

“According to the blueprints, there's a port near your ear, on the metal. Most of this stuff has been engineered in a way that's hard to find without the preexisting knowledge. You have all these grooves in the metal where everything was put together, but areas where the compartment opens up, you can access the port, or where your fingers open, kinda blend in with the rest of the lines. But its not hard to access, if you ever need to update the database”

“So… what's in there already?”

“A lot of universal things. Since it can’t be wirelessly updated, most of the things in there are things that will always stand true. Like how many inches in a foot, one plus one equals two, what color is what. You also have an internal clock, but it’d be easy to change that, since that can change”

What he really wanted to know about was the text that popped up sometimes. He understood a bit, but only from experience. He wanted to know why, how to trigger it, and how much to rely on it. Maybe all of his doubts came from a misread? Maybe knowing the background behind the ‘feature’ could ease his mind.

“I uh… Is there any sort of…” he didn’t know how to ask. Would he make Illinois get suspicious? If Illinois did have malicious intent and knew Yancy was onto him, was he going to be as civil? How could he word it vaguely enough? Or was it vague enough already?

Illinois tilted his head just a little, with patient curiosity for whatever Yancy was struggling to say.

“ Like a lie detector…? Or somethin like that?”

Chapter Text

Nothing was leading anywhere, Doctor Pitch thought, frustrated. There were squads all over the country, searching. Police had been notified to keep a close eye out. But nothing odd was mentioned anywhere.

It wasn’t as if Daniel Jones could blend in, and yet there were no sightings. No particularly suspicious activity anywhere. It had been a little under a week since the subject had escaped, and three days since he had met with the group he hired. He hadn’t heard anything from them, but he wasn’t too worried about them.

He was annoyed with a lack of confirmed progress, but he was confident that they weren’t running off with the information and the cash. Greed and self-preservation was enough to keep them in line, he was sure of it.

Beside his desk sat his work bag. It typically just held his lunch and a few other necessities, but today, and the past few days, it had also held a throwaway phone. It held only the groups contact in it. He kept it near just in case they called, but he was starting to figure they were the type to not say a thing until they had finished the task.

In the afternoon, just before he was about to clock out, he was proven wrong. He was organizing the papers on his desk when the throwaway phone started buzzing in his bag. The Doctor took the phone out of the bag and answered, hoping for the best, but not expecting much.

The voice on the other side, if he remembered correctly, was S. The technology savvy one. “Is this Xander?”

Doctor Pitch spoke, “Yes it is. Do you have any news?”

“I think I do. More of a theory, but the more I look, the more it seems to be true. Or the only thing that really can be true. I’ve been trying to hack into your facility for about two days now, trying to find any entrance that they could have taken. You said the hacking job was practically seamless, right?”

“Yes, the only evidence now is inconsistent camera feeds.”

“Yesterday I realized it could be an MIC. A chip that allows a person to control something from far away”

“And how would we confirm that, or do anything with that?”

“MICs aren't hard to track, just hard to identify and find. It would have a direct connection to the hackers device. I’m pretty sure it's an MIC at this point. I just really can’t think of any other way, if someone wasn’t right there, hacking it. And I can't imagine the control room was empty enough for anyone to get away with hacking during the escape”

“It wasn’t. I was in there with a few other workers the whole time”

“I figured. I’m sure I could find it, but I need in the control room”

Pitch was quiet for a moment. Should, or even could, he bring him in? Even the maintenance workers and janitors had a certain level of credentials. He would just have to talk to Kathrine Adams again. “I’ll pull some strings and get you in. I’ll keep you updated”

—--

To Yancy’s surprise (and relief), Illinois seemed to find nothing odd about the question, and even seemed to brush off his hesitation.

Except for one thing. The mechanic's fingers tapped on the blueprints, in a subtle fidget. When whatever was in his eye determined that Illinois was telling a ‘half-truth’, it had pointed out fidgeting. Illinois always seemed so confident, typically showing the signs it had stated as ‘trust-worthy’.

Fidgeting was a nervous body language, and he never fidgeted, that Yancy could see. Why was he nervous? It was the only sign, though Yancy couldn’t see any suspicion, but the small sign of nerves didn’t comfort him. As he stared, wondering if it was enough to worry about, the text started to scrawl out again.

But before even one diagram box could form, Illinois spoke, and the forming diagram disappeared.

“There's something sorta like that, but not quite” Illinois said, grabbing a paper. The finger tapping was gone, leaving not a single sign of nervousness, or unease.

“It's super cool, actually. I'd argue the coolest part. A huge thing in communication is body language. Often our subconscious mind is pretty good at picking that up. When someone says ‘that person is off’, it’s usually cause of the body language they subconsciously picked up” He said, setting a few papers in front of Yancy. This one was just coding.

Yancy put aside his empty juice pouch and carefully picked one up, but didn’t understand a thing.

“Your eye has a coding that can pick up body language that can be shown when a person is lying, or even general moods and what they're like. Of course, systems can glitch, or people can be more unpredictable than expected, it's not a perfect thing, but it's pretty good, from what the past tests say, and from what I can see.”

"so how's it activated…?" Yancy asked.

"It's honestly somewhat finicky. Lie detectors are a thing, but to be honest they're inaccurate. They check for signs of general nervousness in an unreliable way, and have to be manually hooked up to the person being asked things. This is like a lie detector on steroids" He explained.

"While It looks like it has great accuracy, triggering it depends on a few factors. First, it's connected to your brain, and reads your brainwaves.”

“So this… thing can read my thoughts..?”

“Not exactly. Brainwave tech has come a long way, but it still can’t tell things like specific words and phrases. It just gets the idea and feeling of what you're thinking. It's pretty accurate, but it can't tell the exact words. Like, if you were to think, ‘Im so hungry’, it wouldn’t process those exact words. It would process the desire for food, and that you acknowledged it.”

Yancy nodded, trying to keep up. “Okay… I think I got it… the other day I wondered what time it was, and the time popped up, so it didn’t answer my specific question, words and all, it answered my… want, to know the time?”

“Exactly!” Illinois said with the tone of a proud school teacher. Why was he happy that he understood, if just a moment ago, he was fidgeting from the question? Was Yancy reading too much into it? He tapped his fingers for a few seconds. It could easily mean nothing, Yancy reasoned.

“Your general wants, and desires. The idea of your thoughts, but not your concrete thoughts. But that's where it can get finicky. Some things can look similar, brainwave wise. Or sometimes it can’t be picked up. Connecting man made things to nature isn’t usually flawless. That's why the mechanics are directly connected to your nerves, not your brain. The nerves work as almost a decoder for the mechanics. But the sensor is direct.”

“So I just gotta want to know someone's lyin?” Yancy asked, trying to get the direct answer.

“Yeah, but you also have to be able to stare. It has to have time to pick up the information, and give you the analysis”

A thought clicked in Yancys mind. So Illinois knew how it worked. Did he interrupt the diagrams on purpose? They were in mid-conversation, maybe it was him following the natural flow of socialization. It was completely probable, in fact, most likely, but Yancy had to think back to every time he doubted Illinois motives. Illinois, typically moving, or talking. Was he intentionally not giving him time to read him?

He set down the paper of coding he had no chance of understanding. He didn’t think Illinois was lying. If it was, surely he wouldn’t give Yancy this information. Illinois probably would have warped it, possibly even told him it was a faulty feature, and it was too glitchy to trust.

Instead, he told him what he could only assume was the truth about the sensors. Yet Illinois was hiding something. Yancy was sure of it at this point.

The issue was, how big is the thing he was hiding? Maybe it was about as bad as parents telling kids Santa Claus is real. Maybe Illinois was just cushioning something going on, trying to protect him from some morbid truth? Or maybe it was worth is panic. What if Illinois was just using him? Or what if Illinois was working for someone? Maybe not the lab, but some independent scavengers, or sort of other organization?

Knowing he was hiding something did nothing. He had no clue how innocent, or sinister it was.

Illinois gently tapped the coffee table to get Yancys attention, “You good bud?”

Yancy nodded, “Yeah, just thinkin” He said, taking the bag of chips had given him. “Sorry. Thanks for helpin me understand” He said.

“Sure thing. I know this is a lot of new information, so take a breather, and whenever you're ready, we can get the taser working. Also, if you're up for it, I was looking at a normal healing process and your obviously accelerated process, and I think you can start walking tomorrow or the next day”

That made Yancy light up a bit, “Really?” He asked, eagerness laced into his voice.

Illinois chuckled, “That might be the happiest I've ever heard you.”

Yancy looked back at the chips, feeling almost a little embarrassed.

The mechanic smiled at him, “Yes, really. Just don’t push it. If the pain is bad, sit down. I think there's gonna be discomfort, but not too much. I’ve been taking a look at the meds and stuff the files say they pumped into you. I’m an expert with mechanics and codes and stuff, but I had to do some digging with what they used. This stuff is super strong, but risky. Luckily the negative side effects would have shown by now, so I dare say you're clear, just don't be running any marathons”

Gratitude filled Yancys chest. He wouldn’t have to rely on anyone to help him get around. He was starting to know how to use his hand. He knew how to trigger and use the sensors. He could walk soon. Hope. Yancy felt hope, that he could learn to function in his new normal, and soon.

Uncertainty of whatever Illinois was actually doing still frightened him, but he was gaining the tools, and abilities to take care of himself if he needed to.

The tools and abilities to save others facing his fate, and worse.

No matter Illinois end goal, he was helping him. Yancy had no clue where he would be at this point if Illinois hadn’t found him. Probably found and dead. Or starving on his own, in pain from constant running, and no one to help him though the nightmares.

Illinois just took all this time to explain everything, and to trying to help him understand. Maybe there was a sinister grand plan, but the help was undeniable, no matter the intentions.

“Illinois… I can't thank youse enough” He said. And he meant it.

Chapter Text

The orange glow of the sunrise filtered through the curtains of Yancys room. He was already awake, staring at the ceiling. Illinois had said he could walk today, or tomorrow. Yancy would push for today, though. He didn’t like the idea of not being able to run.

Back in prison, he was fine with staying. He didn’t care that running wasn’t allowed. He was fine with the bars, high fences and thick stone walls, because everything was predictable. At exactly 6 AM he would wake up. At 12:15 PM he would go get lunch. At precisely 3:15 PM they would go into the courtyard for exactly two hours.

He never saw a reason to go. He knew the schedule, and was fine with it, but there was no predictability here. He wanted to be able to go if things went too sour too fast.

After a brief moment of compilation, he got up and rose to his feet.

He had expected a jolt of pain. He was using no wall, no bedside table, no helping hands. Yet it only felt tender. Like a mostly healed bruise. Although Yancy the hated the thought of steroids not available to the public pumping though his veins, forcing his body to heal faster than natural, he felt a sense of relief and joy fill him.

The feeling, which was close to giddiness, only grew after a few steps. It was a pain that was extremely manageable. The only real issue was the learning curve now. He couldn’t know for sure where it was without seeing. The hope and joy didn’t die down. He would just have to practice. He was already getting better with his arm and hand.

He went to the door, basking in how little pain he felt. It felt odd, that this was something he celebrated. He never would have thought that last, normal day at the prison would be the last with his legs.

It was something he took for granted, because he would have never guessed he would lose it. He would never have it like before. He would never have two legs of flesh and blood ever again. Despite the heaviness of that, Illinois was right.

People adapted fast. Even though it had been less than a week, Yancy was having a hard time imagining a time when he had a fully normal, human body. So much had happened that it felt like a different existence.

That wasn’t to say he didn’t miss his limbs or that he was okay with how things were, but he was adapting, and improving.

Yancy opened the door, and made his way down the hall. He was careful with every footstep. Careful not to trip over or with his unfeeling metal foot. The absence of most pain was heaven to him. It was one less thing to worry about, and more attention he could use on getting better.

Thinking back, he was shocked that he made it though the night he escaped. How he didn’t trip. He was able to shove though the pain.

Illinois had talked about survival instincts. Yancy had no doubt he was right, but that same instinct led to Benjamin's death. Survival.

He didn't want that to be a core of his ability to function, and that want was becoming more of a reality.

As he neared the kitchen, he could hear Illinois moving about, and smell eggs and bacon.

Prison typically had quick, mass-produced food, much like school lunches. He had actually learned after a few weeks in there that the prison got food from the same place that provided lunches to many schools.

Illinois’ home cooked meals were amazing. Yancy had almost forgotten eggs weren't meant to be neon yellow and rubbery, and waffles came in more forms than a whole grain rip-off eggo waffles.

When he entered the kitchen, Illinois looked up from the stove and smiled, “How are you holdin up, bud?”

“It don’t hurt too much. Just feels bruised” Yancy responded honestly.

“That's great! Don’t go running any races, of course, but I think you're good to walk a normal amount. You want a breakfast burrito?”

“That’d be nice” Yancy said, getting a plate.

Just that alone filled him with pride. He was standing, and getting a breakable plate with both his hands. He was slowly adapting. Of course, he held the plate very carefully, and somewhat awkwardly. Of course, he had to be very aware of where his foot was so he didn’t trip when he stepped away, but it was still progress.

Illinois finished making one and set it on Yancys plate, “I’m off of work tomorrow, so we can set up the taser then, and if you're up to it I can help you with some physical therapy”

“Huh?” Yancy asked as he sat down.

“Physical Therapy, or at least in this context, is just helping someone who got hurt relearn how to do things like walk and stuff.”

“Oh. Yeah… that’d probably be best”.

Illinois put his own breakfast burrito on a paper towel, “Cool. I gotta head to work today though.” He said, picking up his backpack, “So I’ll see you tonight”

Yancy nodded, feeling bad that Illinois worked such long hours as he just sat here. He decided he’d clean a bit while Illinois was gone to help out. “Alright. See youse tonight.”

—

Doctor Pitch had to wonder how far Kathrine would allow him to go. Technically speaking, she was an accomplice, which already allowed him to push things. A door beeped and let him through as he scanned his key card.

Kathrine Adams was a strong and capable woman in many ways, but her weak point was her moral compass. She believed in good. In doing, and seeing it. She didn’t seem to understand ‘good’ was flexible, and changed in almost every situation.

Lying is wrong until someone asks you if they look ugly in their new shirt. Hitting is wrong until you’re being attacked. Yelling is wrong until you have to get someone's attention for something urgent.

Mortals had to move and adapt, and therefore, were a faulty foundation. It didn’t matter how strong she was, if she could be swayed with an argument on ‘what's right’.

She wouldn’t be too much of an issue, he decided. He would just have to do what he did last time.

Doctor Pitch knocked on her office door, “Ms. Adams, may I come in?”

“Yes” she called, back. Pitch could hear shuffling papers, most likely the sounds of her quickly trying to clean her desk. She tended to have an… untidy work area.

He came in, “Any progress?” he questioned, not caring for pleasantries.

Kathrine was trying to stack papers in somewhat tidy piles on her desk, but seemed to only succeed on condensing the mess.

“I haven’t heard of any, but I can't oversee the search for him forever. It’s heavily on me that he got out, since I run the department that's supposed to stop that, but if I pay too much attention to him, another breach could happen. But we can’t even find out where the breach is from”

“I actually am here to talk to you about that. The people I’ve hired seem to have some theories about how it happened.”

He could see the conflict on Kathrine's face. Eager to find out. Not liking that he followed through with hiring untrained criminals.

Pitch continued as he stepped in front of her unkept desk, “There's four of them. One of them seems to know his way around electronics. He said it could be an MIC. Have you heard of those?”

“I think so…? Micro… something. It wasn’t too focused on in training, cause if I remember correctly the only real way to get one is to make one yourself. Even illegally commissioning it is tricky because of how much they can do.”

“Miro Interception Chip.” Pitch said, with a brief nod, “Yes, it can give someone complete inside control from the outside. It's not attached to any networks, making it almost untraceable. If there's an MIC here, they would have access to all of our files, cameras, security systems, etc. In fact, they could have used our computers to deactivate the prisoner's chip”.

“So, how did it get in here…?”

“My best guess is an employee. I haven’t narrowed anything down, though. I don't know if it's an employee housing him, or if it was just one that snuck in the chip. Or maybe some other thing I haven't considered yet. Of course, there being an MIC is just a theory in the first place. A strong one, though.”

“Alright, so we just need to look for the hypothetical MIC, right?”

“I need help. I need to get the tech one in here, to take a look.”

“No” Kathrine said immediately. “I’m not going to help you smuggle a criminal in here. I wouldn’t even help you get a regular civilian in her, Doc. He can just tell us how to find it”.

Of course, her first response was no. He hadn’t expected anything else. So of course he was prepared.

“He could, but from what I understand he has to run specific diagnostics on the computers that
aren’t really common knowledge. He said once found it's easy to trace to the user. The main issue is in knowing there's a chip and finding the chip. No one has this skill set unless they work with this kind of thing. We could take our chances and let him talk us though, but risk failing, him having to come in any way and wasting far too much time.”

A moment of doubt and conflict flicked across her features. Good. Morals could waver. They were a faulty foundation. That made his task here much easier.

“Or you could help me get him in now, he could find the chip, and we could have a direct line to wherever the hackers device is. Which would be an incredibly large clue, especially considering we have nothing. It could even lead us directly to them, especially if we do not delay”.

Kathrine was rubbing a finger over a small flaw in the wooden desk, as she seemed to contemplate. Distressed. Her base of morals shifting, as morals often must.

“Doctor Pitch, justification it a dangerous game. If you never draw a line, you can justify yourself right into the worst side of things…” Her eyes flicked to her fidgeting finger, before looking back at Pitch.

Pitch showed no reaction to her words.

“I… see your point. Yes, I will help him in. But please be careful. Please draw your line, and always be aware of where it is.”

Pitch nodded “Thank you, Ms. Adams” he said, before he left.

He knew where his line was, but it was not the type she was talking about. It was a finish line, and anything could be justified if it was to get there.

Chapter Text

Every step felt hopeful to Yancy. From the Kitchen table to the sink. From the sink to the living room. From the living room to a nice spot in the grass outside. Things that were once normal, were victories now.

When he held anything without breaking it, he felt his heart swell in pride. When he got himself a towel, walked to the bathroom, and took a shower all while Illinois was at work, he found a genuine smile on his face.

There were still mistakes, of course. After he finished his breakfast, he had accidentally cracked the plate when taking it to the sink (thankfully, Illinois didn’t seem to mind. He seemed way more worried about Yancys frantic apologizing than the plate). He had slipped in the shower, but was able to catch himself.

Each mistake made his mood falter, but only for a moment. He tried to remind himself of every small victory.

The next morning, Illinois was already up, as usual. Yancy had always thought he got up stupidly early. Yet at 6:30 on a Saturday, Illinois was wide awake, and had been for heaven knows how long.

Illinois greeted him brightly as Yancy entered the kitchen, “hey Yance, Just got finished with the omelets, so feel free to take one and we can eat.”

Yancy nodded and got out two plates for them, “Thanks, ‘Noise… Youses cooking is always really good.” He said, picking up an omelet with a fork.

Pride flooded him again. Sure, he had to stay very aware of the mechanics at all times, but he was doing it! It was growing a little easier to understand his grip on the fork without denting it. To carry the plates with enough grip to not drop them, but not too much.

“I appreciate it” Illinois said lightly. “ Once you’re done, I can work on getting the taser working. Then I was thinking we could take a walk, if you’re up to it”

Yancy nodded and sat down at the table, “That sounds nice”

It had been a while since he had been able to take a good walk. The prison courtyard wasn’t too scenic, and was only so big. His last venture though the woods was filled with panic and adrenaline. It would be nice to walk through the woods with far more calm and friendly circumstances.

Illinois took a seat beside him, and cut his omelet, “Agreed. I could use some fresh air. It's really pretty out there recently. Oklahoma may not have much to do, but spring is so nice here”

“So we’re ‘n Oklahoma?”

“Oh- I forgot to tell you anything about our location. Sorry. Yes, we’re about two hours west from its capital, almost seven hours from the prison you were at”

“Oh wow… I must have been out for a while...” Yancy said, taking a bite of his food.

“To be honest, not really. A normal tranquilizer only works for about an hour. Three, tops. But the one you were hit with was way stronger. Some people are out for almost a full day. But like any chemical, it affects every person different. You were definitely on the quicker end of waking up. From the information I could find, I’d guess eleven hours. From what I can tell, the average is about fifteen. You’ve got great endurance, Yancy.”

“I do?”

Illinois nodded after taking a bite, “of course. It's not only pure willpower and adrenaline that got you out of that place. I think your endurance helped a lot. “

Yancy took another bite, and got a bit lost in thought. The Gang hadn’t been able to teach him to fight, but he was always put near the front of them.

He always thought it was because he was disposable to them, and maybe that was a part of it, but now he wondered if it was because they knew he could take a lot of punches. Maybe they didn’t value him too much… but maybe they knew he’d be perfectly fine after a few days, and it was just the best spot for him.

Finding worth in a gang wasn’t ideal, but he couldn't help but hope they had seen some value in him.

“Thanks...” Yancy finally said, before finally turning his focus to the omelet.

—

About an hour later, Yancy was sitting crisscross on the floor, waiting for Illinois.

Illinois had said he was just going out into the shed to grab some tools to connect the wire, meaning for a moment it was just Yancy and his thoughts.

He noticed he was starting to trust Illinois. Despite the uncertainty about his intentions, Yancy couldn’t logically make out how they could be too bad. Illinois was making sure that Yancy could defend himself. He was providing him with food, shelter and emotional support.

It was still a possibility that he was using Yancy for an upper hand, but he honestly didn’t think so. Illinois seemed so sincerely proud of Yancy’s progress, and so genuine when comforting him.

Did it even matter if it was just for an upper hand? If Illinois just wanted to steal things from the inside for the black market or something? The good the mechanic had done for Yancy was undeniable. Yancy could still try to take down the facility while helping Illinois.

Part of him hardy felt the need to worry about even that anymore, though. The sensors said there was a half-truth. Illinois’ desire to help was not exactly normal when compared to the self-serving majority Yancy had met in his life. That was all he had against him.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and admitted to himself. “I trust him…”

A heavy weight lifted from his chest. He trusted Illinois. He would try to stop looking too deep into every movement and a word. Illinois was helping him, and Yancy was getting better. At this moment, that was all that mattered.

He glanced up as he heard Illinois come in, tool box in hand.

The mechanic sat the tool box down before joining Yancy crisscross on the floor, “Alright Yance, can I have your arm?” he asked, fishing out a screwdriver.

Yancy extended his arm to him, “Sure thing… thanks again”

“ ‘course, bud” Illinois said, taking out the screws and grabbing a pair of pliers.

“Thank you for trusting me with this. On that note though, I wanna let you know you don’t have to let me touch your mechanics. These are yours, and if you want my tools far away from them, please don’t hesitate to tell me.” he added as he carefully poked though the wires.

It took Yancy a moment to realize what he meant. He hardly comprehended just how much the artificial limbs were his. They were many things in his mind, ranging from government property, to tools he had to use to exist, to burdensome weight he had to carry.

He found it difficult to comprehend they were his limbs now. The sleek dark metal hand was so foreign to him. It looked so out of place next to his weathered hand, with letters tattooed across the knuckles, and an occasional scar. It was so human. Every scar held part of Yancy. Every mark held a piece of his life.

So far, the intrusive bionics only had one story. The metal looked so futuristic, and cold. Unforgiving. The purple light from the inside of his arm did nothing to make it look more inviting. But it was his.

“I appreciate it… I’ll keep that in mind” Yancy said sincerely as he watched Illinois pinch a wire in the pliers carefully.

After a moment, Illinois pulled the pliers out, “Alright, use any finger, and brush up on your pointer finger or thumb. Human works, but the mechanical fingers are built to trigger it open a bit better”

Yancy nodded after a moment of hesitation and brushed his metal middle finger in an upward motion against his thumb.

The thumb tip opened to the same minimalistic looking taser, but it still looked bland.

“Did youse get it connected..?”

“Yeah, it's just pressure sensitive. It shocks when it's pressed against something. If you press it against the coffee table, we can see if it's working”

Yancy nodded and turned his thumb down and pressed it against the table. The loud repeated snapping noise that came with it made him jump, even though he had heard it plenty of times. He pulled his thumb back quickly and smiled a slightly sheepish smile, “Its uh… its workin’” He said, closing the thumb tip with his other hand.

“Great! Then I'll just put the panel back on and we can get ready for that walk”

There was a new friendly and comfortable air. Illinois hadn’t changed at all. He was still cool, confident, and casual as ever, but Yancy finally allowed himself to breathe. He had been in survival mode for so long, he had never realized how liberating it would be to turn it off.

A fight for survival would continue again, because he was choosing to fight. For now, though, he felt safe. Maybe it was just Illinois no-care attitude rubbing off, but he couldn’t help but think that was all that mattered at the moment.

Chapter Text

In two days, Kathrine would help two members of the group into the building. The group didn’t want S to go in alone, but Kathrine didn’t want to help too many people in.

Kathrine knew Dr. Pitch was annoyed with her hesitance and boundaries on how she would do this, but there was only so much she was willing to risk. She was one of the first people to get chewed out when Daniel Jones escaped. It was a security failure and therefore her failure. She wanted to fix it.

However, her coworkers methods for fixing it didn’t sit right with her. He kept saying it was for the greater good. Every project in that cold, violent facility was for the greater good… but some days she wasn’t so sure.

The tests that were done in this building were hid under the blanket of progress. Everyone slept at night because they had all convinced themselves that these criminals don’t deserve more.

That also never sat right with Kathrine, but now that her and Pitch were committing crimes by giving information, working with criminals, and sneaking people into government facilities, she was starting to see how blurred lines could feel.

How many of the criminals that had died in this building believed in their ‘greater good’? Could she safely say they deserved it and she didn’t?

No, she realized. She really couldn’t. No one could say something like that safely.

—

It was beautiful out. It had been for a while, and it's not like Yancy hadn’t noticed. He just hadn’t been able to enjoy it yet.

Yancy and Illinois walked along a lightly worn ‘path’ in the woods, side by side. The only people who had walked here were Illinois and whoever owned the house last, so the only signs that it was a path was the thinner, flattened grass in contrast to the thick and abundant greenery around them.

Despite Yancy being able to walk, Illinois had encouraged him to bring a cane. He had said it was dangerous to over do it. So eventually Yancy gave in, even though it was a bummer to not get to walk completely on his own without help.

The cane was a smooth wooden one, with grooves in the handle for an easy grip. It looked nice, but tiny unnatural grooves, or slight odd angles, led Yancy to think Illinois made it himself.

He glanced at Illinois, walking slightly ahead of him. It was so calm, and natural. The cane was a bit hard to get completely used to, and his movements were a bit awkward, but Illinois’ calm and causal air led to a peaceful feeling.

Illinois was making sure the path was clear enough, so Yancy wouldn’t trip and get hurt. Kicking a larger rock aside, or pulling aside a branch occasionally. As Yancy watched from a little behind, he realized how little he knew about Illinois.

With all his former suspicions and fears, he never actually took the time to get to know him. After a moment of mulling over these thoughts, he spoke up, “I just realized youse know a lot about me, with the court records and documents and… everythin. But I don’t know nothing about youse”

Illinois glanced over his shoulder and smiled a bit, “I guess so. Do you want to know something?”

“I think it’d be nice to get to know youse a bit, yeah.”

“So, just anything about me?” Illinois asked, pulling back another branch.

“Yeah. If youses okay with it, of course” He added on quickly. In prison people weren’t always so open with their past, and sometimes not nice to people who asked.

“Of course it is. I’m not too interesting, so I’ll try not to bore you with too many details” Illinois said casually as he let go of the branch and headed ahead again.

“I was born and raised in a small farming town in Ohio. There wasn’t too much commercial fun in the area. The nearest mall was two hours away, the nearest arcade was a forty-minute drive away, in fact it was a half an hour drive just to get groceries. So naturally, as a stupid bored high schooler, I started to look for ways to get adrenaline rushes.”

A small smile formed on Illinois’ face as he walked. The type that comes in the depths of nostalgia, and reminiscing.

“I fixed up an old broke motorcycle and made makeshift ramps with my buddies. Or we had bonfires with probably too little regard for safely. I remember once, I melted my shoe cause I underestimated the heat of the fire at the moment, and overestimated my shoe. To be honest, it's a wonder I’m alive and relatively uninjured, looking back at some of the stupid things we did” He said with a small laugh.

Yancy listened with increasing curiosity. It was nice to finally put a past to the man who had helped him so much. It made everything feel more personal and genuine.

“I guess that's always lived with me. A need for a rush and some form of recklessness. Thanks to the knowledge I got from fixing old broken things to have something to do, getting a job as a mechanic wasn't too hard. Then I learned programing and then just a touch of hacking while I was at it. I didn’t plan on staying in just mechanics. I kinda wanted to make robotics, but I didn’t trust the industry, so I stuck to fixing odds and ends.”

Illinois pulled back another branch for Yancy. “But I always have a love for adventure. Whenever I can, I love to go overseas and explore. Rainforests, mountain tops, rivers. I’ve always enjoyed the caves in Switzerland the most. That's my story, I guess. How about yours?”

“Me..?” Yancy asked as he made it past, “Youse know my story already”

“I know the story, sure. But it's not you. I don’t know your favorite song, what you do to pass time, passions, colors that make you happy. I know what's on the papers and what you’ve told me.”

Birds could be heard chirping over head, happily singing in the gently bobbing leafs and branches. The dirt and rocks softly crunched with each of their steps. Normally he wouldn’t talk about himself, and what he liked. He learned early on no one really cared, but he felt calm and safe. He decided to share.

“I’ve always had a soft for show tunes. I was even part of a theater club before I joined the gang.”

Illinois grinned, “So you’re a theater kid?”

“Was” Yancy corrected. “I ain't listened to a show tune in years anyways.”
“Do you have a favorite musical?”

“Ironically enough, growing up, I loved Chicago. I haven’t listened to anythin in a bit but I kinda think I’d like Hello Dolly more, now.”

“Oh, I think I know that one. It’s a good one” Illinois said with a nod.

“It really is. I remember getting up Sunday morning, and turning on some old musical. We had a bunch, on DVDs. Most of them were scratched, and we’s couldn’t do much about it cause no one really uses DVDs anymore but… I liked it. The scratches became part of the show for me. It got to the point that if I watched it downloaded, without the scratches and delays, it felt empty.”

Illinois smiled at that, “it's funny how sometimes the flaws of something become our favorite part. I painted the motorcycle I fixed up. I spent days on it, with a design I thought was sooo cool. And then I smudged a huge part. I told myself I’d fix it, but I grew too attached to that ugly smudge to do it. I kinda saw it as proof that I fixed and painted it. It was my project, not some big professional company.”

“It is kinda funny… I like that.”

“Me too. A reminder that flaws can be nice, if seen and handled right. A scratch, smudge, or mistake doesn't really ruin everything.”

Yancy lifted his human hand to the small dent in his mechanical one, from the bullet that hit him while he was running. “It’s a nice reminder…”

Chapter Text

Tomorrow. If the group was right about it being an MIC, connected straight to the hacker's device, there was a chance they could catch the fugitive.

Tomorrow.

Doctor Pitch was eager to get all this behind him. Bring Daniel Jones in, do a few brief tests, and then he can be executed. Usually the executions were just procedure. Pitch felt nothing about them.

However, this had grown personal. This criminals escape had caused many to doubt the program and even Pitch himself.

This execution would feel different from the others. It was more than the experiments. It was more than the war. It was more than the facility.

Daniel Jones was tearing apart the Doctor's reputation with every passing hour, and Pitch wanted him dead for it.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow he could start mending his pride, and if all went well, in a few short days Daniel Jones would be dead.

—

Yancy slept better than he had in a while. After their walk in the woods, they had worked on the puzzle some more, had dinner, then went to bed.

It was such a perfectly normal day, and that night when he lay down in the perfectly normal bed, in a perfectly normal bedroom, he didn’t feel an overwhelming sense of not belonging. Sleep came easily that night.

The next morning, he woke up to the same smells of breakfast he had woken up to for the past week or so. Yancy had plans to clean while Illinois was at work, as a thank you. The house wasn’t messy, but there were a few things he could do here and there, like sweeping, moping, wiping down slightly dusty surfaces.

It wasn't much, but it was something.

He changed and headed out into the kitchen, where Illinois was making breakfast burritos.

The mechanic looked over and smiled, “Good mornin’ Yance. I got work again today, but I was thinking afterwards you could show me a few musicals? I got some streaming services, but I’ve never actually sat down and watched a musical before. I think it could be fun.”

Yancy took a plate and nodded, a little surprised that Illinois was interested, but also pretty happy and excited, “Yeah, that sounds fun. Keep in mind, it's been a bit, but I’d love to show youse my old favorites”

“Great” Illinois said, putting his own breakfast burrito on a paper plate so he could take it on the go. “I can’t wait to see what's so great about musicals” his tone was friendly and teasing, as if they had known each other for years.

Yancy was starting to think they might as well have. Illinois was risking his life for Yancy. They’ve hidden from a fully armed squad together. Yancy let Illinois into his mechanics, and Illinois let Yancy into his home. Wouldn’t that friendship be just as valid as any years old friendship?

“See you later, Yance” Illinois said with a wave, before heading out the door.

The cabin was quiet, with only the sounds of the AC, some of the chirps from outside leaking in, and the soft gliding of his mechanical joints as he went to the table and sat down.

Not everything was completely calm, of course. Taking down the facility was constantly on his mind. Was he capable? Would they just catch him again? Would they catch him even before then?

However, these anxieties were slowly becoming manageable. Less overwhelming, and more of a simple thing in the back of his mind. He wasn’t alone in all this. He didn’t have to figure it all out right now and on his own.

After he finished his food, he took a shower, then got started on doing his best to help out.

He swept, vacuumed, mopped, took care of the dishes, etc. To be honest, he loved it. It was nothing close to what Illinois had done for him, but it made him feel useful. Maybe it was even a bit more to calm Yancys mind then for Illinois. If that was the goal, it was working.

Yancy sat on the floor in front of the sink, and looked through the cleaning supplies to see what would be best for his next task. He wanted to wipe down the counters, which weren't too bad, but had a few stains.

As he reached in for a spray bottle near the back, he saw something a little odd. There was a groove, along the bottom of the cabinet, in the shape of a small square. A small 6 by 6 area, where the wood didn’t quite match up. A slightly different shade. Not exactly aligned.

He frowned and brushed his human hand over it. It opened, he realized.

He pulled his hand back, staring at it. It was hiding something. He shook his head, trying to snap himself out of it. Not this again. He didn’t want to overthink everything again. He was tired of that. Despite his better judgement, he tried to open it.

The square didn’t come loose at first, but after a moment he got his nails under it, and was able to pull it up.

Underneath was a small area, just a few inches deep. It held a key. Nothing else. Just one small key. Yancy quickly took it and shoved it in his pocket, before putting the square of wood back over the area.

What was this key for? Why was it so hidden? What was Illinois hiding?

He had so hoped he didn’t have to ask this question anymore. He had just broken free from this vicious, overwhelming anxiety that Illinois was going to hurt him.

The fact that he was hiding something was undeniable, though. Yancy got up and took a breath, trying to calm himself. He would just have to go find what he was hiding. Simple. He would find out, and hopefully be able to put this whole thing to rest once and for all.

Over the next few hours, Yancy searched every nook and cranny of that house for anything that could need a key. He even looked through Illinois’ room, with the monitors displaying some security footage from in the facility. But there was nothing. Everything that could be locked was unlocked.

Finally, Yancy headed out to the shed, where Illinois had all his tools. On the floor, there was still the crushed tracker, just under the work bench now. It was probably kicked out of the way while Illinois was working.

Yancy poked around for a while, when he spotted something behind a shelf.

A padlock, on a discrete door.

He realized he was shaking. What was behind that door? Everything had been so good, so was it even worth looking behind it?

Ignorance is bliss. Maybe he should just put the key back, and pretend like he knew nothing… but he knew he had gone too far. He would be too anxious to hide if he just left it.

He took a deep breath, before carefully moving the shelf. It was probably nothing to worry about. It could even just be some emergency supplies, or where he keeps his valuables.

Yancy was a criminal after all. Maybe it was just to make sure he didn’t steal anything? Yancy could understand that. If that was the case, he could put his worries to rest, lock it back up, and put the key back. Easy.

Everything could be fine

After he got the shelf out of the way, and unlocked the padlock, not allowing himself anymore hesitation.

Behind the door, there was a smaller workshop area. It was dark, but after a moment, Yancys robotic eye was able to pick up on his surroundings just fine.

He wished it hadn’t.

On the table there was a robotic limb, very similar to Yancys. In a box there was a robotic foot. On a shelf, a few miscellaneous pieces Yancy saw were very similar to his own robotics. The joints in his fingers. Panels. A pale orb, that Yancy assumed was an eye like his.

He picked up the foot in his shaking human hand. It wasn’t as dark as his own metal, and felt like a weaker material. But otherwise, it was pretty much like his own.

It made him feel sick. Why did Illinois have this? He had the blueprints, so it would be possible to make it… but why?

A dizzy feeling overtook him, but he shook it off. He couldn’t pass out. Not here. Not Now.

There was a box of papers by the shelf that he could look through while sitting, so he didn’t pass out.

Yancy took a seat, and took some papers out of the box, and looked through them quickly. His hand was now shaking so bad, it was difficult to read the paper.

One caught his eye. He took it carefully, and stared at the words on the page.

‘Bionic Prosthetic Project Proposal’
‘By: Illinois Arch’

Fear overtook Yancy. His blood ran cold, and his stomach dropped.

It was Illinois. This whole project was Illinois. He shuffled though some other papers and found several essay looking ones, often claiming to be by ‘Head Doctor, Xander Pitch-Markova and Head Engineer, Illinois Arch’.

He got up and stepped away from the papers as if they had burnt him.

These limbs forced on him. Illinois came up with them. It looked like he made and designed them too.

The man who had comforted Yancy. Gave him a place to stay. Helped him find closure in Ben's death. Talked him though nightmares, but all along… was he the puppet master of it all? Was this more than a war? Was it some sick game to him?

In the lab, he felt like he was surrounded by vultures. But now, he felt like a mouse, being hunted by an all too sadistic cat.

He had nowhere to go, but he couldn’t stay here. It wasn’t safe. He wasn’t safe.

Yancy quickly stuffed the papers in the box and turned to the door, ready to run as far as he could. To be anywhere but here, but he couldn’t.

Because Illinois was standing in the doorway.

Chapter Text

Fight or flight.

Every time he reached this point, someone got hurt. The difference was, it was always innocents who got hurt. This time, it was not loving parents. It was not a poor, young, anxious man who got caught up in things before he understood. This was the puppet master.

It looked as though Illinois was about to talk, but he shut his mouth and put up his hands quickly as Yancy grabbed the front of his shirt, and lifted him with his mechanical hand.

Yancy wasn't quite sure of his own intentions. He didn’t want more blood on his hands, but rage was boiling through his veins.

No.

He wouldn’t kill again. Now that he understood the power of his additions, it wouldn’t be like Benjamin, where he could at least know it wasn’t on purpose.

Even if Illinois was a manipulative, backstabbing, evil-

He cut off his train of thought, dragging himself back into the moment. Back to the liar in his grip. Illinois was on his toes, unable to have enough ground under his feet to move. Not that he could, even if his feet were flat on the ground. The mechanics weren’t something one could brute force their way out of.

Illinois’ face looked different. It took Yancy a second to understand why. Illinois was scared. Almost the same look Ben gave him in his last seconds. It occurred to Yancy that he had never seen the man scared before.

He couldn’t stand that look. Maybe it was a trick. But it worked. He pulled Illinois into the room, let go of him, and pushed him aside with his human arm. Illinois stumbled into some boxes, with a grunt. Yancy just needed to run. He didn’t need to kill.

The cyborg shoved the door shut, and started to move the shelf in the way. He wouldn’t move it all the way in front, he didn’t want him to starve or die in there. Just enough to make it harder to get out. To give himself a good head start.

Fight or flight.

Every time he reached this point, he left with guilt. Not this time. He refused to be the wrong one this time. He heard banging on the door, before he could even get the shelf where he wanted it.

“Yancy, please! Let me explain!”

A frantic tone he had never heard from him. It made Yancy cringe.

“There's nothin to explain” Yancy said, through grit teeth. He would not waver. He would not fall to his lies again.

“I saw the papers. I saw that this was all youse”, he was hardly talking to Illinois anymore. It was assurance to himself. He told himself to walk out now. To run. Maybe take Illinois’ car. Escape to another country, find some place that could save him.

But he couldn’t. Illinois was afraid, and frantic… and Yancy couldn’t force himself to forget how much Illinois did for him. How he comforted him. How Illinois helped him heal,

It was lies, he tried to remind himself, but it wasn’t working.

He slumped against the shelf, before sliding to the ground.

“Yancy, I helped find the Bionic Prosthetic Project. NOT the Bionic Solider Project.”

“Youse really think one word is gonna save all this?” Yancy muttered weakly. He meant to snap it out, but it fell flat.

“It’s not just one word. They’re completely different things.” There was a pause from behind the door, before Illinois continued.”Yance… I said what I meant. You’re a free man. This isn’t some trick. If you want to go, then I’m not going to stop you… But as someone who honestly sees you as a friend-”

His words stopped, but not for silence. Instead, there was a small gasp. The type that escapes someone when they’ve been trying to suppress tears. After a second, he continued.

“I'm begging you to listen to my explanation. If at the end of it, you’ve decided that I’m still awful, and want to go, I’ll leave it there. But please… hear me out first.”

After a long moment, Illinois spoke again, “A-are you still there…?”

“ ‘M right here…” Yancy mumbled, “And ‘m listening…” He hated himself for listening. He hated himself for letting himself stay there. What if Illinois was stalling while calling back-up or something? What if this was just another level of this sick game?

He wanted to run, but Illinois’ voice… it sounded so weak. It felt so wrong, and it hurt Yancy.

“It starts back with my dad” Illinois started. His voice was small. Cautious. It didn’t feel right.

“He was a construction worker. Great guy, who would do anything for those he loved. He was a hard worker too… ever since he was a kid, he tinkered, and built. He taught me all about mechanics. One day, there was a work-related accident, and he had to get two amputations. Above the knee on one leg, and below the knee on the other”

the sun shone through the windows, highlighting the dust floating in the air. Yancy stared at the dancing partials in the light as Illinois talked.

“He fell into a deep depression. He wasn’t able to do things he once loved doing… in fact, he had to relearn how to do everything, which, I know you understand… little 15-year-old me started doing all the research I could. I found out it was a super common response to amputations, which makes sense, of course.”

Yancy let out a little huff out his nose, a humorless laugh. He understood very well.

“I’m no mental health professional, but I did know my way around mechanics. I thought maybe, just maybe, if I could make something better than the current available prosthetics, I could make him happy again. So I started tinkering. I after a few long years I was able to make a sleek design that could move smoothly. It wasn't awkwardly chunky, or shaped just vaguely like a leg and foot. It was truly shaped like one. It really moved like one.”

“How’d this noble cause turn into human testing for war?” Yancy would typically be a bit more sympathetic, but he was high-strung, and hardly believed him. He couldn’t see the things on him having a good root.

“Right, I’m getting there… I made them, mechanically, but I have no medical background. I had no clue how to connect them to the nerve ends, or if my design would even work with that. I needed to find a doctor to do this with. Maybe even some more mechanical experts to help point out any issues I had overlooked. I wanted my dad to be the first to get these working prosthetics, but I wanted it to be open to everyone.”

Illinois let out a weak sigh, “I wanted to make everything, from just fingers, to whole arms, to facial structures, and everything in between. I started even thinking about if mechanics could help with internal injuries. With just the right materials and engineering, maybe even artificial organ transplants could be made easy. I wanted it easily accessible, not commercialized. So I started emailing government foundations”

There was another moment of silence, before Illinois muttered “I was so young and dumb. I think there's good in the world still, but back then… I was overly trustful. I got an email back from one government agency. They said one of their doctors was willing to work with me.”

“Doctor Pitch…” Yancy said softly, slowly seeing the picture come together.

Chapter Text

The puzzle pieces slowly started to fit together in Yancy’s mind. It was beginning to seem like Illinois and Ben weren’t too different, after all. They thought they would be doing good.

“Yeah… him. Doctor Xander Pitch-Markova.... It all looked so promising. I did research, and all I could find was that he was super good at what he did, and he used to be in the military… I knew a lot of veterans had lost their limbs, so I had even hoped he had a similar motivation… So I instantly said yes”

Illinois' voice was dripping with defeat. It was quiet, and wavering. Overflowed with regret.

“They showed me the facility. Things started out tame enough. And he seemed decent enough. Pitch got things done. He was a hard worker, and I admired that. I saw him do cold stuff sometimes, but dismissed it. He’d snap at someone, and I’d figure he had a rough day, as most people do. In the break room when people talked about him being rude or something, I would defend him”

Disgust laced in with his words, becoming more apparent, and making the words come across as more angry. Yancy that tone, because he had used it many times before. The anger that coats shame.

He could hear Illinois pause, to recenter the topic, and take a breath.

“ I said he was just busy, or just didn’t bother with sugar coating, and how that didn’t mean he was rude. I couldn’t see how anyone working on this project with me could be bad…” Illinois continued, now softer.

“He told me what was needed to connect the mechanics to the nerves. How accurate the limbs had to be, so the brain knew how to move it, how deep the connections had to go… Then he started discussing… other uses. And then the terminology changed. Words like ‘Volunteer’ changed to ‘Subjects’. And then he started giving me things to ‘fix’

“I started realizing they were weaponizing my designs. There was no good reason for the metal to be bulletproof, or for a finger to hold a switchblade. I finally caught wind of the full plan. Experiment on people with no one. People who they deem disposable. So they could use what I intended to be used for healing, for war.”

Yancy ran his human hand along the cold, dark metal. Pitches words echoed in his mind. Less than a lab rat...

“Pitch had hijacked the whole thing. My life's work was being twisted and stolen from me, by the man I idolized for years. I never found out his motive, but I’d imagine his experience downrange did the opposite of what I thought it did. I think instead of seeing the healing potential, he saw how it could help in the war zone. It became less about helping people, and more about victories… I don’t know, it hardly makes sense, but I think his mind is severely twisted. He laser focuses on things, forgetting about everything around him. I tried to talk to him, but soon I saw no amount of reasoning would work. So I’d have to play dirty.

“I made a computer chip that gave me full access to their systems, and planted it in the security room one day. A few weeks later, I took some vacation days. I went to Switzerland, went up into the mountains and just made it look like I never came back. I left a torn hat as ‘evidence’ that I had died, in a forested area, but I’m not even sure if they found that. I hitchhiked, and found a little place to stake out for a bit. I’ve been a survival enthusiast since I was a kid, so it wasn't too hard for me to survive. After I was sure everyone thought I was dead, I got a fake identity, and came back to America with some under the counter cash”

The idea of surviving, off all grids, alone, scared Yancy. He remembered when he first got out, how he thought he would have to do that. Illinois actually had done that.

Yancy couldn't help but feel gratitude for Illinois bubble in his chest again. Illinois may have been a survival enthusiast, but Yancy really wouldn't have lasted long.

“Now I run a little black market mechanic shop. Questionable people come in, with questionable things to fix, or make. I don't ask questions, and get untracked paper cash. I have proper forged legal documents, but I’m so close to the facility that I try to fly under every radar… I’ve been waiting for years, watching through the cameras. Watching them ‘perfect’ my designs. Watching them decide who would be taken. Watching the first, barbaric surgeries, and the awful experiments… It sucked, but I needed to watch. I needed someone like you, who got far enough.”

“Why?” Yancy asked, “The question I’ve been askin the whole time. Why’re youse helpin’ me? Why were you waiting? Why not just disconnect yourself completely from this whole mess?”

“I still started the mess, Yancy… You of all people know how deep guilt can run… It affects every little thought. Everything you do, has the outline of blood in your mind…”

He did understand. Yancy understood all too well. Guilt felt like a monster, always lurking right behind you. Even in better moments, it was always hovering right there. Dampening every okay second, and worsening every bad one.

“ I… ‘m sorry, ‘Noise…”

“Nicknames are back… that's a good sign,” Illinois half joked, from the other side.

Yancy let out a tiny, weak laugh, “Yeah…” He said, before the slight smile faded, “I… think I believe youse… but I dunno how to trust youse. After… everythin’ I just…”

“I get it... Like I said, if you wanna go, you can.”

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t make himself want to. Illinois was like Benjamin. Roped in, but he got out. Illinois was like Yancy. Blood on his hands, but he was fixing it.

Could that be what defined a person? Not their mistakes, but what they do in the aftermath?

How they fix it? How did they change, to save others? If it was, then wouldn’t that make Illinois a good person?

Yancy got up and took a deep breath, before pushing the bookshelf out of the way. He pulled the door open and looked at Illinois.

The mechanic's face was stained with tears, but a small smile tugged on his lips once their eyes met.

“Yance, I-”

Whatever Illinois was about to say, was cut short as Yancy hugged him, being very careful with his metal arm, but hugging tightly with the other arm. He understood so much now.

He wasn’t sure how long it would take to fully trust Illinois again, after how much he had kept in the dark… but he understood him now.

With understanding, he wasn’t afraid.

–

The lies were like an infection. At first, Illinois kept that part of everything in the dark just because he didn’t want to overwhelm Yancy.

In that car, when he had first met Yancy, he couldn’t imagine telling the poor guy that he was Pitches ex-coworker would do any good.

Then he got emotionally attached. Illinois understood Yancy. The guilt. The nightmares. The overthinking. There was something oddly healing, in taking care of someone with the same struggles, he thought.

He had grown too afraid to tell Yancy, because what if he left?

Illinois’ whole family thought he was dead. He never interacted with anyone, except for clients. He had no one.

Yancy had become so much more than a way to redeem himself. He became a friend. Yancy had helped the mechanic heal, so much more than he’d ever know.

However, if you don’t cut out an infection, it will only get worse. A small omission of facts, hovered, and became more unstable by the day.

He had been fully aware of Yancy's hesitation and suspicion, but the risk of losing everything was too much.

Now, the hovering presence was gone. Now, he could breathe again.

Chapter Text

Kathrine hadn’t been able to get over the uneasy feeling in her gut. She had been trying for the past few days, but here she was, lurking near the front door, feeling sicker by the second.

No, not lurking, she told herself. She was just… doing her job. She made sure she was on entry security duty for that shift, and at the moment, that was precisely what she was doing. Scanning badges as workers came in, randomized bag checks. Exactly what she should be doing on entry security.

In approximately 47 minutes she’d be breaking major rules and laws, but for the moment, she was just doing her job. Ignore the fact that she shifted the schedules on short notice so that she could be at the door, at exactly 11:58.

But she couldn't ignore that. She couldn't ignore that she was going to be smuggling people into a top-secret government facility.

She couldn't ignore the fact that she was going to be a criminal, just like the hundreds of people that have been strapped to tables in these very walls.

How many of those people had noble causes for immoral deeds? Could she even call this a noble cause?

She had always thought this facility was for the betterment of humanity, but she couldn’t help but start thinking that she was just ignorant.

—

Illinois took the day off and finished making the screwdriver and blade for Yancy's fingers.
He worked out in his shed, as Yancy stayed inside. Most likely working through the puzzle or something along those lines.

Despite the moment they shared, their friendship was far from healed, Illinois knew that. It would take time.

Things like this couldn’t be fixed with a nice hug and a ‘sorry’. Sorry only meant so much, without action. So he would put in as much action as possible, to prove that he was sincerely sorry for hiding so much.

Even though they weren't the best of buds at the moment, Illinois was grateful that Yancy was calm about everything. He was proud of him. When Yancy was holding the front of his shirt, Illinois had honestly thought he was going to hurt him.

Not because he thought Yancy was a bad person, but because he knew Yancy didn’t handle fear well. But then he had seen the shift in Yancy's eyes. The realization that he was in fight or flight. The moment he realized that he could fight that aggressive part of his fear.

Illinois was glad he was still alive and unharmed, yes, but he was even happier about the progress that Yancy had shown.

Never once, did Illinois think Yancy was a bad person. That didn’t mean Yancy wasn’t flawed, but this was even more proof that Yancy was fixing his shortcomings. Even more, proof that Yancy was trying his best. At the end of the day, that's all ‘good’ really was. One foot in front of the other, in the best direction a person could find.

The mechanic finished the final touches on the screwdriver extension, before heading into the house to give it to Yancy.

—

Pitch sat in the break room, watching a mundane-looking gray car pull into the parking lot through the window. In that car, was P, the muscle of the group, and S, the one who claimed to be able to access the MIC chip, if there was one.

‘They’re here,’ he texted Kathrine.

It was 11:57 AM. Most security staff swapped shifts at 12:00 PM sharp. Kathrine would use the two minutes between when they get in, and the busy shift change to mess with the logs to make it look like they were regular certified maintenance workers.

The timing was just an extra precaution, in case S and P weren't perfect at blending in. If the security was busy, they would have a harder time noticing any slip-ups. His fingers tapped on the side of his coffee mug, which was really more of a prop at this point. He had already had his fair share of coffee for the day.

He watched the two get out of the car and head to the front door, from the window. He had been worried that they would look out of place, but they seemed to be better at this than Pitch gave them credit for.

They had dressed fairly bland, but not out of place, for a maintenance job. They headed in as if they belonged. Good posture, confident strides. So normal that they might as well have been invisible.

Pitch watched until he couldn't see them from the window anymore, then shifted his gaze to the half-open door of the staff room. He looked at the clock, which read ‘11:58’.

As soon as it hit 11:59, he got up and dumped what was left of his coffee down the drain. S and P passed just then, right on time.

—

This was far out of the group's comfort zone. They had done heists, they had tracked people down before, even an assassination here and there, but all that was done at night, on their own terms. And not for the government.

The two passed the break room where the head of security had directed them towards. Just as planned, Doctor Pitch left the room right as they passed.

S hoped he would be able to find the MIC chip quickly. He didn’t like this building. It felt cold, yes in a literal sense, but more so in a figurative sense. Nothing felt right, like a hospital that no one had ever healed in. From the second they saw Xander, he felt like he was different from other clients, and not in a good way.

They followed Pitch down the hall without a word, and S kept thinking as he stayed close to P.

He couldn’t help but think Xander was the heart of this uneasy feeling that filled the building. Or maybe this place was like a hydra, and he was one of the many things keeping the monster of a facility breathing.

The Doctor looked in his element, in these halls. When they met him in the bar, S thought the older man looked so out of place. It kind of reminded him of how early AI couldn’t recognize a photo cow if it was on the beach.

It was like Xander was unidentifiable because he wasn’t where he belonged. Now that S saw the lab coats, the nauseating fluorescent lights, and the overly strong disinfectant that was probably supposed to smell like lemons, he could begin to see Xander.

Find the MIC chip, track it, and leave. He didn’t have to like the client, he just had to get the job done.

—

Doctor Pitch led them into the security systems room, and glanced at the guard who was about to get settled down to watch the cameras. “Did you not get the email?” He asked the security guard.

“What email?” the security guard asked, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

There was no email, but it was easy to make people think they messed up. Pitch shook his head, “There was supposed to be an email that due to the most recent breach, the security systems need to be checked, so your shift was supposed to be pushed back about thirty minutes.”

The reasoning was flawed but Pitch learned a long time ago that if you say it like it's true, most people just nod along.

“Oh- I…guess I just missed it or something,” The guard said before getting up, nodding at the two men disguised as maintenance, and left.

S quickly set down his toolbox and got to work. Pitch noticed P stood in a protective stance, which didn’t surprise him. He had no doubt P was sent mostly because S was obviously the weakest of the group. P was only a bodyguard, it seemed.

Pitch thought it was kind of pathetic, to be honest, but he didn’t say anything about it. He just watched as S unscrewed the panel of the main console and get to work.

After about ten minutes of silence, as S dug through both the coding, and the wires behind the computer, he pulled it out, with a small triumphant hum.

The doctor came over curiously. It looked like an old, small computer chip. Not too odd, except for the fact that it was extremely outdated. He had expected some chip that looked more… homemade. Welded together maybe, chipped, etc. But instead it looked like someone just reprogrammed a basic chip.

S got out a small tablet that looked like it didn’t have a brand on it, like the whole device was custom-made, and stuck in the chip.

Pitch felt a surge of excitement. This could lead them straight to Daniel Jones, and whoever had wormed their way in between the cracks of their security.

He would fix his reputation that was quickly unraveling, and he would make sure Daniel Jones met the end he deserved. It was all right here.

S spoke up “It’s possible that the creator of the chip has some sort of alarm on it. I’ve been careful to make sure that the chip hasn't sensed any changes yet, but as soon as I open the information, I wouldn't be surprised if the programmer gets some sort of information. You’ll have to move quickly, alright?”

Pitch nodded “Of course” He said. This part would be easy. He didn’t even have to change too much of the story this time. All he had to say was the maintenance guys found a sketchy chip, and they were able to track it. Then he could get a team to go there. He planned on being close behind, of course. Daniel Jones was his responsibility, after all. He wanted to see the downfall of ‘the one who made it’, as the other subjects had begun to call him in hushed voices.

He wasn't ‘the one who made it’, Pitch thought as he bit back a smirk. He’s the one who stalled his inevitable end. That's it. Just bought some time.

Only seconds later, S spoke up again, quickly “I’ve got a location”

–

Illinois felt his stomach drop, as he saw the security alert. He had half expected this, but that didn’t take away from the pit in the gut. He rushed into the living room, where Yancy was messing his new switchblade extension. He felt bad, displacing the poor man all over again, but they couldn’t stay there.

“Yancy, we have to run.”

Chapter Text

Forty minutes.

Pitch could hardly believe it. The hacker's device was only forty minutes away. The hacker was probably forty minutes away. Daniel Jones could be just forty minutes away.

As soon as they had told him, he contacted Kathrine and told the two members of the group to try to intercept them, if the hacker did end up getting a notification.

Now, a squad was on their way to the location, and the group was on their way to the most likely route of the hacker and the escaped convict.

Only forty minutes. He couldn’t believe his luck. Pitch had expected states away. Maybe even across the world. He thought he would have to call some remote squads, or maybe even have to hand the case to the military.

He hadn’t been a fan of that last idea. Too much of his life had been the militaries. This was his victory. Plus, if Daniel Jones was apprehended by the military, he would most likely be shot on sight. Then Pitch would never get to see the execution himself, and they could damage the mechanics.

The end of ‘the one who made it’ was inevitable, and Pitch wanted to be sure he got to witness it all.

—

It all went so fast. Yancy was shocked with how prepared Illinois was. One minute, he was just sitting in the living room, trying to get the hang of some new extensions. The next, he was in the back of a car under a blanket, with some bags in the back that Illinois had already had ready.

His face was relatively close to the driver's seat, so it was easy for him to hear as Illinois tried to explain everything.

“They found the MIC chip. It's a really great device that gave me access to your trackers frequency, the files, their security cameras and more. Unfortunately it’s connected straight to my computer. The connection has to be direct. I knew it was a possibility but MIC chips are insanely rare, hard to make, and hard to find. I had really hoped no one would think to look for one

“Luckily, I prepared for every scenario I thought could be a possibility. There's an old safe house in Minnesota. It used to be my great great grandpas. It's abandoned but I was able to do enough renovating to make it livable, while getting everything ready. I’ve stashed a car in Nebraska for us to switch over to, just in case there's any leads pointing to this car”

“Wow...” Yancy said “Youse really thought this through”

“Well, I’ve been flying under the radar and kinda on the run for a while now. I’m sure you know how that goes”

“Actually I’s uh… I’ve never been on the run before. Turned myself in, before anyone even knew theys was dead. And I ran away, yah, but youse found me, so I never had to do the whole ‘on the run’ thing”

“Well I’m still here. I know things are… rocky and I get that you don’t fully trust me right now, but I’m gonna keep you safe, and keep helping you like I have been. Our set up is gonna be less luxurious, and we might have to be more active in planning our attack and survival, but we’re not totally in the dark, I promise. You’re not gonna have to do the whole on the run thing alone”

Yancy felt gratitude once again. Even after everything, Illinois still knew what to say. What Yancy needed to hear.

–

When Pitch first heard the name over the walkie, he thought he misheard the unit leader.

He had been listening as the unit sent back and forth information on their findings. A cabin like home, only ten minutes from town. A work shed, a half finished puzzled, the blueprints for the limbs.

As another unit was sent out to track them down, the first unit searched just in case they were hiding, or if they left any clear leads. They said they had found some papers, many of them with the name ‘Illinois Arch’.

First, he felt shock fill his body, but the surprise was quickly chased away by anger. To be frank, part of him always knew there was a decent possibility his old colleague wasn’t dead. Like the younger doctor, Benjamin Weller, Illinois seemed unhappy with some changes in fine print.

Unlike Doctor Weller, Illinois had a spine.

No one ever found Illinois’ body, it was just assumed he was dead. Even though everyone knew he was a crafty man. Pitch had always understood the possibility of him being alive, yes. But he had thought if that was the case, Illinois was just running from the situation.

He never thought Illinois would be stupid enough to be this close. To stay elbow deep in this facility.

Pitch had never discussed the topic out of mercy. If Illinois wanted to run and get out of Pitches hair, give the project all to him, fine. It was starting to look like Illinois threw that mercy right back in his face.

Now there was no more mercy left to give. He would get Daniel Jones and Illinois Arch back here. He would make sure he saw Daniel Jones executed.

As for Illinois, Pitch really wanted to show him exactly what he’s done with the project. He wanted Illinois to experience it first hand, before watching him join Daniel Jones' fate.

He no longer deserved mercy…

—

Illinois had noticed a mundane looking gray car trail behind them for a bit near the beginning. Illinois could tell it wasn’t associated with the government. It for sure wasn’t an unmarked cop car.

He could also tell that they didn’t know who they were, just because there weren't military cars or helicopters swarming them… but there was something suspicious about it. They could have passed him, but instead they just tailed Illinois for a bit. Their windows were tinted just enough for him to struggle identifying details. Not quite to an illegal amount, but not really a normal amount.

The gray car turned down a different road, but Illinois was still highly suspicious of it. It wasn’t hard to imagine Pitch turning to more dishonest means of catching them.

He debated for a few moments about telling Yancy.

Illinois wanted to be very open to prove that Yancy could trust him… but was it worth it if the car wasn’t even proven to be a threat?

No, Illinois had to try to be open about every little thing. The last omission of facts was to protect Yancy, and it was wrong of Illinois. Yancy was not a child, and deserved to know every little thing about the situation.

“Hey Yance, we might have trouble. I’m not really sure, but I don’t trust this car that was tailing us for a bit, about five minutes ago. I wouldn’t be too shocked if they plan on intercepting us. Just make sure you have something to hang onto so you don’t get thrown around too much.”

“So we might get stuck in a car chase…?”

“Maybe, but I think I can do it. Like I said, I prepared for a lot.”

“If youse say so…”

“Yancy, I’ve dedicated my life to taking that facility down, and I’m not letting a single car take us down. Please trust me on this”

“Alright, alright. I’m hangin on and trustin youse”

Silence hung over them like a guillotine blade for the next few minutes. Only the sounds of the car driving along the mostly empty road could be heard.

Then a mundane looking gray car shot into the road, right in front of them

Chapter Text

Illinois was sure of it now, the people in the car were after them. He wasn’t sure what they wanted, considering it wasn’t a government vehicle, but he didn’t want to find out.

“Hold on!” He said quickly to Yancy, before yanking the steering wheel to the side, around the car and off of the road. The car screeched loudly from the sharp turn, as Illinois maneuvered into the dirt and grass just long enough to pass the gray car.

The sound of a small thump and Yancy grunting made him cringe a little, but it didn’t sound like he was hurt too bad, luckily.

If all his research was worth anything, they wanted him to panic and slam on the brake. Maybe there was even a second car nearby, ready to help corner them. He stepped on the gas and pulled back onto the road, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel.

“Yance, we got a car on our tail, I need you to hang on for dear life and keep lying low. I'll take care of the rest” He tried to keep his tone relatively calm, not wanting Yancy to panic more than he already was.

It honestly wasn’t too hard to keep his tone calm though. Illinois had prepared for years for this. He had been anticipating this.

Not the car chase specifically, but someone like Yancy. The possibility of running. He had had tried to map out every possibility. He had tried to cover every base he could.

The anticipation made him anxious. Now that he was here, there was some odd form of fulfillment. He had recently started realizing waiting for bad things to happen often was more panic inducing than bad things actually happening.

“I-Ill do my best” Yancy grunted from the back, with slightly panicked breathing.

–
S and P had called the other two as soon as they left the facility. S and P would head to the closest, most likely interception spot. While J and F would try the edges of town.

None of them had high hopes of finding the right car and intercepting it, since there were a few possible routes and they only had two cars, but by some miracle S and P had found it.

The tech-savvy one had seen a car that had been easy to glance over at first, but he knew someone trying to be discreet when he saw it.

A careful 1mph above the speed limit, not enough to risk getting pulled over, but enough to get out of a situation. Bags stuffed into the back almost like a road trip, but also stuffed down to be less noticeable. To try not to catch any curious eyes. No personalization on the car.

He had only seen one figure in the car, but hiding the cyborg was a logical thing to do, so that didn’t throw his theory off. He had told P to tail the car for a little, so he could confirm.

The driver had kept glancing in the rearview mirror, with a certain sense of purpose. He seemed more… sharp, in a way, than a guy simply traveling. S radioed J explaining that he was fairly sure this was the car, as P had pulled off down another road to try to put the driver into a false ease.

J and F headed to their spot to try to help P and S corner the car.

If this all worked out, this time tomorrow they’d have a decent chunk of cash, and could finally leave this whole uncomfortable government mess behind them.
–

They were moving fast now. Far faster than the speed limit on this small town road.

From the rearview mirror Illinois could see the gray car speeding behind them, and a black one close behind. Also not government issued, but with the same suspiciously tinted windows.

He could try to make it to the highway, but he had no doubt they had taken note of the license plate. Plus, they would still be trying to actively pursue them.

If he could force them into a detour, they could buy a decent amount of time.

“Yancy, can you swim?”

“I could swim, before ten years of not seein’ a pool and gettin’ two metal limbs. W-what are youse planning?”

“I’m gonna drive off a bridge.”

“W-what!?!”

“Yancy, I need you to trust me. The bridge is about two minutes away at this speed. I need you to grab some water bottles plastic from the back, open them up, pour out the water, close them as tight as you can and stuff them into the lightest bag you can find back there”

“W-what if theys see me?!”

“Then good. Then once we fall off the bridge they're gonna assume you're dead, and we get another few hours. Now please trust me Yancy-”

He felt his shoulders relax a little as he heard Yancy start moving and digging into the back. “Wes movin’ pretty fast” Yancy called back, sounding a little shaky.

“We sure are. Once we get to the bridge I’m going to angle the car towards the side and let go. With any luck they’ll think I lost control, which isn’t hard to do at this speed. We need to wait a few seconds before swimming up so they don't see us come up. So cling onto the bag you’re getting ready right now and wait till I pull you out, okay?”

“O…okay” he heard Yancy say. He sounded terrified.

“You’ve got this! About one more minute, keep getting every bottle you can, I'll tell you when to zip up the bag and brace yourself”.

He knew Yancy was panicking. Yancy could probably see the cars rushing after them as he worked. He was probably thinking this was it.

Illinois wouldn’t let this be it. He wouldn’t let the two cars speeding after them stop what he had dedicated his life to. He wouldn’t lose Yancy, his only hope, and his only friend.

The bridge was up just up ahead. He could see it now. It wasn’t too high or spectacular, due to being in the middle of nowhere, only used by small town residents, but it was big enough.

He could see the other two cars behind them, gaining on them but only slightly.

Closer, and closer, till finally-

—

“Now!” Yancy heard Illinois yell. He shakily zipped up the bag as quickly as he could. His metal hand was frustrating in this situation, as he struggled with any sort of detailed task. Zipping, caps, etc. Being under this much pressure wasn't helping either. But all he could do was pray to whatever cared that he had emptied out enough water bottles.

He put on the backpack over his chest just in time for the car to start swerving. Just in time to cling onto the seat in front of him in an attempt to not hit his head. Just in time to feel the jolt of the car hitting the barrier on the side of the bridge.

Just in time for free fall.

—

The group had pursued them for a few minutes, trying to get every bit of information on the car in case they didn’t catch them, and trying to formulate a plan to block them.

S was the one to see the cyborg first. In the back, digging through the back. He warned the others that he might be looking for some sort of weapon.

There was something so raw and off-putting about finally seeing him, even if just for a few seconds. It felt uncanny, despite the fact that what was wrong was very obvious.

It was something that you saw in art, and maybe even CGI that looked real. It wasn’t that this looked different from CGI, it was that there was no screen. This was real, and that context alone made it feel so wrong.

What was done to that man who was now part machine felt wrong… but it wasn’t his place to say so. Their only place was to get the job done. Morals had never gotten in their way before, and there was no reason to start now.

Just after he had finished coming to this conclusion, the car ahead of them started to swerve. It looked as though the driver had lost control of the wheel.

Before they had a moment to comprehend everything, it had broken through the barrier of the bridge and fell into the water below,

Both of their cars skidded to a stop, so they could get out and see if the two in the car were going to make it.

J, their unofficial leader, rushed out and looked over the ledge at the sinking car “They're not getting out”

“You think they got to hurt in the fall to do that?” F asked

“That could be it… I mean, he said dead or alive…” J said softly.

“Didn’t he say that minimal damage to the guy's fake parts is best?”

S got out “The guy was made to be a war weapon. I’m sure a little water isn’t going to do much to the limbs… Let contact Xander, tell him they’re at the bottom of the river, and be over with all this”

J watched for a few more seconds as the still, seemingly lifeless car sank further and further into the water “Yeah” He said, heading back to the car “Let's go back to the base to do that. I don’t feel like being near here when enforcement shows up”.

The others muttered their own agreements, before they climbed into their cars to leave the one they chased into to the murky depths.

Chapter Text

It took about a minute and a half before their heads were below water. Illinois had told Yancy to sit completely still. Any movement could give away that they were able to get out of the car and could expose them.

It was hard to force himself to not move, flinch or try to get out of the car. His breathing sped up as the murky water came closer to him. Panic filled his stomach, and it took every ounce of his willpower to not move.

The water making its way in sounded more like a trickle than the gushing he would have expected. He could see murky green water, and the shadows of fishes in front of them. Something about it made him feel more panicked

Soon it was making its way up his chest, and he couldn’t help but feel how slow it was only magnified the sense of dread.

He hooked his mechanical leg under the seat, to stop the makeshift lifevest from pulling him against the ceiling of the car.

Yancy took a big breath of air at the last possible second, once it was just above his chin. And then closed his eyes, once again only when he had to. Then he just sat there, waiting for Illinois to pull him out, like he said he would.

Out of curiosity, he opened his mechanical eye. He was surprised to see how clear everything was, from that eye. It didn’t feel uncomfortable to have it open under the water, which made sense since it seemed he couldn't feel any of the mechanics.

It also seemed that his eye adjusted its settings to make it easier to see in all environments, not just in the dark. There was only so much it could do, but in the dark murkiness of the car, he could see the inside, and he could see the outline of the curious fishes around them.

After a few moments, his lungs started to burn. He glanced at Illinois, worried that maybe he had passed out or something already. He tried to force himself to not panic, knowing it wouldn't help. He felt like his chest was being squeezed from the inside.

Finally, he saw Illinois shift, and then he saw him bash the buckle into the window, breaking it. Yancy understood and didn’t want to waste a second getting out of the car. He reeled his fist back, and punched the window with the metal, shattering it.

Illinois reached in and dragged him out quickly. Yancy felt a sharp pain in his side, but he didn’t take a moment to think about it. Once he was out, Illinois began to swim up towards the surface.

The bag of water bottles helped a bit, but he still had to kick his legs in a half swim to get up with Illinois. He felt like passing out, and the surface of the water felt like it was miles away.

Every second seemed to draw out for hours but finally, they broke through the surface. He gasped for air the second he made it, almost hyperventilating.

“Yancy… you…okay?” He heard Illinois ask in between gasps of air.

He glanced over at Illinois, who was treading water and trying to catch his breath. Illinois had a worried look on his face. Like he had seen something?

“Y-yeah, whats... Up?” Yancy asked, trying to get as much air as possible, in between his words.

“Let’s… get to… land. I’m sure they’re not gonna be gone… for long” Illinois said, glancing at the bridge.

“Y-yeah” Yancy said, his side starting to sting a little. He dismissed it, and followed Illinois to the other side of the bridge, near another forested area.

By the time they had made it to land, his human leg felt like it could give out at any second, but Illinois hardly gave him a second to recover. He pulled Yancy's arm around his shoulders, and helped him into the forested area “You can rest when we’re out of sight, okay? Just hang in there”

Yancy nodded and walked along, still feeling light-headed, and the stinging in his side was only getting worse. He glanced at where the stinging pain was and saw a slice in his shirt and underneath, there was a long cut, staining the shirt around it with red.

“It’s okay Yancy, I got you, I promise” Illinois mumbled as he helped him into the forest. It sounded like Illinois was mostly talking to himself though. A mantra, of sorts.

Yancy leaned on him “h-how bad is it..?”

“I don’t know yet. Just hang in there, I'll take a good look at it. When we sit down, okay?”

“Okay…”

—

Soon it was determined that Daniel Jones and Illinois Arch were nowhere on the property of the cabin, but once were.

Pitch made his way there, needing to see it all himself. Where the traitor had been lurking right under his nose. It wasn’t a long drive at all. Maybe fifteen minutes from his own house.

It was secluded enough to avoid attention but close enough to town to not seem like a red flag. There were plenty of homes like that, near here. A long driveway into a peaceful, secluded haven of a home.

But this one was a haven for scum, Pitch thought as he got out of his car, and pulled on some latex gloves. He didn’t want to ruin anything that could be used against the two.

He shoved his way past the squad and any other officials that had made it there first. “What have you all found so far?” He asked the head of the squad.

“Nothing pointing to where they are. Just… signs that Illinois Arch has been here for a little. Not much proof that the subject was here though. Are you sure Daniel Jones was actually here?”

“I am. There’s no way he got out alone” Pitch grumbled, as he made his way into the cabin-like home.

The front door led straight into the living room. There was a half-finished puzzle, and a pile of paper, all with parts of the blueprints on the table.

Specifically Daniels blueprints. The limbs were often reused, but they also often had to add modifications for each new subject, to ensure that it would fit their specific structure.

He recalled getting Daniel's medical files a few weeks before they brought him in, having to adjust the size. Weight balance was important, and Daniel's files showed he was more fit than a lot of their other subjects. More of a build that one would expect for a soldier. He looked at the notes, remembering his excitement that they could experiment with some heavier, more sturdy limbs.

Doctor Pitch clenched his jaw. Daniel Jones could have been a huge leap for them. He was the most successful. The limbs were perfect. He had been healing remarkably fast. If everything had worked, it might have been only a few more months before they had perfected it enough to actually start with the soldiers.

Instead, the whole entire project was put on pause. Instead, his ability to conduct this whole program was under question. Instead, his past coworker who he had so graciously not mentioned his suspicions against, had taken the most successful subject from him.

He left the living room, rage slowly filling his veins.

Soon, he found Illinois’ room, and a room behind it. One with large monitors, all reading ‘lost connection with server’.

Pitch had to assume this was where Illinois had been watching them, plotting how he’d steal what Pitch had been working so hard to accomplish.

All of this, only fifteen minutes from where Pitch slept every night.

The rest of the house was bland. Nothing but a generic house. No real personalization, but that made sense. It was just a glorified stakeout spot.

He headed out and into the shed beside the house, and that’s when he saw it. All the proof he could need. The tracking chip that was once embedded in the mechanics was now crushed, and on the ground next to the workbench.

Daniel Jones had truly been here.

Chapter Text

Once the two made it deep enough into the forested area to be sure they couldn't be seen from the road, Illinois helped Yancy sit down.

As the shock of everything that had just happened began to wear off, the pain in his side grew stronger.

“ ‘Nois… i-is it bad?”

“I’m gonna help you lay down, and then I’ll take a look at it, okay?”, there was an odd strain to his voice. Not fear, but some sort of distress? It was an undertone, one that Yancy hadn’t heard in years.

Worry, Yancy realized. Illinois was worried, but not in a typical anxious way. It’s the way Yancy's dad would express worry when Yancy came home with a black eye. The worry his mom would show when he wasn’t eating as much. It was the worry of someone who cared, very deeply.

Yancy nodded, trying not to let his fear get the best of him. Illinois would take care of him no matter how bad the cut is, he assured himself.

Despite all the secrets Ilinois had been holding, and all that happened barely a day ago, there was no one Yancy trusted more to keep him alive. There was no one who cared as much as Illinois did.

He lay down with the help of Illinois, and waited while Illinois checked over the wound. Every time his fingers brushed against it, Yancy grew tenser. It was always followed by a mumbled apology from Illinois.

Finally, Illinois said, “Alright, good news or bad news first?”

“Good news,” Yancy said, desperately wanting any form of hope. Not even just about the wound. He just wanted anything to cling to. This whole situation was growing to be more and more, and he wasn’t sure how much more he could handle.

“So it's not deep at all, thankfully,” Illinois said, yanking Yancy out of his thoughts. “The water made it look like there's more blood than there is. I don't think there's gonna be any lasting damage from the cut itself, and I don’t think you’re gonna bleed out”

Yancy let out a breath of relief before asking, “And the bad news…?”

“Gashes are more painful than stab wounds. It hits more nerves, so it’s gonna hurt like hell for a long while. On top of that, we just swam through a river that is anything but sterile. The longer we leave it, the higher your chance of infection.”

“Oh…” Yancy said, feeling the relief fade away.

“ It’s alright, we’ll find something… you know how to hijack, right?”

“Yeah..?” Yancy said, his eyebrows furrowing a little in confusion. How did that relate?

“Perfect. A lot of people keep first aid kits in their cars. Then you can hijack it, and we can make our way to the halfway point, where I have some more supplies stashed, thankfully. Then we can properly take care of it.”

“Where are we gonna find a car..?”

“There’s a gas station about a mile down the road,” Illinois said, offering Yancy a hand. “And I’m sure one of the cars there will have a first aid kit.”

“Youse… sure about this?” Yancy grunted as he got up with the help of Illinois.

“No one is ever truly sure of anything,” Illinois said, as he pulled Yancy's arm around his shoulders. The tone sounded like it was supposed to be a joke, but came out as more of a lament.

Yancy understood. No, he couldn’t be sure. Safety was not a guarantee in their situation.

The two started their venture along the foliage in the direction of the gas station. It was silent for a long while before Illinois spoke up.

“Yknow, Pitch always thought he was sure of things…”

Yancy was a little surprised at the conversation topic. It was still difficult to comprehend that Illinois and Pitch had worked so closely at some point. He wasn’t sure what to say, so he just listened as Illinois continued.

“He thinks he’s the only one to see the world as it is. He has no engineering or mechanic background, but he would still act like he knew more than me. If there was anything in the design that made the medical part inconvenient, he was pretty quick to blame me. I would try to explain the necessity of whatever he was getting after me for this time, and he would try to belittle what I was saying” Illinois continued.

“Sometimes he had valid criticisms, but people like him seem to not realize that constantly attacking others makes them less likely to hear the attacker out when it matters. I can’t tell you how many times I left his office, wanting nothing more than to dump his mug of coffee on his head… not that that would have ever fixed anything.

He thinks the whole world is blind, and he’s the only one sharp enough to not be stuck like everyone else. I think that's a large reason we’ve gotten this far, funnily enough. I think the only reason why he never pushed for proof that I was dead, was because he couldn’t imagine anyone would dare cross him… I wouldn’t be surprised if his over-estimation of himself turned out to be his downfall”

“I think youse shoulda just gone for it and dumped the coffee on him” Yancy half-joked.

Illinois laughed a bit “Sometimes I regret not taking my chance”

—

Before long, they could see the gas station through the trees. Illinois went forward, motioning for Yancy to stay low.

“Just two cars,” Illinois mumbled to him. “I think they’re both gas station employees. Do those cars look like something you could pick the lock to and hijack?”

Yancy nodded “Yeah, they look pretty standard. Shouldn’t be a problem”

“Great. I'll go see if one has a first aid kit.” Illinois said, before rushing out of the bushes, over to the cars. He hoped Yancy would be able to follow through. He knew Yancy had the skills, but he also knew Yancy struggled under anxiety.

He peeked into the windows of the cars, occasionally glancing back at the station to make sure no one was looking. Illinois had to trust Yancy, if they were going to be on the run together.

Illinois knew he had to be okay not constantly holding Yancy's hand, and always guiding him… but whenever he looked at Yancy and saw the mechanics, Illinois always felt guilt and a need to protect him.

Finally, he saw a first aid kit in the back of one of them and took a breath of relief. Illinois glanced over at the bush Yancy was hiding behind, and quickly waved him over.

Yancy quickly left the forested area and came over, favoring his side while also moving as fast as he could. Illinois felt guilt settle deeper into his chest, due to the wound. It felt like a personal failure. He wasn’t able to prevent Yancy from getting hurt again.

He wouldn’t tell Yancy about these feelings though, he thought as Yancy got over and started picking at the lock with the blade in his middle finger. The poor man didn’t need more stress, Illinois told himself.

It took a second, so instead of watching Yancy, Illinois tried to keep an eye on their surroundings. Soon he heard the engine start, and quickly got into the driver's seat, as Yancy got into the back. He let his shoulders relax as he quickly pulled out of the parking lot.

“Great job, Yancy '' He said, maybe a little more relief than warranted, tied into his tone. Yancy didn’t seem to notice, luckily.

Illinois was aware that he had no reason to doubt Yancy's abilities. He felt bad for it, but still, Yancy didn’t need to be bothered with how Illinois was feeling.

Yancy gave a little nod “Thanks… so this car has a first aid kit?”

“Yep, right under your seat, do you know how to clean it and everythin?”

“Yeah. I helped dress a few scratches in the gang, I’m sure this ain't too different” He said, getting out the first aid kit, wincing as he bent down.

Guilt settled even deeper into Illinois's mind. It wasn’t a severely damaging cut, and he probably wouldn’t get an infection now that they had supplies… but it could have been worse. It could have been deeper, or somewhere more damaging.

So many people died because of what Illinois had started. He knew it was Pitch who took the whole thing and made it into something vile, but he couldn’t help but wonder what he could have done better. What could have prevented all this.

His one hope of redemption, and now his only friend was in pain, bleeding and cleaning out a long painful cut. Safety was never a promise, yes, but once again Illinois asked himself if he could have done better. Once again he was staring at his inability to help others.

Beating himself up wouldn’t help, he reminded himself. He was making a big deal of nothing, it was just a scratch and everything would be fine. They would bring down the facility, stop Pitch, and stop others from getting stuck in Yancy's position.

Despite trying to shove the feelings of guilt and self-doubt away, the thoughts still lingered. The what-ifs hung over him like a guillotine blade.

He glanced over at Yancy in the rearview mirror for a second, before looking back at the road “You might wanna slump down a bit” he said, “we’re about to make it to the highway”.

“Thanks for the warnin”, Yancy said, before moving under the windows.

“Sure thing,” Illinois said, making sure he still sounded calm and light-hearted. Yancy had enough on his plate. He shouldn’t have to be bothered with Illinois anxieties.

Illinois would protect him, and if that meant bottling up his own emotions, then that's exactly what he would do.

Chapter Text

“He’s not dead! He faked his death once already. You would have seen them get out if you all had just waited a little while!” Pitch spat over the phone.

“We didn’t want to be seen near the scene”, J insisted on the other line. “That could be bad for both of us. It wasn’t a clean swerve though. It looked like they really might have lost control at the high speeds”

Pitches hand tightened on his steering wheel. The car wasn’t even on, he was just in there to take the call. He was trying to keep his expressions of anger subtle and under the radar to everyone outside of the car.

At this point, the cabin was surrounded with yellow caution tape, investigators, and squads.

“You realize they’re probably on the run again, and getting further and further away, don’t you?” Pitch snapped.

“If they made it”

“You haven’t met Illinois. He’s crafty, with survival skills you wouldn’t believe. He disappeared the first time after convincing everyone he died in some mountains overseas. And Daniel Jones is a literal weapon. They made it, thanks to your mistake”

“Look, we’re doing our best over here. I don’t think anyone has the experience needed for this whole thing. I’m sorry we messed up, but we can’t undo that. F just called in to make an anonymous tip about seeing a car drive over the bridge. Maybe you guys can find some evidence in there. For now, we’re gonna keep looking for him”

“Fine” Pitch muttered through grit teeth, before hanging up. It made his blood boil. They had been so close. All they would have needed to do was wait a few minutes.

Instead, the two were probably on the move again, further and further. Harder to pinpoint. Dr. Pitch took a breath in an attempt to calm himself. This was a setback, but it wasn't the end.

Shortly after the phone call, a worker from a gas station walking distance away from the river reported a missing car.

A notice would be sent out to the police to alert higher-ups if they saw the license plate. It was better than nothing, Doctor Pitch thought bitterly.

He would still find them, and he would make sure they regretted it all before he ended this whole thing once and for all.

—

A little into the drive, Yancy had fallen asleep. Illinois was pretty tired himself, but wanted to get as far as possible before they pulled over. They had been driving for a few hours, but they weren’t even close to the halfway point.

Illinois yawned and struggled to keep his eyes on the road ahead. Just a few more hours, he told himself. He could do that, right? He had been awake for longer, before. Granted, typically it was after not doing too much, but still.

It was dark out, but it was hard to see the stars over the highway. The road was too busy, and the cities were too close. He’d miss his little home where the stars were usually so bright.

When he was hiding in the mountains, even the milky way was visible. He missed that. It was almost like a vacation, despite the fact that it was all just to fake his death.

He was yanked out of his thoughts by red and blue flashing lights right behind them, followed by a police siren.

Illinois’ heart dropped to his stomach, as he looked in the rearview mirror. The cop car was tailing them. Of course, the car was probably reported as stolen.

He had tried to prepare for every situation, which made this oversight feel like even more of a failure. This should have been thought of, the second he considered stealing a car.

Yancy stirred from his spot in the back, waking up from the sound of sirens“ ‘Noise, what's goin on?” He mumbled, unease in his voice.

“I guess the car was reported as stolen… I have to pull over”

“W-what? Can’t youse try to lose them like you did those other guys''

“They’d probably call for backup… then we’d have to deal with a bunch of cops instead of just two. I think this is our only option.” Illinois said, pulling off an exit. “I’ve kept you safe this long, Yancy. I’m not gonna stop that now”

Illinois would squirm them out of there like he always had. Granted, he had no plan or even the general idea of one, but failing and letting Yancy get taken was not an option.

He heard Yancy give a weak hum of acknowledgment as he parked.

“Stay down, and I’ll take care of this,” Illinois said, before getting out of the car. Despite the intensity and fear in the situation, he still struggled to keep his eyes open. How he’d love to just lay in the grass and-

He heard the cop get out of his car, and the sound of a gun being cocked. Illinois quickly put up his hands, “Hey there, there's no need for that. I’m unarmed, officer”

Or at least he had thought it was an officer, but now that he was face to face with him, he could see that it wasn’t a cop uniform. It was a uniform like the officials at the lab wore. The guard's partner wore the same uniform.

Another cop car pulled up, and two more armed officials came out, also in the same uniform as the lab's security.

Regular cops would have been like fighting flies, compared to this. These men were trained to take down experiments like Yancy.

A whole branch of the government dedicated to capturing and snuffing out anything the public shouldn’t know about. Beyond the FBI, CIA, or any other secret branch civilians knew about. These men worked by the facilities' rules. Quiet and it was all legal, as long as the people didn’t know.

Now, these men had found them. Illinois hadn’t prepared for this. He had overlooked things. They hadn’t switched cars fast enough. They hadn’t gone far enough. He wasn’t enough.

“Illinois Arch, get down on the ground” The official with the gun demanded. He stared at the gun, before shakily lowering himself down.

He glanced over the car in horror as the two from the other car opened the car door “H-Hey don’t get in there!” he called over to them, but of course, they didn’t listen.

He was utterly powerless to stop the men who were now yanking Yancy out of the vehicle.

—

Yancy had turned himself in, back when he killed his parents. The police hadn’t even found the bodies by the time he stumbled into the police station, confessing to his crimes. Despite the blood, he was still young, and he had turned himself in and didn’t put up any fight. There was some sort of mercy and a sense of civility the cops showed him during it all.

This was different. There was no pity. There was no hint of humanity. He was ripped out of the car as if he were just a leach or a parasite that needed to be torn off of a host. They shoved him harshly to the ground.

Yancy let out a hiss of agony, as the cut on his side seared with pain. He sat up with a wince, before feeling a gun pressed against the base of his neck. A slight whimper escaped him as he stopped moving.

“Don’t move” one of them ordered with a sharp, aggressive tone.

The official gazes felt like needles under his skin. He felt like a rat, squirming in a rat trap as others counted his last breaths.

Less than a rat…

He could hear them talking amongst themselves and over the walkie, calling for backup and what to do next.

Illinois was a little in front of him, on the ground as well. Surely Illinois had a plan, right? Illinois always had a plan. He’d get them out of this mess.

However, as Illinois glanced over and their eyes met, Yancy realized that wasn’t the case.

Illinois looked terrified, but even worse, he looked defeated. A look in his eyes showed he had no plan and was incapable of coming up with one. The look of a man who was about to die.

If Illinois had no plan then all hope was lost.

Unless… Yancy got them out, himself. He had escaped the lab, after all. He was a Frankenstein's monster pieced together to be a literal weapon.

The thought of fighting made his stomach churn. The last thing he needed was more blood on his hands. Yet, if he didn’t do anything… it wasn’t just his life on the line this time. Illinois was here with him. In a way, not fighting even though he’s capable would be killing Illinois too, right?

One of the officials was telling the others that enforcement would be here shortly, and Yancy saw his window of opportunity start to slip through his fingers.

It had been a long time since he had participated in hand-to-hand combat, but he had to try. If not for himself, then for Illinois.

He pushed his pointer finger up against his thumb, trying to open the taser with no one noticing. With a quick, discrete look down he was able to confirm the thumb taser was open.

Yancy closed his eyes and focused on where the gun was, on his back. He only had one shot at this. If he was too slow or missed, he’d be shot. Or maybe he’d be shot anyways, but hopefully, that would cause enough commotion to let Illinois get away.

Now or never.

Chapter Text

Yancy moved quickly, knowing that a few seconds of shock on the officials' part, could mean freedom for himself and Illinois.

Without another second of hesitation, he swung his human arm over his mechanical shoulder and grabbed the officer's wrist. The cyborg yanked it quickly to the side, forcing the muzzle of the gun away from himself, and pulled the officer's arm down, causing the man to fall onto him.

Yancy ignored the officer's struggle to get back up and jammed the open taser in his thumb into the officer's arm.

It was only seconds, but he felt like he watched and felt the officer twitch and thrash for hours until he could no longer hold onto the gun.

Shouts quickly filled the air, both pain-filled ones given by the officer, and angry demands from the others. He didn’t focus on any of that. Instead, he grabbed the gun that had been pressed into his back only moments before and quickly got up, shoving the now half-conscious officer to the side.

He had never been the best fighter, but he had always been strong. Maybe his problem when he was in the gang, was that he always tried to match the other's fighting style. Maybe if he could embrace brute strength, he could get him and Illinois out of there alive. Granted, the cut on his side was killing him with all the sudden movement, but he could push through it.

One of the officers was fumbling for a flashlight, and Yancy realized if he could stop them from getting some solid light, then he would have a major upper hand with his night vision.

It wasn’t completely dark, with the highway right there and some streetlights at an empty rest stop, but it was enough to inconvenience the cops. The red and blue flashing felt like more of a distraction than a help when it came to light sources.

 He fired the gun near the officer, but not at him. He just needed the officer spooked enough to slow his search for the light.

Sure enough, the officer jerked away from where the bullet hit, which gave Yancy enough time to run over and shove the taser into the man's neck.

He knew he could just kill them with just a hit on the head with his mechanical arm and get away, but he didn’t want to cause any more damage than necessary. These officers were probably just following orders. They weren't the problem, and Yancy sure as hell didn’t want to become the problem either.

One of the officers was firing at him now, but the lack of light served Yancy well, along with how nonreflective the metal was.

He let the officer he had just tased drop to the ground, before feeling a bullet connect with his metal shin. It didn’t hurt him, but the pure force of the bullet colliding with the leg from such a close range caused him to lose balance and fall.

Yancy didn’t allow himself a second of recovery though and instead climbed right back onto his feet. The one who had been shooting was approaching him but stopped as Yancy cocked the gun, almost as a warning.

The world seemed to stand still for a second, at this seeming stalemate. The official was ready to fire at him. He was ready to fire at the official. Illinois was staring in shock, still on his knees with another official holding a gun to his back.

The night went back to silent, and only the flashing lights of the cop car proved that time hadn’t stopped.

Once again Yancy was made aware of the sharp pain from his cut, along with a few new pains from falling. He’d probably come out of this with a few nasty bruises, if he came out of it at all.

After what felt like forever, the officer in front of him finally spoke “You’re only making this harder on yourself”

“They’s gonna kill me” Yancy said, panting softly as he caught his breath “No one can make this situation harder than it already is. I had a life sentence and was ready to serve my time. I was okay with my deathbed bein in that cell. I deserved that punishment. But I don’t deserve to be mutilated and treated like a rat . I don’t deserve this . Youse can’t convince me that I can be treated worse than this whole messed up thing already has.”

“You killed people, and you expect respect from others?”

Yancy felt anger grow in his chest. He never even wanted respect. He was fine with being held accountable for the blood on his hands. But what he had done paled in comparison to their crimes. It didn’t matter if Pitch said it was all legal.

That place had seen Yancy as nothing more than a blueprint for a weapon. They had no guilt about pretending he wasn’t even human, and literally ripping him apart. They used people who had done wrong to pretend they had the moral high ground despite taking more lives than most people could fathom.

They weren't any better than him.

“I don’t expect respect. But I expect to be treated like a Human” he snapped out, before firing at their foot.

He wasn’t a blueprint

The officer let out a shout of pain, confirming Yancy had hit his mark. He didn’t waste a second before darting over to the officer with Illinois.

He wasn’t a monster.

Before the one holding Illinois at gunpoint could shift the aim, Yancy had already grabbed the front of his shirt and swung him to the side.

He wasn’t a weapon.

The man tried to get up but Yancy put his mechanical foot on the officers back and pushed him back down as he grabbed the keys for the cop car out of his pocket and shoved the taser into his skin. Illinois got up and snatched the gun from the officer who was now trying to get up despite an injured foot.

He wasn’t a lab rat.

He let go of the officer and rushed to the cop car with the keys in hand. Illinois followed quickly, keeping an eye on the others and the gun ready, just in case any of the others recovered from the shocks too fast. The two got in the car and Yancy started it, before slamming on the gas.

He was just a person. A person who had done bad things, yes. But still a person.

—

Illinois sat in a passenger seat, paralyzed with a mix of shock, adrenaline and exhaustion. He had known Yancy had a gang background and therefore probably knew how to fight. He also knew that Yancy knew how to get out of life or death situations, like the lab.

However, Illinois had gotten used to the more mellow and anxious side of Yancy. Even when Yancy had been a bit more aggressive, like when he found the hidden room, it was always laced with anxiety and panic.

This hadn’t been panic filled. Even now, as Yancy was driving yet another hijacked car (he had ditched the cop car as soon as possible, but took a few supplies out of it), He didn’t seem… scared. More determined.

Illinois finally spoke for the first time since the whole ordeal, which to be honest he couldn’t tell if it was minutes or hours ago.

“Yancy I… thank you… and sorry”

“Youse saved me so much, it was about time that I’s returned the favor, '' Yancy responded, glancing over for only a second before looking back at the road. “Youse seem exhausted”

Illinois let out a weak laugh “Yeah, I am…” He said, before hesitantly asking “hey uh.. Are you doing ok?”

“I dunno…” Yancy said, his eyebrows furrowing “No one got killed but I can’t… I struggle seein people afraid. And there were a few points when these guys looked..” He took a breath “But then I’d look at youse… youses fear solidified somethin… I felt the need to drag us out of there. Or more specifically, you… and then it wasn’t for me, or my own survival. It was to get youse outta there..”

Illinois listened, slowly understanding why this time was different. It wasn’t fight or flight this time. It was to rescue someone else. It was to rescue him.

“But other than seein fear on thems faces, and a few bruises here and there, I think I’m alright… how about youse?”

“I… I’m a bit tired.” Illinois responded, unsure of what else to say. He felt like he had  failed Yancy. He was also surprised at just how much Yancy cared about him. There was so much going on and Illinois felt unable to work it all out.

“Then get some rest. I’ll wake youse up when we switch cars again”

As much as Illinois wanted to stay awake to make sure everything went alright, his eyelids felt like lead and his brain felt like his thoughts were trapped in thick fog. He nodded sleepily, and was asleep within seconds.

Chapter Text

Four officials had cornered the two fugitives, and all four came out alive, the most severe injury being a gunshot wound in the foot to an officer named Emily Davis.

Kathrine looked through the information she currently had of the situation, sighing. It didn’t make sense to her. Why didn’t the fugitives just kill them? According to all the accounts, they both had taken guns. And those limbs were enough to easily crack a skull. Wouldn’t it have been easier for the two?

After the death of Doctor Benjamin Weller, Kathrine had assumed that Daniel Jones would simply kill those in his way, but even the bullet wound seemed to be very intentionally non-fatal. It was undeniable that Daniel had avoided killing, and maybe even any bodily harm possible. Why though? What was missing from all this?

There was no footage of Benjamin's death, but he had clearly been thrown into a wall. It was assumed that Daniel had done it out of cold blood. After all, Benjamin was the only doctor the subject had actually spoken to, other than Pitch himself.

This encounter wasn’t cold-blooded though, from what she could see. Maybe she was looking too deeply into this or focusing on the wrong thing here, but she couldn’t help but feel unease in her chest. She wasn’t quite sure where the problem was, but it felt bigger than just this encounter.

Officer Davis said she had a brief dialogue with Daniel Jones before they got away. She hadn’t been wearing a body cam, but the officer who had been holding onto Illinois Arch was wearing one.  Kathrine had never spoken to Davis since she worked for another facility hours away, and she only had the witness reports.

The footage of the conversation was okay, but the audio wasn’t great. Kathrine decided to watch through the footage one last time before calling Officer Davis to try to get some more of the story.

The action was primarily out of frame, but the part that Kathrine was really interested in was in perfect view.

Daniel Jones’ chest heaving as he cocked the gun, staring down Officer Davis. Officer Davis stopping in her tracks, and staring back.

Kathrine couldn’t help but notice Daniel never actually pointed the gun. During the whole conversation, until he shot Davis in the foot, the gun stay pointed at the ground.

She sighed and turned off the computer before picking up her phone and calling Davis, who was still in the hospital, as far as Kathrine understood.

After a few rings, the officer picked up, “Hello?”

“Hello, Officer Davis right?”

“Yes ma’am”

“This is Kathrine Adams, head of security at the facility responsible for Daniel Jones”

“Oh. I take it you have some questions?”

“Yes, I do. None of the recording bodycams could pick up yours and Jones’ conversation, do you mind trying to re-account it to me?"

Kathrine listened as the officer explained it all. Explained what Daniel Jones had said about being treated as less than human. How he deserved to rot in jail, but he didn’t deserve to be treated the way the lab treated him.

It made Kathrine feel a little nauseous. It had been a thought process Kathrine had for a while. In stripping people of their humanity, even murderers, was this place any better? Did people like Daniel really not deserve any human decency? Was there even a right answer here? Does deciding who’s right and who's wrong, and deciding who gets to be treated as a human and who gets to be treated as far less ever lead to any good?

All these doubts had been silent and dormant for a few years, but with Pitches' increase in rule breaking for the idea of a greater good, and a new understanding of Daniels's perspective, she just couldn’t shut them up.

“Thank you, Officer Davis. I wish you a speedy recovery,” she said, before hanging up.

Her mind drifted to her old co-worker, Illinois. Doctor Pitch seemed to see Illinois as a main villain in this situation now, but Kathrine just couldn’t find it in herself to paint it all that way. Illinois always had the intention to help as many people as possible.

Kathrine always wondered if he was too flexible when it came to morals, when he was working there. He seemed to adjust what was right to the situation, but she was starting to realize it was never for self-gain. He just assessed the situation to figure out what was the best current decision and seemed to be deeply aware that what was right for one situation might not be right for another.

Maybe Illinois was really onto something back then… and maybe he still was.

–

Yancy finally parked at the halfway point. An abandoned warehouse in a part of town that had been left behind by everyone but fellow criminals. He had kept switching cars every hour or so to make sure there wasn’t another confrontation. After the second switch, Illinois had told him some more detailed directions so Yancy could give him more time to rest.

It was relatively early in the morning when they made it. Despite having to wake up and move to another car quite often, Illinois had slept relatively well, it seemed.

The cyborg reached over, and gently tapped Illinois’ arm to wake him up “We’re here” He said.

Illinois’ eyes fluttered open and he sat up straight with a tiny yawn “Yancy, you did it” he said, with a blink.

Yancy snickered and got out, heading to the back door of the warehouse “Well don’t sound too surprised, I’m not completely hopeless” he said as he picked the lock.

Illinois came over with a tiny exasperated huff “That's not how I meant it”

The door made a tiny click as Yancy finished up “I know, I’m teasin youse” He said a bit playfully, before lightly bumping Illinois and heading in.

It had been a long time since Yancy had felt confident in himself. In what he stood for, what he could do, or who he was. But for once, here he was. He felt sure they were doing the right thing. He just saved himself and Illinois and got them here safely. That was all him.

It’d be a lie to say that didn’t have him in a pretty good mood.

Granted, he had hurt people but everyone survived, and he didn’t do anything more than he had to.

Inside the warehouse felt stale, and stagnate. It felt like dust hung in the air, unmoving for the past few years and only now being forced to make way for light and movement. The air smelt of dust and traces of things like gasoline and rust.

The warehouse was dark but Yancy's eye didn’t take long to adjust, making it easy for him to find the light. There were crates, boxes, and discarded machinery scattered about, that looked like they hadn’t been touched in a decade.

“The supplies are kinda all over the place, hidden in different nooks and crannies. I wanted to make sure in case anyone broke in and ransacked the place, they couldn’t steal everything ” Illinois explained as he started to pull crates to the side and pull out stashes of items here and there.

He tossed Yancy a key that was in a stash of nonperishable foods,“The car is near the center if you wanna try to start loading things up”

“Yeah, sure thing. Youse get enough rest, though? Can’t push youses self like that again”

Illinois chuckled a bit “Hey, I thought I was the one who was supposed to be taking care of you, not the other way around”

“Back when youse were just my rescuer. Now youse my friend, and Imma take care of youse too” Yancy said with a tiny smile, before getting an armful of supplies and heading to load them up in the car.

It had been a long while, since Yancy had a real friend. There were a few in jail, but it felt more like coworkers, in a sense. Someone you’d never be friends with, if you wern’t in the same area as them at almost all times. He hadn’t felt a sense of care this sincere since probably highschool.

He set some of the food in the back of the car, thinking. Maybe odd circumstances forced them to get close, but Yancy couldn’t help but think that in a different less complicated world, where they just met by bumping into each other in the grocery store or something, they’d still become friends.

It felt nice to truly care, and be cared about.

Even if it was on the run, and facing constant danger, Yancy was glad that he could spend time with Illinois, and finally experience a real friendship again. 

Maybe this post adrenaline high and pride would go away soon enough. Maybe things wouldn’t feel this good for long. But he would bask in it while he could.

Chapter Text

Illinois shuffled through the blueprints, looking through Doctor Pitches' notes which were scribbled out in red pen. Circling what wouldn’t work and writing out what needed to be changed.

Just a few weeks ago, Illinois would have fixed everything with unmatched enthusiasm. Just a few weeks ago he was still convinced that they were doing undeniable good. But some of the pretty illusions were starting to degrade, and Illinois didn’t like what he was starting to see under them.

The limbs were no longer just prosthetics. There was no good reason for them to be this strong. To have weapons in them. To be bulletproof. He had told Doctor Pitch these additions would only make these more expensive and less accessible to the people Illinois wanted to help.

The Doctor told him to just fix the problems he had marked on the blueprints and to stop arguing.

Whenever he tried to ask about how they would find volunteers, Pitch would wave him off and say they had that covered.

It made Illinois uneasy. He sighed and set down the blueprints before heading to the breakroom to grab some coffee and clear his head. One of the newest members of the staff, a young doctor named Benjamin Weller, was sitting at one of the tables, eating lunch.

Illinois made himself a cup and came over “Mind if I sit here?”

The young doctor looked at Illinois “g-go ahead”

Illinois took a seat and glanced at the man “You seem kinda tense. I don’t bite” Illinois teased lightly.

Benjamin laughed a bit, but there was a tense tired tone to it. “Sorry, It's just this place…”

“Isn’t what you expected?” Illinois asked, his tone a bit softer. He understood. When he first came to work there, he felt there was something deeply cold about it. His enthusiasm just overshadowed whatever disappointment or fear there was.

“Yeah, I guess. I was told I’d be working on big projects that’d change the world for the better… and I feel like all I’ve really gotten to do is run errands for Dr. Pitch” the young doctor mumbled as he poked at his food.

“We’re finishing up the blueprints right now, actually. In a few weeks, hopefully, things will really pick up. There’s still good to do. It’s just… slower than expected” Illinois said, taking a sip of his coffee. Usually, he would put a bit of sugar in it, but he felt like the bite of drinking it black helped him clear his head.

“Yeah. That’s what I keep telling myself” Ben said, in a tone Illinois had become far too familiar with in the past week or so. A tone that’s used when someone has become afraid to hope. Afraid to think things could go good, because all the evidence seems to say otherwise.

“Keep telling yourself that, Benjamin” Illinois said softly “Sometimes the hope of doing good is all we got”

–

Over the next few weeks, the situation had only grown worse. Pitch kept pushing for the limbs to become more and more weaponized. Stronger. He kept pushing Illinois’ questions aside.

Finally one day, during a meeting, Pitch explained the volunteer process. Except it wasn’t volunteers at all. He explained that the facility would pick out convicted murderers, both ones on death row and ones with a life sentence.

They would bring in the prisoner, perform the surgeries, run some tests, and then the prisoner would be promptly executed.

Illinois felt sick, as Pitches' odd terminologies and how he kept pushing away Illinois' questions started to make sense.

“Why would we do that when plenty of people would be willing to volunteer?” Illinois countered.

“Because the first tests have a high chance of failure. We wouldn’t want to accidentally kill off civilians” Pitch said dismissively.

“Then at least let these prisoners have a choice! Tell them that if they volunteer for this, they can cut their sentences short or something. Easier parol. Don’t just kill them right after!”

“ Mister Arch, stop yelling. We can’t just set murderers free with these prosthetics. It’d be too dangerous” Pitch said, his tone void of all emotion except annoyance.

“Only because you insisted they be stupidly strong. I wanted to make these as human-like as possible. This wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t hijack this whole thing.”

“You wonder why you don’t have higher clearance, and why a lot of your demands for information are left unanswered. This is why. You are out of line, so I suggest you pipe down.” Pitch said sharply.

It felt like a threat. Illinois wasn’t sure what he was threatening, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to find out, either. He had so many more questions, but he could see this conversation was going nowhere.

After a glance around the room though, he could see his doubts inhabited a few others who were on the project. Especially Ben. A few others, who seemed to have known this all along and probably even more seemed almost indifferent to this whole situation. As if there was nothing wrong with everything. As if they hadn’t twisted Illinois’ dreams into some sort of monster.

—

Only a few weeks later, the first subject was picked out. A man by the name of Damien Whitaker. He was arrested for killing an old childhood friend.

That’s all Illinois was told, but he decided to do some digging. He knew that the more he knew about the first subject, the more upsetting it would be. Part of Illinois thought that was a good thing, though. As much as it hurt, nothing scared him more than becoming desensitized to this. He didn’t want to accept this as okay.

Damien now went by Dark, a lot of the sources said. He was a cold guy, it looked like, but nothing besides the actual act of murder seemed to point to him being a BAD guy. Let alone someone who deserved what this place was going to do to him.

Sources said that the childhood friend he had killed had been stalking him and his sister for years before the crime. Damien, or Dark, had been filing report after report, trying to get the police to help. It was only after the estranged friend had broken into his sister's home, did the crime take place.

Dark had only been trying to protect his sister after he tried every legal resource. Even the life sentence the poor man had seemed flimsy, in that context. And yet it was nothing compared to what would happen here.

This man didn’t deserve it. No one did.

–

There was nothing to be salvaged. The whole project had become too corrupt to put back on track.

Illinois paced in his office, unable to calm himself. The first subject would be brought in shortly. Or more accurately, the first victim. This was never supposed to happen. He wanted to help people, but it was slowly becoming evident that people like his dad would never reap the benefits of Illinois’ inventions.

He took a breath and headed to the operation room to double-check the limbs one last time. Doctor Pitch and the other doctors were just finishing the preparation of the room. Sanitizing surfaces, getting tools set up, etc.

The mechanical limbs were on what Illinois assumed was the operation table, but it was unlike any operation table he had seen in real life. It was just a metal table with straps on it. 

“Could this big government facility not even afford a little bit of cushioning on this thing?” Illinois asked, a bit of annoyance in his tone as he made sure the mechanics were all in working order.

Doctor Pitch looked over, looking fed up with Illinois “I don’t understand why we should worry about the convicted murderers comfort”

“It seems like the least we could do is try to not make their last days alive complete hell” Illinois snapped back. “A little bit of humanity won’t break the bank”

“Mister Arch, You’re being disruptive. Their comfort is not our priority, getting these bionics working is”

“Why? They’re not even prosthetics that the public could access any more, with all its weaponry and expensive material. So what does it matter if they’re working or not? What are these even for, now?” Illinois demanded.

“Are you done checking over the machinery?” Pitch asked. 

His refusal to answer only frustrated Illinois more. Illinois threw the screwdriver he had been using to make sure that the hatch was secure into his toolbox with a loud clang.

“Yeah, sure,” Illinois said, anger evident in his tone. He hated everything about this.

“Great, then go have your temper tantrum elsewhere,” Pitch said flatly.

Illinois left quickly before he said something he’d regret. Once he admired Pitch. He thought they had the same goals. Now he saw that Doctor Pitch was a monster, incapable of caring about others. A person who not only lacked empathy but who mocked it.

It made his stomach twist to know how long he had waved off awful behavior in the hopes of good. That he let his rose-colored glasses just become blinders.

Before he could even get to his office, he heard shouts down the hall.

“Let go of me! What are you doing!? LET GO!”

After all the court tapes Illinois had watched, he could recognize the voice as the first subject. Damien Whitaker sounded angry, but in the same sense that a cornered and wounded dog seems aggressive.

Illinois rushed to his office, unable to handle the shouts. How could this have all gone so wrong…

He set the toolbox on his desk and took a breath. He felt ashamed. Here he was, hiding from his own actions as someone paid for them. Someone was about to get mutilated due to Illinois’ own ignorance, and yet he had the gall to run from the victim's pain to preserve his own mental state.

Against his better judgment, he headed into the security room to watch. He didn’t deserve the comfort of ignorance. Not anymore.

He nodded at the security guard there and gave a brief excuse about needing to make sure things went alright.

There was no audio, so Illinois took a seat and just watched.

The man was brought in, trying to pull away from the guards. Pitch looked emotionless as ever, as Damien was forced onto the table, and the restraints were secured. If Illinois looked closely, he could see the poor prisoner's cheeks were wet from a few tears here and there. 

Damien had murdered to protect his family, and now Damien would be killed because Illinois wanted to help his family.

They were the same, and yet Doctor Pitch insisted he didn’t even deserve basic humanity.

He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t risk becoming Pitch. There were no more excuses to be made. No ‘for the better’ to hope for or salvage. He couldn’t just quit… he had to fix this. But how?

He looked at the security system's main monitor and started to get an idea.

By the end of the day, a botched surgery brought the first death of the project, and a few days later, Illinois put in a vacation request.

Chapter Text

The two stayed at the warehouse for a few hours to treat the cut on Yancy's side, change their clothes, and eat.

Illinois didn’t want to sit around for too long, but he was starting to see the dangers in just pushing through exhaustion and pain.

Luckily the chances of this car drawing suspicion were low, and they had plenty of supplies both in the car with them now, and at the safe house, he had put together.

Before long, they were back on the road and Illinois was driving again.

“We should probably start planning our attack...” Illinois said with a breath “Pitch knows I’m the one behind a lot of this now. If he wasn’t on a warpath before, he sure is now”

“Right… I’ve been thinkin about that… there's more facilities like that place, right?”

“Yeah. A few dozen across the country with a pretty wide variety of experiments. I haven’t done a deep dive into too many of them, but they all seem to be pretty gruesome, and it looks like hardly any of them are on a volunteer basis…”

“And youses goal is just to take down the one I was at, right?”

“Yeah… As much as I’d love to take all of them down, we have to be somewhat realistic”

“Ideally, how do youse think is the best way to get that place out of operation for a long while?”

Illinois’ eyebrows furrowed. It sounded like Yancy was trying to point out something, but decided to follow Yancy's train of thought until they got there.

 “I was thinking we get in there, make them think there's some sort of emergency, get the building evacuated, then try to blow up the place. Hopefully, with the loss of information and everything inside, it’ll take them a long time to get back up and functioning”

“And once they rebuild, the cycle will start all over again. And nothin will ever stop.”

“But it’s something. Yancy, if you don’t wanna do it, you can tell me. I won’t get upset. I can keep trying to keep you safe and try to take it down myself. I understand it feels pointless, and I’d never ask you to risk your life over something you don’t feel is worth it.” Illinois said gently. 

As hard as it would be to do alone, he couldn’t truly blame Yancy if this was his way of trying to back out. It really did feel like a dead end sometimes.

“Nonono, youse not gettin it. I want that place gone just as bad as you. But I think I may have figured out a way to take em all down. Maybe even revive the Bionic Prosthetic Project.” Yancy said, seeming a bit excited.

Illinois knew letting your hopes get too high could cause immeasurable disappointment, but Illinois would be lying if he said the excitement about such a possibility wasn’t contagious. Could his good intentions somehow still be salvaged? Could he fix not only his own mistakes but the mistakes of thousands like him?

“I’m all ears, Yance”

—

“Doctor Pitch, perhaps it's time for you to take a step back from the search”

It was right after yet another meeting, this time about some of the most recent events on the search for Daniel Jones. Ever since the escape, people had been questioning Pitch's capabilities, and Pitch was reaching the end of his rope on the topic.

However this was the first time the head of the facility, his boss , had brought it up.

“Director Wilson, with all due respect,” Pitch said, setting down his pen and giving her his full attention as he spoke “It’s more essential than ever for me to be involved in all this. I worked closer with Illinois Arch than anyone here has. And now we know he’s the ring leader of all this”

Director Wilson sat back in her chair and watched Pitch closely “Alright, then tell me Pitch. Why is he doing this?”

“Because the project's objectives changed, and he’s disgruntled about that”

“And… Do you think it's impossible that he may be disgruntled towards you ?”

“Director Wilson, I’d rather keep middle school-level thinking and drama out of this. I have no doubt he strongly dislikes me, but I see no reason why that should affect my involvement in the search.”

“Because I believe this has gotten far too personal. As soon as Mister Arch was confirmed to be involved with the situation, you’ve become even more… strained than usual.” She said, obviously choosing her words carefully. 

“During the whole meeting, you were very eager to point out everything the guards did wrong, and you ignored all the very valid reasons as to why things happened the way they did, instead of focusing on a way forward.”

“They could have just shot the two, and we wouldn’t be here right now. This whole thing could be over” Pitch insisted.

“And then we’d never find out if Mr. Arch is part of something bigger until it’s too late. Due to the possibility of him having sold information, or working with anyone else, we have to have him alive for questioning. Daniel Jones being alive for questioning could also be very beneficial.” Director Wilson responded. She was infuriatingly calm, in a way that made Pitch feel as though she was speaking down to him.

“Illinois never cared about a bigger picture, just his own idea of what a better world is. He doesn’t think big enough to start or join any underground organization against us. And he babies those limbs too much to sell information about them to anyone who doesn’t think exactly like him” Pitch explained, struggling to keep his tone level. 

Why couldn’t they see what he could see? Once these two were out of the picture, everything would be fine. Sure, he’d prefer them alive as well. It would be great to see their demise himself. For it to be far slower and excruciating than a simple bullet wound. But at the end of the day, with them gone, everything could get right on track. Nothing more to it.

“You say you want to keep this away from childish thinking and drama, but I feel as though you’re more set on getting back at two people who wronged you, rather than fixing the damage done by all this,” Wilson said, shaking her head softly.

“You could be focusing on finding out what went wrong so you could fix this in the future. Or you could be working on safety procedures. Maybe a more secure way to interact with subjects. But instead, you’re hell-bent on a past co-worker and an escaped convict. You may be the head of this project, but you’re still just a doctor. I am not the one who’s brought middle school behavior into this, Doctor. You are”

The words filled Pitch with anger, but he knew he had to play his cards right, here. If he showed just how much rage he felt, she would only use that to justify her argument. Arguing was getting him nowhere. He took a breath and nodded. 

“I see your point, Director Wilson. Perhaps a compromise would be beneficial? I’ll work on safety precautions for guards who are handling subjects of the project, and I’ll work with our mechanics to find better ways to restrain them. But I still feel my assistance, organization, and knowledge of Illinois’ character can be beneficial in the search”

The director tapped her pen on the table, staring at Pitch for a moment before saying “Fine. Please don’t let this situation spiral out of control due to a personal agenda, Xander. I know how you can get. This is not a situation where you can afford to get too hyper-fixated on your personal feelings. I’ll be keeping a close eye on you. You’re dismissed”

Pitch nodded and got up, collecting his papers. He had dodged a bullet for now, but how she spoke angered him. As if she was reprimanding a child for playing dirty during soccer. What did it matter if it was personal? This could turn into a matter of national security, and his anger toward the criminals was the thing she felt needed to be addressed?

“One more thing, Xander,” She said, causing Pitch to pause and look at her again.

“Yes?” He asked, trying to keep his annoyance out of his tone.

“You’re not as young as you used to be. You’ve done a lot of good in your career. Both in combat, and here. Maybe it's a good time to start considering retirement.”

He clenched his jaw and picked up the stack of papers “I’m quite alright to keep working. Thank you for your concern” He said stiffly, before leaving the room.

This was ridiculous. He may be older, but he was perfectly capable of assisting in this search. Without his determination, they wouldn’t have even found the MIC chip. Illinois would still be hiding out with the murderer in that stupid little house right under their noses, and they wouldn’t have any sort of lead.

Granted, he could only do so much when everyone else was so incompetent. The group he hired should have stuck around and stopped them when they got out of the river. The guards that cornered them should have shot them on sight. Especially Illinois. Pitch was sure Daniel Jones wouldn’t survive a day without him.

Two close encounters, and yet the criminals were still free.

He dropped the papers on his desk and paced, shaking his head. He would have to work on safety procedures as he promised, but he had no intention of relaxing his role in the search as he had implied. After the blows this had caused to his reputation and credibility, he wanted them found more than ever.

Director Wilson would indeed keep a close eye on him, Pitch had no doubt. Maybe it was time to rely a bit heavier on the group he had hired, and perhaps other resources like it.

If they didn’t want his help in more… conventional ways, so be it. 

Chapter Text

Yancy knew his idea was more a half-baked design than a plan, but if anyone could make it into a functioning idea to topple all the facilities, it was Illinois.

“Pitch said it’s all legal, right?”

“Yup. The whole place is government ran, government-funded, ” Illinois responded.

“But it’s all super secret?”

“Yeah. They don’t want other countries to steal their research and stuff. Since it seems a lot of it is either war based or ‘get ahead’ based’”

“Part of the secrecy has to be ‘cause the public wouldn’t like it though, right? I mean, Ben was iffy with it. I’m sure more people working there don’t like it, and I’m sure the public would hate it too.”

“That could easily be part of it. I know they use convicted murderers because they can pretend the people they bring in are hardly human, they feel like they can justify it. Ben was never good at hiding his unease, but there were others who I’m sure felt the same way”

“See?” Yancy said “The whole idea doesn’t even hold up in their own operation. People on the inside are unsure, and I have a feelin people on the outside would be scared that human experimentation is protected by the law. There’s only so many people with blood on their hands out there. With multiple facilities, probably bringin in multiple prisoners a day, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re already kinda low on the people they can bring in. What happens when they run out of guinea pigs?”

Illinois was starting to understand “Then they turn to convicts of less severe crimes.”

“Exactly,” Yancy said “And they’ll justify more and more with the same logic they used on people like me. How long is the public really safe from all this?”

“So we need to find a way to let the people know…” Illinois said, “And hope they make a fuss?”

“It ain’t a solid idea, I know. But I think if we play our cards right, it could destroy of all of the facilities. Maybe even allow you to return to working on the mechanic limbs for the people who need em. For good”

“Even if they’re all toppled, I don’t think I’m ever gonna be able to settle down again. Someones gotta help you stay free” Illinois said in a slightly teasing tone.

Yancy hesitated. He had thought of that too. Once the dust had settled, he’d probably be arrested again. He had killed Ben, resisted arrest, and shot at a cop. He knew the chances of him getting a happily ever after were close to zero, and he didn’t want Illinois to give up his happily ever after for a life on the road.

Part of him had already accepted that no matter how everything went, he would never get that sunshine and rainbows end. But if he could take down the rest of the facilities before he was arrested or even killed, it’d be more than worth it.

Illinois didn’t need to know that though. He didn’t need to know that Yancy would probably just turn himself in when all was said and done. Yancy couldn’t just allow Illinois to throw everything away to take care of him forever.

It was never about freedom to Yancy, anyways. He still felt like prison was a fitting fate. But those places weren’t a fitting fate for anyone. Once all of them were down, Yancy wasn’t sure if he really cared what happened to him after… but he did care about what Illinois’ life held afterward.

“Than wes can just hope that once we expose those places for what they are, projects like youses will be put back on the right track,” He said with a tiny smile. Illinois had too much good to do in the world. Yancy wouldn’t let him waste it by just protecting him for the rest of their lives.

Despite his resolve, he knew he was misleading Illinois. But that wasn’t important right now. The idea was hardly even a skeleton. There was no need to focus too much on what they did after, right now.

“I think a good place to start is gettin some information and evidence,” Yancy said, trying to change the direction of the conversation.

“I had a bunch on my computers… but I no longer have the MIC chip or any of the files,” Illinois said with a small sigh.

Yancy looked at the car's window, seeing the reflection of his partially metal face. “Well, I’m a decent amount of evidence...”

“True… if we use you as evidence though, that means we would have to let the whole world see you. Would you be okay with that...?”

Yancy looked away from the window. He hated his reflection now. He hated that he had to carry around the worst thing that ever happened to him. He flexed his mechanical hand.

“I may not be as pretty as I once was… but I always loved the spotlight, growin up” He half-joked, trying to lift the mood. The whole world would see him at his worst. And hopefully that would be for the best.

—

Doctor Pitch had come to the conclusion that The Group was useless and incompetent. They had a chance to catch the two convicts, but they left and allowed the two to get away. 

He couldn’t just fire them, though. They knew far too much. Pitch knew from the beginning that they wouldn’t simply just part ways. Even if they finished the job.

The plan was always to frame them for working with Daniel Jones and get rid of the loose ends when all was said and done, but he was starting to make mild adjustments to this plan.

Pitch made his way to Kathrine's office to ask another favor. Her recent anxiety about the whole situation didn’t slip Pitches' notice, but convincing her that things were for the better was never very difficult.

With two cups of coffee in hand, one acting as a false olive branch for Kathrine, he entered her office and set one on her desk.

Kathrine looked more tired than Pitch had ever seen her. To be honest, everyone around the facility was looking tired these days, but Kathrines was laced with anxious energy. As if all her worries were more exhausting than the actual situation itself.

He took note of that and assessed the best way to approach how he would ask for help.

She took the cup “Thanks, doc” She said, her voice devoid of energy.

“Of course, you seem like you need it” Pitch said, deciding to play it nice to start with.

“I do… I’ve been looking over the officers' reports non-stop ever since we got them… Trying to read in between every word for anything that’ll help… It was a shocker to know Illinois was a part of it to begin with, but seeing him in the suit cams and everything, it just kinda brought up a lot… I used to love talking to him during lunch break, or seeing his excitement over whenever he got something in the limbs to work… it feels almost surreal to see him again.” Kathrine said, staring into her coffee.

“Have you gotten any sleep?” Pitch asked, forcing himself to brush off the annoyance of how she talked about the man who ruined everything.

“I don’t think so… I stayed late, went home, and I tried but I just couldn’t fall asleep. I just kept thinking”

Pitch nodded, pretending to care, and wasn’t just listening and being civil to butter her up.

Kathrine shook her head and took a sip of the coffee, before setting the cup down again “But I doubt you’re here to ensure I got enough sleep. How can I help you, Pitch?”

He took a seat on one of the chairs in front of her desk and sat down his own cup. “You know the group I hired?”

Kathrine seemed to visibly tense just a bit “Yes, what about them?”

Pitch hesitated. He was going to sell her the truth. That they had proved to outrun their usefulness, so they needed to do something, but he realized there was a better way to approach the matter.

“You were right” Pitch said “It was bad idea to get civilians involved. I recently caught wind of the fact that their planning on leaking information. I don’t know if it's as small as recruiting help from from other people who offer services like them, or if it's to sell to other countries.” It was all a complete lie, but this way Kathrine could morally agree with cutting off loose ends, and he could give her the satisfaction of being right, even if it wasn’t real.

“Either way, I understand how I opened a pandoras box, and I need help cutting it off”

Kathrine hesitated as she watch Pitch closely. “And how would I do that without you facing a lot of consequences for them knowing in the first place?”

“Simple, we frame them as Illinois’ accomplices, and convince Director Wilson to allow me to perform four more surgeries”

Chapter Text

The idea had a lot of potential, but also a lot of room for failure. Yancy was right though. If they could get this out to the public, and be loud enough, there was a good chance they could fix way more than just getting one facility out of commission for a while.

Illinois felt exhilarated by the possibility of fixing all of it .

Eventually, they made it to the safe house. A long time ago, one of his family members owned this place, but it had been abandoned ever since. Illinois found out about it from old photos his parents had owned, but they said they didn’t really know where it was.

After Illinois came back to America with a fake identity, he tracked down the place and tried to get the inside livable, with a stock of supplies. Luckily for Illinois, he had seemed to come from a long line of survivalists. It looked like his long-gone relatives were doomsday preppers.

They had decked out their basement to be a makeshift bunker. They had plenty of space that looked like it was once dedicated to hoarding supplies, including vaults for valuables or weapons. It really wasn’t too hard for Illinois to get a bunch of supplies ready, and get the bunker/basement livable while leaving the rest looking abandoned and too boring for any troublemakers or officials to check it out.

Similar to Illinois’ home, it was out of the way enough to not draw too much attention, but close enough to others to not seem suspicious or weird.

“It’s not as cozy as my house, but it's something,” Illinois said, getting out of the car.

Yancy got out “It’s perfect,” He said, “And no ones gonna think to look here?”

“Nope. This place has been abandoned forever. We get the car in the garage, head into the basement, and no one will suspect a thing. Some really way back family members owned this house, but I don’t think they can trace it. I only found it thanks to some old photos in a scrapbook at my parents' place.”

Yancy seemed satisfied with the answer and followed Illinois in. “So I was thinkin about a way to get more evidence and information,” Yancy said, as he glanced about the dust-layered entryway. “Cause I think just me might not be enough, but youse don’t have any connection to inside anymore, right?”

Illinois nodded, leading him to the basement staircase “Yeah. Any hacking job would lead another trail to us. After they found the MIC chip, I'm hesitant to try to use their tech against them again”

“I know this is risky, there has to be more people like youse, right? Others who don’t like what’s goin on. People who’d take an opportunity to stop it all if they had the chance…?”

Illinois hesitated. A person on this inside could be super beneficial, but it had a very high probability of backfiring. “It’s worth thinking about.” Illinois said carefully.

“But let's not get too far ahead of ourselves. We had a big day. Let’s get settled and get some more solid planning done tomorrow”

Once again, Yancy seemed satisfied with his answer, and helped Illinois get everything ready so they could call it a night.

It could all backfire. All the excitement he felt could be for nothing. But how could he stick with the original plan if they could do so much more? Not to mention that Yancy seemed genuinely enthusiastic for once… even if it all was for nothing, Yancy deserved to feel this hope.

—

Yancy woke up at exactly 5:17 AM the next morning, according to the text in his vision. They had only gone to sleep a few short hours before, but his sleep had been plagued by nightmares again.

This time though, they were the ones he was used to. The ones about his parents. He was used to waking up far earlier than others and just laying there for hours, not wanting to go back to sleep and unable to do anything else.

So that's just what he did. Lay there and let his mind drift.

Over the years, the dreams had become more and more blurry. He owned no photos of his childhood years or of his parents. Sometimes he could remember certain features clear as day, but as the years went on, the miscellaneous memories became harder and harder to piece together into a solid picture.

He could remember his parent’s last look of fear, but not really the features that portrayed them, anymore. What was the shape of his dad's nose? What was his mom's eye color? What was his dad's haircut? What kind of shirts did his mom wear?

In the beginning, the dreams were photo perfect, but these days they were more of a blur in which the harder he tried to grasp the details, the more they slipped away. An artistic representation of the murders, instead of the faithful recreation they once were.

Not that it made it all any better. The guilt and pain the dreams once held were still there. Just now there was an extra layer of guilt that came from slowly forgetting his parents' faces. He felt like he owed it to them, to always remember every little detail. To never let go.

Maybe there was a way to scrounge up some photos. Surely there were some floating around online on long-abandoned social media accounts. He’d have to ask Illinois later.

Finally, he took a breath and tore himself away from his thoughts, and glanced about the room. It was dark, but luckily that was no longer a problem for Yancy. 

The basement/bunker area wasn’t a bad living space. Two decent beds, with some quilts Illinois, had stocked up on beforehand. A little kitchenette area in the corner. A couch, a table with a few chairs, etc. It was simple, but alright. Better than the prison, which he never even really minded.

Illinois was still asleep, but knowing him, that would only be the case for an hour or two at the most.

Getting an idea, Yancy slipped out of bed carefully. Back in high school, he wasn’t a bad cook at all. Not five-star chef material, but he used to be decent at making an enjoyable meal. Maybe for once, Illinois could wake up to a nice meal instead of the other way around. 

He dug into a duffle bag of clothing Illinois had given to him, and found a sock to pull over his mechanical foot, hoping to lessen any noise that could wake the sleeping mechanic up, and headed over to the small kitchenette to find out what supplies they had, and the quietest thing he could make with it.

Yancy quickly recognized that the lack of refrigerated ingredients could make this difficult. No fresh fruits or veggies, no milk, no eggs, no meats.

Eventually he found some powdered milk and lit up. He could make pancakes! Yancy was pretty sure there were eggless recipes. He couldn’t find a recipe book, so it was up to him to figure it out, though.

Being as quiet as possible, Yancy got started. It had been a long time since he had actually cooked, but it couldn’t be that hard, right?

He tried to keep his mind off of the nightmare he just had, but that’s easier said than done.

When he first went into prison, one of the other guys told him he’d get over it. He called Yancy fresh and innocent and said to not worry, he’d be cold and calloused soon enough.

That scared Yancy. The idea of what he had done not bothering him felt beyond wrong. Wouldn’t that mean he was okay with what happened? Even now he felt some sort of thankfulness for the nightmares and distress. He wasn’t numb to his own pain yet, which ment he wasn’t numb to others.

He used to think about that all the time. How his regret was one of the only pieces of evidence that he wasn’t a bad person. Despite how much regret hurt, he couldn’t deny that he had used it as a lifeline for a long time.

Did Illinois ever feel this way? Trapped in this weird tug of war between not wanting to feel the pain of regret, but not wanting to let go of something so deeply tied into real empathy?

He shook his head softly as he stirred the powdered milk into a pitcher with some water, trying to be more focused on the cooking process.

Was there baking soda in pancakes? Or was it baking powder… or was it both? How much? A very small amount, right? He’d just put a little of both in. It couldn’t hurt anything, right?

By the time Illinois got up and turned on the lights, Yancy had finished cooking most of the batter, hand had a plate of six or so… different looking pancakes. Yancy blinked, taking a second to adjust to the light, and glancing over “Mornin” he greeted.

Illinois looked over at Yancy and smiled a little, coming over “Morning. Looks like you’ve been busy”

“Yeah. Now that I kinda know how to use this arm for the most part, I thought it’d be nice to make youse breakfast for once”

He hesitated and looked at the pancakes. They were almost a little lumpy. Some were more burnt, some were overcooked. Some were botched while he was trying to flip it. Apparently, his fine motor skills weren't all he had hoped they were yet “But I ah… don’t know if they’re actually edible”

Illinois finally took a look at them as well. There was no denying that it was the worst stack of pancakes either of them had ever seen. After a shared moment of staring at the pancakes, Yancy couldn’t help but burst out laughing. It seemed Illinois couldn't help but follow suit.

“These are the most sketchy pancakes I’ve ever seen” Yancy said between his laughs.

“I’m glad you said it cause I didn’t want to” Illinois responded, leaning on the counter to support himself from laughing so hard.

“And I thought I was mutilated. These things put me to shame”  Yancy wheezed out, which resulted in the two only devolving further into their laughing fit.

Finally they stopped laughing long enough to catch their break. Illinois wiped his eyes “Oh my gosh I haven't laughed this hard in years… Here, let’s make some edible pancakes, I’ll help out this time”

Maybe it was okay to keep the regret of the past but really enjoy the present, Yancy thought. Maybe this is what it ment to move forward.

“That sounds great” Yancy said, dumping the pile of horrible looking pancakes in the trash, ready to make some hopefully much better ones with his friend.

Chapter Text

Doctor Pitch knew it would be a hard sell. Getting Director Wilson to let him perform more surgeries while the whole operation was basically frozen alone would be a challenge. The next part of his plan would be even more difficult to approach.

However, even though Director Wilson was currently questioning Pitches' competency, she still seemed to have complete faith in Kathrine, as always. The two always seemed to get along. As long as he could keep Kathrine on board with him, getting Director Wilson to follow suit should be possible enough.

He was currently in Kathrine's office so they could figure out how to best catch the group while making Pitches' involvement look minimal.

Kathrine tapped her pen on the desk as she thought “You gave them some documents, right?”

“Yes, I did. Documents on Daniel himself and the blueprints.”

“And we know Illinois had access to all of our documents. But there's no digital trail to track there since you gave them physical copies...” Kathrine said with a sigh, realizing that there were no ideas to be had with that information.

“Well, I got a burner phone just for contacting them. We could plant that in Illinois house since they’re still deep-searching the place. You go in and check on the searches, right?” Pitch asked.

“Yeah. Since it's so close they have some of the security I’m in charge of over there, so I have to oversee some of the search and investigations.”

“So say you were to just… stumble across a burner phone assumed to be Illinois that lead directly to the group?”

“Isn’t there evidence against you on it?”

Pitch got it out of his bag and passed it over “I’ve only called them, so there's no texts to look back on. The most incriminating thing is one call I made after Illinois and Daniel had already run off. You can wipe that call off the phone though, right?”

Kathrine took the phone and looked over it “I think so. It looks pretty old, so I doubt it has a solid way to re-listen to the calls. So as long as I can delete the most recent call so there's no questions about the date and time…” Kathrine said.

“Do you think you could track their phone using this one?”

“It’s possible… or I could at least find wherever they were during the calls… Doc, this whole thing is such a mess. If anyone but me closely looks at this phone they could probably find out some of the calls were made from here in the facility. Or even if we clean it of fingerprints, someone could see Illinois’ prints are nowhere to be seen. I wish you would have just listened to me in the first place” She said, sounding exhausted.

That frustrated Doctor Pitch. He had already ‘admitted’ he was wrong (even though he wasn’t) and yet here she was, complaining about this again instead of helping him search for a solution.

“I’d like to remind you we would have never found the MIC chip without them, and Illinois would still be leaching information off of our systems and plotting whatever the hell he’s been planning right under our noses. Maybe it's a mess now, but we’re still further ahead than we were before. Are you capable of helping me apprehend a group of four low level criminals or not?” Pitch said, irritated.

“I’m capable of catching them, Xander. I’m just not sure if it's going to be all that easy to wipe your involvement from the situation. You leaked serious government information to a group of criminals with absolutely no clearance. If your involvement is noticed, no ones going to care that it resulted in the MIC chip being found. You’d be lucky if they stopped at a life sentence. So I’m sorry for trying to be thorough and being a little frustrated that I once again have to work overtime to help out with oversights on your part.”

Pitch got up, realizing that he had never seen Kathrine irritated. Trying to continue this right now would only cause her already dwindling tolerance for Pitch to erode even more.

 “You’re right. It’s late and this is stressful. We’re both too frustrated to get anything done. Let's go clock out and try to start tomorrow with a clean slate.”

Kathrine sighed and got up “After we’re done cleaning this whole mess, I’m done helping you do anything behind the facilities' back,” She said. “I’d probably turn you in if I wasn’t an accomplice. Please don’t put me through all this again” She said, before walking out.

Pitches jaw clenched as he watched her go. If he lost Kathrine's favor, there was no way Director Wilson would be on board with any of his plans going forward. He’d have to play it safe, from now on…

—

Illinois sat criss-cross and facing Yancy on the slightly dusty sofa, tapping a pen (which was already running low on ink) on a small notepad. Yancy was leaning on the arm of the sofa, also facing Illinois. The two had been sitting like this for hours, brainstorming the best ways to approach everything, writing down every little factor they could remember, and scribbling things they had to get done to prepare.

One of the bigger things Illinois pointed out was some physical training for Yancy. Not just for functioning during day-to-day tasks with the limbs this time. Real fight training. Yancy didn’t seem to excited with that idea. Especially when Illinois brought up even training with some weaponry.

“The gang tried to teach me and that never went well” Yancy insisted.

“How old was the oldest guy in your gang?” Illinois asked

“Probably like 23”

“And you think a gang full of people under 23 are gonna be good at genuinely teaching you? This is going to be nothing like that, Yancy. I can teach you in a way that works best for you. Plus, you arn’t as bad as you think. I’ve seen you in action. You’ve got some good strength even in your human arm. I honestly think all we have to do is work on technique and agility.

 I mean even with the police I saw so much improvement, compared to the facility. You’re understanding the strength and how to use it when needed. I feel like your biggest weakness was that fight or flight thing we talked about. But I can see you’re actively getting over that, meaning theres so much room for more control and deliberate movement in your fighting.”

“But I don’t wanna hurt anyone…” Yancy said.

“When you found that room in my shed, you were scared. But because you were able to think more logically about it, you were gonna handle it in a way that didn’t hurt me physically but was still effective. With the cops, you were scared. But once again, you had enough control of yourself to leave the situation with zero casualties and minimal injuries. If we can get you comfortable with weapons and fighing, theres a good chance we can keep it that way. No more Bens, Yancy. You won’t hurt someone like that again, I promise.”

Illinois could see Yancy was still a bit nervous, but he agreed.

He would never tell Yancy, but he remembered the fear he felt when he saw Yancy in that room. When Yancy grabbed his shirt. He had been ready to meet the same fate as Ben. Then he remembered his shock when Yancy pulled him into the room and pushed him aside, very intentionally doing so with his left arm. His human arm.

As devastated he had been due to the subject at hand, he couldn’t help but feel a little pride at the obvious improvement.

With a little more training and confidence, Illinois had faith that Yancy would never have another incident due to fear again. He would have full control of what he did and why.

That whole conversation was about an hour ago at this point. By now they were discussing possible old co workers of Illinois to ask for help.

“I… there's one who I keep thinking will work. She’d be the highest risk to contact… if she’s not sold on our cause, she’s probably one of the most capable of tracking us down… but she was always one of the nicest ones there… she didn’t seem to be a fan of what was happening but always kinda saw it as a necessary evil. And she's higher ranking, in the facility” Illinois said

Yancy lit up, seeming to like the possibility of getting a higher-up person on their side “Who is it?” He asked.

“She’s the head of security over there. In fact, I think she's one of the people trying to track us down… but when I had access to their systems, I could see this whole thing wearing down on her. Whenever I’d check the security cams and see her, she seemed more anxious than normal. It would be a huge risk and I could just be assuming, but I think she could be questioning a lot, like before I left”

“That does sound like a big risk,” Yancy said as he tapped his metal fingers on his metal leg, making tiny click-like noises.

“No risk no reward,” Illinois pointed out, writing on the tiny notepad.

Find a way to contact Kathrine Adams.

Chapter Text

When Kathrine got home that night, she didn’t rest. As long as she was stuck helping Pitch, she felt incapable of a good night's sleep. Instead, she kept planning how to finish this last request from Pitch so that she could step back.

To be honest, once this whole situation was over, she was considering stepping back from this job all together.

She always figured Pitch was more of a bad apple. He was rude and seemed to lack empathy and any moral compass. He thought he was better and above everyone.

However, she couldn’t overlook that he wasn’t always this bad. He was different when she started working there as a young security officer years ago. Maybe not the most friendly guy around, but he was far more restrained. There might have even been a time when he really did believe that he was trying to work toward a greater good…

That’s the main thing that off-put her. The fact that maybe he really did care once. The fact that she couldn’t bring herself to completely discount him as just an awful person. Not because she could excuse his behavior. But because there was a possibility he was once like her.

Which meant there was a possibility that she could someday be like him.

Was he really the bad apple at the facility? Or was the facility the thing that caused him to rot?

She wouldn’t go as far as Illinois did, she told herself. She didn’t need revenge, she just needed out. Watching Pitch lose any resemblance of genuine intent in real time was enough to shake everything she had convinced herself of.

For now, she just wanted this whole mess over with as soon as possible. She just wanted a good nights worth of sleep again.

—

Pitch hardly had a chance to even sit down after clocking in before Kathrine came into the office. It seemed Kathrine didn’t sleep it off, as he had hoped. The bags under her eyes were darker than ever. Her ponytail, which was usually pulled back very neatly with absolutely zero flyaways, was now only holding about half her hair, the other half either hanging straight or sticking out at slightly odd angles.

He withheld an annoyed sigh and looked at her “Is something wrong?”

“I found out how to do it. You call up the group. Tell them you have reason to believe Illinois and Daniel will be returning to the house at seven pm, in two days. That’s when we’ll be getting ready to lock down the site for now, since we don’t think we can find any more evidence there. If they ask questions, just stay vague. Tell them you’ll meet them there and explain, etc.

I’ll make sure I’m there. Whatever they say about you, I’m sure it won't be hard to brush it off as a cover-up story from Illinois. For this to work, I need you to not comment on what they say. Leave that to me. You keep adding fuel to every fire you set. So I am literally begging you, leave everything after that phone call to me.”

He wasn’t a fan of how she was talking to him, at all. However, he was aware of the need to tread lightly here.

“Of course. Thank you for everything, Kathrine. However, I still want to try to get Director Wilson to let me perform those surgeries.”

“Xander, that is the least of our worries. Years and years of experience and schooling aren't just going to disappear if you don’t perform surgery for a few weeks. Why is that so important to you?”

Pitch could tell she was getting skeptical now, and he couldn’t lie. She was right to be skeptical. That didn’t mean that it wasn’t annoying.

“Director Wilson had asked me to try to work on better security measures, to prevent another Daniel Jones from happening. Do you remember near the beginning of this project, after the first few test subjects how we started considering connecting the facial plate deeper? Having it connect to the brain to control them? But we only tried it a few times before we decided against it. I believe we should try it again. If we were using that version of the bionics, we could have stopped Daniel with a touch of a button. I can try it with them, and see if my theory holds any weight. I’m just doing what Director Wilson wanted”

“If you really believe that this is what she wants, then you shouldn’t need my help in convincing her. Knock yourself out” She said, not seeming any less irritated than she was last night.

“Of course,” Pitch said with a strained patience that was only becoming more and more tattered by the second. “I appreciate your help with everything else. I’ll talk that part over with director Wilson and leave you out of it.’’

“Good” Kathrine said, her tone holding more sharpness than Pitch had ever heard from her, before she left.

Pitch shook his head, his jaw clenched. Everything he had done had helped the search. Every law he broke got them one step closer to containing the real threats. As much as Kathrine tried to cling to the moral high ground, she wasn’t right here.

He sat back in his chair, taking a breath. Of course, using the face pieces capable of controlling the subject wasn’t about security. It was about fighting fire with fire. 

Daniel seemed to be able to handle an average security officer, but why should they just be using average officers when the whole project was about making weapons?

If the group was useless as average low-grade black market mercenaries, then he might as well make them useful.

Of course, he would never be able to convince Director Wilson that this was a good idea. No one here was willing to get their hands dirty to get a job done like Pitch was. They’d rather talk about the risk, instead of actually fixing things. He knew what he was doing. He had gotten them this far. He knew better than Kathrine, Illinois, Director Wilson, and he fully intended to show all of them.

Though Katherine's growing hatred for Pitch was becoming a problem. Originally, he was going to get her to help him to get the four out of the lab in a believable way so he could send them after Daniel, but it seemed like she was only growing firmer in her stance to no longer assist him.

Not only that, but he was starting to wonder if she would sink so low as to tell Director Wilson everything. Even if it got her in trouble. Kathrine would probably see that as ‘noble’...

A bit of a smile broke across Pitches face. It’s obvious, isn’t it? Kill two birds with one stone. She’s the head of security. How hard would it be to make another little security breach look like it’s Katherine's fault?

After all, Kathrine was more like Illinois than most people seemed to realize. Maybe he could use that. Stir up some suspicion.

Director Wilson couldn’t risk another rouge employee, could she?

—

Yancy quickly decided he disliked training. He understood why Illinois wanted him to do it, so he’d keep at it, but he hated it.

Illinois had said it would be best to work on agility for now. As soon as they had finished brainstorming yesterday, Illinois headed a bit into the forest behind the house and started making an obstacle course.

Turns out Yancy having enough control to walk or even run, and to do basic things with his hand didn’t mean he had full control. He was hardly agile before, but now he had grace comparable to watching a baby giraffe trying to walk.

Illinois had told him to try to go at the obstacle corse with everything he had for the first go around. After that, they could work on it slower and with more technique, focusing on where he might fall short.

That first go around was nothing short of pathetic, Yancy felt.

 The obstacles consisted of a stretch where he had to weave in and out of the trees, a high pile of debris Illinois had stacked up to jump over, a section with tires laid flat out against the ground, ect. At the end there was a rope tied to a tall branch to climb, with a bell at the top,

During the first run, Yancy tried to give it his all. He really did. He slipped in the slightly damp dirt and foliage while weaving through the trees. He knocked over the pile he was supposed to jump over. He was slow while running. He couldn’t aim for the middle of the tires when he tired to run through them. He kept slipping on the rims or not lifting his feet up high enough and getting his foot caught on the lip of the tire and stumbling.

And then the rope. He made it up a few feet just fine, but he wasn’t focusing on his mechanical hand enough. He thought he had it in his grasp when he let go with his human hand to grab a higher spot of the rope and pull himself up, but it turned out his mechanical hand wasn’t even on the rope. He fell to the ground and got the wind knocked out of him.

He lay there on the ground, feeling stupid. Feeling like all this was stupid and like this wasn’t worth it. He could remember laying on the floor just like this after one of the other gang members knocked him over while trying to train him to actually be good at fighting. He remembered that happening multiple times. He remembered them laughing. He remembered failing.

It felt like he had laid there forever, trying to catch his breath.

Unlike back then though, there was no laughter. Instead, Illinois came over and sat beside him on the forest floor so thick with damp fallen leaves that it was hard to see any real ground underneath.

And then… “That was really good, Yancy. I could tell you really gave it your all.”

“I failed so bad” Yancy mumbled, sitting up.

“You’re comparing yourself to people with limbs they have experience with, Yancy. No one has ever had to do what you’re doing. No one has ever had to learn not only how to live with these limbs, but how to excel with them. And with so much pressure. Of course, the first run is gonna be flawed. But you went into it with so much dedication. You kept getting up. Not to mention you recovery time is genuinely impressive. After every fall, the time it took you to get up and running again was nothing to laugh at.”

Yancy looked at Illinois and relaxed a bit. Maybe he fell just like he did with the gang, but that was the only similarity. Illinois was nothing like them. Illinois was a real friend.

“I… thanks, ‘Noise..” he said with a faint smile.

“Sure thing,” he said, getting up and offering Yancy a hand. He took it and Illinois pulled him up,

 “Now let's get a snack and get back to work.”

Yancy hated training but loved the support and care Illinois gave. Maybe at the end of the day, it wasn’t all that bad.

Chapter Text

As Illinois set up his rather oversized and clunky-looking laptop, he couldn’t help but miss his old setup. Even though he had been prepared to come here, it still provided a lot of inconveniences.

The laptop had solar charging and satellite internet, which wasn’t necessarily untraceable, but it did the job as long as he was careful.

Yancy's idea had changed everything. Hopefully for the better. But for now, it meant completely redoing everything. The plans, the preparation, and all without the MIC chip. Which was his best upper hand.

Though there was a chance that Yancy's plan was safer than Illinois’ original idea. If they could broadcast this information, then their main task would be running and hiding, which they’ve already been doing.

He looked up a few news outlets. He couldn’t do anything major right now, he just wanted to find out which ones would be their best bet. Weakest security and widest spread. It was surprising how many fit those criteria, to be honest.

Illinois opened another tab and hesitated. Finding personal phone numbers was also surprisingly easy. Especially when you knew other details like a home address and full names.

He had gone to Kathrine's house a few times. She was always pretty friendly. She would invite him and a few others to her home for things like watching sports events. She would host others' birthdays. She organized gift exchanges during the holidays. Sometimes she would just invite him over for dinner.

Despite the awful context of the lab, she was that one coworker that was always very pleasant. That kind you thought of like a friend, even though you’d probably never click outside of a work environment.

Maybe it wasn’t despite, but because of. She lived alone. Almost everyone who worked in the lab was alone. It was hard to have a personal life when your work life was so jarring and secret. Sometimes it had seemed like co-workers were the only options for friends. Maybe she was just far more aware of this than Illinois was at the time. He just hoped she was far more aware of everything else too, now.

Illinois sighed softly, starting to start his brief search for her number. It wasn’t even 5 minutes later that he had it jotted down on a notebook and was shutting his laptop. Now all he had to do was call. Simple, right...?

He looked over at Yancy, “You ready?”

--

Kathrine dropped her work bag on her sofa and sat down with a sigh. Tomorrow, she’d apprehend the four Pitch hired and be done with all this conspiratorial stuff. Then all she would have to do is focus on the actual search.

Then she would leave. She would hand in her letter of resignation. Maybe she could get a nice quiet job far from here. Maybe a night security shift at some boring art museum. That would be nice…

She gave years to this place, but she couldn’t give anymore. It was too much.

Kathrine took a deep breath, trying to mellow out her emotions. She couldn’t be riled up or anxious if she wanted to sleep tonight. 

To her frustration, she didn’t even get a minute after sitting down before her phone started ringing, no doubt Doctor Pitch trying to drag her into another plan. She picked up her phone, ready to demand he leave her alone, but paused as she saw she didn’t know the number.

Spam calls never came at this hour… She shook her head and went to hang up on it either way. It couldn’t be that important… right…?

Then, on almost an impulse, she answered it. “Hello?” She asked, putting her phone up to her ear.

After a second of silence, she heard a lighthearted voice she hadn’t heard in a few years. “Hey, Kathrine! Long time no see”

She shot up, every bit of drowsiness evaporating in a second. “I… Illinois?”

“Yup. How have you been doing?”

She wanted to be angry. She really did. Illinois had messed up everything at the lab. He was why she hadn’t been able to sleep in a while now. He was the one who got Daniel Jones out, who was trying to sabotage everything.

But she just couldn’t be. Part of her was happy to just hear his voice again. She had sincerely mourned when she thought he had died. Part of her was happy to hear he hadn’t seemed to change at all, despite everything.

“Not great, Illinois. Things have been hectic over here but I’d guess that's no surprise to you” She tried to sound angry but it came out as more exasperated.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry Kathrine. But I’m sure you know where I’m coming from. You’ve always seemed more awake than some of the others.”

“What do you want? I doubt you called for small talk” She said, once again trying to sound upset. As much as she wanted to just… chat as they used to, there had to be more here. She didn’t want to just fall into yet another person's agenda.

“Maybe not for small talk, but I really do still care. You and some of the others really were good friends to me. But I understand wanting to skip the pleasantries. We wanted to ask for help.”

“We? So I assume Daniel Jones is with you”

“That’s not his name. It’s Yancy”

She could vaguely remember something on the reports about him going by that name in prison. She didn’t realize he wanted to go only by that name.

“Right, I’m sorry. Is Yancy with you?”

After a moment of silence, she heard another voice, and although she didn’t actually come across him while he was in the lab, she knew it was Da… Yancy.

“Yeah, I’m here. Sorry ‘bout this whole mess…” He said, sounding surprisingly sincere.

She wasn’t completely sure what she expected Yancy to be like or sound like. At the lab, he was spoken about as if he was the worst thing to ever happen. He was the loose end who made everyone's life so much harder.

He was painted as this monster who came in and destroyed everything… he took Ben. She cared about Ben. 

Although she had harbored her doubts about him being this bloodthirsty person everyone made him out to be, she definitely didn’t expect to hear him sound almost timid. It shook her a bit, as even more of the illusions of the lab crumbled away.

“I…” She wasn’t sure what to say “Can… can I ask you something, Yancy?” She asked. She had to know. Before she could fully let herself listen to what they wanted, what Yancy had to say, she had to know.

There was another moment of silence before he spoke again “Yeah”

“What happened with Benjamin? Why did you…” She trailed off, unable to verbalize it. He had made sure he left the officers who cornered him with no casualties. Why was Benjamin different?

This silence was longer than the rest. She heard Illinois mumble something. It sounded like he was comforting and encouraging Yancy. Finally, Yancy spoke.

“I… When I was runnin’, I was terrified. There was someone standin' in my way and I didn’t even comprehend who it was… I just saw someone tryin’ to stop me and so I pushed them aside. I had no clue how strong the mechanics were… Him dyin’ was the last thing I wanted… He showed me more compassion than anyone I met there. I’m so sorry…”

As much as Ben's death hurt, his explanation made sense. Other subjects had also experienced misjudging their strength and broken multiple things around the lab. Ben wasn’t the target of anything, just a victim of a bigger circumstance and an accident... She took a breath.

“I’ll… hear you guys out. But I’m not making any promises to help”

“Thank you, Kathrine,”  Illinois said “Y’know, I haven’t seen you in forever, we should meet up” Illinois said, his tone getting just a little playful. Kathrine should have known he wouldn’t make it as simple as just saying what he needed over the phone and getting it all over with.

“Illinois you’re going to be the death of me” She mumbled, but she couldn’t help but have a little bit of a smile as she said it. He hadn’t changed at all. He was the same exasperatingly excited and adventurous guy as always. Trying to stay mad at him for everything was just a losing battle.

She heard Illinois chuckle “Aw come on. You know you missed me”

Cocky as he was all those years ago too, clearly. She couldn’t help but laugh a little too.

“Fine, fine. When and where?”

Chapter Text

“Hey Yancy, you okay...?”

Yancy looked at Illinois, blinking. He had zoned out for the rest of the call.

“Yeah, sorry I just… I realized somethin” Yancy said softly.

“What’s up?”

“Ben was youses coworker… and after hearin her talk about him I realized it was youses loss too… I’m sorry.” This whole time, Yancy had made it about him. Of course near the beginning, it made sense that Illinois said nothing about it, since he was hiding the fact that he ever worked there. But now that everything was out in the open, Yancy felt bad for making all that about him.

He looked at Illinois who seemed to falter a bit before saying “It’s… it’s okay. I meant everything I said before. He was somewhat new when I worked there… I did see him as a friend and every time I checked the cameras I was always relieved to see he had never rotted like the rest of that place… but I really don’t hold it against you, Yancy.”

Illinois looked away from Yancy, “I blame Pitch” he said, his words suddenly harboring a surprising amount of anger. As if laced with venom “I told him that strength was too much. I told him even if someone could master that strength, mistakes would happen. And people would get hurt by those mistakes. Even the soldiers they plan on giving these limbs to will make a mistake here and there. Just like everything else though, he waved me off. I told him”

It surprised Yancy, to hear Illinois speak with such rage behind his words. Illinois was always the definition of level-headed but… he really couldn’t blame him. So much had been taken from Illinois. He was just thankful Illinois had never directed that anger at him, even if Yancy felt he probably deserved at least a little of it.

“ ‘Nois I… Youse help me a lot… talk to me about my struggles, comfort me… It’s not fair that youse should feel all this alone. Youse lost everythin too. I'll try harder to not get so caught up in my own stuff that I forget that again… we’s friends now. I wanna help youse like youse helped me…”

Illinois looked at Yancy again and gave a tiny smile, “I appreciate it, Yancy. You really are a good friend…”

Yancy relaxed a bit. Despite everything, Illinois remained a constant in his life. He hoped to return the favor.

—

Kathrine would have to go through with her last assistance to Pitch. If she intended on even considering the possibility of helping Illinois and Yancy, she couldn’t have Pitch breathing down her neck.

Illinois said on Saturday, just a few days away, he wanted to meet at a warehouse. He said it’s halfway between where he and Yancy were hiding, and where she was. It would be a bit of a drive, and the trip would take up most of her weekend.

Honestly though, she would have worked over the weekend anyway.

Yancy would be coming, too. She was a little surprised, to be honest. This was a huge risk on their part. How did Illinois know she wasn’t just going to set up an ambush? With a time of place, she now had all the resources to just get this all over with.

That was the logical thing to do, right? Send a squad in to take care of them, then turn in her two weeks.

That was also the Pitch thing to do, she realized with a small shudder. She was more sure than ever that Illinois was onto something.

‘You’ve always seemed more awake than some of the others.’

Awake. It did feel like that sometimes. Like everything was asleep. Okay with never thinking, indifferent to the world around them. Meanwhile, she was uncomfortably there. There was a nagging feeling that this wasn’t right.

She wouldn’t send anyone. She’d go alone, and listen to what they wanted… and maybe she’d help them. Maybe there was nothing left at the facility worth saving…

Needless to say, it was another sleepless night. She found herself spending the whole night trying to pin down a single event that led her to this mess as if that could fix it all. As much as she tried to forget it all and sleep, her thoughts kept spiraling.

Like everyone else, she saw something exciting… Something with potential. How did everything go from so innocent and exciting, to so dark and foreboding? Were these the same thoughts Illinois was thinking after he started his plan to leave?

Surely it wasn’t just her. Surely other people were ‘awake’, too.

How many people were just pretending to be asleep? How many of her co-workers lay awake at night, telling themselves that it’s all for the greater good?

She couldn’t be the only one.

Her long night of tossing and turning was soon met with her alarm, which was probably unnecessary considering that she had been staring at the clock. In twelve hours, 7 pm tonight, four people who Pitch had dragged into this mess would be apprehended.

Although it couldn’t really be argued that they were innocent, it could be argued that they had no way of knowing how deep this would go. That this job would be their last.

She got up with a sigh. She had to do it. She had to get this done, and get Pitch off her back. Just a little longer of this place. Whether she decided to help Illinois, or she just retired to find a quiet job in the middle of nowhere, she wouldn’t have to deal with this mess much longer.

—

Yancy sat down in the thick foliage, panting heavily. He had been working on the part where he had to run in and out of the trees for the past hour or so, and was exhausted.

Illinois had been a huge help though, with tips about how to stay aware of where his mechanics were while running, how to utilize his environment to help him balance and even gain some speed, and more.

The mechanic sat beside Yancy, smiling softly, “You’re doing great, Yance”

“Thank youse, but I couldn’t have done it without youses advice and tips”

“I told you, I’ll help all I can,” Illinois said before chucking a bit, “You got a leaf in your hair”

Yancy huffed softly and ran his finger through his hair, finding the leaf and pulling it out. He couldn’t help but laugh a little when he got it out.

“Gosh, I’m a mess. Can’t remember the last time my hair was this long neither”

“Well, there's not too many barbershops while on the run from the government.” Illinois said with a small laugh.

“Youse got a point,” Yancy said with a small smile, before changing the topic to one that had been gnawing at the back of his mind for the past few hours.

“How do wes know Kathrine won’t ambush us? I’ve been thinkin, and with a time and place where both of us will be in a place, how do we know she won’t just… do her job?”

“She won’t.” Illinois said simply, with a small shrug.

“But how do youse know?”

“Because she’s the kind of person who wants to do what’s right. We need to show her trust so she can trust us.”

“Ain’t that logic a little flawed though? She could easily just… get it all over with” Yancy said, staring up through the leaves above. The light shone through gaps like beams in a beautiful light show. 

“I guess. We can’t really control anyone's actions. But it’s people like Pitch who try to control others actions anyway. I really think the best thing we can do is show her trust. Show her that we’re fighting for what’s right.”

The beams of sunlight shifted whenever the wind rustled the leaves, making them sway in almost a dance. “I shoulda trusted youse… instead of pokin around and always showin youse distrust”

“Well, to be fair, I was hiding a lot. I don’t blame you for that. Plus, look at us now. I’d say after everything we’ve gone through together, we trust each other a lot. We’ll just make sure we don’t hide anything from Kathrine so we don’t have to go through all that again”

“And youse sure she won’t use what we say against us…?”

“If we can show her that this is a good cause, I promise you, she’ll be with us one hundred percent”

Yancy took a breath and nodded. “I trust youse”

Illinois smiled and got up, offering Yancy his hand “Thank you, Yancy. And for what it's worth, I trust you too… now let’s get back to work”

Chapter Text

Doctor Pitch made the call only about an hour before 7 pm. He didn’t want to give the group time to second guess and find the flaws in his request, or for questions.

“I need all four of you to meet me at Illinois’ house at seven”, he said, skipping pleasantries completely.

“Why, what’s going on?” One asked. Pitch was pretty sure it was J, the leader.

“ I have reason to believe Illinois and Daniel will be circling back to grab some things. I’ll explain the details when you get there”

“It’s a little last minute, but yeah, we can be there” J responded, sounding just a little hesitant. Or maybe just confused. It didn’t matter, as long as they were there.

“Good, I’ll see you all in an hour,” he said before hanging up.

To be honest, he wasn’t exactly sure how well the rest of his plan would go. Kathrine refusing to help him further had really messed up everything. Making it look like she’s going rogue like Illinois had would be possible, Pitch felt. But not too easy, since Director Wilson seemed to be losing her patience with Pitch, despite everything he had done for her.

His jaw clenched a bit as he remembered what Director Wilson had said to him. Suggesting he retire. Treating him like a child despite the fact that he had done so much for this facility. Project after project after project, he was always here to get the job done.

He knew what this project needed. After all, he was the only person actually working on the project with any experience in the warzone. Everyone else had sat behind desks their whole lives, their medical experience filled with the luxury of not being shot at, meanwhile he had started his career as a flight medic, consistently weary of stray bullets or explosions.

For a project that would benefit the soldiers, his input should be prioritized above all the rest.

Yet everyone at the facility seemed to completely disvalue everything he had to say about this project now. Daniel Jones’ escape ruined everything. The worthless criminal had ripped down years of the doctor's reputation.

If he had to tear down Katherine's reputation to fix what had gone so wrong, he would. It would serve her right for disregarding him and what he knew was best. She thought she was so much better than him, above getting her hands dirty. Well if she didn’t want to get messy she shouldn’t have joined the rest of them dragging his name through the mud.

—

Kathrine checked her watch with a small sigh. Half an hour before the group showed up if Pitch had followed through. About an hour before the house was closed off until either they had a reason to believe something here could help them. Or until Illinois was caught. Then the house would be destroyed or sold after all evidence of the lab was wiped from this place.

She now knew though, that there was a chance he wouldn’t be caught. Until his call, it was only a matter of when in her mind. Now though, she could tell he really did feel he had something worth fighting for. It wasn’t petty revenge over his project being hijacked.

It was about the very core of these facilities. The people that suffered, and for what? So that they could create more destruction with better-than-ever efficiency? To fuel cycles of violence?

She could remember Illinois complaining about the operating table. How he was upset that despite the funding being present, the tables had zero cushioning. How there was no reason to deny the subjects… no, the victims, all comfort when it was something so simple.

Back then she somewhat felt like it was an overreaction but now she saw. It was those little things that truly showed how corrupt everything was.

When it came to situations like the one Illinois was in… something to fight for changed everything. She now felt like he could achieve his goals, whatever they were. Even if she didn’t decide to help him.

She walked down the hall of the abandoned home, taking a breath. To be honest, she liked it here. Despite the dark circumstances, whenever she came here to oversee the searches she felt… safer.

The half-finished puzzle on the coffee table in the living room. The quilts on the bed, not made or folded. Just laying there as if someone had just gotten up from the best night’s rest they ever had. A clean prison uniform, folded and in a dresser, as if it was nothing more than a neglected pair of pajamas.

It was a home. Everyone made it sound like this evil lair Illinois spent years scheming in. But Kathrine saw a safe haven. Somewhere Illinois got up every day and intentionally tried to take back his life. Somewhere where Yancy got to enjoy the normal luxuries of life, even if just for a little bit.

She had missed Illinois. The feeling of comfort and safety that was so easy to feel around the even-tempered man. Or at least even-tempered until near the end. She’d never forget Pitch complaining about Illinois ‘throwing a tantrum’, and how even then she couldn’t help but think that things must have been really bad for Illinois to start acting like that. Now she felt stupid for not thinking about that more. For intentionally trying not to think.

It wasn’t until the radio buzzed that she realized just how long she had been caught in her own head. It was 7 pm already.

“Mrs Adams, a car just pulled onto the premises. Was anyone else supposed to be here?” She heard over the radio.

“No, just your squad,” she answered. “Take them in for basic questioning to see if it’s trespassing or something else. I’ll be right there”

She hated making up things and lying like this. It came so… naturally to Pitch. But it made her feel clammy and almost sick. Like everything could crash down in a matter of seconds.

The radio buzzed, answering her with a “copy that”.

With one last glance around the house, and a feeling of remorse surrounding the fact that she may never return, she left.

—-

Yancy had helped with making dinner. Despite the pancake fiasco from a few days ago, Illinois was more than happy to share the responsibility of making dinner. Occasionally Illinois gave him tips or corrected a mistake, but he didn’t hover. Yancy appreciated that.

It wasn’t easy to make a good meal only using foods that don’t go bad, but Illinois seemed to have a way of making it work. Not to mention it was still better than prison food.

Illinois spoke up as they ate, pulling Yancy out of his thoughts “So you ready for tomorrow?” He asked.

“As ready as I can be. I’m still… worried about it but I’m just gonna try to trust youse here. Youse ain’t stirred us wrong yet.”

“Thanks Yancy. I promise I’ll take care of you and won’t let you get hurt… and… I know now that you’ll do the same. We’ll be okay as long as we have eachothers backs. Plus, I really think Kathrine won’t do anything to put us in danger. I think the odds really are in our favor”

Yancy hesitated before saying “So… what’ll happen if she agrees and the lab finds out she's helpin us..?”

“Probably the same thing that’ll happen to me if they ever catch me”

“Which is…?” Yancy asked, a little uneasy at the idea of Illinois being caught.

The mechanic faltered for a moment, as if he avoided the thought so vehemently that when he had to face it brought physical pain.

“Never mind youse don’t gotta tell me” Yancy said quickly, not wanting Illinois to have to dwell on something that scared him so much.

“No, no it's ok..” Illinois said, “I would be the next person on that table… and I know Pitch would do everything in his power to make my… operation worse than the others. And just like every other victim besides you, I would be executed” He said.

“Oh…” Yancy said, feeling his stomach churn. Pitch had treated him with cruelty, but Yancy couldn’t imagine how bad it would be for Illinois, if he ever got caught.

Before Yancy could find a way to string together any words on the topic, Illinois regained himself and returned to his typical positive-minded self “But that’s not going to happen. They’re not going to catch me. They’re not going to catch Kathrine. They’re not going to catch you. And they’re never going to be able to use those limbs to hurt people ever again. You and I will make sure of that.”

He said it with such certainty that Yancy couldn't bring himself to doubt him. After all, they had gotten this far, hadn't they?

Chapter Text

Yancy was tense, to say the least. This drive felt much less terrifying than the last, at least. Or maybe it was just a different kind of terrifying. Before, it was the fear of something being right on their tails. Like rabbits on the run from a fox.

Now it was a still sort of fear. Like waiting for a guillotine blade to drop. He did his best to trust Illinois, and it did help a little but not enough to smother the feeling of dread that lived in his gut.

It was light out, so once again Yancy was laying across the seats in the back to not risk being seen. Despite Illinois not being able to clearly see him as he drove, the mechanic seemed to sense Yancy's anxieties.

“Did you have a favorite hobby, growing up?” Illinois asked.

The completely unrelated question caught Yancy a little off guard, but he thought back to find an answer for Illinois regardless.

“Y'know this is kinda embarrassing… but I really liked to crochet.”

“Really?” Illinois asked “I didn’t expect that, but I think that’s super cool. What kinda things did you crochet?”

“At first it was just… little squares that I sometimes patched together to make some sort of pillow or something. When my friends found out they were really cool about it and started asking for things like plushes and stuff. I was just so happy that they didn’t think I was weird for it and I made them all, happily. Of course… that was before the gang. Once I joined I was way more secretive about it but… I found that making little animals was way more fun than squares, so I never stopped. But I normally got rid of a project as soon as I finished it. I even did that in prison, it was just way slower and way more secretive cause the yarn and needle were contraband” Yancy said before laughing softly

“There's a half finished penguin under my mattress in that cell. I wonder if the guards found it yet”

“Well now I gotta ask for a plush,” Illinois said, with a small laugh. It wasn’t a mocking laugh though. On the contrary, Illinois seemed genuinely interested. That was no surprise. Of course, Illinois would be genuinely interested. But that never made it any less meaningful to Yancy.

“Eh, I’m not sure if I could anymore. It takes a lot of precision and y’know, I don’t got my dominant hand now”

“I dunno Yancy. Now you have a super strong weapon hand. Maybe you could become double as good. We should switch out one of the tools in your fingers for a crochet hook” Illinois said, his tone light and teasing. Yancy couldn’t help but laugh.

“That sounds like a great idea. Really stick it to Pitch. He tried to make a weapon and we could just turn it into the best, most expensive crochet aid known to man”

“Exactly! Now you’re getting it. You could just intimidate them with your mad crochet skills” Illinois said through his own chuckles.

Yancy now understood the only reason Illinois had asked such a random question was to distract him from his anxieties, but it had worked and Yancy was so thankful for how Illinois always seemed to know what to do or say. The dread resting in his chest seemed to die down like a candle you put a lid on. The rest of the drive was far more bearable as the two continued to chat in a lighthearted flow that made it easy to forget their circumstances.

—

Kathrine had clocked out the second she was able to, which was only an hour after the four were taken in. She had no intentions of sticking around longer than necessary.

They of course insisted they were working for Pitch, and she had no doubt the second Pitch was asked he quickly deflected it by framing it as some coverup story made by Illinois. It wasn’t worth thinking about right now though.

She was currently driving to the address Illinois gave her and was almost there.

It was a bit overwhelming to know in a few minutes she’d be seeing Illinois again. A co-worker who went from a friend, to dead for all she knew, to the villain, to… well, she wasn’t sure what he was right now. There was even a chance that this was an opportunity to jump her. Getting the head of security out of the way seemed like a decent strategy.

Kathrine didn’t believe for a second that was what was happening though. Even now she trusted Illinois… And if Yancy was with Illinois then… she trusted him too.

Finally, she parked her car outside of an abandoned warehouse that matched the address she was given. Kathrine got out of her car and went to grab at least her taser out of instinct, before hesitating. Even if it was 'just in case' would it give the wrong impression?

She wanted this encounter to be as civil as possible. Of course, Yancy would be armed, but that wasn't his choice… she sighed as she tossed the taser back into the car and headed into the building.

It was dark in there, only a bit of sunlight filtering through small dirty skylights. She took a breath as she ventured deeper. According to her phone she was a few minutes early, so she just waited, trying to compose herself and not let her anxieties get the best of her.

After a few minutes of thick silence, she saw the door she just came in from open, letting in a sliver of light as the two men came in.

Illinois looked the same yet so different from the last time she had seen him. His hair was a bit longer and less taken care of, but it suited him. His clothing had a few oil smudges from continuing his mechanic tinkering, no doubt. But one thing that stayed exactly the same was his eyes. That hopeful light that was there whenever Illinois was working on a project was still so alive and well. Kathrine felt a bit of pride about that. She should have known nothing would ever break him.

He seemed to be rubbing off on Yancy, as well. Although the cyborg seemed more on the anxious side, walking a few steps behind Illinois and watching her almost wearily, she could see that distinct hopeful light with him as well. A want to make things better.

She had never seen the mechanics outside of the lab. It was somewhat jarring to see them on someone not in a prison uniform in some white sterile room. Something about seeing them on a person outside of the lab made it obvious just how… wrong it was. There was once a tattoo on the cyborg's arm, she remembered seeing in the files. It was something he chose to have to express himself. Now the whole arm was smooth, impersonal black metal. He didn’t choose that.

The cyborg looked at her, just staring for a moment. It took her a moment to realize he was probably using the body language reader. She decided to wait a moment to move or say anything, to let him finish the scan. She didn’t have anything to hide and wanted to show that.

Finally, Illinois broke the silence. “I’m glad you could make it, Kathrine. I really did miss you”

Kathrine couldn’t help but smile a little “Despite the circumstance I… I’m glad I could make it too” she said before her smile faltered and she looked at Yancy, curiosity getting the best of her “Can… Can I ask what the scan said? That’s what you were doing, right?”

The cyborg looked a little surprised and even embarrassed for a second. “Sorry, I didn’t uh… I didn’t mean to intrude, sorry”

“No, it’s no problem, really. I was just curious, "she said quickly. She couldn’t believe this was the criminal everyone was losing their minds over catching. He really did seem so… harmless.

Yancy took a moment before saying “The scan said youse tense ‘n tired. But no signs of aggression”

“That sounds about right..” Kathrine said with a small tired laugh “So, what do you two want..?”

Illinois sat on a crate “Obviously, we’re trying to stop the facility. I was gonna just try to destroy the physical building, but Yancy had a better idea. He suggested just exposing the place with enough information could work. But you guys found my MIC chip and I had to abandon most of my computers back at my house.”

“So you want me to get you guys' information?”

“Yeah. Proof, photos, details. Anything that would let the public know just how deep this goes. We need the information to be strong, leaving no room for doubt. Cause once we go live once I’m not sure if we’ll be able to pull it off again”

“Go live?” Kathrine asked “how exactly do you plan on getting this out there?”

“I was just thinking I could hack a news station” Illinois started with a small shrug. 

“Illinois, I’ll never understand how a technological genius can be so stupid, sometimes” Kathrine said with a small sigh. Despite the rude words, her tone was more like an exasperated older sibling.

“Yknow, I surprise myself sometimes,” Illinois said, seeming a bit amused “Why am I stupid this time?”

“You don’t have to hack anything, and put everything in more danger than you already are. Plenty of reporters would give an arm and a leg for this story.” She said before awkwardly coughing, glancing over at Yancy, “Poor choice of wording, sorry. But you get what I mean.”

Yancy didn’t seem to take offense to it, luckily “Maybe, but we would have to make sure whoever we go to won’t just turn us in” he pointed out.

Katherine hesitated. She could find someone. She wouldn’t draw attention like the two convicts would. Then she would just be caught in another web. Another mess of conspiracies and lies to keep track of. Still breaking the law for the idea of what a greater good might be. This time though… it actually felt right. It didn’t feel… sick, like it had with Pitch. She actually wanted this. She wanted more than just to leave the labs. She wanted it all to stop. With these two… maybe there was hope.

“Then leave it to me. I’ll find someone to help put the facilities on blast” she said, surprising even herself with how determined she sounded.

Chapter Text

“She’s gonna help us,” Yancy said, disbelief in his voice

They had gotten into the car a few minutes ago, and neither of them had said a word, almost as if they were afraid to jinx it too soon. Though as Yancy said the words, and both of them heard it spoken so plainly, the relief and excitement started to truly set in.

Yancy heard Illinois let out a small laugh “Yeah. She is. Thank goodness, too… She’s probably right, finding someone willing to put our story out there is probably gonna put us in way less danger than hacking our way in…”

“So what are we gonna do while we wait for her to find someone?”

“How good were you at writing essays, in high school?”

“Uh… average. Why…?” Yancy answered.

“We’re gonna put together the best persuasive essay anyone has ever seen. Even if the journalist doesn’t use it, it’ll give them a place to start. Hopefully get them to truly care about this too. And of course keep working on that obstacle course”

Yancy groaned a bit “youse know, if youses told me ten years ago I’d be on the run from the government as a cyborg, with a rogue mechanic I might have even thought it was cool. But if youse told me ten years ago I’d also have to actually use essay writing skills in real life?”

Illinois chuckled “That’s where you draw the line? Everything else over these past few weeks has been fine, but when you have to do homework again, now that's too much”

“Exactly!” Yancy huffed out, but within a few seconds, the two had devolved into laughter.

Although Yancy was hesitant to fully acknowledge it, he truly felt better. Better than he had in a long while. Something inside made him worry that saying such a thing could somehow cause that to crumble. 

Even though these last few weeks had been some of the wildest in Yancy's life, he couldn’t remember the last time someone had cared like Illinois cared. He hadn’t laughed so often in years. He hadn’t been able to talk about the things that tore at his brain for so long. Moments like this… almost convinced him that maybe he could still find some happy fulfilling life, despite everything.

It gave him hope, and these days hope seemed to be one of the only valuable things left.

—

The group had been separated the moment they were apprehended. It had been twenty-four hours since then, and J was just as confused as when it first happened. Although a bunch of mercenaries being arrested wasn’t necessarily surprising, Pitch had said to meet him there. Although Pitch had never seemed trustworthy, they had still helped him. He would have never even found the house if it wasn’t for them.

Yes, there was their mistake of not sticking along longer, but the four of them had still been very helpful to the doctor. So why would he just turn on them like this? They could have still been helpful.

As far as J could tell, the people here had been fed a story about them working with the man who helped out the cyborg. The one they had chased off the bridge. When the facility first started interrogating them about what they had been doing there, J had been vague, saying  they were just looking around and things like that.

After a few long hours, he finally spouted out the truth. Pitch had hired them to help track down the cyborg. They were all on the same team, and they had been the ones to help locate that house in the first place.

The man in the interrogation room got up and left right after he had said that. J had hoped it was because the man might actually believe him and was trying to verify that.

Unfortunately, after about an hour of sitting there in suffocating silence, alone, someone else came in, telling him he was under arrest… and yet as he was handcuffed and taken to a small cell-like room in the facility, he wasn’t given the miranda warnings.

J got a sinking feeling that he wasn’t told the usual spiel about ‘you have the right to remain silent; anything you say can and may be used against them in a court of law’ and so on was because there would be no court.

He had a feeling that he would never get the chance to convince them that he and his friends were why their systems were no longer being spied on by the rogue ex employee. J had at least tried to ask where his friends were. If they were ok.

He never got an answer.

The cell was quiet. Very similar to descriptions of solitary confinement he had heard in the past. A very small square window sat on the heavy metal door, letting him occasionally see people in lab coats pass.

Finally, he had no choice but to let himself ask the question he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge. Reality came crashing in.

Would him and his friends face the same fate as Daniel Jones? Were these his last hours with his own body?

If the thought didn’t leave him almost unable to breathe, he might have laughed at the irony.

—

Illinois had noticed Yancy seemed a bit tired when they finally got back to their hideout spot, so the mechanic had encouraged him to take a nap. He knew Yancy had struggled to sleep the night before.

He hadn’t said anything about it, but Illinois had heard the cyborg tossing and turning for most of the night. Anxious about the meeting with Kathrine, no doubt… but now it was over, and it had gone very well. This time Yancy seemed to fall into a peaceful sleep much quicker.

A feeling of pride filled Illinois’ chest and it took him a second to figure out why. Yancy hadn’t had a nightmare in a few nights. Before, he had at least seen Yancy tossing and turning, his brow furrowing under the stress of whatever memory was being recounted in his sleep.

It had seemed like none of them had been like the one that happened the night Yancy dropped the glass, but they had still been there, from what Illinois could see.

Right now though, the cyborgs rest looked…. Genuinely restful. Illinois couldn’t help but hope that said something about how Yancy had been coping with everything.

He had to admit, he felt a lot more relaxed, too. With Kathrine agreeing not only to help gather information but to find a better alternative to his own admittedly risky plan. He had known hacking could possibly expose his location again and they would have to start moving again to be safe.

Illinois wasn’t stupid though. Things could still go wrong. The best way to lose a battle is to assume you’ve already won. He would have to be ready to run at any minute, just like he had been back at his home. Safety was a thing of fantasy now. But they could enjoy the luxuries of it for now, he thought as he headed over to the kitchen to make sure when Yancy woke up, it was to a decent lunch.

Chapter Text

Some things never change, Yancy thought (with a sigh that was admittedly a bit dramatic) as he rested his forehead on the table and tapped a pen against a notepad rapidly with his mechanical hand. Probably more rapidly than he would have with a human hand. 

Illinois laughed softly “Come on, we’re just at the brainstorming phase. No wrong answers. Just write down anything and everything you think we might want to add to our essay”

“I forgot how much I hated writin” Yancy huffed out. He could feel Illinois' gentle amusement rolling off of him and he could hear it in his voice.

“But we’re writing it together, so it won’t be like homework. Plus, this is something we really care about. So it’ll be easier to write”

“I guess” Yancy huffed out, sitting back up and staring at his blank notepad.

“How long do youse think we have?

“Knowing Kathrine? Probably a few days. She’ll probably find someone sooner but spend a long time vetting them.”

“That ain’t very long to write an essay” Yancy pointed out.

“Which is why we have to get started,” Illinois said with a chuckle as he tapped Yancy’s notepad.

“Yeah yeah I get it” Yancy huffed out, before getting a little more serious “So we’re just tryin to explain how bad it is in there?”

“Yup. Trying to get the public to see what’s happening behind closed doors so that people like Pitch can’t work from the shadows anymore”

“What if… what if people agree with Pitch that I deserved it though…?”

“You didn’t, Yancy. And any good person can see that. You committed a crime, you got your trial, you plead guilty and you got your time. This was not part of the agreed sentence. This could fall under cruel and unusual punishment. Just because you did bad things doesn't mean you deserve worse things.”

“A few weeks ago I might have argued with that,” Yancy said with a small, almost tired laugh.

“Yeah, well you’ve grown a lot in these past few weeks” Illinois responded gently, putting a hand on the cyborg's shoulder in a sentiment similar to a hug.

“You’re starting to understand your worth, and I’m proud of you for that. And I’m confident that enough people will agree with me to disrupt the whole thing” Illinois said.

Illinois was proud of him…

Yancy wasn’t sure why, but hearing those words in that sincere tone… it felt important. It felt like something Yancy wanted to keep forever.

Not only that but Illinois thought others would see his worth. For Illinois to truly think of Yancy as a person worthy of respect was foreign enough to Yancy, and yet the mechanic believed he wouldn’t be the only one…

“Thank youse, ‘Noise. I hope youse right”

“Of course I am. Now let’s get to work” Illinois responded, sitting down. “I promise, we can do this. And people will see you. Not just what you did. Not just the metal. Not just what happened to you. But you. They’ll feel your passion” And they’ll understand nothing like this can happen again.”

Promises like that couldn’t be guaranteed to be kept, Yancy knew this. It was a big promise with too many cracks to slip through.

Yancy couldn’t help but trust it though, because he knew that’s what Illinois truly believed. That was enough for him.

—

“Come in” Director Wilsons voice called from her office. She sounded tired, but everyone did these past few weeks.

Pitch opened the door and stepped in, “You wanted to speak with me, Director?”

“Yes. I’m sure by now you’ve heard about the four men apprehended on Mr Arches property, right?”

“I have.” Pitch confirmed, lining up his stories in his head already. Trying to finalize the details of how to get the outcome he wanted.

“They’ve told us they were working for you. To track down Jones and Arch. I’m going to ask you once, Xander-”

Pitch hated when she used his first name. He didn’t get his doctorate and work so hard to just be called Xander… but she was the one person he couldn’t correct.

“Is there any truth to their claims?”

“No. It’s probably some cheap cover up story Arch gave them.”

“You understand how serious it is if they’re telling the truth, right? Leaking vital information to criminals. Going to the blackmarket to dodge procedures. You could be facing some serious charges, Xander,”

Pitch would not waver. He would not let it all crash down.

“Director Wilson, I understand you’ve been frustrated with me, but would you really take the word of four black market mercenaries over me?”

Director Wilson watched Pitch closely for a long moment. The silence in the room was thick. Suffocating.

“No. I wouldn’t. But I’m going to be honest with you Xander, it’s getting to be a close call these days. Your co-workers have had complaints about you recently”

Pitch set his jaw and didn’t respond. He felt like the director was trying to lure him into a trap. She was trying to get him defensive and trying to get him to slip up. Trying to antagonize him for a chance to say ‘This is exactly what’s wrong with you’. He wouldn’t give it to her though.

After a moment of thick silence and unbroken eye contact that felt like a war, she spoke again.

“You’ve neglected quite a few of your duties that don’t involve Daniel Jones, forcing the others on your team to scramble to figure out what you have or haven't done because you don’t even have the decency to communicate with them what you're not doing. You snap at those who bring this to your attention. You’ve been described as combative and unhelpful. To summarize, you haven't been proving to me that you should be the head doctor of this project”

“What are you saying, Director Wilson?” Pitch asked, his eyes narrowing, still refusing to break eye contact.

“Go home for today, Xander. Get some rest. You look like you haven’t slept in days. Maybe a good night's rest will fix your attitude. Tomorrow we can talk about this in more depth, but I believe we may have to discuss re-evaluating your current position in the project.”

—

Kathrine quickly realized just how tricky the task she had taken on would be. She needed someone who would be certain to say yes, even before hearing all the details. Someone who had little to no probability of backing out or using the information in some self-serving way.

Preferably someone who would truly care about the topic. Someone who had passion and outreach. Someone who wouldn’t mind going into hiding for a little.

It wasn’t easy to find someone like that. She spent hours digging through articles, specifically ones that amplified voices that were risky for the writer. Conveniently, a lot of the more interesting ones she stumbled across were written by the same person. 

‘Apollo Stolia’.

 The writing style held more emotion than most of the others, which could be handy here. The writer seemed to have an impressive history of exposing plenty of things that may have put him in danger. Back rooms of corporations, crime groups. Even some political issues that Kathrine couldn’t imagine politicians were happy about. He seemed to be no stranger to disrupting important people and important matters.

Kathrine wouldn’t contact him just yet. She needed to be sure. No one could afford to fumble anything right now… that being said, she had a good feeling that he would be the one.

Every word he wrote seemed passionate. Genuine. He didn’t seem to have social media, which made Kathrine's job a little harder but with the kind of things Mr. Stolia had exposed, she could see the wisdom in that.

She also struggled to find any photos of him through online searches, but she had other ways. It was good to know he was wise enough to keep a bit of anonymity.

Not that a little bit of safe privacy habits would protect someone from the dangers they could face by taking this story, but it was a good sign. She shut her laptop and went to get herself another cup of coffee

It felt odd, going behind the facilities' back again after how she had demanded Pitch never involve her in one of his backdoor plans again.

Slowly, she was starting to realize it was never going behind the facility's back that she minded. It was Pitch.

Pitch tried to play the ‘greater good’ card to get her on board but after meeting Yancy, and seeing the passion Illinois had, she couldn’t understand how she ever thought this place could be filling a ‘greater good’.

The part that felt like a true wake-up call though was how Illinois and Yancy treated each other. Illinois seemed to be consistently encouraging Yancy, comforting him, and validating him. It seemed almost fatherly. Meanwhile, Yancy seemed to truly have Illinois’ back. He seemed like he trusted Illinois with his life.

Kathrine almost… envied that. The teamwork, the listening, the caring. It’s something that didn’t seem to exist in the lab.

Maybe that alone was enough to prove they really had a chance at winning this. 

Chapter Text

Illinois’ phone rang in the middle of the cyborg and mechanics dinner. “It’s Kathrine. You mind if I take this?” Illinois asked, feeling a little bad about the awful table manners. To be fair though, he had a feeling Yancy didn’t care too much about things like proper dinner manners.

“Sure thing,” Yancy said, not minding as Illinois had predicted. 

Illinois answered the buzzing phone “Hey Katherine. What's new?”

“I think I found someone. I spent all day checking everything I could about him and I think he’s our best bet”

“That’s great! I knew we could count on you. So what’s the game plan from here?”

“I reached out to him. I’m going to try to set up a meeting and make sure he’s the right choice. After that, we can work on getting you two in contact with him. I’ll keep you two updated”

“Alright, awesome. Yancy and I have been working on an essay to kinda give whoever you pick a starting point and a reason to care. I think we could get that to you before the first meet up.”

“That would be great. I think it would be best to let Yancy write most of it though. I think his point of view would be the most convincing to this guy.”

Illinois hesitated. Yancy obviously didn’t enjoy writing, but Illinois saw her point. “Yeah, I’ll talk to him about it.”

“Perfect. I’ll keep you two updated, stay safe” She said before hanging up.

Illinois sat the phone down as Yancy spoke up “So, what’s new?”

“She thinks she found someone. She’s gonna try to meet up with him to make sure but she seems fairly confident. She also thinks it would be best if it was mostly you writing our pitch, for lack of a better word”

Yancy seemed to let out a bit of a snort at the irony of the word, which caused Illinois to smile a bit before continuing.

“I think it makes sense. If you write about how it made you feel, your unfiltered experience. It sounds like that’s the kind of thing this guy cares about”

“Youse would still help me, right..?” Yancy asked hesitantly.

“Of course. I’m not just going to leave you hanging, Yance. But I do think you should take the lead on this one”

“I ain’t too good at writing… what if that makes ‘em take it less seriously?”

“It’s not the writing that’s important. It’s how you feel about everything. I think you can do it, I really do.”

After a moment of hesitation, the Cyborg nodded “Alright, I’ll do it”

—

They couldn’t fire him, Pitch thought as he came into work the next day. No matter how much they wished they could, no one had the skills he did. The surgeries he performed were nowhere near simple. So far no one had a survival rate like him when it came to this procedure. He was this whole experiment's best bet when it came to safely integrating into a larger use.

Director Wilson knew this. She knew he was the reason this facility got one of the most promising experiments they had gotten in a while. It was all him. Even if she or none of his co-workers liked him, they weren’t delusional. They wouldn’t get rid of him.

So when he was called to Director Wilson's office, he wasn’t worried. Maybe after this project was tied up in a pretty bow, he would have to face the danger of losing his job. Maybe if they somehow found a doctor with his skill sets (which was unlikely), he would worry.

For now though? He knew he was safe. They needed him too much.

So when he was called to Director Wilson's office, he wasn’t worried. Not yet, at least. He was still valuable.

—

It wasn’t always ‘Doctor’ Pitch. Once he was Sergeant Pitch. A flight medic, who spent years running into the battlefield to try to frantically keep people alive until they could get whoever was on the cot to a place that could hopefully patch them up. He used to check in to see if the people from their rescue missions survived. It only took a few ‘no’s for him to stop.

No one understood what happened out there. He knew this as a fact because he could still hardly comprehend it. Everyone knows violence exists. Everyone knows death is very real and has dealt with the byproducts. But not like that.

When training to go out there, into the warzone itself, he was told what he would see. There were videos he had seen. Stories by people who retired years ago. It was easy to tell himself he wouldn’t be bothered like everyone else. Being young and dumb, naivety was so easy.

Nothing could have ever prepared him for the real thing. No amount of horror stories or uncensored videos could desensitize him to the overwhelmingly gruesome battlefields, or the number of people who never made it off the helicopter alive. 

It was only made worse due to the fact that Xander saw that a decent chunk of the deaths were preventable. The tools they were using were inefficient. The methods were too time-consuming. Rules and precautions absorbed precious seconds he could have used to stop the bleeding.

Everything about the operation was outdated, and he was confident he could fix that. A new system could change everything .

It was years worth of trial and error. A new technique he had wanted to try here, a corner cut there. Of course things small enough to not catch the other busy crewmates' notice.

He still remembered the first time something didn’t work. He remembered the brief flood of panic when he realized the patient no longer had a pulse. He remembered approximately five seconds of gut-wrenching guilt.

Immediately followed with a game plan to ensure no one traced it back to his own… experiments.

That’s when he realized just how easy it was to erase any mistakes. As long as everyone was busy and he sounded sure enough, no one really bothered to double-check.

It was only easier to hide these missteps since he never made the same mistake twice. If the incision was too deep once, it would never be too deep again. If the tourniquet was too sloppy once, it wouldn’t be again.

Of course, this was part of trial and error, but a lovely perk of this was no one suspected it was from intentional experimentation. Every time it was just assumed to be a mistake, which everyone makes from time to time.

The moment of guilt grew shorter and shorter every time, until inevitably, he felt nothing. His mind immediately went over whatever brief excuse he would give (which at this point he had quite a few already prepared and rehearsed) as he checked for any evidence of intentional malpractice.

It was easy to justify. Deaths like this happened all the time due to a lack of efficiency. A few deaths to ensure fewer deaths in the long run. Pitch saw this as the undeniable right answer. He understood others might not see it his way though. So he continued his mission in secret.

A few years passed before he was confident in all of his adjustments. Even some of the others had begun to notice how fast and efficient he had become. Mistakes were very far and few in between and he finally felt it was time to present his new ideas.

And so he did.

Of course, Pitch left out many of the details of how he had come to these conclusions, instead crediting it to research or things like that. The Commanders he was speaking to seemed interested, and he was hopeful. This is the kind of thing that people earn medals and awards for. The sort of thing that led to promotions and doors opening.

When he left the meeting, Pitch was convinced everything would be smooth sailing from there. If they listened to him it could change hundreds of lives and his own forever.

They said they would get back to him. They never did.

It was, of course, a disappointment to Pitch. All that work for nothing. It was hardly worth it if the system wasn’t widespread. 

However, only a few weeks later, his unit was informed of a few changes that would be taking place for future missions.

His changes. Xander Pitch-Markovas changes.

Credited to one of the commanders he had spoken to.

They stole his work. They stole his ideas and left him behind while they took the glory. Within only a few months the practices became widespread and the people being rewarded for the record-breaking survival rates was not Pitch.

In fact, due to his lack of promotions and climbing up the ranks, he was soon discharged from the military completely, while he watched those who stole everything he worked for climb to new heights.

Pitch lost everything. He had to start from scratch with nothing but his knowledge and some medical expertise.

—

So of course, he took Illinois ideas and shifted them for his own gain. After all, that’s the only way anyone got to the top. He may have not been recognized then, but he would be now. Some starry-eyed young mechanic and a lowlife convict weren’t going to take that from him.

Chapter Text

The last 24 hours were filled with more writing than Yancy had done since high school. He had no doubt that if one of his old English teachers saw this they would cry, and not of pride. Illinois assured him none of that mattered though. All that mattered was that Yancy was accurately portraying what happened to him and how it affected him.

That wasn’t easy either though. As much of an overthinker Yancy was, he hadn’t really found the strength to think about the operation itself. Let alone actually discuss the details.

As Illinois had promised, he was with him and helped him the whole time. Turns out most of the help Yancy needed was emotional.

He hesitated before scribbling down what Doctor Pitch had said to him. 

Ten years of good behavior doesn’t bring your parents back.

Illinois stared at the words for a long moment, his gentle encouraging smile fading “Did he really say that..?”

“Knowin’ what I know about him now it ain’t really surprising, how mean he was…” Yancy mumbled, scribbling down what Pitch said about him being less than a lab rat. That it was arguably morally better than animal testing.

“I just… You haven’t talked about… that part and I’ve never been around him during a procedure. I guess I thought he never bothered to say more than necessary…” Illinois said softly.

Yancy had always just… assumed Illinois knew everything about everything. It never occurred to him that Illinois might be unaware of little details like this.

“I can’t speak for anyone else who was on that operation table but… yeah, for me he didn’t hesitate to let me know what he thought of me…” Yancy said, in almost a mumble.

“I’m so sorry, Yancy. I’m sorry you had to go through that and I’m sorry he hurt you in more ways than I knew” Illinois said quietly.

It was an odd experience, for Illinois to be caught off guard by something. Yancy didn’t like it.

“And youse helped me in more ways than you knew. Even though you didn’t know the things he said to me youse still helped me find my worth and recover from them… I knew he was wrong now, because of youse.” Yancy said, gently nudging Illinois, wanting to snap him out of it. He wasn’t used to being the one to comfort Illinois but he was more than willing to return the favor.

Illinois finally looked up from the paper and at Yancy, and Yancy gave him a reassuring smile “It hurt at the time, just like everythin else did but I promise youse helped me move forward from that. And we’re gonna make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone again, right?”

Illinois nodded, before letting out a weak chuckle “I’ve really worn off on you, haven’t I?” He asked.

“I’m gonna take that as a compliment,” Yancy responded lightly as he returned back to his writing. When he heard Illinois quietly chuckle he knew he had done a decent job at cheering Illinois up… and a decent job at cheering himself up. Even though it did hurt to remember the things Pitch said to him, it was true that Illinois had helped him so much with those insecurities. It was all… manageable now, Yancy realized. What a freeing realization to have.

—

When the journalist contacted Kathrine back, he said he was free that very afternoon. Illinois and Yancy weren't done with the paper yet, and Kathrine didn’t want to rush them. She had no doubt the subject matter wasn’t easy for Yancy to write about.

However, she also wanted to meet with Apollo as soon as possible.

She decided she would try to get him on board by herself, and give the promise that next time they’d meet she’d have a statement from Yancy. Yes, that should work well enough. It wasn’t too hard to explain just how big everything was, anyhow. This is the sort of story that could slingshot any journalist's career. Yes, a dangerous one, but with a very high payoff. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be too hard to sell. Kathrine was quick to email back saying that would be great, and if they should speak over call or in person.

The Journalist sent an email back very quickly. That was a good sign, right? He was interested at least, it seemed. ‘I’m only a few hours away from the town you said you’re close to. If I found a spot halfway between would you be willing to travel a bit? I find in person is way more reliable than digital communication.’

Kathrine was of course on board and quickly said so. She was honestly thankful he felt the same way she did about digital communication. Even the phone calls with Illinois made her uneasy with fear of them being intercepted. If she had to, she'd leave work a little early. She had worked enough overtime recently to justify that…

Only a few minutes later she was sent a link to an address. A decent diner, it looked like. She quickly agreed and got back to work, trying to calm her nerves. She had gone behind the facility's back before, but this time it was for something she truly believed in. She was tired of trying to justify the facility's casualties. Somehow that determination alone made it awfully easy to pacify any anxious thoughts and finish her workday in relative peace.

—

She was a few minutes late. She hoped the journalist would understand, she really had tried her best. She left work about ten minutes early. She figured any sooner would be risky. Her job was a very important one in the facility and she had always taken it very seriously. She couldn’t afford to raise any suspicions with a sudden behavior change.

To make matters worse there was traffic on the way here. She looked around the diner, and her eyebrows furrowed, not seeing him there.

Despite the man's skills at staying relatively anonymous, the few photos she found showed he wouldn’t be too hard to recognize in a crowd. She had only been able to find photos from things like his records, but even in those it was evident his style was a little… loud, to say the least. Colorful clothes, pink tattoos on his arms. If he was in there, she would have seen him.

Just as worry and maybe a bit of panic started to set in, someone rushed in through the door, and accidentally bumped into her. Kathrine quickly glanced over with a bit of a jump, already very high strung from thinking about everything that could have or could go wrong. Though she relaxed quickly after seeing it was none other than the journalist.

“Oh, I’m sorry ma’am! I wasn’t looking where I was going. I’m in a bit of a rush-” He said, straightening himself out and giving a sheepish smile. As she had half expected, his clothing was just as colorful as it was in the photos she had access to. He wore a pastel looking button up and a… uniquely patterned sweater vest.

Overall the man appeared somewhat eccentric and scattered. Even how he spoke was very animated. Kathrine wasn’t too sure how she felt about that, and this man possibly being their best bet for bringing down the facilities. But the saying ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’ existed for a reason, and his skills spoke for themselves, as far as she had seen.

“Apollo, right?” She asked.

The man lit up “Oh! Kathrine, right? I’m sorry for being late, traffic was awful and I forgot to gas up my car”

Kathrine smiled a bit “Don’t worry. I just got here” she said, before looking at the waiter “Table for two please?”

A moment later, they were seated. Apollo pulled out an audio recorder “Mind if I turn this on? My memory can be the worst sometimes”

Kathrine hesitated “If it’s alright with you, I’d prefer we go over the basics first. If you take this story it’s going to put you in a lot of danger. I want you to know you’re comfortable covering this before I give you concrete proof or let you record.”

The Journalist set down the audio recorder without turning it on “Understandable. Though I can almost promise you I’m comfortable covering this. I’ve never liked the tabloids. I’m here for the truly breaking news. Spreading the information that really matters. And sometimes that means taking risks”

“Well then this is your story, I suppose… This is going to be big. Or more so we need this to be big. I hope by bringing this story to light we can stop… a lot of bad things from happening. People need to know about this and know how wrong this is”

“I’m all ears” The journalist said, seeming almost eager at the promise of something so large. Unflinching.

He didn’t seem like the type to be scared off easily… maybe he really was exactly what they needed. So without allowing herself any more hesitation, she explained.

Chapter Text

Doctor Pitch was right. No matter how fed up everyone had gotten with him, he wasn’t expendable. Not yet. Not only had he left the meeting with his job still intact, but he had also convinced Director Wilson to allow him to perform the… slightly modified surgery that would hopefully allow complete control over the subjects.

He had argued that by perfecting that technology an issue like Daniel Jones escaping wouldn’t happen again. Granted, he suspected she only agreed to keep him busy for a little while, but her reasons didn’t matter. All that mattered was that his plan was coming along just as he needed it to.

The next part of his plan might be harder though. It’s hard to blackmail someone who sticks to the rules as heavily as Kathrine did, but everyone had dirt somewhere. And Pitch was certain that if he dug deep enough he could find the skeletons in Kathrine's closet.

—

“So this facility… you’re the head of security there? You must really believe in this cause if you’re willing to get rid of all that and risk that much. I mean, if this doesn’t work you could be facing a lot of charges” Apollo said, after listening to the basics of the situation. “Can I ask what changed your mind about the facilities? Why after working there for so long you’ve decided it’s bad?”

Kathrine was silent for a long moment. It was a rough question to answer because even she wasn’t sure sometimes how it got to this point. After a moment of collecting her thoughts, she spoke,

“There’s a man… Illinois Arch, who had a genius idea and product. He had nothing but good intentions. He really sincerely believed that by partnering with the facilities, he could do amazing things. But his ideas were made into things that he never wanted, and people were hurt. People are being hurt. Illinois Arch faked his death so he could hide for a while, and bring the facilities down when the time was right. Recently one of the subjects, Yancy, escaped. This has sent the facility into a panic and I’ve had front-row seats of people losing any bit of humanity and morality I once thought they had. Especially the head doctor… the things he’s willing to do to catch Illinois and Yancy… It scares me. And I have to wonder if I could become like… him if I stick around much longer. When I got a call from Illinois asking for help, I saw a way out. That place, it sucks the humanity out of you. It tries to hide under a lie of a greater good, but it’s such a slippery slope… once we start looking at any humans as expendable, even criminals… how long before we start seeing everyone as expendable?”

“That makes sense. So, Yancy, he was chosen for this experiment due to his crimes?”

“Kind of? He committed double homicide when he was 18, and got a life sentence. He turned himself in, pleaded guilty, and has had nothing but good behavior while in prison. I’m not defending his crime, of course. Don’t get me wrong, however, he got his sentence and was going through it with zero complaints or resistance. What really made him a prime candidate wasn’t his crime, it was the fact that he had a life sentence and no one would notice if he was gone. The facility doesn’t care about the crimes, they just care about flying under the radar and justifying their actions.”

“I see, have you met Yancy?”

“Recently I did for the first time. He… it was jarring because everyone at the facility was making him out to be this monster, but he wasn’t. Plain and simple.”

“I’d love to take this story." Apollo finally said, "I’ll probably publish it under a new pen name and take my credit after the whole situation calms down since this one does seem pretty dangerous… but I think exposing it could work!” Apollo rambled, seeming to be thinking out loud now as he brought out his notepad and started scribbling things down.

His eagerness surprised Kathrine a little. She had expected him to hesitate more. Ask more questions. Take some time to think about it. She wasn't complaining though. This was the best-case scenario.

“Thank you so much,” she said “if you need any help hunkering down while all this is going on I’ll do everything I can to help you”

“I appreciate that. So about Illinois and Yancy. These two are sorta the leaders of this movement you're trying to start?”

Kathrine hadn’t thought about it like that, but she couldn’t argue with the reasoning “Yes. These facilities took everything from both of them. Yancy is writing a statement about everything that happened to him for you.”

“Perfect. I think a more ‘pathos’ approach would be best for this, and I’d imagine he has a lot of emotions to share about the situation. Oh! Maybe we could even get a video interview… People tend to feel a lot more for what they can see. We can plan that later though, I can get started on a first article exposing the basics first.” Apollo said, seeming excited about the project ahead of him.

Kathrine visibly relaxed, seeing the story would be in good, passionate hands. “I’m sure we can get an interview sorted out. Thank you so much”

Apollo scribbled some more things down on a notepad and closed it “No thank you. This is the biggest story I’ve ever gotten my hands on. I’ve been looking for a challenge. I’ll have everyone and their dog knowing and caring about these facilities in no time, you have my word”

—

“I’m sorry about that Kathrine, I’m sure we could have finished it in time if you let us know it was so soon,” Illinois said over the phone.

Yancy sighed a bit, looking at his notepad. He had just finished but when Illinois had called Kathrine to tell her, she had some news of her own. Yancy was only getting one side of the conversation but it was enough for him to understand she had already met with the journalist.

“Wait, he agreed? That's such a relief. Yeah, we can still send you the statement. We wouldn’t want all the work Yancy put into waste. I’ll scan it in and send it to you. Alright, I’ll get right on that, thank you so much again, Kathrine” he said before hanging up.

Illinois seemed quick to notice Yancy's disappointment. “No harm no fowl, Yance. He agreed and we can still get him the statement. Kathrine would have let us know a deadline if she wasn’t sure she could convince the journalist on her own” He said, putting a hand on Yancy’s shoulder.

“Yeah, sorry. It just feels like I only had one job and I wasn’t able to do it” Yancy said, realizing how silly it sounded. He had done the task at hand. And it wasn’t a massive mess up.

Illinois seemed to echo his thoughts “No, you did it and you did it well. What you wrote took a lot of emotional energy and time. One little miscalculation doesn’t change that. Here, I’ll scan this in and send it to her and then I’ll make us some dinner and we can call it a night. I think we deserve some rest.”

“That sounds good. I’m pretty t-t-tired” Yancy admitted, standing up and stretching, a yawn cutting into his words.

Illinois smiled and got up “So am I. I think we can rest easy and call today a success. The most important part is the journalist agreed. I think we’re getting closer to a victory.”

Yancy let out a small laugh “Gosh… sometimes I forget that my life got turned on its head only a few weeks ago… I dunno, it’s felt like a lifetime. I dunno how long it’ll take for us to win but it’s wild to think it could be soon…”

“I’m excited. I’ve been waiting for years now, and it's going so much better than I could have ever hoped. Mostly thanks to you, Yancy. I would have never thought of going more widespread with this if not for you. I owe you one, once all this is over” Illinois said, putting his hand on Yancy's shoulder for a moment before heading over to the kitchen.

Hesitation filled Yancy's mind as Illinois mentioned life beyond this situation. As if Illinois thought things might always be this way. Yancy being free and the two spending so much time together.

He wasn’t sure how to explain that a whole life on the run wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t know how to explain he felt the need to still carry out his sentence, once the facilities were gone and he could be sure he wouldn’t be the subject of human experimentation. He didn’t know how to explain that the good deed of exposing the monsters behind closed doors didn’t erase the crimes he was sincerely guilty of, and he was okay with that.

So he said nothing.

Chapter Text

J and the rest of his group had been stuck in the facility for days. Or at least J assumed it had been days. It was hard to gauge time there. No windows except for the small square one on the door, no clocks… And that was also assuming the rest of his group was even still alive. No one had talked to him since the interrogations. Sometimes someone would bring in food but they would never answer his word vomit of questions. The biggest one being what were they going to do to the group?

J had his theories, but he didn’t want to be right.

With nothing but his anxieties and the silence to keep him company, he would be lying if he said it wasn’t taking a toll on his psyche. A long while later he heard shouting, which he had noticed wasn’t that uncommon in that awful place, but he recognized that voice. It was S.

“I-I was the one who found the MIC! You can’t do this to me, I’m why you all got even close to catching them! I swear!”

J rushed over to the tiny excuse for the window on his door, to see two guards dragging S down the hall as he shouted and thrashed. The guards didn’t even acknowledge what he was saying, and S was always the least athletic and strong out of the group. His struggling did nothing to even slow the guards.

J wanted so desperately to help. To get S and the rest out of there, but when S looked over and their eyes locked for a moment, his shoulders slumped and the panic in his eyes gave way to a passive desperation. J was certain his expression matched. This was the end, and they both knew it at that moment.

S… no, Steven. If they were all going to die, J, Jason, wasn’t going to spend his last hours thinking about his closest friends and himself as singular letters and business partners.

Steven, a technological genius he had spent his childhood playing video games with. F, Freddy, a party animal he had met in college who wasn’t actually attending college but still crashed all the parties. P, Peter, a strong protective friend who treated the rest like younger siblings. A group where everyone had lost everything in one way or another, and so they banded together and used their skills to survive and make a living.

They had always known it could end bad. It wasn’t a safe job, of course. Enemies to be made, mistakes that could easily get you killed or arrested… but this was one end he had never expected.

Before he could comprehend it, Steven was already out of sight, dragged down the hall. Jason already knew he would probably never see him again.

—

“Do youse have another hideout?” Yancy asked after he caught his breath from his last run on the makeshift obstacle course. His time had been improving significantly. He started to feel like he was actually doing better than he would have before the operation, which was a realization that he had very mixed feelings on.

“Kinda a random question. What’s on your mind?” Illinois asked, looking up from the piece of paper he had been writing Yancy’s times on.

“I dunno, with us makin our next move so soon, and makin all this public I guess I’m a bit worried the search itself is gonna get more public, if that makes any sense? Like they gotta be hush hush ‘bout it but when we tell everyone, what’s stopin them from getting a lot more loud and aggressive with their search for us? I just wanna be ready to get movin again I guess”

“I really am wearing off on you” Illinois said with a small laugh “But yes, I get your concerns. It’s… likely that after we start getting on the offensive instead of just staying on the defensive that they’re going to cross a lot of lines. Unfortunately I don’t have another comfortable building for us to hide in. Honestly I hadn’t really expected to have to use this place. MIC chips aren't really something people think to look for.”

“Oh… so if they find us we’s screwed..?”

“Of course not Yancy, you should know me well enough by now to know I have some sort of plan” he said, playfully elbowing him “I’m just saying it won’t be as comfortable as this. I’ve got some camping gear ready to go. We could get it in the car after so we can be ready to go at any moment, if that would make you feel safer. And I got a paper map with locations across the country I’ve done research on and think would be a decent place to camp for a few nights. If they find us here, I’d prefer to be moving until all this is over. We’d be roughing it but I think we’d stay pretty safe.”

Yancy relaxed. He had known Illinois most likely had a plan but to hear it really helped ease his anxieties. “Alright… good. And uh… thanks for tellin me. I understand why youse kept me in the dark before, but I really appreciate youse not doin that anymore”

Illinois hesitated before saying “It wasn’t right of me. I should have been upfront with everything. About what I wanted you to help me do, about my part in all of this. I know being upfront with everything now doesn’t automatically make it better but I want you to know you can ask me anything and I’ll be honest. You didn’t deserve to be lied to like that”

Yancy sat down on the ground, leaning against a tree “I mean I get it. I wouldn’t wanna tell a murderer who just got bionic limbs it was technically my fault either” He said with a dry laugh.

“I never meant it like that-”

“But I get it, '' Yancy said, looking at Illinois. “Youse a great guy, Illinois. I don’t hold it against youse. But when youse first came to me in the woods, I noticed the safe distance youse kept. The way youse kept youses hands in view. Everythin youse did to make sure I didn’t see youse as a threat. People do that a lot when they think youse dangerous, I learned that fast after I killed ‘em.”

Illinois’ face fell. He looked sad. Guilty. Which made Yancy feel guilty for killing the mood.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up”

“No, it’s okay Yancy. I guess I’ve never really thought about how that would feel.” He said, sitting beside him. “I promised you honesty. So…. the honest truth was yes, I was a little scared. I had done extensive research on you, just like I had every other prisoner they had taken in for that project. I saw the evidence that you were sorry. And that you really were just a scared kid when it all happened. And… I was watching the security cams when… you know. I saw the look of horror on your face after it happened, and I knew you couldn’t be a monster. But I also knew that you’re… capable of a lot, when you’re scared. And I knew if I was going to do this, I needed to do everything I could to make you feel safe otherwise… I could really be in danger. But I never thought of you as some blood thirsty monster. You were just scared.

And later, when you found that room, and were scared again… I was worried. Really worried. But then I could see where you snapped out of that scared state and stopped letting it control you. When you decided to let me go. I was so proud of you Yancy. It was proof that even though it had just been a week, you had grown so much. And now I’m not scared of you at all.”

Yancy thought for a long moment before saying “Youse promise?”

“I promise. Yancy, I trust you with my life. And that’s the honest truth”

Chapter Text

Steven never came back down that hall again, but not too long after he watched them drag Freddy to wherever they brought Steven. And then Peter.

Jason wasn’t at all surprised when the guards came into his room, or when they grabbed him and pulled him down the hall to wherever they had pulled his friends. He didn’t bother to pull or shout. If Peter, who was much stronger than him, couldn’t get away there was no way he could. Plus, whatever fate lay at the end of this hall was the same fate his friends met, and Jason would not abandon his friends.

He was brought into a room with a metal table in the middle. Pitch was standing beside it, cleaning some surgical tools.

Jason had already suspected they were going to undergo the same surgery as Daniel, but now he had no doubts… and now he knew he had nothing left to lose. Nothing was stopping him from saying exactly what he thought.

“They’re right, you know. Illinois and Daniel. You’re an awful person, Xander. You keep stabbing people in the back and someone will return the favor someday soon. Sooner than you’d expect.”

The doctor looked unamused, “You have no clue what you’re talking about.” He said, before nodding to the guards who took Jason over to the metal table and strapped him down.

“You can’t hide from everything you’ve done forever.” Jason continued. He had started, and he saw no reason to stop, “You can keep trying to justify it and ignore your own crimes, you can keep hurting people for your own gain but it will come back, mark my words”

“I really don’t think you’re in a place to be making threats,” Dr Pitch said, sounding disinterested, preparing a syringe.

“Oh, I know. I know there's no hope for me, and there's nothing I can do to save myself and stop you. This isn’t a threat. It’s a fact. A promise. Everything you’ve done will come back to haunt you. And I really hope it’s by the hands of Illinois and Daniel. I really hope despite everything you’ve done and every rule you broke, you fail, and they make you face what you’ve done”

The doctor watched Jason for a long moment. Jason could tell he had pissed him off, that he had struck a nerve. He could see Doctor Pitch actively trying to keep his expression flat and emotionless. Jason knew he wouldn’t get out of this alive, but he was happy. He had gotten under the doctor's skin, and he hoped his words lingered after he was gone. He hoped Pitch would remember this next time he stabbed someone in the back.

Without another word, Pitch stuck the syringe into Jason's neck, and he felt himself quickly losing consciousness. “Heh, don’t even have a response…? You know…. I’m… right” Jason mumbled before finally passing out.

—

“So he wants to meet Yancy?” Illinois asked, pacing through their makeshift living room/dining room. Yancy watched, sitting on the sofa. Illinois had put Kathrine on speaker this time, so Yancy didn’t just have to piece together one side of the conversation.

“Yes, he’s already halfway done with the first article he’s writing. He says this one is just to get the basic information out there, get people talking about it. But he thinks to get people to really care they need to see and hear what Yancy has to say about it all.”

“Ok so like an interview?”

“Yeah. Remote could work but I’m not sure if that's a good idea. I think the amount of calls and digital correspondence we’ve been having is already risky. Do you have any more spots like the warehouse we could use?”

“Yeah of course I do. It might not be a comfortable setup but I think we’re past prioritizing comfort. Yancy, how do you feel about all this?”

Yancy took a second to realize he was being pulled into the conversation before saying “It sounds good to me. Youse know I was actually in theater back in early high school. I was told I got a decent stage presence” He said, attempting to joke away his nerves. He wanted people to care about the situation and he was willing to do anything to do that, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him a bit anxious.

Illinois smiled “‘course, sometimes I forget you were a theater kid. It was meant to be. Do you know when Apollo would wanna meet up, Kathrine?”

“He works fast. I’d say anywhere from a few days to a week.”

“Got it. Alright I’ll try to figure out what spot would be best.”

“Perfect. I got the statement you guys sent so I should be able to get that to Apollo tomorrow. He doesn’t really like digital communication it seems so I have to wait till I can see him in person again”

“Smart guy, alright. Thank you for the update Kathrine”

“Of course. Since I’ll probably be coming with him, do you guys need anything?”

“Yancy, do we need anything?”

“Nah I don’t think so. I mean some snacks might be nice, but I don’t think we need ‘em”

“I can grab some snacks,” Kathrine said. “Alright I’ll call you guys back later. Stay safe”

“We’ll do our best,” Illinois said with a chuckle “See ya” He said before hanging up.

“So, are you actually ok with being interviewed? Like on camera and everything?” Illinois asked.

“I mean, yeah. I’m nervous about it, obviously but I know it’s probably necessary”

Illinois sat next to Yancy “Can I ask a personal question?”

“Yeah of course” Yancy responded, a little surprised Illinois would even ask. They’d gone through so much together that sometimes Yancy forgot neither of them really knew much about the other's life before all the messes started.

“What would you have done if things didn’t turn out the way they did? Like what did you dream of doing before you got caught up with gangs?”

Yancy leaned back, thinking. He didn’t usually indulge in thinking about how his life might have been, in fact sometimes he completely forgot that he had once had dreams.

“I wanted an acting career” He finally said “Preferably on stage, not in front of a camera. I really did love theater life. It was rough, stayin’ after school till night almost every day, learnin’ two hours worth of dancin’ and lines but… it was always worth it. I really wanted to do it for the rest of my life. I dropped out of theater when I joined the gang. I tried to juggle the two for a bit but after the guys found out why I wasn’t around them after school they gave me a hard time till I quit. It really sucked cause the play we was doin’ in the time I had gotten a lead role I was super excited for. Gosh I was so stupid. I still don’t really understand why I picked them over theater”

Illinois chuckled “I wanted to be a stunt double… it’s funny to think if a few things went differently we’d both be in entertainment… I’d like to think in a different world where everything went like we wanted, we’d still know each other”

“That… that sounds really nice,” Yancy said, looking down at his hands. A world where he had never hurt anyone. A world where things had worked out for Illinois. A world where the two of them could have met at some… acting workshop or something like that.

“Do you think we still woulda been friends, if we met that way? If we didn’t have to cling to each other for survival?” He asked

“Y’know, I think we would have. I really do like talking to you, Yancy. And not just because you’re the only person I have to talk to”

Yancy smiled a bit “I hope in some… different timeline, that's how everythin’ worked out”

“Me too… so you really weren't lying about having a stage presence?”

“Well I wasn’t a professional for sure and I’m probably rusty, but I do know a thing or two. I used to love bein’ the center of attention. All I gotta do is tap into that again, right?”

Illinois chuckled “if you say so. Just don’t go turning into a diva on me, alright?”

“I’ll do my best. I make no promises though” The cyborg joked.

The mechanic got back up “Oh boy, this is gonna be fun” He teased “Alright let's get something to eat, then we can get back to the obstacle course”

“Youse sure we can’t just have a spa night? I’m gonna be a celebrity soon after all” Yancy teased, getting up as well.

“Soon, but not yet. We still got work to do. If the interview goes well then we can talk about a spa night” Illinois teased back, bumping Yancy.

The cyborg chuckled and headed into the kitchen to help Illinois make some lunch. The air felt electric with excitement. Things were happening. Maybe victory was actually in reach.

—

Kathrine came in from her lunch break, letting out a small sigh. She never used to leave the lab during break, instead just opting to use the breakroom or eat in her office, but recently she found herself going into town to grab some food or even heading home for a little while. Part of it was so that she could check how things with Apollo, or Illinois and Yancy were going. She didn’t like the idea of trying to interact with them in the lab. Too risky. The other part of it was just she was avoiding Pitch. 

Every time she passed him in the halls, she felt like she was being watched like a hawk. Like he was determined to find any weakness to dig into. The walls felt like they were closing in.

She sat down at her desk, rubbing her temple. It would all be over soon. Just a few more weeks, probably. She opened her bag that was under her desk, to grab her water bottle before freezing.

The papers she had printed out for Apollo.

Yancy’s statement.

It was missing.

She had meant to take it out of her bag, she had planned to leave it home, but she had forgotten. She had told herself it would be fine for one day, it’s not like they did bag checks.

It was not fine though.

Someone had taken the papers.

Doctor Pitch cleared his throat from the doorway, and held up some papers.

“Looking for something, Kathrine?”

Chapter Text

No

Nonononono.

After every precaution she had tried to put in place. After every reassurance she gave herself everything would be fine.

The one time she messed up, when she let herself be sloppy. She should have expected it honestly, with how eager Pitch had seemed to find any flaw with her. Of course he would be digging through her stuff, he had probably been doing that ever since Kathrine said she wouldn’t help anymore.

“Xander, it’s not too late to get on the right side of this. You don’t have to be the villain here. What these facilities are doing is wrong .” Kathrine tried.

Pitch laughed under his breath, walking into the office and shutting the door “I knew you’d fallen to Illinois’ plot but I didn’t realize you were this far gone. I’m almost thankful, I wasn’t expecting to get evidence this good, to be honest. I was beginning to wonder if I would have to fabricate something”

“Listen to me, Pitch. You are self-destructing. You’ve become obsessed with catching them and you’re losing yourself in the process. I don’t think anyone is just… naturally as heartless as you are. And I don’t think anyone is a lost cause. You don’t have to do this-”

“I’ve always believed you were too soft for this job… This is how it’s going to go, Kathrine. Depending on what you do next, I’m either going to go give these papers to Director Wilson right now, or I’m going to give you a twenty-four hour head start before giving them to her”

It was over. It was all over. There was no getting out of this. Pitch seemed to take her silence as a cue to continue “I need you to use your Clarence card to release the surviving members of that group. One of them didn’t survive the surgery, so you only have to release three. From that point, you will have twenty-four hours before I let the director know you’ve been working with Illinois and Daniel to overthrow the labs.”

“You’re only making a bigger mess! Every. Single. Plan you’ve made to try to catch them has ended in failure that I had to clean up! What's going to happen when this one fails, Pitch? When you’ve played all your cards and I’m not there to cover for you?”

“You weren’t going to help me anymore anyhow, Kathrine. You’re disposable now”

The truth of the matter. The center of all of this. Disposable. The answer to her question. How long could you see criminals as disposable before you begin to see everyone else as disposable?

“I’ll do it. But only because I know this won’t help you win, Pitch. Your obsession is clouding your judgment. I want these facilities to collapse, Xander. I think they suck the humanity out of everyone who works in these walls. And even if you’re a huge part of the problem, you’re not what I want to hurt… You’re doing that well enough to yourself anyhow. You will fail. Not even because you’re in the wrong, but because you refuse to see outside of yourself”

“You don’t know nearly as much as you think you do. Get it done tonight. No stalling” He said, before leaving.

Kathrine wished she could be surprised that Pitch would stab her in the back like this after everything she had done for him. She wished she could say she had no way to see this coming.

But it would all be a lie. She should have expected this, she should have been more careful. She had to get out of there, call Illinois, but she had no clue Ptich was watching like a hawk. Probably had the security feed pulled up on his computer or something right now.

She wasn’t certain about his 24-hour head start promise, she wouldn’t put it past him to not follow through with it. But it was her best bet. As long as she had enough time to get to Illinios, she would be fine, right? Not to mention she was the head of security. When Yancy originally got out she was the one who organized the search teams and sent them out. Without her, there would be a disrupt in the system. Maybe not a huge amount, there were plenty of capable security personnel at the lab, but enough to give her an advantage.

Everything would be fine, she told herself.

Of course, there was the problem with the group… at this point it wasn’t hard to see what Pitch was getting at, with that. Fight fire with fire. If their specially trained personnel couldn’t get Yancy and Illinois, Pitch had clearly jumped to the conclusion another cyborg was needed to contain a rouge cyborg. However, the remote-controlled variant of mechanics had next to no testing yet. Pitch was counting on full brain control, no doubt. These mechanics went far deeper into the brain and nervous system than Yancy’s did.

She could handle that, though. So could Yancy and Illinois. Doctor Pitch missed the point. It wasn’t Illinois's engineering genius or Yancy's mechanics that had kept them alive for so long, it was their determination. Their desire to make things better. Soulless mind-controlled soldiers would never have a motivation like that. And as for Pitch, his rage was blinding him.

After all, a much smarter route for Pitch to take would have been to turn her in before she had a chance to see the papers were missing and use her electronics to find Illinois and Yancy’s ip address or something along those lines. However Pitch seemed desperate to keep things in his control, of course he’d opt for three supersoldiers he could control, instead of passing the issue up the chain.

Pitch was dangerous, obviously willing to hurt anyone and do anything to get what he wanted. However, the more desperate he got the more short-sighted he was becoming. As long as she stayed rational, she had the upper hand. At least, that’s what she told herself. Stay rational. Stay calm.

—

Illinois frowned as he read the message on his phone “Kathrains been caught….”

“What?” Yancy asked, sitting up straight, wide-eyed. 

“She’s alright for now, she said she’ll call us when she can, which should be a little past midnight. For now, she says Pitch has performed the surgery on that group he hired to track us down. One died during the surgery, she said these mechanics were far more invasive and less tested. She’s certain he’ll be using them to track us down, but not with the labs support, it seems. She said it doesn't seem like he’s thinking logically anymore”

Yancy felt sick upon hearing the operation had happened again , not only that but the death toll had risen once again. “I-if he ain’t thinkin logically, that’s good, right? Like, he’d be easier to outsmart?”

“That’s one way to look at it, but I wouldn’t count on that. I think it also means there’s no price he won’t pay. Before, there’s certain lines I thought he wouldn’t cross for the sake of keeping his job and reputation, but now… I don’t think there's anything he wouldn’t do to stop us. I don’t think it’s a good idea to think he’s less of a threat now, if just for the sake of not underestimating him.”

Yancy could see how that line of thinking could lead them to a false sense of security, but he couldn’t help but feel desperate for some form of a silver lining.

“Yeah… I guess so. So… someone else died?”

Illinois looked to the side and sighed “Yeah. I had hoped the surgeries would be paused while they were looking for us… We can’t let that discourage us too much though, Yancy, We’re doing our best.”

“What about Kathrine? Is she gonna be okay?”

“Kathrine is super capable. I’m sure she’s gonna be able to get out of there safely. And when she does, we can help her hide”

Yancy hesitantly nodded, before saying “Are… we gonna have to start running again soon?”

“It’s a possibility. I think if Pitch had our exact location Kathrine would have warned us by now, but I have no clue how much information he has on us and Kathrine's connection with us for now. I’d say to stay on the safe side we should probably stay aware. Maybe start sleeping in shifts.”

“We need to start attacking the labs… soon, ‘Noise.”

“I know, I know. Look I’ll tell you what. Once Kathrine is out of there and safe, you and I can go talk to that journalist ourselves. Let him know things are escalating. Maybe he’ll even let us knock out that interview early.”

Yancy took a breath, knowing he was getting antsy and that was helping no one “Alright… Yeah that sounds like a good idea”

“How about you get some rest, Yancy. I think things are about to get real busy and you need to have your energy.”

Yancy was about to argue Illinois needed rest too before he said “I’ll wake you up later so you can keep watch while I sleep. For now I need to be able to keep an eye out for updates, with Kathrine”

The cyborg finally relented “Youse’ll wake me up if youse need me, right?”

“Of course”

With a small nod, Yancy headed over to his bed and lay down. It took him far longer than he would have liked to finally drift off.

—

Kathrine called, right before Illinois was going to wake Yancy up. He answered quickly, stepping  into the stairway. He didn’t want Yancy to have to wake up to a conversation that could cause panic.

“Are you okay? Are you safe?” He asked before Kathrine said a word.

“Define okay. But I am safe”

“Thats fair enough, so whats the update?”

“Pitch made me release the three, no doubt so he could pin it on me. He had already convinced the facility they were all working with you… And now that he has proof I was working with you, I don’t think it’ll take much for them to buy it. He said if I did it he’d give me a twenty four hour head start so I’m on my way to that warehouse for now. I figured that was a good spot until you give me another address. That is assuming you want to help me hide, I guess you never agreed to that”

“Take a breath, Kathrine, of course I’m going to help you. How much does Pitch know? So that I can decide the next course of action.”

“He found Yancys statement. I don’t think he has any more information. All my conversations with both you guys and Apollo have been on my personal devices. Though I plan on scrubbing thoes soon. Too traceable.”

“Good plan. Okay so I’m going to send you a location. If you could get it to the journalist and ask if he could meet us there tomorrow night, that would be awesome. Tell him Yancy will be there, too. You can meet us there too. We could get that interview out of the way, and try to speed up the process of getting information out there. After that you, I and Yancy can discuss what we do next. Sound like a plan?”

Kathrine took a breath “Yeah. Yeah that does.”

“Cool. I promise, we’ve got this Kathrine. I know this throws a hitch in everything but we’re going to be fine. Call me if you need anything”

“Will do” Kathrine said before hanging up. 

Yancy could sleep for a little longer, Illinois decided. He had to make sure everything was perfect. His preparation was why they were still alive. He couldn't start slacking now. 

Chapter Text

The last 12 hours had been a blur for Kathrine. Ever since her encounter with Pitch everything had felt frenzied and muddled. As if her mind was stuck underwater. 

Illinois had always been good at keeping a level head though. 

It was four in the morning, but she hadn't slept at all. She couldn't if she tried, she knew. Despite her intense mistakes, Illinois was cleaning up the mess fairly well. She was hiding in the warehouse. Until probably around noon the next day. Then she'd head to the location she had forwarded to Apollo, who had thankfully already accepted.

She wasn’t quite sure why she had half expected Illinois to just leave her to die. He wasn’t that type of person. He never had been. Honestly looking back, she had no clue how she didn’t suspect Illinois was still alive. It was all very… in character for the mechanic.

Maybe it was all because at the time, she really did believe in the lab. She had always felt Illinois was a good, noble person. So if in her mind the lab was ultimately good, she had of course assumed Illinois supported it.

It was embarrassing, in all honesty, to finally realize how skewed her own ideas of good and bad had become.

Of course the mechanic wouldn’t leave her to die. She had grown far too accustomed to Pitch's ways. Cutting off loose ends that no longer served him. If something or someone couldn’t add quantifiable value to what he wanted, it didn’t deserve to exist.

Disposable.

She had already suspected that’s how he truly thought, but to hear him say it to her, so plainly and with no shame.

If she got out of this alive, she decided, she would do everything she could to be better. She couldn’t bring back the lives she had helped end, but she could try to improve others.

—

Yancy woke up to his internal clock informing him it was 7:43 AM. Wasn’t Illinois supposed to wake him up? They were supposed to be taking shifts.

He sat up to see Illinois cooking in the little kitchenette “Did youse sleep at all?” He asked.

The mechanic looked over at Yancy and smiled “Good morning to you too, Yance. Great news, we’re gonna be able to meet up with that journalist tonight. The place is a few hours away so we should probably get going a little after noon”

Yancy was of course happy to hear progress was being made but Illinois' avoidance of the question was not comforting. Especially with how much of a problem his exhaustion had been last time. 

“Youse didn’t answer my question” Yancy pointed out, getting up.

“I don’t think I could have slept if I tried. I’ve been feeling a little jittery. I mean, we’re so close. I mean if this goes well, by tomorrow everyone could know.”

“Remember what happened last time youse didn’t sleep?” Yancy prodded.

The mechanic sighed “Fine fine. Tell you what, we can eat, and then I’ll take a couple hour nap before we get moving, if that’ll make you feel better. Deal?”

Yancy nodded “Thank youse. I just… don’t want us to have another close call and for youse to have to get stressed out like that again”

“Even if there is another close call like that, you were pretty on top of it last time. And you’ve gotten even better since then. But I do see your point. I wouldn’t want to put you in that situation again” the mechanic relented, plating some food.

Yancy grabbed a plate and took a seat, “I appreciate youse listenin' to my concerns.”

“Sure thing, Yancy. So are you feeling alright about the rest of the plan? Maybe knocking out the interview and everything today?”

Yancy thought for a moment. Poking at his food. Absolutely anxious, of course. He hadn’t had a camera pointed at him since his mugshots. If you didn’t count security cameras, of course. Despite having pushed to speed things up himself, it was a bit faster than he expected. Which was a good thing, of course, but that didn’t exactly help with the nervousness.

“A little uh… jittery, myself. I mean what if people don’t side with me? I am a criminal”

“So am I, technically”

“Youse know what I mean…”

Illinois sighed, taking a seat as well “I do. And I’m sure there’s gonna be some people who will think what they did to you is justified. But I believe people are inherently good. And I believe most people believe life is valuable. Even if there is some… gray area, I think most people will agree what happened to you and hundreds of others wasn’t okay. The labs didn’t choose you or any of the others because they actually care about the crimes you committed. It’s not a punishment. It’s just the people they’ve decided are the most disposable. And once they’ve used all the people like you, they’ll turn to hurting other, more innocent people. If the lab thought people would be on their side, it wouldn’t be so secret”

Yancy nodded softly “Yeah, that makes sense. Youse gonna be there with me, right?”

“Of course. I’m not gonna just abandon you with some guy I’ve never met, even if Kathrine vetted him.”

“He’ll probably wanna talk to youse too, anyways' ' Yancy said before taking a bite of his own food.

“Oh… yeah, I didn’t think about it. I don’t know how much he knows about me and my uh… involvement” The mechanic said, poking his food around his plate for a moment. “I’m not actually too sure what to expect this time around, Yancy. I mean, everything else I’ve been planning for years now. You and Kathrine really switched up my plans. For the better, of course. I really should have been thinking bigger. But we’re in new waters, now.”

That was a scary thought. The cyborg had been completely depending on the mechanic and his plans for a while now… but he was stronger now. Both mentally and physically. He felt more comfortable carrying them when Illinois couldn’t.

“Well, we’s got this far. And if all we can do is get one article out there, just get the world talkin’ I think that's enough.”

“You’ve got a good point there” Illinois responded, looking down at the food he had barely touched and getting up “I’m gonna take that nap now, I don’t have the best appetite right now. Wake me up if you need anything. Or noon. Whatever comes first, alright?”

Yancy nodded “ ‘course” He said, refraining from commenting on how Illinois should probably eat a little more, and they would need their energy. Illinois was a full-grown man, he didn’t need Yancy to be overbearing. After all, him taking a nap was what Yancy had wanted. “Sleep well, I’ll keep watch”

—

Illinois had been admittedly tired. He knew not sleeping would cause more problems, but after living the way he had for years, sleeping felt like a death sentence. Letting his guard down for hours at a time, wasting precious seconds he could use for planning on nothing . He knew this thinking was just plain wrong, of course. Sleep was necessary to function and plan. Not only that, but he wasn’t letting his guard down with no defenses anymore. Yancy was perfectly capable of defending the two of them and keeping watch.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Yancy, of course. However Illinois didn’t like putting Yancy in a position where he may have to be the protector. Which would happen even if Illinois didn’t sleep. So sleeping when they were relatively safe was the right option.

It still took forever to actually fall asleep. His nerves were too high, his thoughts too loud. He didn’t want to let Yancy know he was so anxious. Yancy was getting better with regulating his emotions and reactions, but Illinois wasn’t interested in pushing it. Panic was contagious, and they couldn’t afford to not keep a level head.

He didn’t actually know how long he slept, but eventually he did get some . He woke up to Yancy gently shaking his shoulder.

 “ ‘Noise, it’s noon”

The mechanic sat up, rubbing his eyes “Alright, thank you Yancy.” He said through a yawn.

“‘Course. So is there anythin we gotta do before we head out?”

Illinois laughed softly as he got to his feet “You're eager. That’s great. I don’t think there's much to do, probably just grab something to eat… We already have some stuff in the car just in case things go south and we can’t come back here, so I think we’re set”

“I’m just excited wes finally makin some tangible process, youse know?”

“I completely agree. Now lets get some food so we can head out”

–

Pitch was almost surprised with how smooth it had gone, but to be honest he wasn’t expecting to get such solid blackmail.  Kathrine working with the two wasn’t too surprising in hindsight but Pitch hadn’t expected her to turn on the lab so fast. He had to guess this had started around the time she had decided to not help him anymore. Her loyalty was far more fickle than he had initially thought.

He looked over the paper he had found, thinking. He wasn’t sure what it was for, and what she was planning to do with it. It was a first-hand account, written by Daniel himself. It was incredibly obvious the convict hadn’t even graduated high school. Illinois was admittedly very smart… It looked like he hadn’t really done anything to help the cyborg write it. Maybe they weren’t working together anymore? It was possible the cyborg didn’t know Illinois’ role in the project. Pitch could see how that could cause a falling out.

Maybe it would be best to split up the group. Cover more ground. Just in case Daniel and Illinois were in different places. He only had three in his disposal, since one didn’t make it through the surgery. He had expected this, of course. These cybernetics went far deeper into the brain than anything they had tried before. He was a little surprised they had only lost one. 

He had stolen the remote controls that influenced the group's cybernetics and therefore them. Of course, framing Kathrine for that as well.

The doctor had been a little surprised at how smooth the outcome had been, as well. He was expecting the cybernetics to maybe not have complete control. That the group would at least try to put up a fight, even with the control it was supposed to give. However there was nothing . They responded perfectly to every input. Capable of enough thought to problem solve and carry out actions without detailed instructions on every action, and yet completely devoid of personality or fight. It was perfect .

The three were already halfway across the country, where Daniel and Yancy had last been spotted to look for some sort of lead.

Of course, if Director Wilson or anyone else found out what he was doing he’d be in for a world of hurt, but with the golden child of the facility proven to be a traitor, Pitch had a feeling everything would be in too much disarray for people to pay much mind to him and what he was doing. Confusion was a wonderful tool. Hopefully, it would all be over before the waters could clear.

Chapter Text

Hey everyone! Sam here. I'm not sure if anyone is still following this fic and will see it. But if you are I just wanted to give a bit of an update and my plan going forward!

I still want to finish this. And I will! Here's whats going on, the things I need to do to finish it, and the obstacles.

First off, since I have only written one chapter in a whole year, I am rusty and have forgotten details. In order to get back into the swing of things I need to reread the the whole fic. And I genuinely forgot how long it was!

Next I have to remember all the plot points I had planned. I did have a plan for the end and I remember most of it but admittedly not all of it.

Next I have to get back into the habit of a schedule. When I started writing this fic I was fresh out of highschool and had a part-time job. This year I finally started college and I'm working at a daycare, so a lot to juggle! Anyone who's still reading this may be happy to learn I'm going for a creative writing degree!

Anyhow, I know it's been a long time so I'm primarily posting this to keep myself accountable. I know whining at an author to finish the next chapter is generally discouraged but I'm going to ask you to break the rules here! feel free to bully me into the next chapter because I want to see this thing to completion no matter what!

Thank you for all the support in the past. On with the show!