Chapter Text
Turning him in was supposed to be the easiest part. She was supposed to hand him over to Maximillian, get her money, and take on another job for Talon, one that would let her keep an eye on Emre and that would let her stay close to him.
Instead, when they arrived, it was evident almost immediately that something was going horribly wrong, and they were under some kind of attack. But Emre wouldn't move, feet locked to the floor, looking like he was going to be sick. He'd never shied away from a fight before, especially not when she was fighting right by his side.
“Frej,” his voice came sharp, panicked, and shaky in a way it never has been before. Emre had always been strategic and careful with his words, especially in the heat of a battle. Never scared, never wavering for even a moment. “You need to go. Now.”
That familiar feeling was buzzing inside him, hot, fuzzy, and tingly. He couldn't feel his hands nor his feet anymore. He staggered, catching himself against the wall, a frustrated, metallic groan following that was not him.
She only stared, an expression of almost shock overtaking her face. “What do you mean? Are you okay?” Something crashed loudly in the distance; she flinched at the sudden noise. Emre did not move. No reaction; his face didn't change, and his eyes didn't flicker in the direction of the sound. Instead, they stayed distant, like they didn't have anything to look at anymore.
“Please, Freja.” He begged and pleaded with her to go. Whatever was inside him was waking up, powering on. “Go.” It was hard to speak, words getting mixed up in his brain. Normally, he could not fight it this long, if even at all. But something about her being here made him want to fight back with every ounce of mental resolve that he had.
“Is it the…” She gestured to him, the thing on his chest, and the way his hands began to glow an eerie fiery orange color.
Emre couldn't even nod, knuckles gripping the wall with everything they had. It hurt, but the pain was grounding, keeping him in the moment.
He didn't want to slip away. Emre didn't know when he would be back.
Another loud clang echoed behind them, an awful screech of metal on metal following afterwards. The hair on Freja's neck stood straight up, grabbing Emre's arm to pull him away from whatever was happening here. They weren't safe right now.
The eye on his chest snapped to her, like it was looking right at her when she made contact with his forearm, fingers curling around his wrist to tug him away from here, from the danger. His other arm grasped hers, fingers gripping her wrist too tight, his eyes locked on where they gripped each other, and he pulled her off with much more force than he had ever used on her before. When Freja finally met his eyes, he was not behind them anymore. They were blank, glazed over, without that familiar spark she had missed so much over the last few years.
“Commencing attack.” His voice came out deeper, more metallic, and darker than she had ever heard it before, and it was all the warning she had before he sprang on her, clawing and straining like a wild animal.
“Emre!” Freja snapped, throwing herself to the side to avoid his sudden attack. This was what he was talking about before, what he claimed he didn't understand was happening to him. Maybe she was foolish to think it wouldn't happen in her presence.
He lunged again, but this time she was ready, grabbing him as he threw himself at her and throwing him to the ground. Emre hit the floor hard, and Freja only had a moment to feel bad for him before she had to react again, jumping on him to pin him to the floor.
This wasn't him; this was not Emre right now. She had to save herself to save them both. Freja heard screaming in the distance; something else was happening in here, something different than what was happening to Emre. Panic threatened to swell inside; they needed to get out of here a while ago or risk running into whatever else was happening. Talon was sneaky; God knows what other conflict was unfolding in these corridors.
Not-Emre reached for his pistol at his side, and Freja used both her arms to pull his hand away, holding it to the floor with all her strength, groaning at the strain. Freja straddled him, and under different circumstances she might have been flustered to be in this position on top of him, but not now. With both her legs, she held him down, pressing the weight of her upper body into his, holding him against the cold, metal floor. Not-Emre fought against her but was uncharacteristically quiet. He did not snarl, or groan, or hiss at her; instead, he fought with an eerie stillness. Somehow, that only felt like it made it worse.
Something glass shattered behind them, a sharp noise echoing down the long, empty halls, and again it pulled no reaction. Holding him to the floor, she searched his face for anything human, anything familiar. She found nothing.
He scrambled to get his feet under him, pulled at her arms with his own, bucking and kicking to get her off him. One arm broke free, and he grabbed at her face with it, getting a fistful of braided ginger hair and pulling her down. She followed, growling at him, and continued to hold down what she could while he pulled. "Cheap shot," she thought, forcing herself to breathe through her nose to stay calm, to stay in the moment. She needed a plan.
Talon's headquarters fell almost silent behind them, the hum of its servers and mechanics stilling and losing power. But she could hear signs of life—speaking, talking, and footsteps against the floor.
Max was supposed to meet them here later for her money, to take him, to take both of them. She couldn't turn her back on him now, not when she had made it this far. Leaving without him wasn't an option she liked; she didn't know how long it would take her to find him again.
“I don't want to hurt you, Emre!” It wasn't him, but she spoke to it like it was anyways. Maybe she could get through and bring him back to touch his humanity that was buried somewhere inside. Encourage him to come back, to fight it off, whatever he needed to do.
“You don't want to hurt him, but I will.” A voice spoke from behind her; she couldn't turn her head to face it with how Not-Emre held her down, but she knew that voice all too well. Maximilien. Not-Emre's hand moved from her hair to her neck, and she choked out a strangled gasp around his fingers. Her eyes widened as she stared down at what was just her good friend; he was laughing and smiling at her not even five minutes ago, and now he was out for her blood.
If it was Emre who really wanted to hurt her, it would have been yesterday when she found him or last night, when she lodged him for the night. Gave him a shower, a soft place to rest his head, and a warm meal. None of this came when the two of them had been alone, not on the journey here.
“You'd let him kill you?” Max taunted, circling them like prey animals while he tried to strangle her. “You won't defend yourself? You can try, but you can't damage my property too much. He’s very important.” A sudden possessiveness boiled up inside her at his words; he wasn't Max's until she received her money; he was still her Emre right now. Even if he was trying to take her life.
Freja pulled one hand away to grasp at the one around her neck, clawing at his fingers and peeling them away from her flesh one by one. With each finger freed, she gasped out a big, heavy breath, relishing in the oxygen that flooded back into her lungs.
“Max!” Freja choked, barely able to get the word out in her fight to hold him down and pull his hand away. He was a smart omnic and wouldn't approach them without a plan, not when he could get caught up in Not-Emre's assault.
Unless the plan was for Emre to kill her here and take him without the bounty. And if that had been the plan all along.
It was like all the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Emre was fine until they stepped foot in this place, and suddenly he wanted her to leave, fast, urgent, and adamant that it had to be now. He warned her; somehow Emre knew. Somehow Max did too.
The omnic only watched; a smug hum left his synthetic throat as he ogled the two like they were animals at the zoo. That's all they were to him, really. All they had ever been. Pawns.
Freja managed to fully pull Emre's hand from her throat and pushed her elbow against his own. No choked, strangled sound left his throat like it had with hers; whatever was controlling him did not need to breathe.
All she would do was hurt Emre.
Frustration boiled up inside her, anger replacing her previous emotions. How was she supposed to help him right now? She pushed against his throat as hard as she dared, his hands clawing at her arm, leaving red scratch marks all down her forearms; some bled and dribbled down, wiping across his throat. Not-Emre bore his teeth in the struggle, kneeing and kicking at what part of her he could reach.
“What do you want with him?” Barked Freja, sparing a quick glance over her shoulder at the omnic standing behind them, her eyes widened and pupils blown with adrenaline. Maximilien had some plan, of course he did. She was stupid to think it'd be that easy, that there weren't ulterior motives when it came to Talon.
Max laughed short and coy, humming amusedly as the two continued their scuffle on the floor. “You really don't think that thing in him is random, do you?” He taunted, his tone inquisitive. With a metallic face, Maximilien used his voice to express his emotions, which only made his words more condescending to her.
Not-Emre's face paled, but his fight did not give up; his body needed air. Freja had to let up on his throat or threaten lasting damage and went back to pinning him to the floor, and exhaustion started to settle in. Her arms burned, throat ached, head pounded, and heart shattered.
“What do you mean?” She snarled at Max, unable to spare him another glance, and let Not-Emre get the one up on her. He kept trying to reach for that pistol at his side; she needed to keep his hands away. “You know what's wrong with him?”
Again, Max laughed, a sharp sound echoing from his synthetic vocal cords. What an odd noise. “Wrong with him? There's nothing wrong with him.” Max crossed his arms over his chest, cocking his head at the two. “I gave the Chernobog its perfect host, and it aids Talon in our mission.”
Freja's jaw almost dropped; it would have if she wasn't totally focused on holding him back. His hands glowed, something materialized within his palm, and she realized at the last minute it was a weapon. She threw herself off him and as far away as she could, her cape fluttering in the movement just as a loud blast sounded in the corridor.
Landing in a pile on the floor a few feet away, she only had a few moments to move again before he was shooting at her once again, the blasts from his strange weapon hot and singing the air. Sweat beaded across her hairline, dodging his onslaught while Max watched.
“You want him to kill me.” She spoke aloud, watching as Not-Emre pulled himself to his feet, too mechanical, too unnatural, like invisible puppet strings pulled him back up. Not-Emre aimed again, and she threw herself into him to dodge the blast, pinning him to the wall with a shout, throwing her body weight into the arm that shot at her. “You want me out of the equation because I'm going to help him.”
Max approached slowly; two strides and he was up close to the two of them against the wall. “Sombra can't even hack it; you can't help him. You won't be able to, he can't even help himself.” His tone was taunting and condescending, trying to get her upset, to slip, and let him kill her.
Suddenly, the omnic pulled back from the two of them. “Not even death can spare him.” From his side, he produced a small pistol, lining it up to Emre's temple. Freja didn't even have time to scream before he pulled the trigger, the flash and bang in front of her forcing her to let go of him.
Emre crumpled, blood trickling from the bullet hole in the side of his head, pooling across the scratched, scorched floor beneath them.
A sob tore its way out of Freja's throat, raw and wet, tears pooling in her eyes. Before she could pounce on Max and rip his robotic veins right out of his throat, a whirring, technical noise filled the air.
The thing on Emre continued to glow, unaffected by the bullet in his head.
“Reactivating host.” Emre's eyes snapped open on the floor, the bleeding stilled, and the hole in his head patched itself. Slowly, he pushed himself to sit up, and then to rise to his feet, eyes flickering between her and Max. Emre's eyes, not the same ones she had just been wrestling with.
“Freja?” He asked in a quiet, scared voice, almost childlike. “Freja, what are you doing here?” Emre pulled himself up to his feet, eyes wild, grabbing Freja by her shoulders. “How long has it been? Years? What are you doing here?” He noticed her tears and gently wiped them away with the pad of his thumb, his palms resting on her cheeks. He didn't remember those same hands were just choking her out, scratching at her skin, trying to take her life. Now, they were so gentle, so soft against her face while he held her. “What’s wrong?”
Her already broken heart sank to the bottom of her stomach and shattered into a million more little fragments.
“Emre,” Max greeted cheerfully, pistol hidden back away at his side. He clasped his hands together, head turning slowly between Freja and him. “Welcome back. Talon has missed you; we have a mission for you. A new target.” Max turned to Freya, and if he could smile, Freja knew it would be a wicked one right now.
She needed to get him out of here. She promised she'd save him, even if he didn't remember it anymore.