“We’re getting close.” Vik said, interrupting GiDi’s story. “Put a lid on them so we can go on and get home.”

Before TO could ask what they meant, GiDi sighed and picked up a bucket, which had been modified with a strap under the chin, and padding around the eyes and ears. There was only enough space around the nose and mouth for them to breathe.

“I’m sorry.” GiDi whispered as they picked up TO’s head, “They don’t trust you yet, and they have to keep themselves safe. It’ll be alright, I promise.”

Despite GiDi’s promise, TO tried to back away, tried to thrash to get away from them, but a long, red tail slammed down on their arms and held them in place. When TO be looked up to see where it came from, they saw a large, muscular male with a long red tail.

He must have been the same one who had tried to hide under the cloak earlier.

He gave TO a glare of utter loathing, and that was the last thing that TO saw when the helmet slipped over their head.

Once more, they were lost in darkness, unable to hear past the rush of blood in the ears, unable to see anything but darkness. The tail slid from their arm, leaving a long gash of pain across them. They’d probably bruise later. If they had their armor on, they knew the lash of the stranger's tail wouldn’t have done any such damage to them. 

How could GiDi let them take their armor? Their chip? Even now, they felt their mind trying to reach that connection, trying to feel it, and sensing nothing. While GiDi’s story about escaping the center made sense, they still couldn’t believe that their small friend would join with the insurgents.

Worse than that, they made it sound like Flit was still here, that they were involved in all this. They had of course taken GiDi from the training center, and TO was grateful for that… But how could they let them join the insurgency?

How could they be involved in this?

Eventually, the boat hit against something. Rough hands grabbed TO by the arms and pulled them up, lifting them from the boat to solid ground; artificial, they knew that much, and very solid. Through their thin shoes, they figured it had to be cement or concrete. They loosened the ropes around the legs just enough so that they could shuffle along wherever the insurgents led them, but not nearly enough to allow them to walk normally, or even to run. Even if they could, it was most likely that they’d just hurt themself thanks to the ridiculous bucket on their head.

Like this, it suddenly struck TO that they were a prisoner. Maybe it was only because GiDi was there that they didn’t really consider that before, but now, blind, bound, and dead, they funny understood their situation. Would the insurgents question them?

They had DH too. TO knew that they themself could take any kind of torture from the insurgents and not give them a word of information, but how long would they last if they hurt DH? How long would DH last if forced to watch the insurgents hurt them?

 Once more, they wondered how GiDi could let this happen. How GiDi could have taken part in this!

What changed then?

The rough hands pushed them forward, forcing them along, taking turns until TO ultimately lost any sense of direction. If suddenly released, the makeshift helmet removed from their head, they’d not have the slightest clue where to go to reach the surface once more. 

A sudden push forward took them by surprise. They stumbled forward, their knees striking the hard floor and drawing a pained cry from them as the uneven cement floor ripped through their basic uniform and tore the skin beneath. Before the last echo of pain escaped them, they felt familiar hands on their arms, catching them before they fell forward.

They lifted the helmet from TO’s head, and though momentarily blinded by dim, fluorescent lights which were inset in the ceiling, they could eventually see again. 

The surroundings were unimportant at that moment. All that mattered was that the one who had taken their helmet off was DH. TO felt their eyes burn as they looked up at their mate.

“Are you hurt?” were the first words from TO’s lips, even as they knelt there, aching and bound. DH didn’t seem obviously hurt, though there were deep rings around their eyes, as though they had been crying a lot. “I was so worried.” TO said, their voice cracking, “I thought you were dead. I thought they hurt you. I was going to rip this planet apart looking for you.” 

DH wrapped their arms around TO, their wings encircling their mate as they nuzzled their face into their neck. After a moment, they pulled back only to kiss TO on the lips, a hand stroking their ear at the same time. 

“I’m ok now.” DH whispered once they finally pulled away. “I don’t know what’s happening… But it’s ok. We’re safe. We’re together.” They got up and went behind TO so that they could untie the ropes at TO’s back. “I was in one of those pods, and the insurgents took it. When they let everyone out, they saw me and they took me away, but one of those buckets over my head-” TO could finally feel the ropes behind them slacken. They pulled their hands forward, and though there were bright blue marks on their wrists, they weren’t hurt. 

“I saw GiDi.” DH said as they untied TO’s feet.

“Me too.” TO muttered. “... They’re working with the insurgents.”

“They wouldn’t tell me anything.” DH said. “I don’t think they could. They wouldn’t even tell me what happened to you, if you were alive or-”

The ropes around TO’s ankles loosened. DH stood up and helped pull TO to their feet. Their feet hurt, though, and they felt oddly unbalanced. They stumbled forward, but DH caught them and led them to a mattress that sat on the floor in the corner.

“I thought you were dead.” DH said once TO was lying on the bed.

TO looked up and saw DH’s eyes - once more brimming with tears. They felt their own tears coming back as they remembered their own fear, the worry that DH was dead, or worse.

For now, they were safe. TO did not know what would come in the future, but for now, they were both alive, both safe, and both together. 

Maybe for now, that was all that mattered. 

======

They were disconnected. That was the first thing Hur-13 realized when they came to. The familiar trail of artificial neurons that they had used since they came out of the tank seemed to hit only dead ends. They bolted upright from where they were lying and looked at their hand. The bandage over the back of their hand told them what they feared, but all the same, they peeled back the medical tape to see the injury underneath.

Blood, peeled back skin, and a painful gash that was deep enough to pry their chip from their flesh.

Disconnected entirely. Being unable to use their chip at all was bad enough, but knowing it disconnected them not only from the general civilian network, but from the network of Synths under King Decon disturbed them deeply.

They looked around, looking for another synth. Was Hur-14 with them? A quick look around the tiny room told them ‌they were entirely alone; Neither Hur-14, nor Ark-87 was there.

They were alone, disconnected, and trapped. Maybe being alone was better for now. The last thing they remembered was Ark-87 - no, the defect, the traitor- hitting them with a shot from their gun. Then Hur-14 hesitated to shoot the traitor. 

Was it Hur-13’s fault? Avery was odd, but not as odd as the others were. They had expected better of the quiet synth who read books and did their job without complaint. 

GiDi, that tiny synth who should have been repurposed or corrected so long ago, was it their fault? Thinking of them with a name was odd, but they would have no other designation, so Hur-13 didn’t know how to refer to them. It didn’t entirely matter; they failed their examination, and didn’t even have the sense of duty to submit to be corrected or repurposed. Worse than that, they had sided with the insurgents.

It was disgusting. That a synth could sink so low, could turn against King Decon so thoroughly made Hur-13 want to break something. 

Still, they were content to lay the blame for their situation mostly on Ark-87. They were supposed to be better. They were the one who outperformed them in every aspect, and whose flaws were harder to quantify than those who their overseers had corrected early on. The synth called themself TO, who engaged in animal behavior with another synth, and who had let personal feelings dictate their loyalties.

TO, the traitor. The name somehow seemed to work for them. GiDi perhaps didn’t know better, since they never passed their examination, but TO should have.

Still, they had been right all along. TO. DH. GiDi. The names they gave themselves were like a bright flag that showed their inability to be a proper synth. Their inability to serve and be happy for the privilege of serving King Decon. It was a bitter consolation that they had been right all along.

If TO had avoided Ark-88, would things have gone differently? Would they have learned to serve properly, or would they have just grown preoccupied with another synth?

No point in wondering about such things. There was only one fact that was important in all this; TO was dangerous. 

TO had to face justice. 

They sat up and took in their surroundings. They didn't know that their room was the same as TO and DH’s room - plain cement all over, a small table in the center, and a rough bed in the corner. In the other corner, two screens created a small private area, and when Kei approached, they saw a portable toilet, the kind that instantly dissolved waste, and a bucket with water in it. 

A bed, a table, a bucket, and a toilet. There was no way for them to shower, to keep clean and healthy. There was no means for physical exercise, mental stimulation, or any way to keep informed on the events on Arkane. 

That knowledge, that total isolation… Why would someone do that to them? Already, they felt like their mind was struggling against it, struggling to reach out and contact something or someone.

Even the traitor.

No. No point in that. The insurgents had them, and there was nothing they could do for now. The insurgents would either kill them or interrogate them. They had been through enough interrogation simulations to know that they wouldn’t give in to their methods, no matter how they tortured them. Eventually, the insurgents would kill them. 

A jolt of… what, sadness? Ran through them. That was surprising to them. Of course, after a moment, they realized that the thought of dying here, unable to be repurposed and worked back into King Decon’s service piece by piece, was the principal source of their anguish. Even in combat, scavenger bots on the field retrieved what they could to bring back to the scientists. Here, their body would stay here to rot, lost underground. 

What a waste.

They settled their wings over their shoulders and faced the door. Eventually, the insurgents would come for them. 

They’d be ready. Even without their armor, without their chip, and without a connection to King Decon, they’d show the insurgent how a real synth behaved.