Page 47 of Nolan
“Be careful,” Washington says. “It’s just a hunch of mine. I might just be hoping for a miracle a little too hard here.”
Nodding, I look to Apollo. “I’m going in.”
“Be careful,” he says, his face darkened with apprehension. “Don’t let him get his hands on you. I mean it. If it’s between you and him—junk him. Save yourself.”
I make my way toward the vault. NCPD and SWAT are talking to each other on their channels, signaling to back off as I head through the only entry available to me.
It’s dark. There are some scattered emergency lights shining, but they cast a narrow glow on the ground and the surrounding areas. Activating infrared, I begin my search for Ezra in the blackness. We have ivory blood, and our bodies are kept at a temperature similar to humans to keep it running through our systems as lubricant for our joints, circuitry, everything. But I can’t see through walls, and there are many here.
“Ezra,” I call. “It’s me, Nolan. Remember me?”
We only ever had a couple of handshakes, but it’s worth a shot. My audio receptors pick up movement, a shift of weight, a few footsteps.
Cautious, I turn a corner, passing beneath pillars. The ground has been disturbed here. This may have been where the hostages were kept. There are some odd bunches of cords, old and twisted. It takes me a moment to recognize them for what they are—activation connections. A way to plug into an android, reset them, repair them.
Reprogram them.
I keep my distance, sticking to the only plan I’ve got: find him, and try to reason with him.
“Ezra,” I begin again, not worried about trying to sneak up on him. “Your girl is here. Worried sick, you know. Katrina, remember? She’s just outside.”
Reason with him, I encourage myself. I can only hope that I would fight such a virus with all the strength and ferocity I have, and that hearing Mia’s name, remembering her face, might bring me back.
“Ezra?” I turn to face another odd sound, and I’m startled to find him there, right next to me, staring right at me with his backlit eyes shining in the dark.
And there’s not a single emotion behind them.
He grabs my neck so quickly, I barely have time to respond. A message flits across my optics.
Download initiated.
It’s the virus.
I override the download as I shove him back so hard he slams against the wall behind him and it cracks, leaving a man-shaped indentation.
He growls, straightening.
Fuck. So much for reasoning.
He launches himself at me, and in this confined space, I struggle to keep my defense up. His hands are what concern me. Ezra has a special NCPD-only ability where he can power an android down just by touching one. And if he powers me down, he can infect me with whatever virus he’s carrying.
“Ezra,” I warn him.
He moves like a caged tiger. Agitated, angry, hateful. A pure machine meant for destruction. Nothing else.
“Stop!” I shout.
It’s no use. He rushes toward me and hits me with such force that I don’t only hit the wall behind me, I crash through it, flying through the air and into a nearby barricade. Errors litter my feed. My receptors register pain.
With a mechanical groan I’m unable to contain, I push myself up to my feet.
“Reason with him,” I grumble under my breath, trying to find my balance and run internal diagnostics. “Right.”
Still, he could’ve powered me down right there in the utility vault, and he didn’t. He can’t be fully gone. Washington’s hopes aren’t in vain.
He’s still here.
Dusty clouds swirl and part as Ezra emerges from the darkness, a shell of his former self, more weapon than bionic. The chief shouts an order to open fire. I’m incredulous as bullets begin to fly. My receptors pick up Apollo shouting too.
