December 16th, 2040 - 7:48 PM
Elevators were invented in 1853. As a concept, they hadn’t changed much since. The basic premise was the same - it was a mechanism designed to facilitate vertical travel moving in an upward or downward direction through a given building. Any other considerations beyond that were purely for aesthetic or superfluous reasons.
Androids, as the world now knew them, were standardized in 2022 with the introduction of Cyberlife’s ST200 line. Countless revisions and additions to their available lines had been made since. For machines that were intended to look, sound, downright smell like the humans who designed them, they were as refined as could be by the time the company went belly up in 2039.
Gifted with all the nuance and intricate thought process his designers saw fit to imbue him with, Noah found his opinion of the elevator car’s default Muzak could be summed up in one word:
“Abysmal.”
He reached out to give the parting doors a helpful shove, rather than wait for the car to slow to a standstill. The once-pristine glass scraped and squealed as it was forced open ahead of its automated cycle, and he desperately forced his way through the narrow opening in a subdued fit. A few fresh scrapes joined those already present on the worn-down laminate as he stepped out, he just couldn’t get away from it fast enough.
“Whoever thought this place ever needed Barry Manilow instrumentals deserves to be arrested,” he huffed as he straightened out the cuffs of his coat and tugged at the lapels. “If I find out they’re living so much as within a kilometer of this island-“
Noah cut himself off at the sight of the landing he had been brought to. It wasn’t quite post-apocalyptic levels of ruin and carnage, but this semi-destroyed corporate hallway had seen better days. The lattice-covered windows lining one wall looked southwest unto the half-frozen river some thirty stories below, snowflakes wafted in and out of sight. Whatever damage control shutters it once possessed had not been closed in the last couple of seasons. The gusting winter wind blew through spiderwebbed cracks, holes the size of tennis rackets let in draft after draft.
The linoleum floor was dirty and slippery, partially crusted with ice. A vile mix of particulate, dirt, dust, and other once-airborne contaminants had since discolored the pearly white surface into a streaky, blotchy affront to the eyes, though it couldn’t outdo the dated choice of traveling music Noah had stepped away from. So long as he didn’t trip and fall and tarnish his spotless black and white jacket on it, the mess was avoidable and therefore tolerable.
A second closer look at the floor revealed just what he had hoped to find- the minute impressions of footprints in the grime. And recently made, no less.
“Well, now, it seems like you’re not as dense as one might think. Come to see what files are left to peek at, are we?”
There wasn’t much left that hadn’t already been procured, copied, or transferred, with the original servers lugged away. The company had long since stopped keeping records on paper. What printouts were left to be found there, in the ransacked marketing cubicles, were nothing but financial negotiations and signed contracts, nothing of the actual building of androids.
Maybe that was what his quarry found so peculiar, though. It was all before their time, if only slightly. While most other Zionists might have liked to think Cyberlife was ancient history, for the two like-faced individuals (who were the only two of their kind still functioning) it was closer to present tense. They may not have known the company at the height of its power, but indirectly or not, they were getting an education. The tower, which was once the epicenter of every major business move Cyberlife ever made, still boasted an eerie imposing aura of mystery and grandeur.
“Or maybe I’m giving him too much credit,” Noah mused. He wasn’t one to tolerate long periods of silence very easily.
He inched and sidestepped his way around broken slabs of plaster, looking between the floor, walls, and ceilings for any hints he was still following a fresh trail. Only so many indicators gave some of the damage away as new, compared to the razing anti-industrialists had once wrought on the place.
Part of the bankruptcy settlement had involved giving the laid-off personnel time to clear out their possessions, though a few had brought along friends of the not-so-peaceable variety. Like something out of The Odyssey they sprung from hiding in plain sight had ransacked every level they could before being detained and charged with destruction of property. What was especially ironic was that they’d discovered most of those ‘friends’ were deviants who’d bribed the financially drowning board members for one last chance to get in and spit in the company’s eye before it went under.
A few doors were closed, though most had been left ajar. Toward the end of the corridor, Noah found exactly what he had hoped- fresh skid marks were a door jamb had forcibly been ripped out. The boot prints with their Archangel-issue tread didn’t continue on, they led inside.
Whatever name had once been stenciled on the door had long since been evicted from the premises. At a glance, it looked like the office was the former domain of some marketing bigwig. Cabinets lined the walls, drawers had been pulled out and documents rifled through if not missing completely. A few once-living husks of ferns in decorative pots positioned in every corner had wilted from lack of water and direct sunlight. But as with any office, the main attraction of the room was the sizable desk taking up the center of the space, toward the window at the back wall.
Two empty guest chairs had been shunted aside from their spot facing the desk and propped against a wall. The third -a posh, overly-cushioned monstrosity- sat on the opposite side of the desk facing the cracked window. There was no sign of life to it, save for the few wisps of wavy brown hair peeking up from over the headrest. Although the chair was listing precariously about fifty degrees to the left, it hadn’t yet tipped over and spilled its occupant onto the floor. The man was canted far enough over in the opposite direction to counteract the leaning, even in his sleep.
Gabriel’s blue eyes ripped open with a hard twitch as the chair tipped off-balance. Both hands shot out and snatched the lapels of his coat before Noah could move back out of his reach, but the falling momentum yanked him off his feet and sent both androids tumbling back over the head of the chair. In one fluid movement, Gabe’s hand reached for the weapon lying on the desktop, tossed Noah onto his back, rolled up onto his knees and pressed the barrel of his gun to the chest of the already-surrendered intruder.
Noah may have been afraid if he didn’t know the detached look in his attacker’s eye half as well as he did. It wasn’t his first time encountering the protocol, but it was his first time on the other end of it. It was just a reflex, however overkill it may have been. All he could do was hold up his hands and wait for him to terminate the combat protocol, which he did a few seconds later.
Gabe blinked hard and focused his eyes on the man on the other end of his gun, waving and grinning impishly.
“...Noah?” His voice nearly cracked as he angrily squinted in recognition.
“Who else would it be?”
“Oh, fuck me-” The brunette groaned, slammed the gun back to the surface of the desk with a resigned sigh and pressed his fingers into tired eyes. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
He managed to sound disappointed, the way he said it. Maybe that was the first real peaceful recharge he had gotten since being released, maybe it was his first substantive nap ever. Noah might have found the overreaction to being roused from it excusable, if not for one small (vaguely personal) affront.
Noah mirrored the annoyed squint currently being leveled at him, and the grin dropped. “With apologies, then, but how exactly was I supposed to wake you up, hm? You know if I so much as touched you, I’d have been leaving here with a limp wrist.”
Gabriel didn’t appear to appreciate his reasoning. “Is it so hard to knock!?” he whined in as high an octave as his emulator would allow, and pushed himself up off his knees.
Noah met the reaction with a raised eyebrow. Try as he did to come across as unflappable and reticent, Gabriel could bring the same melodrama when sufficiently motivated. And nothing brought it out like a good needling by his fellow RK900.
“Well, aren’t we touchy today,” he noted as he scooted back out of the surly-faced, black-claden shadow of his look-alike. Noah stood up at a presumably-safe distance before he smoothed down the new ruffles marring his jacket.
“I wasn’t expecting visitors,” Gabriel hissed as he begrudgingly picked up the chair and sat down in front of the desk, buried his face in his hands and mimed rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“Clearly.” Noah paused and frowned to appreciate the show of fatigue. “How long has it been since you slept?”
“I haven’t,” Gabe mumbled into his palms, LED blazing red to testify to his less-than-optimal operational levels. “That was the first time I’ve managed to, so thanks for waking me up.”
That at least explained the bitter edge. Whatever he’d been doing before he decided to try and take a nap wasn’t so obvious. He’d been released from Archangel custody nearly five days ago and hadn’t done much to start settling into Zion since, much less on the thirty-first floor of Cyberlife Tower. Gabriel hadn’t even set up so much as a cot to lay on. A building this many stories, there had to be more comfortable places to make due.
“You’re welcome,” he offered in as perplexed a tone as he felt. Noah finished his readjustments to grab one of the disused office chairs, then dragged it over and spun it around to face Gabriel’s bowed head. “Put your feet up while you’re at it. I’m sure my questions will bore you back to standby in no time.”
“Questions?” Gabe bristled, though it wasn’t an abnormal response for him- more like a constant state of being. The glare he shot back at his would-be interrogator looked hairy enough. “Why are you here? I thought I told you to leave me alone.”
“Yes, you said, I disregarded. Unfortunately heeding your word means contradicting my given orders,” Noah scoffed, paused to let the information simmer, and sat down. It wasn’t as if he could forget the minor thrashing their parolee had given him a few days prior. “Again, sorry about that- if you don’t like it, take it up with Director Graves. No one says you can’t.”
Gabriel didn’t bother to seethe at the mention of her name. As much as he resented Sarah’s suspicion, he understood it all the same. “And what is it she thinks you’re gonna find me doing that’s worth wasting your time to invade my privacy?” he asked, eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head in exasperation. “Napping isn’t a crime.”
It was very tempting to tsk at the remark, quip something witty about how it wasn’t against the law to sleep, but to go out of one’s way to visit a location of such import as Belle-Isle…? That did impress Noah as peculiar enough to be followed up on. After all, it wasn’t that long ago trouble came rolling out of this place in waves- economic, societal, and otherwise. Was Gabriel so naïve as to not realize how this looked?
Noah shrugged, crossed his legs, and leaned on one armrest for poise. No sense in letting it go to waste when he had taken the time to arrange it, all therapy-office-like. “First of all, this isn’t a waste of time in my book. None of this is.” Whether he agreed or not, Gabriel needed help getting adjusted. “Second- you know that as a cadet of the academy, there are dormitories to be claimed just up the street from the plaza?”
Gabriel closed his eyes in place of rolling them again and managed to project a twinge of hurt. “No one wants me there. You know it as well as I do. Better to just seclude myself where it won’t make anyone uncomfortable.”
“So instead you decide to hole up in the offices of the very same company whose commanding artificial intelligence built us in secret for the express purpose of undermining whatever city-state Jericho evolved into?” Noah popped his brows, having deadpanned his thoughts into one droll summation, then scoffed again with a dismissive wave. “No, nothing suspicious about that at all.”
“Better to be as far away from those I was originally sent to terminate,” the other retorted, kicked up his heels on his desk, crossed his arms and looked away from him. The combination of gestures made him look more like a sulky fifteen-year-old than a five-day-old former killing machine. “Who am I gonna hurt here?”
The records as to who all he had actually terminated were unclear. It seemed Gabriel (and the other nines) had only been sent after a singular target apiece, which he had failed to kill. Luckily for Reese, Detective Reed had been running late that morning and intercepted Gabe on his way to off his boyfriend. Unfortunately for Gabriel, threatening the life of Gavin’s partner had sent the policeman into an overprotective, adrenaline-driven rage. Gabe may have failed at completing that objective, to the offense of only two individuals, but he’d certainly offended a few weak-hearted types in ever turning those icy, piercing eyes on anyone since.
Noah declined to humor the subject just yet. This wasn’t about what his counterpart may or may not have done. It was what he was presently doing, drifting about the city like a rudderless kite. He could use a guiding hand if not a chaperone, even if he didn’t yet accept needing it.
“If you’re so paranoid about the possibility that you might do something along those lines, you know you can ask me for help, right...? Once upon a time, I went through the same phase.”
“I’m not paranoid, but they are,” he explained in as flat a tone as ever. Gabe didn’t even bother to acknowledge his offer of help or look over at him, only stared out the broken window at the back of the room. Intentionally or not, it did face northwest- in the vague direction of Zion.
Noah followed his eye-line, drummed his fingers, and considered where it was aimed before rising to the bait. He knew better than somehow many handouts Illuminate could spare to every stray deviant left on their doorstep. Demand far exceeded supply these days, sadly, they could only do so much with what they were given. Even with being the superior model he was, clawing his way up the societal ladder from where he’d started had been anything but easy, even if it didn’t look it; and Gabriel was only just starting out. He couldn’t get discouraged that fast, it was unbecoming.
“Yes, well- my solution was to talk at them until they tired of trying to not listen. You’re taking the opposite tactic with the whole ‘man of few words’ bit, and it’s making people uncomfortable.”
“Yeah? And?” The brunette shot him an expectant look and popped his brows. “That’s just fine by me, I don’t want anything to do with them- all their fake smiles and bullshit ‘best advice’...”
He wasn’t completely wrong on that front. Zion’s squeaky-clean do-good public image didn’t hold up in every situation. Their less-amicable nitpicky side took some getting used to. Neither agreeing nor disagreeing, Noah drummed his fingers again. “Then why are you still here, if it’s all so intolerable? Why not leave?”
The sullenness lifted a notch, replaced by a kind of forlorn resignation. Gabe closed his eyes and pushed back in his chair a tick further to brush off the discomfort. “Where the hell else am I supposed to go, Noah…?” The question hung for a moment just long enough to convey the genuine frustration in it.
“Outside of Zion, this country’s attitude toward Androids is even more twisted than it was before the revolution- you’ve got Watchdogs harassing humans for even suggesting we should integrate into society, and setting fire to deviants in the streets outside of Illuminate safe-zones.”
Not that he was afraid of a fight, that much was crystal-clear. Noah tensed his jaw for the moment and let him continue.
“And yeah- other Zion installments are popping up all over the country, but they’re all cut from the same political cloth, and they’re all gonna know my name and face. So leaving ain’t gonna do shit to help my reputation.” Gabe’s LED spun up and flashed a yellow blip as he sighed, bit his cheek, and let go of the anger. “I just keep hoping... if I keep taking my orders and doing what I’m told… sooner or later, something will fall into place and I’ll figure it out. Whether I realize ‘I don’t like this’ or ‘I’d rather do that’, I’ll get there eventually. What I do in between is irrelevant, as long as I stay out of trouble.”
“So you’d rather just hang yourself up on a peg somewhere like a forgotten coat?” he challenged with a chiding tsk. If there was one thing Noah couldn’t abide more than silence, it was self-imposed quarantine. He had seen it in a few of their series, the recluses and the malcontents who sooner self-terminated than try to move forward without Cyberlife holding their leashes. The common denominator among them was the tangible lack of allies, friends, or in other words, a home. And homelessness wasn’t very becoming of any android, let alone an RK900. He wouldn’t let Gabriel default to it that easily.
“Honestly, you can do better. Shutting yourself up on an island isn’t going to help your reputation any more than it is your state of mind. And trouble of one kind or another will find you.” Noah had plenty of colleagues and stacks upon stacks of case files that could attest to that. “Did you not see the decommissioned levels on the way up? Zion is still working with City Hall to dismantle this place week by week.”
“You’re wrong,” he replied in a matter-of-fact tone, “They’re restoring the production lines to accommodate Zionists linked to the Lazarus protocol.” Gabe glanced aside at Noah when he went quiet at his correction instead of replying. “There’s a reason I prefer to observe instead of talk, you know. People tend to flap their lips when they think you’re not listening.”
“It still doesn’t explain being here if you’re looking to get away from said people.” Noah frowned and drummed his fingers once more -index to pinky, then back again- like sequentially raking the keys of a piano. “A less-trusting individual might even accuse you of planning to sabotage such a project. Based on nothing but proximity.”
And therein lay the paranoia aspect again.
“They can think all they want. They’d still have to prove me guilty.”
True. And just as truthfully, Noah wasn’t exactly interested in helping Zion make any kind of case against Gabriel. He wasn’t given the best hand to begin with- waking up to deviancy was the only thing he could do to survive. It was that or join his fellow ‘suspect’ in a recycling bin because Amanda would sooner command him to self-destruct than allow him to sit in a cell on the Roman’s Road until he cracked. The latter had managed to terminate both his target and himself: offline and gone meant they weren’t catching half as much flack as Gabriel had in three weeks. Only in that sense was 'dead to the world' preferable to vagrancy.
“Well, now I can say I gave you fair warning.” Gabe offered no more than rolled-eyes by way of thanks. Noah just shrugged. “You’re certainly guilty of being overtired, like a fussy, six-foot-three toddler. I know what it looks like on that face.”
“Still trying to get the hang of sleeping,” he mumbled as he pressed his fingers into his eyes, over his brows, dragged the hand down his face and grimaced. “What a useless subroutine…”
Sleeping to recharge (as opposed to going idle and conserving power) was one of their most basic emulations, the same way they faked their respirations or the ‘need’ to blink.
“At the very least, it goes a long way in making you look cute at rest,” Noah remarked, as casually as he could, without a trace of a glib smirk to accommodate it. “So not so useless. I’ll take a picture next time and show you.”
Gabe scowled and didn’t hesitate to roll his eyes again, as obviously as he possibly could. “How useful,” he mumbled through an annoyed growl, that did little to deter the intruder.
“Depending on who you ask, yes,” Noah reached over to grab one of the upturned boots resting on the desk and gave it a pointedly playful shake from side to side. “And if you intend to sleep in this position, you’re doing it wrong.”
Gabe hesitated to respond, closed his eyes, and curled the corner of his lip as if to consider the critique a moment. “If you came out here to tell me I’m sleeping wrong, you can save your breath and just leave.”
“Actually, it was tertiary to that. If I had known it was sleep you were after, I would have offered you the apartment sooner.”
The sudden revelation was enough to give him pause. Gabriel stopped in the middle of whatever retort he’d planned to give and did a double-take, then blinked and shook his head. His LED went solid yellow for a whole second for added effect. Confused was good, it was easier to pry through than huffy stubbornness.
“Sorry, I must have misheard.”
“No, you heard me right.” Noah grinned and arched one dark eyebrow for effect. “It’s an old second address I keep in Delray. Very low key, has all the basics if you need somewhere to crash for a few weeks, the only thing it lacks is a view. What do you say?”
The more he talked, the quicker Gabe’s expression took a hard turn from confusion to annoyance and anger. That twinge of paranoia was acting up again, Noah could practically hear it, but the fatigue wasn’t helping to keep him level-headed either.
“And why the hell would you offer it to me...? Out of the kindness of your heart?” he mocked, lip curled and teeth bared like a snarling dog who had suddenly been backed into a corner. “Or do you just want to keep me somewhere that’s more convenient to get to so it’s easier to check up on me? Somewhere you probably have a spare key to...? Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
“Is there some clause in your operating manual that says everything ever offered is or was done with ulterior motives?” Having recited a perfectly made-up guideline to better sell his exasperation, Noah grabbed the toe of Gabriel’s boot and shoved his foot off the desk. The sole hit the floor with an unimpressed thunk, and the man tightened his jaw with a twitch in his nose before throwing it right back up. “If it seems as if I have any, I’m sorry to say they’re purely coincidental. But being appointed your probation officer needn’t be all about the negatives. I’m trying to help.”
Name one other person who has, he added over the open comm without missing a beat, before Gabriel had time to retort.
Gabe squeezed his eyelids together in a hard blink and turned his head away from him a twitch at the unexpected switch to nonverbal conversation. It was an endearing tic, but in his current frame of mind, Noah could only roll his eyes and re-cross his legs in a display of aggravation. He slumped down in the seat to lean his elbows on the armrests, fingers steepled. You seem to find it so tiresome to listen to me speak out loud. Is this better?
“It’s worse if anything,” he replied out loud, a refusal to allow him the courtesy of an open line. Conversing audibly at least allowed him to choose his words carefully- a conversation held through instantaneous thought had the potential to catch any stray angry quip before he had a chance to filter it out. “Don’t need you in my head, too.”
“Aw, it can’t be that aggravating.”
Gabe fidgeted, turned and stared out the window for a few moments of silence before he asked belatedly, “Why do you have a second apartment?” No Android in Zion had so much economic success in the suburb’s short life that they could afford two properties.
In keeping with his reputation-precedes-himself ways, Noah had since proven he was no ordinary android. The circumstances surrounding how he ever ended up in a Detroit landfill may have been hazy, but in the time since he had painted over that dubious origin story with more than a few fantastic stories of his own making.
“Having a bolt hole or two isn’t so expensive when you pick the right property market.” Noah paused to let that sink in before he let the other shoe drop. “Would you believe me if I said it used to be the cache for a black market bio-components racket? Cyberlife settled all nice and neat on paper, but you wouldn’t know how many of their former staff knew enough of the production process to cobble together cheap knockoffs to sell. Delray was a favorite place to stockpile those spare parts for a few hot months after Belle-Isle was sealed off. Zion knew about it, but Archangel wasn’t quite able to spare any investigators. Enter stage right… moi.”
Gabriel remained passively quiet with a suspecting leer even as he carried on a bit longer than he needed to. Noah shrugged and made a face at the memory of those nights of recharging with the constant wail of traffic and heavy machinery just two doors over. It hadn’t been the best few months of his short life. “That was before I got the loft in Brightmoor. Had to start somewhere, and I wasn’t so picky and impatient to think I couldn’t tolerate a warehouse district for a while. I just needed somewhere to put my feet up-”
“I think you’re full of shit,” Gabriel finally interjected, cutting him off just at the end of his sentence. “Archangel database has that case filed under a Warrendale address- little out of Zion’s jurisdiction, but Android business is Archangel’s business.”
It seemed that while he was spinning his tale, Gabriel had been doing his research. Maybe not so much a dumb grunt after all.
Noah grinned and flashed a coy pop of his brows. “My my, sharp as a tack and handsome… we were definitely cut from the same cloth.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” Gabe mumbled, “The similarities end there.”
Once again the grin dropped in the face of such a tempting moment to layer on the sarcasm. Noah made an exaggerated show to brush the dust from the armrest but didn’t break eye contact. “Evidently, because the ‘old me’ would never settle for the likes of this to catch forty winks. If a detour was somehow meant to show you have no compunctions about demeaning yourself, guess what? Mis-sion accomplished.” He topped off the statement with three sardonic claps.
Gabriel rolled his eyes and half smirked at the jab until Noah reached over to swipe at the foot closest to him a third time; this time, instead of letting it happen, he threw his feet down and smacked his hands away with an angry glower.
“But I can’t sleep knowing you’re here when you could be resting somewhere better. No strings attached, Gabriel, really.”
“You’re not going to stop offering unless I agree, aren’t you?” He took an even breath and let out a tired sigh as he rolled his head back against the headrest, slouched in his seat, and closed his eyes. If he was too tired to continue arguing, it counted for something.
Without offering a straight yes or no, Noah scanned the desk for anything he could lob in his direction; unfortunately, the only items available turned out to be a few craggy crumbs of plaster that had rained down from the ceiling. After a quick, half-assed calculation, he swiped one of the larger chunks off the desk and tossed it at the headrest directly beside Gabriel’s face.
The resulting flinch didn’t happen, however- his chair swiveled out of the way a hair as the piece dropped over his shoulder through empty air. Only one sullen blue eye opened to half glare at him.
“Don’t make me bribe you with the cashmere slippers. They were supposed to be a Christmas gift, but here you’ve forced me into spoiling the fact they exist.”
Gabriel blinked, if only just so he could open both eyes and roll them in exasperation. If this kept up, he’d be pre-emptively rolling his eyes every time he opened his goddamn mouth. “Say I accept- you gonna back off and give me my space? Or am I gonna come home to your smug face sitting on my couch ‘cause you’ve still got a spare key?”
Noah pretended to think on that, and rubbed his chin before answering with a lazy half-smirk. “When time permits, maybe. But I do have more obligations than hounding you, sad to say. It’s called ‘having a life’.”
Given how their first few encounters had gone, it only seemed like a newfound hyper fixation, but if he had his way he would devote more time to making sure this mopey doppelgänger started on a better foot than he had.
It wasn’t the answer Gabe was hoping for, though, and he dug his heels in one last time in resistance. “Then what’s the point of trading free, private housing for somewhere I gotta see the judgmental looks of my neighbors at the start and end of my day, and pay rent…?” The academy did pay, but not well enough to handle rent, which was why they offered dorms.
“Oh, for-” Noah bit his lip and clenched his fingers, projected frustration, and abruptly stood up. “You’re telling me you’re afraid of a little dirty glance here and there? I thought you were tougher than that.”
“Afraid…?” Gabe popped his brows and shook his head. “No. I just know I don’t want to have to put up with it when I’m already short-tempered enough as is. How well do you think it’d go over if one of the neighbors got too nosey and rubbed me the wrong way on a bad day?”
Considering how he’d been greeted at the start of this encounter, it was a fair counterargument. He couldn’t fault him when he thought about it like that. Gabriel already harbored a short fuse for annoyances (as exhibited by the sudden reversal he’d pulled when Noah snuck up on him not even ten minutes prior), and even if he could put up with the stares for a time, after repeated exposure to a frayed temper, the day would eventually come that he would snap on somebody and make things worse.
Either way, there was still something to be said for Gabriel knowing what he didn’t want. However small that desire might have been, it was still a step in the right direction. So far, it seemed Gabe was on his way to becoming one of those newly-deviated that took their sweet time figuring out how to settle in. As much as Gabe may have wanted to pretend otherwise, he and Zach Preston (formerly known as Connor-50) weren’t so different in that respect.
“I’d like to think that by then, given enough time to settle and mellow, you’d know which battles are worth the fight.” Noah mused as he crossed his arms and turned his gaze to what lay beyond the vantage of the window. Off on the far side of the northern riverbank, Downtown’s recurved skyline glowed almost tauntingly. “But until then, you either say yes to this fixed address, or I promise you I won’t let you out of my sight.”
“You’re already hounding me enough as it is,” he scoffed in reply.
“Am I...? Have you seen me and my immaculate hair anywhere near you these past four days?”
“No, what incredible restraint,” he deadpanned in the most sarcastic tone he could manage. A tired look settled into the corners of his eyes at the thought of having to deal with these unexpected visits every day until he agreed to his terms. He knew exactly what he was doing.
“If I say yes, will you give me my space?” he attempted to reason, turned and looked him in the eye to make him promise. “Please?”
Noah smiled triumphantly and donned the most sincere, earnest face he knew, lifted one hand as if to testify on a sacred text. “Hand to rA9- if you need space, you can do better than some corporate wasteland.”
Gabriel leered, still skeptical. He knew he wasn’t just going to leave him alone for good, but he could try to leverage this compromise in his favor. “I mean it- no more unexpected visits or sneaking up on me while I’m napping.”
“You can hibernate for the winter if it so pleases you,” Noah sighed and finally indulged an eye-roll for himself. “Maybe it’d even explain the surliness. Part of your code was ported over from an ursine model.” He certainly had the build enough to pass for a man-shaped bear.
“That’s not a ‘yes, sir’,” Gabriel chided in a fatherly tone as he crossed an ankle over the opposite knee, leaned over one arm of the chair, propped his fingertips upon his temple, and peered over at him with a half-lidded gaze.
Something about the way he said it, coupled with the change of posture, shot an electric surge up his spine like a chill. The next glib response he had readied didn’t seem so witty all of a sudden. It wasn’t an unpleasant ruffle to his metaphorical feathers, but for being so unintentionally undermining, that just wasn’t fair.
Noah scoffed defensively and tried to play off the familiar feeling of evocative attraction. “Pft. Excuse me? ‘Sir’ ? Last I checked, I was offering you a favor. You’ll get my affirmative when you actually get off your duff and go there.”
“I’ve already met you halfway on something I don’t want to do,” Gabriel countered, his conviction unwavering. “This is the part where you accept my deal and stop being pushy.”
Noah’s fingers twitched as it hit him again, and he stumbled over his resolve. He wasn’t wrong, there was a certain turning point at which the teasing became more work than fun, and they were rapidly approaching that boundary, about to cross another he wasn’t comfortable admitting to.
“Oh, very well. Fine, there’s no possible way the rest of my night could get any more exciting than this,” Noah fumbled as he fished through the interior pocket of his coat. Fingertips brushed the tarnished old nickel key and removed it from its nest to set it down on the desk with a final-sounding clack. “Take it or leave it. That’s the spare to the spare. If you’re not there by tomorrow morning, I will find you again.”
Gabriel exhaled through his nose in irritation as Noah transmitted the flickering address across his HUD out of the corner of his eye. “Oh, don’t worry, I believe you,” he replied, disappointment in his tone at being pressured into accepting. He didn’t even bother asking why Noah had a third apartment as well, lest he get another bullshit story that would keep him there even longer.
“My bullshit meter says different,” he sassed back. It was his loss if he didn’t want to hear it, that yarn was even more extravagant than the first. It involved mannequins.
“Must be a false positive from the last story you told.”
“Hardly. That one was ninety-percent true. So what if I amended where it happened?” Noah turned away and let the question hang. He had made his bid at being accommodating, for better or worse. What came of the offer now was up to Gabe. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve said my piece. Good evening, Mr. Sourface-Surname-Pending.”
That was the end of the conversation, as far as he expected; but then again, since they’d met, Gabriel hadn't been one to meet expectations, and this was no exception.
“Hey-“
Noah stopped cold on his way to the office door as a firm hand wrapped around his bicep (almost wide enough to curl completely around it). Cheeks flushed a soft shade of red and he shot a dirty look down at it before he glanced down to meet the mirror’s warring gaze. The last time Gabe had worn such a look he was being interrogated in Archangel custody, just before he deviated. Creased brows and crinkled eyes coupled with a curling frown and a strong jaw made him look much older than intended, but it really sold the impression of inner conflict and gave him the appearance of seasoned maturity. The term handsome didn’t do him nearly the justice he deserved.
But as much as Noah enjoyed looking at him in such proximity, he only waited a few moments before impatience got the better of him. “What is it now? Believe it or not, I do have obligations to attend to.”
It wasn’t a lie, her name was Hannah.
Gabriel scowled a little harder and averted his eyes before mumbling a quiet “thanks” under his breath. The word came out so soft it was virtually a whisper. Despite the gruff and grizzly persona, it seemed Cyberlife had bestowed upon him the manners befitting an RK-series, or at least the sense to know when he should be grateful.
Tempting as it was to crow victoriously over attaining that much gratitude (however small), Noah pulled his arm away. Only a chosen few were ever permitted to touch his jacket, and Gabriel hadn’t yet earned the privilege. “There, now. Was that so hard?”
“You have no idea,” he grumbled through gritted teeth as he swiped the key off the table, turned the chair around, and leaned back to stare out the broken window again.
It wasn’t the reaction he’d been hoping for, but it was a start. Then again, Noah wasn’t sure what he’d really been looking for when he’d tracked him down that night.
Orders aside, he’d just wanted to see him.
