Pride would make most wave off the help, but after the third shift and the steady headache that was building behind his eyes he motioned for a hand to help him down. The tech walked quickly to his side, the glass contacts of his eyes keeping steady to him as he reached up with the unnatural strength afforded to his kind. Conduits weren't welcome a lot of places, but that didn't mean they were unhireable.

The strong cool hands gripped his free arm and eased Zexx down, his one foot gently feeling out for the cold white floor of the pilot's room. It felt amazing to his hot skin as he let out a sigh of weariness. "Thanks, Red."

Red would offer a sad smile in return to the gracious attitude, words meant a lot in this day and age. The Con was a stranger to gracious behavior and relished in it when he was offered it, finding it to be the human thing to do and give in return to receiving. The synthetic tech would gently lift Zexx's weak arm over his shoulder and walked him over to one of the chairs. "Busy night, sir?"

"I broke down a wall," Zexx replied with a laugh and cough, the pounding growing by the second under the lights.

"Sounds very exciting, I wish I had been watching the feed."

Zexx would tilt his head a bit to look at Red with a curious eye. "What were you doing? Napping?"

The Con would laugh now, a mirthless sound but an attempt at being as human as he could be. "I wish. Can you imagine me taking a nap? Or dreaming? What a concept."

The frail man would sink into the plastic chair, his eyes looking up at his caretaker with a half smile in return. "I'd heard there's an upgrade for that."

"Yes, that's exactly what I need. I have seen how you people dream, and I think I'm safer watching feeds," Red smiled back with the same mirthless reflection of the living man before him. Red was dressed as all Pit techs, his clothes the simple scrubs of primary colors and soft silk gloves while a matching bandana wrapped over his head to hold back the synthetic hair that he'd chosen to dye as bright red as he could be allowed. The ruby treatment to work in the Emerald Unit.

Zexx blinked slower and slower as he leaned back into his chair, his body starting to give out faster and faster by being in the open air. The world starting to get fuzzier by the second and feeling his vision starting to tunnel to the tune of the pounding in his head. "Red."

The tech knew instantly what was happened as he lifted pulled out a small flashlight and shined it bright into the eye of his patient. "It's alright, sir. I have you. Just follow the direction of my light and we'll get you started back up here in a moment."

"Start me, yeah you go an star me up," Zexx's speech was getting slurred as the body began to give up. Reborning was the silly joke of ending your shift as one was pulled out of the cocoon of digital normality that they got to experience for a shift. It wasn't necessarily a lie. One could easily compare it to being back in the womb with all the drugs, vitamins, and thankfully water they pumped in to make you as functional as possible. It just so happened your dreams were of being a 7 foot mechanical titan with a gun. Complexes were not uncommon.

Red muttered something about classical music hearing Zexx's slur and pulled over his rack of starters for the man. There was no hesitation in the conduit's movements as he grabbed a strip of cord and quickly tied off his patients thin arm. A few gentle taps brought the veins to bear with a triumphant nod. "Always such a presenter, Mr. Candele."

"Aim ta please," the slurred voice answered as Zexx's neck got weaker and numbness began to rob him of some of his functions.

"Of course," Red chose the first syringe with programmed ease and pressed the needle to the first vein. Stopping for a moment as he looked up to Zexx's face and asked a final query. "Mr. Candele, I am about administer a series of injections that will effectively prolong your life and contract with the STON corporation as was agreed upon at your signing of contract. I require verbal consent for me to administer these injections to you. Do you consent and agree to remain an asset to the company and the contract you have agreed to until such time of your death or choice to terminate your place within the organization?"

There was a long pause. The lolling sitting still as the thin chest rattled out a series of slowing breaths, the darkness closing in around his vision as he stared down at his arm. So many bruises. The thin skin. Protruding bones. Metal. Sharp. Pain.

"Consen."

There was a push, a flush, and rush as the needle bore it's hole. "Thank you for your continued service, Mr. Candele. Rest now. I will han-"

It was dark. Not like the darkness of death or of the empty dreamscape of nightmares but like the darkness of his bunk. Sighing soft, Zexx would blink a few times letting his hands drift up to rub at his eyes and face. The dopamine rush from getting to touch his face pushed away the emptiness at knowing he'd done it again.

"I'm still here," Zexx whispered as he lowered his hands again to his chest and felt the tight skin with rough fingertips. Counting the ribs. Feeling the sternum. Stopping a the familiar stainless gaskets that were embedded into his flesh. He quickly pulled his hands away. He would never get used to the surgical enhancements done as much for his work as it was to keep him alive. It was hard enough to look down and only see one foot let alone the macabre horror that his body was considered.

'How much longer you gonna do this?' The question was in his own voice but thankfully an inner thought more than an outer monologue. Hearing himself say it would make it even harder to keep coming back for it. He wasn't necessarily afraid to die, but it would be stupid to not be afraid of the end. How much easier it would be though to finally just languish and just be done.

No more drugs.

No more work.

"No more pain," Zexx whispered as his inner voice decided it was better to be an outer voice now. All it did was force him to sit up faster, the stubborn streak of being alive goading him to not just rot and die. Not now. And not here.

Groaning from familiar stiffness in his joints as he sat up and looked about his meager room. STON wasn't really all about 'warmth' or 'cozy' digs. This was a job. A very well paying job for those outside of it's many walls. The room had a desk, a chair, a lamp, a monitor, and a bathroom. They were all single dorms for each pilot and there were many. Many in. And many out.

Most pilots had a lifespan here of roughly five years. No one came in here as a healthy horse, just broken down mules. Highly experienced and knowledgeable mules, but definitely not ones to make long-term commitments.

Sparce walls. Cream sheets. Temperate climates. Sterile scenery. No pictures. No contacts. No outside attachments. Prisoners of their own choosing.

'This is a one time offer, Mr. Candele. You sign here your family will be taken care of, but you will effectively no longer be counted in the living census.'

"I'm already dead."

'We all are in time. Question is, what do you want to do with your time remaining? Be with your family? Accrue debt? Say goodbye? Good times and bad times. It is ultimately your choice. I do not begrudge the weight of the choice or if you want to refuse. But we're offering your a chance to leave an impact on those you will be leaving behind.'

"Where do I sign?" Zexx whispered lost in the memory as he flexed his hands to see Mr. Wringer's pen as he signed. "I consent."

Blink. Blink. Blink. Pause. Pause. Blink. Blink. Blink.

Vision cleared again as a heavy sigh passed and his foot swung to press into the cool tile floor. With clearing vision he finally looked up to see the blinking light for a message on his desk. Coughing and clearing his voice he would call out to the AI helper connected to his room. "Joe. Play my messages."

A gruff accented voice would respond in kind with as much kindness as a machine could. "It's a message boss, an not the kind that ya listen to. You want me ta read it to ya?"

"It'd be easier than me guessing what it was," Zexx shot back, unsure if it was friendly banter between them or a lonely man trying to make his life normal. Eyeing around his bunk he spotted the prosthetic that had been cleaned and left for him. Some people liked the newer ones that looked as realistic as they could. Five toes. Matching tones. Pretend muscles. Heels.

Not for him.

His leg was gone and he wasn't interested in carrying around a memory like that. Crude, practical, and efficient were all he needed in the blade that balanced him easily as he clipped it and plugged it into his nerve receiver at the ball that was his former kneecap. He winced hard as the throb of connecting to his system completed, glad for something to see what hurt than the ghost that haunted him. "Read the message already, Joe."

"Alrigh, alrigh. Let's see 'ere. Morning Mr. Candele. Hope you are well. Yadda yadda yadda," Joe read off the message in his teamster tone and voice, the AI following the setting given upon connecting with Zexx who thought it was more funny than annoying how it knew to skip boring parts. "Ah here ya go, looks like Director Son wants to see you this afternoon. Round 1400 from looks of it."

"What time is it?"

"1230."

Zexx would nod as he reached over into this nightstand and fished out his glowpen, twisting it to see it still about halfway packed and charged. "Great, time enough for a smoke and bite."

"The usual?"

"Pancakes," Zexx smiled as he took a slow drag of the THC infused drip he loaded his pen with, letting the smoke drift from between his teeth. "Ain't got much of a figure left to worry about."

"I'll order extra syrup for ya."

"Zexx, we got company, cut the chatter and look alive," Dell grumbled as EM-23 nodded it's oblong head to the approaching pair of floating video pods.

"Fuck the press," added his own grumble to the mix as he turned his rig to face the pair of pods.

The bi-pedal two meter tall mecha would turn to face the pods, it's heavy riot shield lowering as it raised a hand to the drones.  The high gloss white paid covering it from it's winged head to the tripod feet, the only defining color being the emerald green stripes it bore from shoulder to chest and around the slit glassed optics that made it just imposing as it ever needed to be.  A quick blink and twist would switch the output for his microphone to set it to the micro-speakers from near the color of the STON unit.

"Excuse me, this a secure site.  You will need to leave and await release to the media from local Midwich Precinct 42," Zexx was speaking as slowly and clearly as he could, though he knew it wasn't his voice coming forth the video pods.  They would hear the STON automated voice, a lovely baritone that was supposed to invoke calm and civility to match the respect of an automated civil servant.  Beside him he could see EM-23 shift in it's spot to adjust it's own riot shield as it took up the space beside him as backup for his formal request.

The hovering pod would snap it's camera filter with a few clicks as it hovered along, the other trying to move around him causing his fellow unit to try and block it's visual.

Zexx sighed and spoke again as best he could to keep his voice calm.  "You are asked again to please stand down and return to your home position.  This is a closed site until further notice.  If you would like entry, you will need to contact Midwich PD Precinct 42."

"Oy!" came a cry from beyond the camera drones as a three figures came up through the rain, being led by a wet woman.  Her hair was cut short as was the style lately, half shaved leaving the layer soggily over half of her head.  It was bright yellow and seemed to thrum in the low light to match the purple overcoat she wore while the digitally altered makeup she wore showed no signs of fading from the growing downpour from above them.

"Oh shit," Dell spoke through the internal channel.  "That's Sue Dearborn."

"Fuck."

Flanking the personality was a shlubby looking man with a wide rain hat, neck beard, and datapad in one hand.  His eyes and body language spoke of how much he did not want to be facing the two police units as they towered above them.  Beside him was another woman with an overcoat and large satchel bag, her hair was cut in a bog with a pair of retro round glasses perched on her nose.  It was doubtful she needed them to see, but nostalgia was a hell of a drug and everyone has their little kinks for long forgotten times.  Zexx already could surmise the camera operator and an assistant.

Sue Dearborn pushed past her drones with fire in her eyes that caused the thrum of the incandescent dye in her hair to flare brighter as she marched up to the EM-19 unit with one perfectly manicured finger pointing up at him.  "Listen you overgrown garbage disposal, I'm Susan Dearborn of channel MD-1.  This is a high crime hate attack against the automated conduit citizens of our city.  We have ever right to be here and to cover this story.  So I don't give a flying fuck about your protocol, move your titanium ass out of the way and let us do our job or so help me I will have STON industries ass on the 10 o'clock new so fast for hiding public knowledge it will send you fucks back to the toaster days!"

The heaviest sigh ever resounded in the digital frontier that Zexx and Dell occupied in their units.  

"What you gonna do?" Dell asked over the internal channel.

"You know for being the tough as nails cigar chomping ex-cop, you sure do sound like a scolded little boy right now?" Zexx growled through the channel, already dreading the next call he was going to have to make.

"She scares me."

Zexx sighed.  "Me too."

"Mrs Dea-"

"Miss."  Susan growled up at the robot as she crossed her arms over her purple overcoat as she continued to pulse with yellow light.

"Ms Dearborn, I'm afraid that is against city protocol and Midwich Authority law," the calm collected voice spoke to her as EM-19 was adjusted to show some passive proclivity in it's hand movements in hopes of achieving a rational resolution.

"Get your fucking supervisor on the line," Sue glared up again.  "Now."

Pain was beginning to flood Zexx's head as he grounded his teeth and did his best to remain in character as he spoke softly as he could which was only made all the jollier on the street level with his unit.  "Of course, one moment please."

"Remy," Zexx called out, his nose itching all the worse as she fought to remain call.  "We got a live one here."

There was a pause before the line picked up and Remy spoke with a draining voice.  "I heard it, I'll call her."