Cryptor sat in the dark, carefully watching her for the second night in a row, his mind attempting to wander. There was something increasingly robotic about her breathing as she slept- something unnatural, even for a piece of machinery. It was unnerving to him. A feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time, and one he didn’t like having to familiarize himself with. He just sat, watching, waiting, ready to call someone at the first sign of movement, but until then, he was left alone with her, and this feeling swelling up inside him, reminding him of what he was.
A machine. A replaceable, reprogrammable, machine.
He had done things like this before. He had been in situations much more dangerous than this. This was far from the first night he had spent in an unsettling half lit Borg Tower. But something about her presence seemed to put everything on edge. Something wasn’t right. He could feel it. And he didn’t like ignoring it.
A shift. A slight shift from behind the glass. He glanced over, finding her form twisting in the dark. It was a moment before he could tell for sure, but she was waking up. Four in the morning was a little sooner than he had anticipated, but orders were orders. Time to call people back in. Cryptor stood up, making his way to the control panel and everything that accompanied it, but he had barely picked up the receiver before things changed.
Cryptor froze, the voice paralyzing his hand as his eyes shifted back up at the glass. She sat upright, her new jacket sitting just at the edges of her shoulders, her eyes piercing through the glass as if it hadn’t been there. Cryptor remained stunned a moment, his arm still hovering with the receiver in hand. His free hand shifted, flipping the switch to broadcast his voice to her.
“...How did you even know I was here?”
A smile crept onto her face as he spoke, letting the question linger in the air. “So, you’re the fourth one?”
“What?” Cryptor lowered the phone, his attention now fully shifted.
“There were four people on the other side of the glass, only three have ever come in. I don’t recognize your voice… you’re the fourth one,” she explained.
“Yeah, well I don’t play as nice as the other ones.” Cryptor retorted, moving to get closer to the glass.
“Sounds like we would get along then.” She leaned forward, her grin growing.
“I don’t think so.” He shook his head.
“We have a lot in common, don’t we? You and me, we were made for the same thing.” She stood, taking a step forward as if to meet him. “High stakes defense. Using violence to solve problems. Injuring and destroying and… killing things. Isn’t that why they left you here with me?” Her eyes wandered about her cell. “Because you could kill me if you had too?”
The statement sat with him for a moment, a dull sting hitting him. “Something like that.”
Her eyes returned to the glass, her gaze increasingly intense. “...let me out.”
“Yes, you can. Quit lying.” Her tone spiked as she moved towards the glass.
“You know snowflake, the more aggressive you get, the longer you’re going to have to stay in there,” Cryptor shrugged.
“Within the next three minutes I will walk out of this cell and exit the building with, or without your help.”
Cryptor smirked. “Yeah? And what makes you so sure of that, red eyes?”
She grinned, taking a final step towards the glass. “...You never made your call.”
Cryptor’s eyes darted to the phone, sitting abandoned on the control board. And in that split second of distraction, she sent her fist through the glass, shattering the barrier, and sending Cryptor backwards. It seemed before all the glass had even fell, she stood over him, a heavy and piercing foot to his chest. But as she looked at him, her intensity faded.
“I’m going to let you go, and you’re going to let me walk out of here,” she demanded.
“And why would I do that?” he breathed out.
“...because you have red eyes too.”