9. Tisha

The meeting place was suspicious. A barren office district on the far side of the East End. A few cars parked here and there in an oddly well-maintained stretch of blocks.

Ansel’s head kept pivoting as he walked behind and slightly to the left of her toward the entrance of the designated building.

“Have the police had you meet them here before?” Ansel asked.

“No… But you said you checked with them. This is legit?”

“I received remote clearance and verification of this location and time from the precinct minutes after your phone call ended.”

Tisha fingered the device in her jacket, scanning the place for an opportunity. And there was one: a single car in the parking lot. By the healthy dose of dust on its roof, windows, and hood, it looked like it had been untouched for a while.

Tisha scanned the lot. That was the only car there, in fact.

“Are we here first?” She mused aloud.

“Get behind me,” Ansel instructed once they were at the frosted glass door.

It was unlocked.

“This feels weird…” Tisha hesitated as Ansel extracted a pistol from a previously hidden location on his hip, a holster his exoskeleton quickly shuttered over. The barrel blended with the long black finger he had splayed over it as he gripped the weapon in one hand.

He glanced back at her from the side of his eye, the hard line of his jaw in sharp relief. “You sense it also?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, shouldering the frosted door to nudge his way inside. Tisha stared at the nape of his thick neck, rippling with cords of carbon and silicon, as she followed him in.

Ansel paused, scanning the big window on their left. There was nothing out there except some single-story offices across the street and a few tall buildings several blocks behind. He beckoned her over with a jerk of the head.

“Stand there,” he nodded to a corner that was sheltered from the windows. Tisha did as he said as she fingered for the EMP emitter in her pocket in preparation.

It would be about twenty steps out of the building, another ten to the car. She patted the back pocket of her jeans, where a flattened keypicker lived at all times.

An advanced bot like this would probably not be affected for as long as a whizbot or an amateur defender, little more than a glorified doorman. But she had noted the familiar dip at the back of Ansel’s scalp earlier, where an EMP emitter would nestle perfectly for optimum effect, just like Drakov had shown her.

Then it’s thirty steps to getting the hell out of there.

A few seconds—that was all she’d need. It was now or never. Once the cops got there, there was no way she was getting out of this.

Tisha inhaled and steeled herself.

“Hey, Ansel?” she called, beginning her approach.

“Remain in your location.” His voice was sharp, taking on that low, commanding quality that almost made her falter.

“I thought I heard something from back there, do you wanna—” She clutched the emitter like a pocket knife she was waiting to pull and stab someone with.

Ansel’s visor snapped from her to the open window, and before she could realize what was happening he was already there, having cleared the room in a single momentous leap. He barreled into her chest like a boulder, knocking the air clear from her lungs.

Fuck! He knows everything! Now I’ve done it—he’s gonna fucking kill me.

Rock-hard arms crushed her, her body shoved painfully into a solid wall of black armor as Tisha was thrown off her feet and backward with the robot’s momentum.

He was curled around her, propelling them both through the air, when a hissing sizzle reached her ears, followed by a synthetic burning stench in her nostrils.

It all happened in complete silence. It was only when they hit the ground that the sound came back to her ears and Tisha let out a ragged cry. The world rolled—or rather Ansel did, bearing the brunt of the skittering collision with the floor as he twisted them at the last minute to tuck her from the impact. They ended up at the far side of the room, Ansel having curled back on top of her, the expansive wall of him curled over her body.

For a second they just stared at each other, Tisha gaping up at the pulsing lights behind the visor as her mind grappled to catch up.

Had her EMP done that? She hadn’t thought she’d even activated it yet.

“Sniper,” he said curtly.

“What?”

And then he slumped to the floor at her side, redirecting his fall so as not to crush her beneath him.

“Fuck!” Tisha hissed. “Fuck.”

It was only running on pure adrenaline that Tisha was able to drag herself out from under the robot’s heavy arm. She sat there in a crouch, registering that she was still somewhat in the line of sight of the window. And Ansel definitely was.

But Ansel was motionless, and the open door was right there.

It was the perfect time to get the hell outta there. He looked… dead. But probably wasn’t. She doubted a single bullet would take out this thing. How long would it take him to recover? If she added a good dose of EMP to the sizzling hole in his back, she might have even more time. Plus the sniper who’d just tried to off her could be there any moment. Or his buddies.

Or Drakov himself.

Tisha glanced around the room wildly, taking it all in. Then she pushed herself up, sprang over the prone robot’s body on the floor, and ran.

But as she shoved through the frosted door and squinted into the bright sunlight outside, Tisha stopped.

Just fucking go!She stared at the car waiting for her not ten steps away, rubbing the keypicker in her pocket.

She looked back. Ansel was splayed out, making faint whirring sounds from somewhere inside that hard husk. The still-steaming hole in his back looked tiny, but if it were a quant rifle, Tisha knew those could burn fucking deep. If it were human flesh, the bullet would’ve burned well through to the other side.

“Ansel?” she tried, voice shaking.

His fingers twitched. She slid her gaze to the black void of the visor. The faint flickers of his eyes faded weakly in and out behind the glass. Tisha shook out her hands, restless feet scuffing along the asphalt as she wrestled with herself.

Fuck it.

Tisha ducked back into the building and flattened herself against the far wall, in the shadow away from the eye-line of the window. She crept sideways toward the robot, who was now attempting to shove an elbow beneath him.

“You need to—” he began.

“I know, I know, remain where I am.”

The robot slowly lifted his head. “Run. You need to run.”

Tisha’s blood ran cold at those words, a heavy pit knotting in her stomach. She scampered toward him and wedged herself under his arm.

“Come on,” she grunted under the impossible weight. “You’ve gotta get up.”

“Tisha, this is not?—”

“Shut up and get up, you goddamn hunk of metal,” she ground out, her joints on fire.

She knew he must be keeping most of the weight off of her—Ansel did not look like someone she could actually lift in her lifetime. Maybe what he needed was less physical support and more motivation.

“You’ve got a job, you idiot,” she lashed, giving up on trying to shove him upright. Instead, she knelt on her haunches and tugged at his oversized wrist. “Can’t do your fucking job if you’re dead. Now let’s—” she was about to throw her back out, she could feel it “—go.”

Relief washed over her when Ansel got one foot underneath him, a knee jutting up into his chest to lift it off the floor.

“There you go,” Tisha encouraged, pulling at the wrist with both hands. He got his arm under him next, lifting himself further as his feet found purchase.

“Not safe to call for a car,” he said, visor drooping toward the ground as he struggled. “You have to leave.”

“Don’t need to call one,” Tisha grabbed the keypicker from her jeans, sticking it under his visor. “We’re gonna get out of here, but only if you get to that car out there.”

“Tisha…” Ansel shook his head, but whatever he saw on her face when he lifted his visor seemed to make him give up.

The robot pushed himself upright and stumbled toward the door, an arm curling around her waist to drag her with him.