[COMPLETED] Corrupted (Connor X Reader)

Shutdown

Your trembling fingers fiddled with the zipper of your shoulder bag as you resisted the urge to recheck the contents — your wallet and computer would still be inside, just as they had the last two times you'd looked. Although you were able to stop yourself from opening the bag again, you couldn't prevent your hands from drifting to your blouse and nervously playing with the clasp pinning your employee ID to the stiff, freshly-ironed fabric. You wore a different shirt in the ID photo — your nicest button-up, the one you wore to your interview for good luck.

You didn't want to be superstitious but couldn't help thinking that maybe you should have worn that blouse for good luck today.

The automated taxi rolled to a stop, pinging to indicate that it had subtracted the fare from your account. You took a deep breath, willing your nerves to calm, willing your heart to stop thudding against your ribs, willing yourself to don that mask of confidence that would make you seem professional and ready to work. The cab door slid open, and you carefully stepped out, heels teetering as you shivered against the permeating chill that came with Detroit winter. You only allowed yourself a moment, glancing up at the black, spiderwebbing awning of the tower, before crunching through the thin layer of snow dusting the ground to the main sliding glass doors that parted before you, just as they had before.

The building's warmth washed over your exposed skin once you set foot in the lobby. You felt gazes on you, but you bit your lip, reminding yourself to ignore it. With your head held high, you strode across the familiar white expanse, heels clicking sharply on the smooth floor as you made your way forward. Please, stop looking at me, you silently begged, hoping that the gaggle of employees occupying the lobby wouldn't see anything out of place and go back to whatever they were doing.

The hair on the back of your neck raised when the holographic blue lines passed over your body, over the ID card pinned to your chest, thrumming with soft energy. A mechanical voice read your name and employee number as you passed through the triangular awning to the large walkway. Below you, lush green brush stretched up to the transparent bridge surrounding the massive black statue.

You kept your eyes trained straight ahead, walking calmly to the elevator, stepping inside, followed by someone else — someone you struggled not to look at with every ounce of self-control you could muster. Instead, you gripped the strap of your bag tighter as he stepped in the elevator beside you.

"Employee number 931, level sub-48," You said in a measured tone as you hovered your fingers over the glowing blue minus, four, then eight, feeling the haptic feedback buzz beneath your fingertips.

The clear doors slid shut, and the lift began its slow descent down. You absolutely did not look at the presence behind you, didn't turn around and stare into his eyes, didn't grab his hand for comfort, didn't dare move until he spoke, piercing the near-unbearable silence of the elevator.

"I've hacked and disabled the security cameras," Connor announced.

You nodded, breathing a sigh of relief and allowed yourself to glance over your shoulder at him — at his perfectly-tailored grey suit and tie and his soft brown eyes that were waiting for you to look at him finally.

"Amanda has to know we're here, right?" You whispered, unable to stop the fear that clawed its way out your throat. "She'll know the cameras are disabled."

"Not necessarily," Connor replied, quietly, "She didn't count on me using Kamski's emergency exit once she thought she'd won."

The ensuing silence blanketed the elevator car, and you tried to let Connor's words reassure you.

But they didn't.

Only after the elevator passed floor sub-16, did you give in and take a step backward to lace your fingers in between his, clutching him tightly, probably too tightly. Connor let you have that small comfort, even returning the pressure as you adjusted your pressed clothes and stared straight ahead, watching the numbers tick further and further, closer to your destination, to the belly of the beast.