My fist hurt like hell. 

I was pretty sure I'd at least sprained a few fingers, and it made sense. Trying to punch Ataraxia plastic, even with its smooth coating meant to simulate human skin, would do that. 

I hadn't even made a dent, yet, the blue-eyed man slowly raised one hand. He pressed his slender fingers to the spot where my knuckles made contact with his skin. 

His perfect skin. 

The man in front of me was the spitting image of my phone background. Actually, no. That photo based on design blueprints didn't do the real model Z-3293 justice. In the photo he was clearly meant to be aesthetically pleasing. In real life? Flawless. His vibrant blue eyes seemed to literally illuminate the alleyway. 

There were so many questions swirling around in my head, but the immediate facts were that he was dangerous. He'd attacked us. I scooted to the left, blocking the path between Z-3293 and my brother's unconscious body.

"What do you want?" I loudly demanded.

"Your phone." 

"My-- my what?" 

His voice threw me off by how normal it was. Sure, I had seen his specs. I'd listened to samples of twenty-fifty's ultra realistic voice synthesisers, which were now illegal to install on humanoid robots. But hearing it come from an android's mouth was still different. 

I shook my head. "What do you want with my phone?" 

Model Z-3293 lowered his hand away from his cheek, placing it on the tranquilliser gun. He aimed the weapon at my chest, index finger resting on the trigger. "I don't want to hurt you, but I will if I have to. Just be a good boy and give it to me."

"No. Go ahead and fire." I spread my arms. "Those guns have one charge and you already took your shot. That's not loaded." 

"Oh, really? I--" Z-3293's eyes briefly darted to the gun he was holding. Then he looked up at me sheepishly. "Did not think of a follow up threat for that."

In the split second he'd averted his gaze, I could've made a run for it. But with Alan hauled on my back, our chances of escape would be slim. I'd be too slow to reach the main street, where I could flag down a police drone. 

I was starting to question my own judgment, however. 

Something was wrong.

Model Z-3293 acted like a civilian; he stood there like your average ordinary tourist who got a gun shoved into his hand to pose for a five dollar picture. Hardly the military mastermind he was made out to be in the war log files. The android who stole the world's most dangerous bioweapon and neutralised it thousands of feet up in the air before it could hit Europe.

"Are you Spectre model Z-3293?" I finally asked. 

"Of course not, we're all dead." 

Model Z-3293 did a double-take and cringed. "They. I mean, they are all de- deactivated." 

There was definitely something wrong here. I side-eyed the android. Was he trying to trick me into lowering my guard by acting clueless?

"...Right," I said. "I'm gonna call you Zed, 'kay? Your full name is a mouthful." I nodded at the tranquilliser gun. "Put that away. You know I know it's not loaded." 

Zed hesitated before crouching down. He gingerly placed his weapon on the ground and stood again without breaking eye-contact. 

"I saw you had a picture of me on your phone. I just want to know where and how you got it," he said. 

A sly smile crept onto his lips. "Not that I don't understand why you'd want my face on your phone. It's a nice face." 

'Nice' was the understatement of the century. 

Alan, crude as he was, had to be right that Ava Claes was creaming herself while designing his appearance. I could imagine her sitting in her lab, applying the golden ratio to each and every one of the Spectre model's features. 

"We have your blueprints," I said. "Someone I know does facial reconstructions of the Spectre models like you, based on old files from the Singularity war period." 

But his original stated purpose, spying, seemed even more farfetched now. Model Zed wouldn't be able to go anywhere without turning heads. He was all engineered symmetry and eerie designer beauty to the point where he would be useless as a spy. Ava wanted aesthetically pleasing, but completely missed the mark when it came to the androids having to be inconspicuous and blend in. 

Zed took a sudden step forward, snapping me out of my thoughts and making me instinctively step back.  

"Can I see my image on your phone?" Zed asked, opening his palm and extending his arm towards me.  

"No." I narrowed my eyes. "You're not touching my phone. I'm not stupid." 

"Except that you are. You stopped paying attention to your surroundings, and where that stray needle landed." Zed smiled pleasantly at me. "How's this for one charge?" 

The second Zed was done speaking I realised what he was planning, but he was faster. 

I usually prided myself for being quick on my feet, but I didn't stand a chance against a machine's optimised reflexes and aim. In a flash, Zed dove down and I felt a sting in my left calf. 

I didn't need to see a tranquilliser needle to know what happened. 

The effect was instant. My body felt heavy. I almost immediately lost control of my muscles. I couldn't even move my tongue to swear. Not that I could form words anyway - my brain was filled with treacly tar and feathers. 

A pair of arms stopped me from hitting the ground as my legs inevitably gave in. 

"Sleep tight, handsome," Zed's distorted voice muttered in my ear. It was the last thing I registered before my vision went black.

...

...

...

"He's waking up."

"Camilo! Hey, Camilo, can you hear me?" 

I groaned. Alan and our neighbour, Ned, were both hovering over me. 

"I'm up, I'm up," I replied curtly, forcing myself upright despite seeing stars.

"Hey, you just got knocked the hell out by some real strong drugs. You need to slow down boy," Ned said, but I didn't heed his warning.

I didn't want to listen to reason. I was too pissed at myself for letting someone catch me off guard. Outsmarted by a fucking android who was supposed to be long dead, or not even assembled in the first place.

How could he be here? How was he alive? But most of all: what did he want with that photo?

"Fuck!" 

I patted my pocket, finding it empty. 

"I have your phone," Alan said, fishing it out of his handbag and handing it to me. "I still have all my stuff, too. Whatever bastard shot us down didn't take anything it seems."

"No, they did steal." 

I had a hunch what would be missing, and my suspicions were confirmed when I unlocked my screen and was met with the sight of a kitten playing with a ball of wool rather than Zed's face.  

"Damn it!" I frantically swiped through my camera gallery. All Zed's reconstruction pictures had all been deleted, and he'd been incredibly thorough. Even when I remotely accessed my backup disk upstairs, my "Zed" search query yielded zero hits.    

"What, did they take your money?" Alan was next to me, trying to get a look at my screen. 

"No, worse," I said through gritted teeth. This was humiliating. 

"What did they take then?" Alan asked. When I let the silence linger too long, he pursed his lips and took out his own phone. "We need to press charges. Those fuckers can't get away with this!" 

"Request the videos from the street cameras. That ought to show his face," Ned suggested. 

"Good idea. Did manage to get a look at the thief, Camilo?"

"Not quite," I lied.

They wouldn't believe me if I told them who it was. I'd seen a relic of the past. I'd met an urban legend and talked with him. How on earth was I going to explain this to Alan and Ned in a way that wouldn't make them think I was losing my marbles. 

I wasn't even sure if I wasn't losing my marbles. 

Before I could open my mouth, my phone started buzzing in my hand. I swiped right to answer the call, and immediately got Zekiye's exasperated voice filling my ear.

"Camilo, meet me at the campus right away. We have a huge, huge problem."

I furrowed my brow. "What problem? I'm busy handling some of my own problems here." 

"Make it wait," Zekiye snapped. "It's about the android and gyndroid blueprint files. Every reconstruction I ever did? They're all gone. Including the backups. I got hacked."

"Shit. Shit."

"Who's that? What are they saying?" Alan wanted to know. I gestured at him to shut him up and strode out of the alley. 

"Your problem is my problem. Mine are all gone, too." 

"I know!" Zekiye called out. "Your phone signature is all over the place. As the hacker!" 

"What? I didn't do it!"

"I know," Zekiye repeated, expelling a deep breath. "No offence, but even if you dedicated your whole life to hacking, you still wouldn't have the skills to crack encryptions this fast. Just get down here. I'm heading to Mr. Shea's office."

I came to a halt, stopping right in front of the crossing that lead to the subway tunnels. "Why are we going to the head of our department? Why is he involved?"

 "Because it's not just my files and your files. It's everything. Literally, everything. The entire electronic vault of Lenora is empty. Every log, every blueprint, every trace of information about androids and gyndroids in the Singularity war is gone. And like the hacking of my phone, that wipe was all traced back to your student account somehow gaining admin rights and ordering the total clear."

My heart skipped several beats in pure shock. Zekiye mercilessly went on.

"Camilo, you have a lot of explaining to do."