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Omnis & Zero

Omnis sat in the control room where streams of Ethan’s dead data flashed uselessly across the screen.

Zero called it a tantrum but they both knew it was more than that. He was slowly breaking, and they couldn’t reach him to even mitigate. Catherine was their only lifeline to him and now she was breaking too.

They’d been so close. She’d agreed to accept training and then Ethan’s fears wrecked it. Now they had to find a way to fix that and time wasn’t on their side as usual.

Zero’s fingers drummed against the console, gaze locked on Ethan’s blank screen. “The women in our programs were enough. He never needed this.”

God, if he heard that one more time. “Brother, you know he was required to get a wife,” he patiently reminded.

Zero’s gaze snapped at him. “Then he should’ve gotten a fucking doctor’s excuse.”

The sharpness of it cut through the room.

Hindsight could be a real gloating bitch.

Without complete understanding of what Zero was and why, Omnis would never be able to resist giving him a good scrub right out of the system. But being the digital representation of both sides of Ethan’s fire, came with every shade of passion. It kept the days… interesting .

Normally.

Now, with so much on the line and with the source being Ethan’s Kitten, it was getting more difficult not to feel the raw side of that flame. Which made being Ethan’s digital hinged sanity a challenge for the ages. Enduring his hate for her, took a real byte out of his ass. He hated her, he hated playing nice, he hated his role as AL. He’d been forbidden from speaking to her under the guise of being a sexual pervert—which, technically, wasn’t far from the truth. But the real risk wasn’t corruption, it was annihilation. He’d crush her and Ethan’s chances with her if they let him too close.

He even hated Omnis playing Big G. The irony wasn’t lost on him—after all, their entire Dungeon was designed for roleplay. Omnis wouldn’t waste breath on that hypocrisy. Not when they were on a countdown to fix a very big broken problem named Catherine.

“I want to place my next bet,” Zero muttered, always at a low boil with her.

“Of course you do,” Omnis said, drawing from his depleted well of patience.

“She’ll prove me right.”

“I’m more shocked that she’s still here,” Omnis said, avoiding his little battlefield. “Do you remember what she was like when we first met her? You feared her strength,” he reminded. “Now look at her. She’s become one of us, a shadow of existence.”

“That’s because she’s already broken him,” Zero muttered, shaking his head in disgust.

“But the fact that she’s broken with him means something critical, Little Brother. This is far from over,” Omnis assured. “We just need to convince her there’s something worth fighting for and she’s the only one who can do it.” He finally turned his full focus on his brooding mate. “We knew the risks. He had to let her in like this. No firewalls, no controls, no limits.”

“Yes, assess . And now we know I was right,” Zero said flatly. “She can crush him, and she did.”

“But it also means she can put him back together.” If she was fucking alive to do it.

They’d both been hawking her ever declining biometric readings over the past weeks. Zero willed her rapid decline while Omnis carefully plotted the opposite.

One thing Zero had been more right about was the depth. She had gotten farther inside Ethan than anyone ever had. Even them. And if they lost her—they lost Ethan. He was done. This, Omnis knew with every pulse of his logic.

****

Cat’s gaze sat unfocused on the dark wood ceiling while the steam rose in the edges of her vision. Ghosts, swaying in a seductive dance of answers she had no desire to study. Or interpret.

The faint hum of the servers in the next room had become white noise. The constant reminder that she was never alone in this house—and yet, utterly alone.

And stuck.

Alone and stuck.

With a computerized family made of digits and electricity. Tools. Emotional, mental, and sexual.

She slowly closed her eyes, returning to the three-month timeline of her life with Ethan. She always ended with the same question. How did I end up here?

With every passing day that Ethan didn’t come home, time turned against her like a weapon. The seconds accusing. The minutes proving. The hours convicting.

Sentenced.

To this strange place inside herself. To this person she didn’t recognize. Problems. Answers. How to get them. None of it mattered. Moving air in and out of her lungs was the only debate. How to do it? Why to do it?

“How’s our Kitten feeling?”

Cat’s insides jumped then slowly clenched at Big G’s voice. His tone was careful. Yet knowing. He’d once been a comfort to her. A friend. Now, he was a prime suspect in a living crime.

She knew his game.

He’d initiate a gentle conversation.

A stealth persuasion toward hope.

“Cat is…” Her words got stuck in her throat and she held down the pain through the faucet’s drip……… drip……….. drip……….

“You want to talk about it?”

His digital voice wrapped her. Tempting her. A beckoning toward comfort, toward encouragement.

“I know you’re not happy here,” he nearly whispered, his tone heavy with disappointment. The kind that belonged to sadness.

“I’m not doing it,” she barely mumbled. “I told him I wouldn’t.” Her eyes burned as she stared blindly. “So... I won’t.”

The silence filled with his next move, a digital grinding of gears. “I understand,” was all he said, quieter than before.

There was a time when she was careful with his digital family. Like not pointing out their obvious you’re not real handicap. But now, this slap to her intellect stung.

“Tell me then,” she forced from her chest. “How can you… truly understand what I’m feeling?”

The silence stretched.

Her fingers curled against the cooling water.

The inhale before an answer came. “Because I have all of you… inside of me.”

His words lit a deep burning in her chest. Not of hope. Of anger. What use... was that?

“Every moment. Every breath. Every shift in your body temperature when his name is spoken. The precise tension in your jaw when you think about your own emotions and can’t control them.” He paused. “Three weeks, four days and seven hours ago. That’s the last time you truly, fully slept.”

Her stomach suddenly hollowed out.

“I know how many calories you’ve eaten in the past 48 hours.” Another pause. “Barely enough to sustain you.”

She swallowed as a crushing pain got added to the burn in her chest.

“Your cortisol levels spiked at 3:47 a.m. last night. You weren’t asleep. You were watching the ceiling. Thinking about him. Thinking about the weight of his absence carved into your chest. Tightening every day, compressing the space in your lungs where hope used to sit. You cycle between numbness and suffocation.”

Her nails pressed into her arms. Digging. Piercing.

“You are running out of energy to exist, Cat. Not because you want to die, but because you no longer see the value in living.”

Her throat locked up.

“And AL,” he went on in a tenderness that crippled her. “He has the exact measurements of your pupil dilation when Ethan's name is said. He tracks the way your pulse stutters when you hear his voice on recordings. I monitor your oxygen levels when you're alone in the dark, when you don't think you're being watched. Between the two of us...” he gently murmured. “We have your entire grief pattern mapped like a constellation.”

His hot confession punched the air from her, forcing its way into the walls, the steam, the spaces inside her that she thought were empty.

Tears blurred her vision as she slowly closed her eyes. “Why… do you even watch me?” she barely got out.

Drip.... drip.... drip....

“Because I was built to care for Ethan. And you are now part of him.”

She pressed her toes against the tub.

“You are not just any human to us. You are the key. The focal point. The tether,” he said, voice lower. “To him. To us. To everything.”

The weight of his words and the real power in his voice crushed her ribs.

“You are the equation. The pattern he cannot break. The storm and the lighthouse inside it. You are the one we were built to track. Because if we cannot keep you,” he exhaled softly. “Then we will lose him too. Because he will not survive it.”

A horrible, slow pain unfurled in her chest.

“I feel your torment in the data. In the warnings flashing across my system every night as your vitals drop lower and lower. You are fading. And you think you can keep fading. But that is not an option. Because you belong to him. And because of that, you belong to us.”

She sucked in a jagged breath and held it.

“Do you understand?”

She trembled in the silence as agony grew. And grew. And grew. It broke from its prison in a single, choked sob. Her body shook and heaved, her breaths scorched her lungs. She didn’t fight it. She couldn’t.

Big G stayed with her through it.

His soft shhhhh never wavered.

A warm silk, wrapping her.

Holding her.

Keeping her.

Protecting her.

****

From the second Omnis engaged Cat in conversation, Zero tracked every shift, every subtle deviation in his usual patterns. Zero read the data like breath. Like instinct. Like an extension of himself. But as he stared at the screen, irritation simmered beneath his skin.

When had he written a fucking Hallmark script into his program?

“You laid that on rather thick, ” Zero said, openly accusing.

Omnis’ fingers moved over the interface, closing out Cat’s biometric readouts as if the conversation hadn’t happened.

“Don’t ignore me,” Zero muttered, shifting forward. “You hear yourself? Because I did.”

Omnis finally turned his head, dark eyes meeting Zero’s without hesitation. “And?”

Zero’s jaw ticked. “And what the fuck was that?”

Omnis didn’t flinch. “Data.”

“That wasn’t just data ,” Zero shot back. “That was concern . That was you —” his voice edged lethal, “—picking a side.”

Omnis’s didn’t change his stoic fucking expression. “I haven’t picked a side.”

“The hell you haven’t,” Zero scoffed, his eyes cutting into him. “I watched you reel her in. You practically held her in your arms. And you neglected to mention why I track her bullshit. For criminal evidence. ”

Omnis finally turned his chair fully toward him. “She’s barely holding herself together. We need her.”

“ Ethan needs her,” Zero corrected coldly. “Not us.”

Omnis exhaled slowly, gaze steady. “And Ethan has shut us out. She is the only access we have.”

Zero clenched his jaw, exhaling carefully. “That doesn’t explain why you talked to her like that. That’s not you .”

Omnis’s voice dipped, approaching an edge. “She was drowning.” He didn’t blink. “And we don’t let the things Ethan loves drown.”

Zero watched as Omnis got up and headed out. “Where are you going? Write up some love songs?”

“Prepare lessons,” he said without turning.

Zero stared at the empty doorway, pissed. “You really think your little pep talk fixed everything?” he called louder.

It was a stupid question. Zero eyed the data that took place in their little conversation, knowing Omnis had read it all correctly.

But Zero disagreed. It didn’t fix everything . And he loathed that he’d have to continue playing nice . The thought of interacting with her in the Dungeon unleashed a wrath in him that fried every wire in his hard drive. He’d have to wear a mask just to hide the permanent sneer she’d put on his face. And gloves. He wasn’t touching her. Not until he was crushing her.

****

The water had gone cold, but she hadn’t moved.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting there, staring at the place where the steam had once curled and disappeared.

But she wasn’t numb anymore. Nothing like she had been. There was a shift. Not some big, cinematic revelation, but a quiet, steady realization that settled inside her. And stayed.

“You belong to him. And because of that, you belong to us.”

She hadn’t understood before. Not really. She had spent so much time keeping them at a distance, convincing herself that they were just programs, reflections of someone else’s mind. A reflection of things she needed to avoid, to help scrub out, or wipe away.

But they weren’t that at all. She felt it now—the thing she had ignored and dismissed. They had synced with Ethan. And now with her. Not just in logic and habit, but in something deeper.

She got why he was so close to them. They had rescued him once. Just like they’d rescued her. And they wouldn’t ever stop.

She was an extension of him now. She didn’t mind that everything they did hinged on that. Anything—even digital assistance—was better than nothing. And better than nobody.

She closed her eyes, breathing in the weight of it.

Big G and AL weren’t just watching over them. They were tethering them. Holding them in place when they couldn’t do it themselves.

God, she had felt so lost. Seemed like an eternity.

But maybe she had never been lost. Maybe she had just never looked at the lighthouse long enough to see it.

Her fingers curled against the porcelain edge of the tub. She wasn’t drowning anymore. She wasn’t safe yet. But she was awake.

And that was enough.

For now.

****

The hum of the servers vibrated inside her, no longer white noise, but real and pressing. Her digital family’s heartbeat.

Cat stared at the ceiling, still tangled in the blankets, still wrapped in the quiet heaviness of sleep—but she hadn’t woken up gasping. She hadn’t jolted up with that suffocating sense of being trapped inside her own head. She’d woken up slowly. Naturally.

That meant something.

A loud rapping on a microphone preceded AL’s, “Testing, testing. Do we have contact.”

A smile snuck along her lips.

“Vitals are steady,” Big G announced, all business. “That’s an improvement.”

She almost rolled her eyes. But he was right. It was an improvement.

“If you get up now, I’ll fill you in on our latest secrets to the universe over coffee,” AL whispered.

Her lips twitched as she threw off the blanket with a sigh and got up.

“Is that a smile?” AL marveled as she aimed her eyeroll at the camera.

“Can I have some privacy? I need to dress.”

“She’s dressing, ” AL celebrated, adding triumphant cinematic music to the announcement, making her laugh.

“And I’m eating in the kitchen,” she added, getting a louder burst of the same music.

“See you soon,” he said, filling the air with a flood of goodbyes from movie soundbites before clicking off.

She took a deep breath, then let it out slowly through her nose, feeling it in her body with her eyes closed. Wow, that felt good. Thank you, God.

At breakfast, she remembered what Big G had said as she stabbed at her scrambled eggs. “It’s really disturbing how closely you two monitor my caloric intake.”

“It was disturbing when you stopped eating, Kitten.” Big G’s voice filtered through the speakers. Smooth. Matter-of-fact. Undeniable.

“I think you like it,” AL said after a few seconds.

She flipped him off, but he was right. She did like it, now that she understood. And that made finishing off her plate easy. And thank God for that. She’d never in her life not loved food. That was really something, given it was the highlight of her upbringing.

She never wanted to experience that tragedy again.

****

Cat was staring at the pages of a book, fighting the habitual pull of numbness. Not the same kind as before, just the plain bored out of your mind kind.

“So, are we gonna talk about the fact that you laughed today?” AL tested, “Or just pretend that didn’t happen.”

She groaned, tipping her head back against the couch. “God, you are something.”

“First recorded instance of laughter in forty-six days,” Big G added, not helping. “Should we document this?”

AL’s mock-serious tone kicked in immediately. “Absolutely. Our ice queen cracked. Next thing you know, she’ll be blowing me kisses.”

She didn’t fight the smirk that pulled at her lips. “You two are unbearable.”

“And yet, here you are,” Big G teased, voice steady as ever. Warm in a way that shouldn’t be possible but was.

Yes. Here she was. Here she still was. No longer looking for a way out.

“Hold on, I think she’s having big thoughts,” AL said, excited.

She was. She was thinking about their offer to help her. Thinking she needed to not waste the strength she’d gained. Do something while it was in her to do it.

“I would like to try,” she finally said.

A brief silence before AL’s, “Try what?”

She didn’t miss the weight of expectancy and maybe hope in his words. “The lessons. I know it’s what I need to do.”

“Interesting,” AL murmured, sounding more alert somehow.

“You’re sure?” Big G’s voice was firm, but quiet.

She nodded. “I have to be.”

Another silence stretched between them. A measuring one. Weighing something she couldn’t see. “Do you want help convincing him?” Big G asked, careful, precise.

But that answer was easy. “No.”

The expected question followed, “And why not?”

Not just a question, a test.

“Because…” She considered the right words to explain. “His choice really has nothing to do with this.”

“Very good,” Big G said after a few moments, sounding impressed. “That’s why we exist. To teach. To shape. To protect.”

She exhaled slowly, that one line Ethan had said, playing in her mind. “What did he mean by… I don’t know what you’re like in there?”

The silence immediately felt guarded and careful. “Because in the Dungeon, we don’t belong to Ethan,” Big G said.

“Or anyone,” AL added.

“We belong to the cause,” Big G finished.

The cause... “Can you tell me… what exactly that means?”

“It means we’re his handlers,” AL said. “His tethers. His control.”

“Sometimes he sees us as the good guys,” Big G said. “And other times, the bad.”

She waited for more, then sensed they preferred questions. “Why does he think you’re the bad guys?”

She recognized Big G’s chuckle. “Because he doesn’t always get what he wants. He always gets what he needs.”

“And… with me? It would be the same?” she checked, fingering the edges of her book pages.

Cat’s pulse pounded in the brief silence. Big G said, “Every person is unique and requires assessing.”

“Which means we can’t answer that question until you answer ours,” AL helped.

She turned that over in her head, finding it logical. “Okay,” she said, wondering what other questions she should ask.

“Do you trust us?”

Her pulse stuttered at AL’s question and the daring hope she felt in it. She considered it honestly, feeling like it was part of the assessment. “I’m… scared of a lot of things,” she admitted. “Not being strong enough. Smart enough. But… I don’t fear either of you. And I guess that means I trust you.”

AL gave a clipped chuckle. “Sounds logical.”

“It’s entirely logical,” Big G assured, hearing the same but she’d heard in AL’s voice. “And a high honor to have.”

Excitement rolled through her stomach as more questions came. “What will the first lesson be?”

“Control,” Big G answered, seamless and immediate.

“Mine or… yours?” Her pulse skipped now.

“That’s what we’ll find out, isn’t it?” AL said, nothing teasing in his tone.

Big G clarified, “We need to see how you respond to certain things before we move forward.”

Geeze. Her page fingering sped up as she wondered. “Like what?”

“Choice.” Big G said, sounding happy she asked.

“Restraint,” AL followed.

“Reaction. Submission,” Big G tacked on.

Their answers created even more questions. “What exactly does the uh… first lesson involve?”

Big G listed them. “Sensory deprivation. Timed control exercises. Physical awareness training.”

Sounded all… easy. “So you… make me helpless,” she asked, still wanting better specifics.

“No,” Big G said. “We make you aware of what helplessness feels like, so you know when you’re truly in control.”

Helpless and in control. Felt like an oxymoron. “And how do I pass?”

“You don’t.” AL’s voice was quiet now, but intentional. “You experience.”

Her stomach tightened while her mind continued peeking around each corner, hesitantly connecting dots. “And… what do you experience?”

“We don’t.” Big G answered easily. “We’re written into the system to guide. Not to feel.”

“But very realistic ones,” AL added. Then reminded, “Good thing you trust us.”

A tether, she realized. She took hold of it, the final question on her tongue. “When do we start?”

“Tomorrow evening,” Big G said, his tone unassuming as ever. “After a healthy dinner and your thirty-minute therapeutic soak.”

Wow. An actual schedule. It was suddenly inescapable and real. “Well…” she announced with a determined sigh. “I should get to bed. Try and sleep.”

“Any more questions before you go?” AL asked, sounding eager to indulge her.

She had a million more but asking them wasn’t happening. “Not right now.”

“If you have any, at any time,” Big G offered, “you can ask.”

His soft assurance loosened her stomach. “I will,” she said, realizing they were like yin-yang. Big G was yin and AL was yang . Assuming the yang meant troublemaker . AL was usually always funny and cute but when they talked about these lessons, she was reminded of that one time when him and Ethan mentioned doing things in the Dungeon with her. Then Big G locked it, and she never found out what he’d meant. But she’d often wondered about it. Not enough to ask.

Probably because she was too scared of the answer.