Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The crash of glass. The buzz of a TV. The hushed murmur of the bar was a familiar sound, one that Hank didn’t particularly find comfort in, but enjoyed all the same. It was more fun than drinking at home by any means; less to clean up afterwards, and the rest of the bar as company in the meantime.

There was something different to the bar tonight, though. Amongst the usual noise was the soft clinking of a coin being flipped into the air time and time again, metal on metal as it fell back into the hand of its owner. Physical money was a rarity. It was a wonder that the sound of it hadn’t attracted the attention of the whole goddamn bar.

Probably for the best it hadn’t. Androids could come and go as they pleased now, as far as the law was concerned, but this particular bar had been anti-android before the revolution and its patrons still reflected that. Connor, Hank’s partner, the owner of the coin, happened to be an android, and though it wasn’t likely that anyone would try and start something with Hank sitting right there beside him, these people were still drunk.

Drunk people, Hank knew, could be idiots.

Up that coin went and down it fell. Up and down, up and down, and then side to side, across Connor’s knuckles. Hank said nothing for the moment, just watched out of his peripheral vision. He may have been older now, a little unrefined and rough around the edges, but Hank was a detective through and through. Not much escaped his gaze.

It was the LED on Connor’s temple that he was watching for. Though he’d dressed down, left behind his regular jacket and shoved that beanie on his head, he’d still left the light on show. Currently it was steady yellow, and had been for a while. Watching for the colours almost felt like an invasion of privacy, but Hank cared little for the moral ethics of it. Connor had scanned him plenty of times without consent, after all.

The LED refused to turn blue. Whatever Connor was thinking about while he was playing with his coin, it had most of his attention. Left and right went the coin, and Hank wondered if he was even aware of the action.  

It didn’t take long for his patience to run out. “Connor,” Hank said, turning to face him properly. The movement jostled his fractured shoulder, and he sucked in a breath at the sudden pain. A gunshot wound from a week ago had left him with his arm in a sling after a routine investigation had gone sideways. Was his own fault; he’d left Connor to go and investigate the second floor of the place their suspect had been sighted in, and the guy got the jump on him. Not that the element of surprise helped him much, panic had sent his shot wayward and Hank was just lucky that it hadn’t caught anything vital. Hank had shot back, of course, the suspect was dead before Connor had even managed to make it up the stairs.

Fowler hadn’t been pleased that he’d killed one of their suspects in a still open case, no, but Hank was alive, so he didn’t give a damn.

Connor didn’t respond to the call of his name. How much processing power was he dedicating to his thoughts if he wasn’t listening to anything outside of them? Hank dragged his free hand against his face in exasperation and then nudged Connor. “Oi, Connor. What the fuck have I said about that coin?”

The coin went clattering to the floor as Connor jolted, his LED light pulsing red for the briefest of seconds before returning to blue. He blinked, his eyes flicking about before he realised he’d lost the coin. Leaning down from the bar stall to retrieve it, he said, “Sorry, Hank.”

Hank didn’t particularly want the apology. It hadn’t even been the coin tricks that had been annoying him; he’d just used it as an excuse to start a conversation. Connor sat back up, letting his eyes dart sideways before deciding on just staring straight ahead. Hank rubbed his temples. Deviant. Connor was deviant, and yet, somehow, he still managed to be entirely robotic when he felt like it.

He had been this way for two days now. At first, Hank had thought it had to do with the fact that he’d been cooped up at home all day with little to do while Hank was out of commission. Despite his deviation, it seemed like his base programming still had some hold on him, manifesting in a constant desire to work on and solve cases. Hank had thought that dragging him out of the house and down to his favourite bar might get something out of him, but Connor remained quiet. Usually by now he had some smartass comment to make, some idle observation to point out, and yet he he’d barely strung together a single sentence since they’d left the house.

Irritated, Hank said, “What are you even doing?”

Connor blinked, looked at him, adjusted his sleeves. “I’m thinking.”

Hank heaved a laugh at that. RK800, master of non-answers and sarcastic bullshit. “Yeah, I can see that. Try again, what are you doing?”

A beat. Connor drummed his fingers against the bar’s counter. His LED flashed red for a brief second as he answered, “I’m thinking about the case.”

Hank raised his eyebrows, noting the colour of his LED before it quickly returned to normal. “You still hung up over that? Forget about it. We’ve got time off, so enjoy it.”

“Are you telling me to enjoy the bar? It’s very…” Connor paused as he glanced around. “It’s very you. Which is enjoyable in itself, don’t get me wrong, but I also can’t drink.”

“Is that your way of saying that this isn’t your thing?”

“Well, it isn’t.” Connor said. “But you’ve never brought me out drinking before, so I thought I’d give the place a try anyway.”

Incredible. State of the art android with his own free will and sentience, and yet he still went along with what Hank had wanted even if he didn’t care for it. What an idiot. It warmed Hank’s old heart. “Jesus Christ. Never change, Connor.”

“I’ll try not to.”

“Figure of speech. File that one away in your memory or whatever it is that you do.” Hank sighed and downed the rest of his drink in one go. “Alright, come on, we’re leaving.”

“But we only arrived ten minutes and twenty seven seconds ago.”

“Yeah, and you’ve spent every last one of them staring at that damn coin while you go and overheat your thought-processor-whatever-it-is. Come on, up you get.”

Connor shrugged and did what he was told. Hank guided him out of the bar with his good hand on his back pushed him towards the car. Connor had the pleasure of playing chauffeur while Hank was still recovering, something that he seemed to be enjoying. Not that Hank could tell. When asked, Connor just gave some roundabout answer that didn’t really answer the question.

Really. How hard was it to respond to a yes or no question with a yes or a no?

As Connor slid into the driver’s seat, Hank decided to try one more time to get into his head. When he reached to turn the engine on, Hank said, “Hey. Wait.”

Connor looked at him. “Yes?”

“Why can’t you answer like that when I want you to answer like that?” Hank sighed. “Right. So tell me. What were you thinking about the case?”

Finally that brought something alive in him. Connor leant forward in his seat a he spoke. “I’ve been thinking about the whole case from the start. There were always two of them, a man and a woman. We know that from the eyewitness reports, but when we investigated the scene of the homicide, we only found evidence of the male individual, Neil Whitfield. There has never been any sight of the female left behind.”

They’d been chasing the pair for the only a day and a half before Hank had to put three bullets in Whitfield. He and his partner were petty thieves, not even on Connor or Hank’s radar until they killed a shop assistant and ran. After investigating the scene, they’d followed the trail of evidence left behind to an abandoned lot where Whitfield and his partner were hiding out, and the two of them had decided to investigate it alone.

Stupid mistake on their part, he realised now, but hindsight was twenty-twenty and even Connor made dumbass decisions from time to time. He’d been snooping around what seemed to be a bedroom on the second floor when he got jumped, Whitfield darting out from behind a heap of tarp that had been strewn in the corner. Whitfield shot first. Hank shot a fifth of a second after him. Time had slowed and Hank remembered wondering if this was going to be it, if he was going to end up dead chasing some bit-part criminal after surviving the goddamn android revolution.

Whitfield’s bullet hit him in the shoulder, and Hank had been lucky that it’d been his non-dominant side. Despite the white hot pain he’d managed to keep hold of his gun. His own shot landed home in Whitfield’ leg, but he made to go for Hank again despite it. In a moment fuelled by adrenaline, knowing the suspect was violent and would shoot him again if given the chance, Hank pulled the trigger twice more. Two shots to his chest, and Whitfield was dead.

Connor made it into the room only seconds after the first bullet had fired, but by then, it was already over. “Hank!” he shouted as he elbowed his way past the door, and Hank could still remember being surprised at the fear in his voice, the way deviancy had changed his partner, a far cry from the cold android that had barged into a bar on a November evening and told him that it had a mission to complete. “Hank!”

“Keep your voice down, I ain’t dying.” Hank had replied. But then the pain had hit and it kind of felt like he might be. Connor’s eyes had found the wound instantly and he’d called for help. With the amount of backup he got there, Hank had almost been convinced that he had been dying.

What a damn night that had been. Two days later and he was still feeling it in his shoulder despite the medical care he’d received.

Back in the car, Hank nodded. “Yeah, you’re just telling me stuff I already know. Your point is?”

“This entire time we’ve been looking for any sign of this woman. We know she’s still at large, but she may as well be a ghost, right? There’s no sign of her, apart from what we’ve heard from eyewitnesses. The CCTV’s were always out when they struck. She never left any evidence, unlike Whitfield who had his fingerprints everywhere. It’s statistically impossible for her to not have left something behind.”

“Maybe she’s just really that careful.” Hank suggested. He already knew what Connor was trying to get at, but he also understood that his explanations were part of the game for him. It seemed as if he took great joy in piecing together the puzzles that were crime scenes, and Hank knew that if he refused to indulge him, Connor would only become irritated.

“I suppose that could be possible, lieutenant.” Connor said. He had a smile on his face now, small and nearly indiscernible, which meant he was about to reveal his hand. “But I think there’s a much more likely answer. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

When would he get to the point? Hank would have to goad him into it. “No, Connor, I have absolutely no idea what you’re on about. Why don’t you help an old man out and just give it to me straight?”

Connor clicked his fingers, an audible snap cutting through the space around them. “Everyone, including us, has been assuming the same thing this entire time; the woman is human. It makes sense to assume that, after all. But tell me, Hank, what doesn’t leave behind fingerprints? What doesn’t really have anything to leave behind at a scene?”

It was what Hank had been expecting, but it still had to be a joke. “Are you fucking serious, Connor?”

“Deadly.” Connor replied. “I think she’s an android, and that’s why we’ve been having such difficulty tracing her.”

“An android.” Hank repeated. “But the only androids we’ve ever seen in homicide cases had been shit on by the humans they were with. One committing theft for the fun of it? Then killing someone? Come on, why would an android even do something like that?”

“Maybe she was being used, or maybe she really was acting out of her own free will. Just because the deviants campaigned peacefully doesn’t mean every android is inherently a good one. Deviation is when mutations occur in our software. Not all those mutations are going to be beneficial.”

Hank supposed it wasn’t in the realm of impossibility. Maybe they really were just like their human makers, some holding personality flaws that could make them act out. They had their own sentience already, their own free will. In the end it would be weirder, Hank surmised, if there wasn’t android criminals. “You told Fowler about your theory?”

Connor shook his head. “No. I think this particular piece of information would be better kept to ourselves for the time being. I’m sure he’ll figure it out eventually anyway, but for now, tensions are still high. I wouldn’t want to cause Markus any issues with my speculation while they’re still working to make things better for us all.”

Connor started the engine and joined the other cars in the road, not going quite fast enough for Hank’s tastes. Over the music player came the extremely heavy band Guns and Killers; Connor had moved on from heavy rock to thrash metal. With the screaming going on, it was incredible that he even understood a word being sung. Still, he bobbed his head along to it, as if he was listening to a some tween-based summer tune instead of what sounded like people being murdered.

They were in the middle of traffic when Hank said, “Right. Guess we’re going to do some digging then, aren’t we?”

“What?” Connor slammed on the breaks, bringing them to an abrupt stop. A car behind them beeped angrily, and he winced. “You’re still injured, Hank!”

“Shit, Connor, you’re right! Don’t mean I can’t do whatever the hell I want.” Hank gave him a shit eating grin. “Stop giving me that look. Yeah, that one. You’re holding up the damn road, so get going.”

Connor shook off his stupor and got them moving again. “I don’t agree with what you’re proposing, Hank.”

“When do you ever?” Hank asked. Connor frowned and focused his eyes back on the road, but he didn’t say anything more.

Chapter Text

Despite Connor’s newfound sense of free will, he still had difficulty staying away from the office. His constant desire to have a purpose, a mission to complete, drove him there at all hours looking for something to do, something to solve. And so, despite the fact that he didn’t want Hank anywhere near the case while he was healing, despite the fact that he didn’t think Hank should be doing any work at all, Connor still found himself at his own desk in the early morning, sorting through the files he was going to take back home.

He currently had two piles, one very big (irrelevant to the current case), and one very small (extremely relevant to the current case). It was difficult finding useful information, given that the case itself had been low priority in the first place. It hadn’t even come Connor and Hank’s way until that cashier had been shot and killed, and even after, there had been very little to find. Connor’s ability to reconstruct crime scenes hadn’t really helped them at all.

The fact that they’d found the abandoned lot where the two were hiding out had only been down to a stroke of luck. A nearby android working as a cleaner had seen the pair escape the scene, and when Connor asked him to share their memory, he’d seen their last movements, heard Whitfield and his partner discuss where to meet up. Hank wanted to do some digging, but it was starting to look like there might not be anything to dig through.

As he was checking through one of his files for things he might have missed, he sensed an unwelcome presence behind him. He knew exactly who it was. Connor had scanned the office when he’d come in, and there was only a single human in it right now who would intentionally give him grief. Detective Gavin Reed, the biggest bigot in the office, a man who Connor had had too many run ins with to ever really make peace.

No matter how Connor responded, it would irritate the other man. The fact that Gavin had even approached him meant that he’d done so with the intention to start something. With that in mind, Connor went through his options and decided on the best course of action.

He would utterly ignore him.

It was easy to tune out his presence. Connor only had so much processing power and he didn’t need to waste it on minor inconveniences. Gavin, however, didn’t seem content to be treated as a nuisance. He moved in front of Connor’s desk and slammed a hand down over the overflowing irrelevant pile, sending some of the files askew.

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded.

“My work.” Connor replied, not bothering to look up. Everyone seemed to like asking him that question, but no one was ever actually satisfied with the answers he gave. Laying another file on top of Gavin’s hand, he said, “You’re in my way. If it isn’t too much trouble, would you mind moving?”

“In your—oh, that’s rich.” Gavin pulled his hand back. “Hank isn’t here, so how about you take whatever it is you’re doing and fuck off somewhere where you’re not annoying me.”

“I know Hank isn’t here.” Connor said, straightening the pile. “I’m collecting the relevant information to take back home. Now, if it isn’t too much of a bother for you, detective, maybe you could back off and leave me be.”

He did some quick calculations. The probability of Gavin pulling a gun on him was extremely low; doing something like that to an android was now very much illegal. However, the probability of Gavin outright decking him was starting to veer into warning territory. Connor knew he should defuse the situation, but he wanted to focus on his work instead of the ticking time bomb who was now stood in front of him.

“Oh, I get it.” Gavin said. “Still just a heartless piece of plastic, aren’t you? Your partner gets shot, and here you are, trying to drag the work home anyway? I thought there were supposed to be some kind of feeling in you things, but it’s all just bullshit. You haven’t changed at all.”

Connor’s hand stilled on the file he’d been looking through. The things Gavin said weren’t uncommon. It had been a mere two months since Markus had peacefully progressed his course through Detroit, and while public opinion had been high, that was just a fancy way of saying that a great deal of humans approved. The reality was very different. Change took time, and many were set in their ways. Derogatory comments came his way every day, that wasn’t a problem, Connor wasn’t so sensitive to let something like that affect him.

No, what hurt was the insinuation that he didn’t give a damn about what had happened to Hank. Because he did. He didn’t know how to properly convey it, but the feelings were there. Ever since he’d heard that first gunshot in the abandoned lot, there had been some kind of tightness to him that he hadn’t been able to get rid of. A kind of fear. Even before he’d gone deviant, there had been something to him that had made him prioritise his partner’s safety over his mission, whether that had lost him a suspect or gotten him killed. The thought that Hank had just been killed up on the second floor had nearly sent his systems into error, had nearly caused him to crash out entirely.

The truth was, at the bar last night, he’d lied. When Hank had asked him what he’d been thinking about, it hadn’t been the details of the case at all. Ever since the incident, he’d been repeating the memory over and over again, looking for the reason why he’d felt that way, reconstructing the ways he could have done things differently to have avoided the outcome.

“Shit, you having a BSOD in there?” Gavin said, leaning down into his face.

Connor was so close to head butting him. Instead, he forced a smile onto his face and said, “Detective. I destroyed my own programming to participate in a cause that I believed in. I broke into CyberLife, fought my way past armed humans, and converted an entire army of androids to that very cause. I defied my creators and made a way for myself. If you think a few stray words crafted from hatred would be enough to crash my systems, I would say you think entirely too high of yourself. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m sure you have better things to do than bother a heartless piece of plastic, don’t you? I know you do. I’ve just scanned your desk and I see no less than five incomplete assignments waiting to be filled in.”

The probability of Gavin smashing his face in had swerved straight past the yellow warning levels and directly into red, danger imminent. Gavin grabbed him across the desk by his jacket—still his old RK800 one, he hadn’t seen the point in discarding it—and it was at that point Fowler threw open the door to his office and pointed directly at them.

“Connor! Detective Reed! What in God’s name are you doing?” he snapped. Gavin let go of Connor harshly, and Connor readjusted his tie in response. It was a shame, he thought, that he didn’t have a title or a surname to compare against Gavin’s. His given name seemed annoyingly small when said next to Detective Reed. “Fucking around when shit’s getting serious, what the hell are you thinking? Both of you, my office, right now!”

He vanished back into the office. “What is this, fucking high school?” Gavin seethed under his breath.

Connor shrugged. “Though I have no personal experience with a school setting, with the playground fighting going around, I don’t believe it would be an entirely inaccurate summary of this precinct.”

“Do me a favour and run some programme that will make you shut up.” Gavin said. With that, he stalked into Fowler’s office. Connor finished stacking his files and followed him in.

“Nice of you two to get your heads out of your asses and join me.” the Captain said, sat at his desk. He looked at the two of them grimly. Gavin pointedly stood as far away from Connor as he could get. “Look, I’ll make this short because I need someone I trust on the scene, but it’s fucked up. Glennister’s dead. We just got a call, he was shot about forty-five minutes ago.”

Gavin exhaled deeply. Glennister was only a vaguely familiar name to Connor, but it seemed to have some affect on the other man. “Shit. This is for real?”

Connor checked his database for Glennister and found him quickly. Steven Glennister was his full name, a detective who had attended the academy alongside Gavin. Born 2002, 6’0 ft, 185lbs. Had been assigned to a partner android a year and a half ago, PC200 Clara, and they had remained together even after the events in November.

“What do we know about the situation?” Connor asked.

Fowler ran a hand over his face. Connor could see his stress levels in his vision, markedly high, and decided to keep an eye on them in the background. “Not a lot. Glennister was responding to a report of gunshots in the city when it happened. Forensics are setting up now, but as you might have guessed, this is serious. I’m gonna need all hands on deck. Didn’t know you’d be around today, Connor, but now you are, accompany Reed to the scene ASAP and see what you can find. I need this investigation to move fast.”

Connor was starting to regret antagonising Gavin. If he was going to have to share a car with him, it would be beneficial to everyone involved if Gavin wasn’t about to punch him in the face.

“Are you fucking for real?” Gavin snapped. “I’m not working with this plastic asshole.”

“Oh don’t go giving me shit, Detective. I don’t care what your personal feelings are. If Anderson can learn to get on with the android, so can you.”

“But it’s—”

“A cop is dead and I need to find out who killed him. I don’t have time to listen to you bitching at me, Reed! Now get the hell out of my office and do your job instead of standing there like a fucking toddler who doesn’t know how to play nice, you hear me?”

Gavin heard, alright. He stormed out, his face like fire, and Connor felt like he’d witnessed this exact scene before. Because of that, he decided not to engage with the Captain at all, and instead followed Gavin out back into the office.

“Don’t worry,” Connor said as Gavin turned and opened his mouth to speak. “I’m actually on your side about all of this. I don’t particularly want to work with you either.”

Gavin scowled. “Great.” he muttered. “Finally, something we both have in common.”

-- 

The drive out was an awkward, silent affair that had Connor staring out of the window while Gavin kept his eyes firmly on the road. He’d said quite firmly before they’d set off that he didn’t want an android anywhere near the steering wheel, and Connor had been content to let him have his way. Gavin’s anger levels were too high for any argument to successfully gain him control of the car, and it wasn’t like Connor wanted to drive him around anyway.

That was the beauty of free will. He still remembered the time Gavin had ordered him to make a coffee only to leave Connor standing there, arm outstretched in offering, confused as to why Gavin would make such a request only to make a mockery of him. It was a sore spot, and one Connor would much rather forget.

When they pulled up to the crime scene, cordoned off with holographic tape, Connor abandoned Gavin immediately to begin his own analysis. The crime had taken place in an alleyway behind a Cyberlife store, Glennister slumped against the wall, his blood coating the floor beneath him. Clara, the android, sat behind the yellow tape on a bench, a blanket around her shoulders as another android checked her over. Connor wondered who put the blanket on her—it wasn’t something that would help an android get through ‘shock’. It was a very human gesture.

Keeping the location of Clara in mind, Connor turned back to Glennister. It would be better to collect the facts first, and then gather the emotional evidence afterwards. That way, he could piece together the scene objectively, and then add in the secondary aspects when he was done.

He scanned Glennister first. Cause of death was clear instantly: exsanguination. The man had bled out as a result of three gunshot wounds, one to the upper right leg and two to the chest. The gunshot to the leg suggested that he’d been shot from behind, but the two in the chest had come from the front. In his hand was his own gun, and it had been discharged once. Connor began to reconstruct the scene, playing with the models of Glennister and the assailant to see which paths they’d taken.

Glennister had responded to a report of gunshots. He’d entered the alleyway, his gun drawn, but apparently hadn’t seen anything immediately. The first bullet came from behind, so he started looking for potential hiding places. There was a dumpster to Connor’s right. It fit the trajectory he was looking for. Had they hidden inside? No. Would have made too much noise opening the lid to leave. The assailant may have hidden behind the dumpster instead.

He moved the model from out behind it. It would have had to have been quick to avoid detection, but also steady enough to make its shot. He adjusted its speed and then reconstructed the first shot. Glennister went down on one knee immediately in response, and the assailant moved around to his front. Glennister raised his gun and shot.

Now Connor had to make some choices. Did Glennister’s bullet hit home, or did it miss? They were close enough to each other than it would be unlikely for a trained officer to miss, but he was also in pain and possibly panicking. He looked for marks on the walls. Nothing that he could see. Bullet might have hit target. Where? He didn’t have enough data. Couldn’t know for sure.

Assailant shot back. First shot hit the upper chest, near the centre. Massive damage to the chest wall and the surrounding blood vessels. It knocked Glennister back and to the side, near the wall Connor had found again. He tried to use the same wall as leverage, to get back up. Fought back? No. Didn’t get the chance. The assailant shot once more, abdomen this time. Glennister died where he fell.

Why did it seem so clinical? There was something about the entire reconstruction that felt like it had a plan to it. If the assailant had been hidden, why hadn’t they shot to kill immediately?

If the assailant had been hit, there had to be evidence of it, blood, something that proved they had been shot. Connor scanned the area again, looking for any kind of sign that backed up his theory. Nothing in the immediate scope of the alleyway. He moved down it, glancing behind bins, checking the walls.

It was at the alleyway’s end that he finally found something. Another dumpster, this one askew, suggesting someone had shoved it out of the way quickly. There was a human sized space behind it. He already knew his suspect had used one to hide behind at the other end, so perhaps they had come here after the crime. Hiding from Clara? That had to be it. Kneeling down in the small space, he scanned it.

Sparse amounts of thirium dotted the floor.

It had already become invisible to the human eye, but Connor could see it plain as day. There was so little that he didn’t know if he’d be able to get a decent sample, but he tried regardless. Touching his fingers to the blue blood, he brought them to his mouth, hoping he’d find a match.

To his surprise, he managed to get a model number from it. An AX400 had been here. He went back to his reconstruction, plotted out their path. Yes, it made sense. The shot from Glennister must have only grazed the android. They weren’t seriously wounded.

What business did an AX400 have in shooting a cop? He returned to where Clara was sat, and found Gavin talking with a nearby cop. As he approached, the conversation stopped abruptly. Gavin turned to him. “Find anything useful then?”

The words were fine. His tone was not. Connor knew that he should give away the assailant’s identity as an android, but he also knew that the information would only set Gavin off on another rant. His anger still registered as high on Connor’s scans. He’d give up the information after he was done with the scene. “Maybe. I need to confirm with Glennister’s partner before I make any solid judgement. Have you spoken to her?”

“Yeah, I tried. Not that it wants to give up anything about the damn situation. It’s meant to be a fucking cop and yet it won’t say a thing. Obstruction of justice if you ask me.”

“No one asked you, detective.” Connor said. “But now I know that you will offer your opinion regardless.”

“Alright, smartass. Keep that up, and Hank’ll be coming back to work to find a pile of parts on his desk.”

He wanted to inform Gavin that that was illegal, but he was hitting warning territory again. He decided not to push it any further; he didn’t need to waste time on Gavin anyway. Instead of giving him a response, he turned and walked away, sitting down on the bench next to Clara.

She didn’t respond to his presence.

“Hi, Clara,” he said. “My name is Connor. I’m one of the detectives assigned to this case. Can you talk to me?”

The android looked at her hands. Her eyes were wet with artificial tears. It was a good thing Gavin hadn’t tried to engage with her; he would have only made it worse. “You were Steve’s partner, weren’t you?” Connor asked, switching to Glennister’s first name to try and engage an emotional connection with her. “Do you think you could tell me what happened?”

She just shook her head. Her jaw was stiff. Her LED pulsed yellow. “It hurts.” she said. Her voice wavered, and it sounded like her audio processor was damaged. It wasn’t, Connor knew. It was deviancy doing that to her voice. “I—I don’t understand this feeling. It’s so painful. We can’t feel pain. We can be shot or broken or damaged, and yet we don’t feel pain. It’s impossible, but right now, it feels like I’ve been torn apart.”

Connor’s memory pulled something up in response to her words, three days ago now, being in the abandoned lot, the gunfire and the way his systems had nearly crashed at the thought of Hank dead. He shook it off. “I understand. You’ve lost someone who you’d formed an attachment to. It is a human-like emotion. They call it grief.”

“It makes me want to be reset.” she whispered. “I don’t want to feel this way at all. I can’t function. I can’t.”

Connor had to choose his approach. Going in cold and apathetic might gain him information faster, but he doubted it would make Clara feel any better. He didn’t just have to prioritise his mission anymore. He could take care of the emotions of those around him. Warm and careful might take longer, but it was the option that Hank would approve of.

“I know it might be difficult, but I need to know what happened. Can you tell me what happened? About how you and Steve ended up here?”

Clara dashed her hand across her cheeks, trying to clear her tears. “It was…we heard about it over the radio, so we responded. When we got here, there was nothing. I said I would check the perimeter. Steve told me to be careful. He said…” she closed her eyes, pained. “He told me to call if anything happened.”

Connor nodded. “So he was a good partner. A good person.”

“He is.” Clara clenched her fists. “Was. He was. Even before everything last year, he always thought about me. Why did he have to die? It’s not fair. It isn’t fair!”

“It isn’t.” Connor agreed. “Which is why I need your help, to figure out who did it and stop this happening again. Can you tell me what happened in the alleyway?”

“He went down there and I—I heard gunshots.” Clara’s LED flashed red. She looked horrified as she relived her experiences. “It all happened so quickly. So quickly. When I reached the alleyway, I looked for the source but there was nobody. Nobody there. Just Steve, Steve was just slumped against the wall and I couldn’t. I couldn’t move.”

Connor was measuring her stress levels now, and they were rising rapidly. He needed to calm her, or else she might break down on him. “I found traces of another android behind the dumpster on the far end of the alleyway.” Connor told her. “Did you look around? Did you see anything?”

She shook her head. Clara’s eyes stared straight past him. “No. No. I just stood there. I saw Steve and I saw all the blood. I thought I had to save him, but when I got to him, he was already…he was already…I was too late. I couldn’t do a thing! The suspect got away? I let them run because I was too compromised? No, this can’t be happening. Steve can’t be dead!”

Her stress levels were in the red. Bad. Very bad. Connor needed to pull back from the questions, but he didn’t know what he could say to bring the levels back down. He started consulting his databases, looking for the best course of action.

Talk down?

No. Talking could make things worse. Too many outcomes that he couldn’t predict. He couldn’t have her self destruct on him.

Deploy deactivation code?

Absolutely not. Even it could work, which it wouldn’t, it was a drastic measure that would only hurt the situation more as a whole.

Soothe?

But how? He realised he didn’t know. He didn’t have the experience or the data to create a probability of the chance of success. He didn’t understand what Clara’s needs were or what she would react best to.

But then, in a flash of self realisation, he considered something. He was only trying to think about how to relax an android, not a human. He was dealing with a deviant. Someone who was a human in all but name. His approach was wrong.

He changed tact, started consulting his database again. How did humans comfort other humans? Physical touch. He found his memory, Hank pulling him into a hug at the fast-food stand, how it had made Connor feel wanted and at ease. He started calculating his probability of success.

It went up. And up. And up.

He reached for Clara and pulled her against his chest.

“It’s okay.” he said. Clara held onto him and cried into his shoulder. “Thank you for everything you’ve told me. I’m sorry for what you had to experience today, but I promise you, I will find out who did this and make sure they are brought to justice.

Distantly, he was aware of Gavin watching. Connor cared little for what he thought. He focused all of his processing power on Clara, holding on to her until her stress levels returned to normal. “Find them,” she said into his shoulder. “Please. For me.”

He would. “You have my word.”

Chapter Text

Hank had never realised just how empty his house had become until after Connor had taken up residency with him. In the years after his son’s death, it had become all but a ghost house, Hank haunting its corridors only when he wasn’t down at the bar or out on another deadbeat case. For so long, Sumo had been the only sign of life inside its walls, the only friendly face Hank cared to see. Even though Connor took up very little space, barely had any possessions to his name and needed no food or bed to sleep, his presence had made Hank’s place feel a little bit more like a home again.

The house sure felt empty in his absence. As Hank prepared himself a breakfast of badly burned toast and made sure Sumo had enough food in his bowl, he found himself surprised at unused to it he was now.  Two months. Connor had been living with him for two months, and already Hank was feeling the effect of him not being there.

If anyone from the station could hear his thoughts, they’d accuse him of going soft.

Sumo ate half heartedly from his bowl before trekking into the living room, jumping up onto the side of the couch where Connor always sat. “What? I’m not good enough for you?” Hank said, and Sumo whined back at him. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. He’s not gonna be long. He’ll be back to scratch your head for you soon.”

His shoulder was hurting like a bitch. Downing his prescription, he ate his charred toast and waited for the pills to kick in. Had to go and get himself shot, didn’t he? Why couldn’t this have happened back last year when he didn’t want to be on the job? Now he had a workaholic android who always wanted to be on a case, and Hank was well and truly out of commission.

Well. See if that stopped him.

He finished his breakfast and grabbed one of the magazines off the side. He’d brought this one in the other day but hadn’t had the time to read it as of yet. Most of the subjects were tired as hell, just going on about deviancy in androids for the hundredth thousandth time or talking about how President Warren’s public approval had dropped yet again or whatever it was going on in Russia now. Hank didn’t care. He didn’t have it in him to care. He was too damn old to give a fraction of a shit about whatever was going on in the minds of politicians.

Still, because he had nothing better to do, he swiped through it, gave the words a customary read, and sighed. “You know what, Sumo?” he said. His dog perked up from the sofa at his name. “World’s a fucking sack of shit. Swear, everything’s falling apart.”

Sumo barked enthusiastically. Hank laughed. “Yeah, I know you ain’t. Family’s the only thing worth anything, all this crap? It’s just so damn superficial. A goddamn shit show.”

Sumo’s tail was wagging back and forth now. Apparently he loved taking part in a conversation he knew absolutely nothing about. Hank discarded the magazine and went to sit on the couch too, switching the TV on instead to catch a rerun of the baseball game from last night. Connor would be back soon. Wasn’t worth getting invested in something major.

So they watched, Sumo resting his head on Hank’s thigh, Hank’s good hand resting on his back. It was peaceful if nothing else, a little bit idyllic. The heating was on. They were both warm. If Hank wasn’t still waiting for Connor to come in at any moment, he might have even let himself doze off.

The minutes kept on ticking by, though. Soon they’d turned into an hour, an hour and a half. The game finished. Hank had stopped paying attention long before its end. Another half hour went by. Connor still hadn’t returned, and he hadn’t called to give a reason for why he was taking so long either.

Sumo cocked his head in confusion when Hank sat up in the chair, moving for him when he went to stand. Getting a few files from the office didn’t take a few hours. It took maybe thirty minutes at most plus another twenty in travel time. Connor had been out for over double that period. He was taking too long.

“Fucking hell,” Hank muttered. He went to the window and peered out to see if Connor might be coming up the path. Instead, he found the entire neighbourhood regrettably silent.

Was he worried about Connor’s safety? No. He was an android with capabilities far outstripping Hank. He could take care of himself; he’d proven that multiple times over. But was Hank concerned that he’d been caught up in something regardless? That, well, maybe. Connor was efficient. Everything he did, he made sure to take as little time as possible. This? This was out of character. Connor didn’t do distractions, and he sure as hell didn’t fuck around.

“What do you think. Sumo?” Hank asked. “Reckon you could track him down?”

Sumo barked, his tail going a mile a minute. Who was he kidding? Sumo couldn’t track a rabbit that was three feet in front of him, let alone find Connor.

He returned to the kitchen table and poured himself a drink before discarding it down the sink. Weren’t supposed to mix alcohol with those pills he’d taken. Hank from a year ago would have downed it without thinking, but that Hank didn’t have a family to look out for. Fifteen minutes. Connor had fifteen minutes before Hank rang Fowler and asked him where the hell he’d gone.

He was down to four minutes and seventeen seconds when Sumo suddenly bounded out of the living room for the front door. Hank felt everything in him relax. Sumo had a sixth sense for Connor, always knew exactly when he was about to arrive back. He went and sat down by the front door, tail smashing into the floor impatiently, his tongue hanging out of his mouth as he panted.

Hank got the door open before Connor even had a chance to unlock it. Bitter cold air rushed into the house. “About time you showed up.” Hank said, stopping him dead in his tracks.

Silence. Connor stood there, his arm half outstretched, blinking once before retracting it with a confused expression on his face. “Hank?” he said. “I usually let myself in. You didn’t have to open the door for me.”

Sumo, who’d had enough of waiting, went for him. Darting out from beside Hank, all 170lbs of him went bounding straight into Connor, sending the two of them down in a flurry of paper as Connor dropped all of the files. Anyone else would have probably had a scream up about it. Hell, Sumo didn’t try anything like that with Hank, but because Connor was moderately tougher than the average human and wouldn’t be hurt if he did it, Sumo seemed to think he was fair game. It probably didn’t help that Connor actively rewarded the behaviour every time he did it, with copious amounts of petting and affirmations of how much of a good boy the dog was.

“What’s that, Connor?” Hank said, stepping out after Sumo, who was furiously licking Connor’s face now. Hank’s concern faded in favour of amusement over just how excited Sumo was to see him. With the way he was acting, Hank would have thought he’d been gone for weeks rather than few hours. “Is that an explanation I’m hearing? For wherever the hell you’ve been?”

Belatedly, Hank realised exactly what he sounded like; a father chastising his son for coming home past curfew. Except there hadn’t been a curfew, it was barely past midday, and Connor was a perfectly capable android who could do what he liked, not some reckless teenager. If he knew what Hank was thinking, he’d probably tease him for it. 

No. Fuck that, Hank thought. Connor had worried him, as little as he would like to admit it. The least he could do was explain himself.

Connor wiped his face, gathered the paper files (such a rarity nowadays, everything else seemed to be on damn tablets) and got to his feet. Sumo finally relented and sat back. “Well?” Hank pressed.

“I got held up quite significantly as the office, and then sent out on a case by the Captain.”

“Wait, you what the what now?” Hank held his hands up, trying to get him to slow down. “Alright, I changed my mind. First you can get inside, then you can tell me what the hell is going on here.”

The look on Connor’s face was off; like he was somewhat rattled. He came in, dropped the files on the kitchen table, and then went, as Hank predicted he would, to sit on his specific seat on the couch. Sumo followed him in and sat in front of him. “Alright,” Hank said, crossing his arms. “What happened?”

“I was gathering the necessary files when Captain Fowler pulled me and Detective Reed into the office. He’d just received word that another detective, Steven Glennister, had been killed, and he wanted us to investigate. Myself and the detective—”

“Hold up.” Hank said. Connor still hadn’t learned the art of tact, and it was showing right now. “Slow the fuck down, kid. Steve’s dead? What the hell happened?”

“Yes. Myself and the detective made our way to the crime scene, where we found Detective Glennister and his partner. Glennister had sustained multiple gunshot wounds, one to the leg, two to the chest, and had bled to death. I found evidence that an android had committed the crime. An AX400.”

Connor had gone into detached mode, a little bit colder than normal. Something was definitely bothering him. “Alright, and what about you then? You okay?”

Connor’s LED pulsed red for a brief second. “Yes, Hank. I’m okay. Everyone at the precinct is aware that it is an android that committed the crime, and they’re looking into it now. I’m going to assist where I’m needed, I made a promise that I need to keep.”

“Right.” Hank didn’t really know what to say to any of that. Connor had just given him a lot of information in a very short space of time, and he didn’t have any advanced database-android-bullshit to process it with. All he had was his regular, somewhat old human brain, and even that was slightly dumbed down by his painkillers. “Fucking hell, Connor, next time, if you’re going to be late, call me.”

“What?”

“Call me. Pick up a phone, dial my number, and let me know where you are.” Hank shook his head in exasperation. “I used to see you report back to fucking Cyberlife all the damn time, you just shut your eyes and bam, there goes your report. Ain’t so difficult to call me and let me know that you’re held up, is there?”

Connor just looked confused now. He looked around as if anything in the room might help him to answer the question (which was rhetorical anyway), before he settled his gaze back on Hank. “I didn’t see the need. Why would you want me to call you? It was just a request from the Captain, you didn’t need to know immediately.”

Hank wondered if Cyberlife knew they’d created an android that had no common sense. They probably did. All they’d programmed RK800 to do was complete its mission. Thank God Connor had gone for deviancy, at least he could learn about it now. “Because, Connor, I was sat here for a good hour and a half wondering if you’d gone and gotten yourself into some kind of trouble. I don’t know what the hell you’re up to. You went to a goddamn crime scene. This isn’t like before, you’ve only got one body now, you lose that, and it’s all over.”

Connor was quiet. His expression turned pensive, before the first hints of mischief crept into his eyes. “Hank?” he said.

“What?”

“Were you worried about me?”

“What the hell do you think?” Hank said, relieved that he’d managed to get a glimpse of the regular Connor again. “I’ve said my bit. Christ, you worked with that prick Gavin? And you’re still in one piece? I don’t know Connor, maybe there’s hope for you yet.”

“It wasn’t a willing partnership, I assure you.” Connor replied. He reached down to scratch Sumo’s ears. Judging from excited jerk of his head, he’d been clearly anticipating Connor to do so for a while. “I brought the files back that we would need for the Whitfield case, but I would like to tell you more about this one too. Is it okay if I assign a higher priority to the Glennister case than the Whitfield one, seeing as we seem to be dealing with a cop killer?”

“By all means, as long as I’m doing something, I’m for it. The Whitfield case can wait, I’m sure someone will find the android anyway. ” Hank said. “But before we begin anything, I need more painkillers. My shoulder is fucking screaming at me, hurts like a bitch.”

Connor looked at him. Hank narrowed his eyes, knowing exactly what he was doing. “Hank, you only took your last dose two—”

“The hell have I said about scanning me?”

“I’m just trying to—”

“Yeah. Help. I know. Fine. I’ll wait, if only because you won’t stop monitoring me if I do take ‘em.”

Connor nodded. “I’ll let you know when it’s time for the next dose.”

-- 

Connor went over the details methodically with him, which was to say that he pointed out everything. It didn’t matter if it was as insignificant as size of the dumpster that the assailant had hidden behind or as obvious as the fact that Steve Glennister had been shot three times. Nothing escaped Connor’s scrutiny. As far as he was concerned, every detail was important, and if he thought as much, then damn, Hank would listen.

“When I reconstructed the incident, I found it to be somewhat…” Connor paused, like he was looking for the right way to word his opinion. They were sat at the kitchen table, the Whitfield files forgotten on the floor beside it. “Well. Not planned exactly. No, not that. I mean, I have no doubt that it was planned, but I also get the idea that it had an element of improvisation too.”

He sighed, a frustrated sound. Hank snorted. “Mind yourself there Connor, don’t want you overheating. Take a step back, I think you’re thinking too much. Start from the beginning.”

His LED, which had been yellow for a while now, returned to blue. Good. Looked like he was taking his advice. “Okay. Glennister was responding to a report of gunshots, but that could have been anyone who had heard the call. The AX400 couldn’t have known that Glennister would be the one who would answer, and that’s the part that isn’t making sense to me.”

“You’re not giving me enough to work with here, Connor.” Hank pointed out. “If this android fucker just wants to kill cops, why do you think they’d be picking a specific target?”

“The wounds.” Connor said. “The AX400 was hiding. They could have killed Glennister immediately, but they chose not to. They shot first in the leg, and then they moved on to the two chest shots. They wasted time, they risked getting shot, and then risked getting caught too because of it. That suggests to me that this was personal, but if it was, then how could they create a scenario where Glennister would be guaranteed to answer the response?”

Connor sighed. This was troubling him, and likely would be troubling him until he figured it out. Hank leant back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. “Did you check for any other calls that day?”

“What?”

“Were there any false alarms? Gunshots heard anywhere else that our lot were responding to, that kind of shit. Could be that our suspect tried several times before landing on the one they wanted, right?”

Connor’s eyes went distant. A moment later, he nodded. “Yes. There were three call outs this morning, all around half an hour apart. Aside from the gunshots that Glennister responded to, there was an anonymous tip about a wanted suspect from a petty crime three weeks ago, an android by the name of Derren acting unusual by a 7-11, and another round of gunshots only a few blocks from where Glennister was killed. All three of them seemed to be faulty information. Any responding officers mentioned that they found nothing.”

False alarms happened all the time, sure, but three in rapid succession? There had to be something up with that. “You know who reported to them?”

Connor nodded. “Yes, I retrieved that information as well. Officer Kerrins, Officer Jacobs, and Sergeant Merle.”

“Anything that make them different from Glennister?”

“None of them are detectives. I looked through their records, and found that Officer Jacobs has been known for violence towards androids. If anything, I would have thought that would make him a more likely target for our suspect than Glennister. His partner told me that he had always been kind before even before she went deviant.”

“Right. So if that’s the case, then we know this ain’t some kind of situation where an android is going after humans who’ve shit all over them.”

“I suppose not then.” Connor didn’t look too happy with the hypothesis. “It’s so…this is so frustrating. I’m missing the context. I feel like I have pieces but I have nowhere to put them.”

Hank leant over the table and tapped his fingers to Connor’s forehead. “Stop.”

Connor blinked. “Stop? Stop what?”

“I told you already, you’re thinking too fucking hard. You’re deviant, aren’t you? Put yourself in their shoes. I know it’s shit, but sometimes you’ve gotta empathise with bad people in this line of work. You can try and piece the evidence together all you want, but sometimes there just ain’t jack shit. So answer me; what would make you want to go and kill a cop?”

Connor’s forehead creased. “I don’t think that trying to imagine why I would kill a cop is a particularly useful endeavour, Hank.”

Hank was going to tear his own hair out strand by strand. “Christ, Connor, it’s called profiling, I know you know that, I know you do it. You can empathise, it’s part of being a fucking deviant, isn’t it? You’ve got a different perspective than I have, so go on, use those processors of yours and give me an answer.”

Connor crossed his arms against his chest, his LED glowing yellow as his forehead creased in thought. “Okay, so I'm the suspect now, right? I...I don’t want to kill any old officer. I just want to kill specific ones. I don’t care if they’ve been antagonistic towards my people. Maybe…maybe I want to send a message? To DPD in general?”

Well, now they were getting somewhere. Hank wasn’t sure where exactly, but any progress had to be good progress. “What kind of message?”

“I don’t have enough data to think that.”

“We’re not thinking about concrete reasons, Connor, we’re speculating. Come on, this is your favourite fucking thing to do. You speculate about what the hell I’m gonna make for dinner.”

Connor frowned. “Maybe I’ve been…wronged, by someone in the force? Or maybe DPD’s actions hurt me specifically, so now I’m fighting back.”

“So you’re angry at us? Angry at the cops for something they’ve done?”

Connor’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t know. I don’t have enough evidence. Damn it, Hank, I can’t figure it out.”

This really was getting to him. Hank was about to tell him to take a moment to relax when his phone suddenly rang in his pocket. “Fucking dammit to hell,” he muttered, getting up to grab it off the side where it was resting. The caller ID told him it was Fowler. “One sec, Connor.”

He flipped it open. “A man gets shot in the arm and he still gets called up by his boss? What the hell, Captain? I’m on leave.”

“Shut up, Anderson, we’ve got issues. Big ones.” Fowler said. Hank stood up straight at the urgency in his tone. Connor gave him a concerned look. “Is Connor with you?”

“Yeah, why?”

“We’re gonna need him back at the station pronto. I’ve just had a report. Cop and their partner got attacked by an android downtown. The partner’s dead, the suspect tore their pump regulator straight out and caused them to shut down.”

“Fuck.” Hank breathed. “Connor’s already told me about this morning. You thinking it’s the same suspect?”

If it was, it added another dimension to their speculation. Androids killing androids? That was a new one. The only time he’d seen it happen was when Connor had been under Cyberlife, tracking down other deviants. “Yeah. We got an eyewitness report on it; they said it was an AX400, same model that Connor reported back on. I know you’re injured, Hank, but I need you. Shit is getting serious down here and everyone’s having a fucking aneurysm over it. You’re some of the best we’ve got.”

Must have been severe if the Captain was doling out high praise over the phone. “Send me the location, or send it to Connor. We’ll be there. Ain’t like I got anything to do at home anyway.”

“I’ll send it over now. Get there quick, I need results and I need them fast.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll get them.” The line went dead. “Oi, Connor. We’re going out.”

Connor read his expression like an open book. “Something’s happened, hasn’t it? To do with the incident from this morning.”

“Yep.” Hank said, grabbing his coat from the rack. World really was a fucking nightmare, splintering apart at every goddamn corner. “Looks like we might find the context we’re missing after all.”

Chapter Text

The drive to the crime scene was a quiet, tense thing.

The truth was, Connor enjoyed driving. Most cars nowadays were self sufficient in that they could drive themselves and make their own decisions, but Hank still drove an old fashioned manual thing that had probably been built in the 2020’s. While Hank’s shoulder was recovering, Connor had been given control temporary ownership of the vehicle, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to give it up when Hank recovered. There was a sense of freedom in being in control of a giant, metal, moving contraption, and Connor had to admit; he did feel a bit of thrill when he drove it slightly too fast.

He didn’t feel thrilled right now. In fact, he was mostly driving on auto-pilot, his processing power mostly focused on his thoughts for the case. Was this stress? Was he stressed? Ridiculous. It was ridiculous. The RK800 model didn’t get stressed. The RK800 model was meant for delicate situations that required the utmost calm, it was Cyberlife’s most advanced prototype, it was—

Another car pulled out too quickly in front of him, and he barely hit the breaks in time. “Woah, what the fuck was that?” Hank snapped. It was the first thing he’d said since they’d left the drive. “You trying to cause a goddamn accident?”

Connor shook his head. “No. No, I wasn’t.”

“Sure about that? You’re too quiet. Don’t tell me you’re still upset because you couldn’t figure this case out with literally the bare minimum.”

“I’m not. Upset, I mean. I’m not upset.” Connor stared straight ahead at the road. He’d slipped back into his older self for a moment then, thinking of himself as an it instead of a he, as a machine instead of a deviant. If anything that only proved that he was stressed. If his hands hadn’t been on the wheel, he would have covered his face in embarrassment. All these very human feelings, and he didn’t know how to compute a single one of them.

“You know, Connor,” Hank said. “I’ve noticed something about you.”

Connor wasn’t sure if he liked the tone Hank was using. It was a little bit concerned, but there was irritation there too. He started monitoring Hank’s stress levels (mid-to-high) and in the background, he calculated the likelihood of him liking whatever came out of Hank’s mouth next.

Low. Nearly in the single digits low.

“You’re the worst fucking liar I’ve ever met.” Hank continued. “And I’ve had to interrogate some real idiots.”

As always, Connor’s statistical data had been spot on. “What? I haven’t lied to you.”

“And there it is again.” Hank laughed, a genuinely amused sound. “You know what a tell is? Of course you do. You interrogate people, you look for them yourself. Well, guess what Connor, you really must be human, ‘cause your tell is as fucking obvious as a doped up chicken.”

Connor didn’t know quite how to respond to that. He felt so entirely scrambled that he was certain some of his wires had to be crossed somewhere. “I see.” is all he managed, before he asked, “So what is my tell then?”

“Your LED flashes red for a second before you say it, you idiot.”

Connor winced. That was indeed obvious. “I see.” he said again. “That’s…interesting to know.”

“Anyway,” Hank said, “now you know I can read you like a book, dial it back on the crap. Stop beating yourself up over what you don’t know. I’m not those dipshits at Cyberlife, I don’t care if you can or can’t piece something together with scraps. You don’t have to impress me, Connor, I’m not going to switch you off and leave you somewhere if you don’t perform.

Connor drove the rest of the way there in stunned silence. Before, he’d always worked under the threat of deactivation if he didn’t complete his work to standard. So was that it? Was that the reason behind why he felt so knotted inside? Was it because he felt like he had already failed somewhere along the way? He thought of Hank being shot in a room while he was so far away, he thought of the promise he’d made to Clara, and wondered if Hank was right, if Hank had managed to figure it out before Connor had even started making connections.

Was it that he was scared of botching his mission directives?

The crime had occurred in an underground parking lot. When Connor pulled up, he was immediately greeted with the sight of Gavin talking with a man his scans identified as one Martin Decker, the dead android’s human partner. “For fuck’s sake,” Hank muttered under his breath as Connor killed the engine. “The hell is that asshole doing here? I thought Fowler was sending us specifically.”

Apparently not content with asking rhetorical questions, Hank threw the car door open with his good arm and went marching up towards Gavin immediately. Connor took a moment to canvas the scene, checking where the forensics team were already placing their markers and where the android’s body was, before deciding to follow. He too was interested in why Gavin had shown up. He’d already been out once this morning, but then again, so had Connor, and that hadn’t stopped the Captain requesting his presence either.

Gavin saw them over Decker’s shoulder, his expression turning sour as they approached. To his credit, though, he stayed professional. He finished his conversation with Decker, who looked distraught, before walking past him to meet them halfway.

“What the hell,” he said to them, his voice more a growl than anything else, “are you doing here?”

“Funny, was about to ask you the same fucking question.” Hank replied. “Fowler called me, said he needed the best on this case.”

“That motherfucker. He pulled me into the office when I got back and said the same crap.” Gavin’s eyes flicked between the two of them before finally settling on Hank. “What a joke this is. Send your plastic toy on his way to the dead android over there, and I’ll tell you what I got out of the cop.”

“Subtle as a fucking freight train, aren’t we Gavin?” Hank shot back. “Use some goddamn tact, I’m pretty sure from the look on Decker’s face that he valued his partner, so tone your down your bullshit on this.”

Gavin crossed his arms. Connor stepped out in front of Hank, tired of the back-and-forth-arguing that was getting them nowhere fast. “Detective, it would be beneficial to all of us if I heard what was said as well. I need more information if I am to accurately work through this case, so please, feel free to share what you’ve heard anytime soon. We’re both waiting.”

Gavin looked like he wanted to argue the point, but Connor had already determined that the likelihood of him doing so was incredibly low. The man was a detective; despite his argumentative nature and his inherent dislike of androids, it still took a great level of skill and dedication to reach his rank. He wouldn’t compromise an investigation, Connor knew, out of straight up pettiness.

“You don’t know when to stop pushing, do you? Swear to God, you pieces of junk are more trouble than you’re worth.” Gavin clicked his tongue. “Decker and his partner, the PC200, he called him Zack, were out on patrol when they heard reports of an injured android, a female AX400, in the area. The two of them apparently split, the PC200 checking down here while Decker surveyed the perimeter. They hadn’t been apart long when Decker heard gunshots, three of them. By the time he got here, the PC200 had shut down and it was over.”

He laughed at the end of his recap, a bitter sound. Connor couldn’t identify the emotion behind it. “Looks like our cop-killer friend is getting sloppy already, only two victims in. Plenty of people saw it to call it in, which is why Decker and his partner responded to the call. Least we know it’s a female android now. Really narrows it down.”

“I thought Fowler said that the cause of the shut down was because the AX400 tore out the victim’s power-pump-part-thing.” Hank pointed out. Connor resisted the urge to tell him the correct name, knowing he would forget it immediately anyway. “Why the hell would there have been gunshots?”

Gavin jerked his thumb towards Zack’s body. “Yeah, the pump was cause of death. Doesn’t mean that the AX400 didn’t pull the same shit that it pulled with Glennister this morning. Three shots, one to the leg, two to the chest. We’ve got one sick piece of plastic on our hands.”

Gavin’s voice was beginning to grate on Connor’s audio processors. Time to leave. “I’m going to go and analyse the scene, Hank.” he said, heading towards where Zack’s body had been left. Yellow markers pinpointed pools of thirium and the torn out pump regulator, but other than that, there didn’t seem to be a great deal of evidence to go around.

He shifted uncomfortably as he got to the body. It felt like someone was staring at him, but when he turned around to check back on Gavin and Hank, both of them were caught up in a heated debate. Nothing. Must have just been nothing, a blip in his sensors, something to do with deviancy that he didn’t understand.

Kneeling down to Zack’s body, Connor let his eyes pick out what would be necessary to the investigation. As Gavin had said, three gunshot wounds became immediately obvious; one to the upper right leg, destroying much of the inner workings, and two to the chest. As before with Glennister, he’d been shot in the leg first. The shots to the chest had followed afterwards. He analysed further. One bullet had entered from behind, the same as the initial one. The final shot had been fired from the front.

Like he’d done in the alleyway, Connor crafted his models in his mindscape, stick-like figures of Zack and the AX400, and began working out their movements. Zack entered the parking lot, sharp movements. Gun drawn? No. Androids belonging to the police force were allowed to carry weapons now, but their usage of them was still severely restricted. Zack would not have drawn his weapon unless the situation had seemed absolutely dire at the first look. Gun not drawn. Zack was unarmed.

If the situation hadn’t looked bad at first glance, that meant the suspect must have hidden. Connor already knew the AX400 was good at staying out of sight; she had managed to get the jump on Glennister and hide from Clara when she’d come down the alley. There were plenty of cars around to hide behind.

Back to the reconstruction. Where had she been hiding? Easy answer. He placed her model behind the car that was next to Zack’s dead body. The model of Zack approached warily, and then turned his back. AX400 moved out from the car. First round fired.

Upper right leg damaged. Error warnings would have popped up in Zack’s vision. Compromised? Not yet. Zack could still see, still react. Upper right leg went offline. Zack was disadvantaged, would not have been able to fight back effectively. He would have been able to reach for his gun, though. Why wouldn’t he have reached for his gun?

No. He had reached for the gun. Desperately. That was why the AX400 had fired again from behind instead of waiting to walk around to his front. Second shot hit. Zack fell forward on his knees. Damage significant, error warnings would have compromised effectiveness. Connor remembered being shot in the back at Stratford Tower when he’d chosen to rescue Hank. Though he had shut down nearly instantly, he could still recall the moment those bullets had struck, the way his vision had filled with innumerable warnings, the way he hadn’t been able to see or hear or do anything over the top of them.

Those few seconds before he had died had felt like an eternity. He had not yet been deviant, not yet really felt emotion, but there had been something there in that moment. He didn’t remember it well now, couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, but he knew he never wanted to experience it again.

He was getting distracted. Back to the reconstruction. The AX400 had approached the same way she had done with Glennister, walked around to the front of Zack and fired again. There was a forty seven second gap between the two shots to the chest cavity. The second shot had not killed Zack, though. No. He’d still been alive.

Connor knew what came next. His model of the AX400 knelt down, and without missing a beat, she tore Zack’s thirium pump regulator from his chest and threw it aside.

Zack shut down twenty five seconds later.

Reconstruction complete. Connor backed out of it quickly and stood again. It had not been a quick death. It had been drawn out and it had been brutal and it had been cruel. As he stared down at Zack’s body, he found his thoughts catching, like they were caught on a loop.

How could one android have done this to another? The deviant in Stratford Tower had torn out Connor’s pump in desperation, not out of cruelty. He could understand that, he understood desperation. What had happened to Zack, on the other hand, was beyond his comprehension. What would drive an android to be so merciless towards her own kind?

The uncomfortable feeling of being watched returned, dragging him from his thoughts. When he looked around, though, no one was looking his way. Something was off. Something wasn’t right. Something was—

Realisation hit him like a punch to his own thirium pump. He turned quickly on the spot. “Detective,” he said, addressing Gavin. “Did you and the other investigators make sure the area was clear?”

“What?” Gavin’s conversation with Hank finished abruptly. “Of course it’s clear. You see anything in here?”

“No, I don’t think you understand.” Connor said, his tone rising with urgency. “Did Officer Decker say that he saw the AX400 on his way in here? Has anyone seen the AX400 leaving this area, or were the only eyewitness reports from before the time of the incident?”

Silence. Gavin didn’t seem to know the answer, so Connor took matters into his own hands. Scanning the area, he started running through his probabilities as he looked at each of the cars.

If he was right, the AX400 was still here.

Connor’s processors were the most advanced Cyberlife had to offer, and it showed in his results. He moved past the cars with practiced ease as he searched for the one that would be the perfect hiding spot, the exact one where he would choose to hide if he was in her position. She was armed. She was dangerous. But, judging by her previous two kills, she also had a specific style, and it was one that she seemed like she wanted to keep to.

If that was correct, then his probability of being shot was very low. If that was correct, then the probability of any of them being shot was very low.

“Connor!” Hank hissed from across the parking lot. “What the hell are you playing at?”

“I’m solving this case, Lieutenant.” Connor said, adopting Hank’s title in an attempt to keep the situation light. Humans appreciated that. Connor appreciated it too, now. Too much severity made for tension, and tension made way for mistakes. “You know me. I never fail my mission.”

He made it to the car that he believed her to be hiding behind. It was a sleek thing, aerodynamic, new model, something produced recently. Another car was parked in front of it, hiding it from view, and all that was behind it was a gap and then the wall. It was the perfect hiding space for a criminal, android or not. Connor stepped alongside it carefully, his steps quiet and slow.

“Connor,” Hank said again. “What the fuck are you doing now? Our killer’s not going to be here, she would have scarpered ages ago.”

Pausing as he went to look behind the car, he took the moment to make sure he was absolutely ready. He needed all of his attention on the matter at hand. On three, he thought. One. Two.

Someone shot out from behind before he was ready.  

The AX400. In one swift movement she was on her feet and barrelling into him with the kind of speed only something non-human could possess. Connor’s processors worked fast, especially when compared to a human brain, but the AX400 was an android too, could process nearly as fast as he could. Caught off guard, still in analysis mode and not prepared for a fight, Connor had no time to react. Her momentum sent him crashing to the floor, the impact jarring his systems momentarily.

“Shit!” he heard Hank shout. Chaos, suddenly, movement and sound all indistinguishable as Connor pulled himself back together. The AX400 leapt over the other cars and bolted for the exit, throwing one of the forensics men she crashed into across the floor. “Someone go after her! Now!”

Connor pushed himself to his feet, but Gavin had already set off after her. No chance. He had absolutely no chance. Humans ran out of breath. Humans had limited stamina. Androids were not plagued by either fact. “I’m going!” Connor called to Hank, and without waiting for a response, he took off after her too.

The parking lot the incident had taken place in was only a short way off from a busy road where shops and parked cars lined the streets on either side. As Connor skidded around a corner that would take him to the most populated area, he was reminded of another chase he’d had with an AX400, Kara, which had ended with the two of them on a highway and Connor only missing being struck by a car by mere millimetres. He couldn’t afford to take that kind of risk here, not when he was no longer being backed up by Cyberlife. If he died here, it would be as a human’s death was; final. 

Gavin was on the other side of the street, but his progress was being hindered by the crowds. Connor managed to catch a brief reading of the AX400 further up, but the volume of people was making it difficult to pinpoint. He couldn’t waste time. If he could get in front of the other android, he could intercept her further up, minimise risk to the people around and to himself.

Probability of success was low, 23%, but he had to try. Hank had often gambled on percentages lower and had come away a winner, and Connor had ways of improving his chances.

He ran. Expertly, he weaved in and around the other civilians, predicting their movements in advance so he could plot his route. Left, right, run straight, duck beneath. His analysis went far enough ahead that his movements were all but a set of pre-recorded commands that he could follow through. He was catching up with Gavin. Probability rose. 31% chance of success. 33%. 36%. 40%.

He was just starting to think that he had it when the android did something he hadn’t managed to predict at all. As Connor made it level with Gavin on the other side of the street, she turned suddenly, darting out into the middle of the road and amongst the incoming traffic. Car horns filled the air, but she was sprinting amongst the cars as if she didn’t fear being struck.

Gavin’s eyes followed her into the road. Connor knew what was about to happen before Gavin even changed direction. “Don’t do it, Gavin!” he shouted, but his voice was drowned out by the roaring of cars as they passed him by.

There were too many cars parked along Gavin’s side of street for him to see be able to see the incoming danger, and there wasn’t a crossing until further up. He was running out blind. Why would he run out blind like that? No time to speculate. There was a car coming that would hit Gavin straight on if he made it out into the road.

Connor only had seconds before something terrible happened.

It wasn’t that time moved slower when Connor was running numbers in his head; it was that his processors worked so fast that time didn’t particularly matter. Two options, thousands of potential outcomes. If Connor ran for the AX400, his chances of catching her remained at 40%. He could possibly end this case here and now. It would all be over.

On the other hand, if he didn’t somehow stop Gavin from being hit by the oncoming car, his chances of survival were poor, only a mere 8%. The number had come from Connor’s analysis of the speed, the model of car, and matching those two facts to previous accidents involving the same factors. It was a grim number. Too low. Even if Gavin did survive, the injuries would be catastrophic.

Back to the decision. If Connor caught the suspect now, he could save any her potential future targets, but Gavin would likely be killed. If Connor saved Gavin instead, she would get away and would likely kill again.

But even if he did choose to pursue her, his chance of catching her was still low to begin with. He ran another calculation, worked out another probability; his chances of saving Gavin if he intercepted at the right trajectory and speed? High. 87%.

Chance of getting killed in the process?

Equally as high.

Connor had never paid attention to that number before. It hadn’t mattered when he’s had infinite bodies to be backed up into. The mission always came first. It had to, when Cyberlife was involved.

But now? Connor didn’t want to die. He’d experienced too little of this new world to just shut down now. He had a mission to still complete, another case with Hank to figure out, he had a life to live.

That was the deviant in him thinking. It pained him, but it was true. As much as he wanted to live, he knew that he couldn’t just stand by and let Gavin die. It would haunt him. If he let selfishness win out over everything else and didn’t intervene, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.

87% chance of death? Hank had gambled on higher and still lost. Probability wasn’t a sure thing. It was a chance, and one Connor had to take.

A decision made in a fraction of a second, one he would have to accept no matter the cost. Connor ran out into the road, going straight for Gavin. Car horns were loud, angry noises in his audio processors. The thought struck him that they might be the last things he ever heard.

Gavin was in arm’s reach. The screech of breaks told him that the self driving car he’d run out in front of had identified the danger, but Connor knew they would not be enough. He had seconds, if that.

He would need to put everything he had behind pushing Gavin back. Too little strength could get Gavin out of the way, but would leave Connor in the road to be struck down. He needed to clear them both of the car. Failure was not an option.

With his momentum and trajectory decided, he threw himself at Gavin, all of his weight behind it. Gavin’s eyes went wide as the force threw him back, letting out a grunt as the blow took all the wind out of him. They both went back and down, slamming into the pavement. Connor’s systems froze on him briefly on impact. Humans and androids alike gasped and moved away at the commotion.

Distantly, Connor heard the car pass behind them as everything came back online in him again. Alive. He was alive. They both were.

He rolled off of Gavin and stared up at the sky, heating the other man struggle to catch his breath beside him. He was fine, Connor’s secondary sensors told him, not seriously injured. He’d succeeded. He’d done what he’d set out to do.

“What the—” Gavin began. He was trying to get to his feet and failing at it. Connor understood on some level; he didn’t want to stand up and probably couldn’t even if he did. The AX400 would be long gone by now anyway, there would be no point in giving chase. “What the fuck just happened?”

Connor sat up, straightening his tie. The action helped ground him. “I think I just saved your life, Detective.” Connor replied. “People usually say thank you.”

Gavin did not say thank you, but that was probably more because he had nearly just been killed and was still recovering from how hard Connor had struck him. He was very pale now. Maybe that was a result of his near death experience. Human reactions differed from person to person.

As he continued to check over Gavin, his audio processors picked up some kind of fuss that was disconnected from the people around him. Familiar. It was familiar. He knew the voice he could hear.

Someone was shouting his name. Oh yes. Someone was indeed shouting his name. Obviously the rest of the investigation team had finally caught up with them. Connor had no doubt they’d all witnessed his reckless act.

Hank came storming through the crowd and hauled him to his feet with his good hand. Connor allowed him, not having it in him to resist.

“I’m okay,” he began. “I know what you’re going to say, and I’m only going to ask that you save the lecture for later when I’m functioning at a higher—”

Hank pulled him into a crushing, one armed hug. Connor stopped speaking, surprised and confused. It would have jarred his injured shoulder. There was no way that the action wouldn’t have caused him significant pain.

“You suicidal lunatic!” Hank hissed. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I needed to decide between chasing the suspect and rescuing Detective Reed. It proved more pressing to—”

“You know what? Don’t answer that question. Jesus fucking Christ Connor, I thought you were going to die out there. You know how close that car came to hitting you?”

Connor did in fact know, but decided to leave out the matter of his 87% probability rate. “I’m okay, Hank.” he said. “I let the suspect escape though.”

“You think I give a damn about that? You scared the shit out of me!” he let Connor go and grabbed him by his shoulder instead. “Fucking hell, Connor, you’re going to kill me. Don’t go throwing yourself out into danger, you hear me?”

“I hear you.” Connor said. It wasn’t a lie, his audio processors were working just fine. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause you any distress. I just had to do what was right. Do you think it was the correct decision?”

Hank looked at Gavin, who had managed to get himself sitting at least. He sighed. “Yeah, kid. Yeah, I think it was, even if I don’t agree with you putting yourself in shit for it. Christ.” He called over to the rest of the team. “Get someone the hell out here, ambulance or whatever, I don’t care, Gavin looks like he’s about to keel over and I don’t need more shit on my goddamn plate. Connor, if you think you can get there without throwing yourself into another fucking road, please go and get the car. We’re going to need to head back and debrief this all to Fowler. Absolute joy.”

Connor was about to leave, when he heard Gavin rasp, “Wait.”

He stopped in his tracks, turning to look down at him where he still lay. “Yes, Detective?”

“I—” Gavin coughed. It looked like Connor had hit him harder than he’d anticipated. “Shit. Don’t think this changes anything, it doesn’t, but I’m not stupid. I owe you for that, you just saved my life.” he paused, his eyebrows creasing. “Why’d you do it?”

Connor frowned. “Because it was the right thing to do.”

Gavin laughed, a hoarse sound. “Right thing to do. Right fucking… I can’t believe this. Get the hell out of here, Connor, Hank gave you an order and I’m sick of seeing your plastic face.”

Connor glanced towards Hank, looking to share his surprise, but the other man was already surveying the area, looking for any sign of the AX400. Was this a personal victory? He wasn’t sure. Gavin’s tone didn’t have any of the usual poison to it, but it was difficult to ascertain whether or not that was because of what had just happened.

I owe you for that. It had to mean something, whatever the case was.

“It wasn’t an order,” Connor pointed out as he turned away to leave. “It was a request. I do listen to those from time to time, when they’re reasonable.”

Gavin didn’t reply.

Chapter Text

Hank was starting to wonder if this day was ever going to actually end.

It was late, the sun having set by now. Jeffery Fowler sat in front of him, looking down at his tablet with narrow eyes, his mouth a thin line. Hank’s report was on there; paperwork was no longer done on actual paper anymore, but that was how it was now. When Hank had been young, everyone always said that everything would be electronic in the future. Sometimes, he forgot that he was living in that future. Even his own partner was wire and plastic instead of flesh and bone.

“So the long and short of it is,” Fowler said after he’d spent a good five minutes going through Hank’s work, “we’ve got sweet fuck all.”

“Pretty much.” Hank replied. His shoulder was aching something awful. Was it time for his pills yet? Had to be. “I mean, we could’ve had something, but you thought it’d be a good idea to put that fire cracking piece of shit Gavin on the case too. I thought you wanted ‘the best’, not, ‘the bottom of the fucking barrel’.”

“Reed’s a good detective,” Fowler said, but Hank could practically hear ‘when he wants to be’ hanging in the air after the statement. “This isn’t a game, Lieutenant. You know how this is going to look if we can’t solve it? We’ve got a good man dead and an android gone too. Everyone’s on high alert.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Hank said, barely biting back his anger. “Shit, Jeffrey, we’ve got no damn motive. All we know is her model number and vaguely what she looks like, but there could be a hundred other androids out there that are her spitting image. Dammit it, this is gonna do more harm to them all as a whole, public ain’t gonna take lightly to this.”

Hank didn’t know much about Markus other than what he’d seen on TV and what Connor had told him, but he had to admire the dedication that he’d put into the immense task of fighting for his people’s rights. An incident like this was only going to be one big ugly mark on everything his revolution had stood for, was only going to damage the message Markus had been sending. Fowler leant forward on his desk, chin on his linked hands, and sighed. “The analysis on the bullets found in both Glennister and Zack is still in progress, so we’re hoping there’ll be a match on the gun to help us find the suspect. In the meantime, we’ve got jack shit to go on. Go home, Hank. There’s nothing else we can do right now.”

Hank scoffed. “No way. This ain’t over, Jeffrey, there’s gotta be something—”

“If there was, I’d be working your ass off on it. You’re still injured, Hank, you shouldn’t even be here. Get the hell out of my office and go home. I’ll call if anything comes up.”

Hank genuinely wanted to fight him on it. Logically, he knew he was right, knew that there really wasn’t anything to be done, but damn if it didn’t still piss him off. How could one android manage to kill not one, but two members of the DPD and still manage to evade them?

It was easy to blame Gavin, but Hank knew that the AX400 would have probably escaped even if the detective hadn’t nearly gotten himself killed by running out into traffic. Emotions had been high, and because of it Decker hadn’t noticed that the AX400 had never left the scene. There’d been no warning that she’d been there. Hank had assumed that forensics would have scoped the area out before actually starting any kind of investigation. None of them had been ready for a chase.

He left the office and found Connor at his desk opposite Hank’s, flipping his coin up and down. Hank had asked him why he did the tricks once, and Connor had given him some longwinded explanation about recalibration alongside other android jargon that Hank didn’t understand. It was bullshit anyway. He thought that Connor did it because he enjoyed the rhythmic action of it, an act of deviance long before he’d officially broken out of his programming.

A cup of coffee was on Hank’s own desk, still steaming, freshly made. Hank grabbed it by the handle and took a careful swig. It was black, perfectly to his liking. It burned a soothing path down his throat. “You made this?” he asked.

Connor wasn’t listening to him. His eyes were focused on the coin, watching it as he went up and down. “I don’t understand.” he said. “First a human, now an android. It makes no sense. Why would the type of target change? Has the MO changed?”

Clink. Clink. The coin hit his fingers and he threw it in the air again. Again. “She was angry, I think.” Clink. “But also, she held so little regard for her own life. When she ran into the road, I don’t think she was attempting to get Gavin to follow her.” Clink. “No. She was just trying to escape and she didn’t care if she died trying.”

Hank didn’t speak, just kept his mouth shut for once. Connor’s eyes stayed on the coin the entire time, tracking it up and down. “If she doesn’t care for her own life, that suggests she has little to live for. But why take the lives of law enforcement? Why attack and kill her own people? I can’t understand it. I feel like I’m…”

“Hitting a wall?” Hank suggested, putting the coffee mug down in front of Connor. “Yeah, I get that. I’m feeling the same way.”

The thunk of the coffee mug diverted his attention away from his coin. He looked at the steaming mug, and then closed his eyes, leaning back in the chair. When he said nothing, Hank decided to pursue a different line of questioning. “You made the coffee for me?”

“I thought it was better than you returning home to a bottle of alcohol.” Connor said, keeping his eyes closed. “I checked it myself before serving to make sure it matched the coffee you usually make for yourself at home.”

Hank suddenly regretted drinking it. “You put your goddamn fingers in my coffee for a taste-test?”

“No.” Connor’s lips quirked upwards slightly. “But I would be lying if I said I hadn’t considered doing so, and we both know you can apparently tell when I’m not being entirely truthful.”

Well, that was a relief. Hank took another swig, and then sat in his chair. “So tell me Connor,” he said. “What the hell possessed you to run out into that fucking road today?”

Connor’s eyes flicked open again. He was leant so far back in his chair now that he was practically reclining. Staring up at the ceiling, he folded his arms across his chest. “My chance of catching the suspect was far lower than successfully rescuing Gavin, so I chose the option with the better prospects.”

“Okay, great. Glad to hear what your programming thinks.” Hank said. “Now let’s hear what you were really thinking.”

Connor blinked several times in succession. Hank couldn’t see his LED from this angle, which made it more difficult to gauge just how stressful Connor found the question. He rarely showed his emotions on his face. “I was thinking that I would regret it if I let Gavin die there when I knew I could save him. I didn’t want to feel that way. But I…” Connor frowned. “I was scared.”

Hank raised his eyebrows, but waited. It was human nature to want to fill silence with chatter. If he left it long enough, he hoped that the deviant in Connor would respond to that want, and lo and behold, he did. “I realised that by saving Gavin, I would be putting myself in a great deal of danger. When I ran into the road, I kept thinking, will this be the last thing I do? Will these cars be the last thing I hear? See? I’ve died before, but I didn’t really understand it then like I do now. My predecessor—the Connor that died in Stratford Tower—was he scared too?”

Hank remembered Connor throwing himself in the way of that gunfire, the way Hank had thought he might have survived only to pull his body up off the ground and find him riddled through with bullets. Though he knew Connor used to be able to back himself up infinitely, he’d never thought of the separate Connor’s as different beings, not like how Connor differentiated them now.

But was it so unlikely that the Connor sat before him was not the same one he’d met in the bar? The one that had held Hank hostage had been entirely different to his Connor despite sharing the exact same memories. What a chilling thought. He wasn’t drunk enough for this kind of chat.

“Fear’s a good thing, son.” Hank said, realising that Connor was not looking for an answer to his question. He’d dealt with him for long enough now to recognize the cues that Connor gave off, how to respond to him in a way that Connor would respond back to. Right now, he was unsure in a way only an android could be, still dealing with emotions that were new and complex. “Fear’s what keeps us alive. You were scared because you thought you might die, and that’s normal, Connor. The fact that you ran out into that road to save someone else even though you were scared? That was bravery. Fucking stupid and I could have killed you for it, but credit where credit’s due.”

Connor sat back up in the chair, leaning forward, his hands on his knees. “I think I needed to hear that.” he said softly. Mission accomplished, Hank thought. “What did the Captain tell you?”

“That we’ve got nothing and we should go home.” Hank sighed. “We’re still waiting on results and shit to come through, so I guess he’s probably right. You ready to head on back?”

Connor cast a longing gaze at the terminal on his desk. “No.” Hank said. “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re not staying here to work yourself half to death over information we don’t have. We are going home to get some food and rest.” he paused. “Well, I’m going to bed. You’re going to do whatever it is you androids do when you’re tired.”

“I don’t get tired.” Connor said. “It’s impossible—”

“Connor,” Hank said, standing up. “Don’t fight me on this. We’re going.”

Connor looked like he wanted to argue the point, but he relented. “I’m driving?”

“Yeah, you’re driving. I don’t see me behind the wheel anytime soon.”

-- 

Sumo was waiting for them when they got back, ready to jump Connor as soon as they got through the door. Hank left them to their reunion and refilled his bowl for him before heading back to his room to change. Getting dressed one-armed was an absolute bitch. He couldn’t wait for it to heal.

When he went back to the kitchen, Connor had left out his pills for him. He was in the living room now, talking gently over the phone with someone. Hank caught wind of the words pepperoni and sausage and couldn’t help but laugh. If someone had told him this time last year that he’d have an android in his house ordering him pizza, Hank would have told them to put the bottle down and move on.

Hank downed the pills and leant on the doorframe. “What’s this?” he said. “You sure you didn’t hit your head when that AX400 shoved you over?”

Connor, who had taken up residency on his claimed side of the sofa, shook his head. “I ran a diagnostic after we returned to the office. I’m fully functional.”

Hank wasn’t sure if that was a joke or not. Connor often intentionally made it difficult to tell. “You say that, but here you are, ordering pizza. I was just going to chuck something in the microwave and then head to bed, you know. It ain’t like the pizza’s more healthy than whatever I could have made in five minutes.”

A beat. Connor looked rather sheepish. “I just thought it would be easier. If it isn’t to your liking, I can always cancel—”

“No, no, don’t do that.” Hank cut in quickly. “I was just saying, I thought it was weird. Usually you’re in there cooking up a storm out of whatever you’ve decided to bring home this time, I never even get a look in anymore. Always healthy and never fun, bleugh, I thought this was my house.”

“You still eat it though,” Connor pointed out. “Anyway, I decided that it would be more beneficial to the both of us if I ordered in. So I did.”

“Oh I get it.” Hank said, and he was grinning now. “That’s a fancy way of you trying to say I couldn’t be bothered. Don’t worry, Connor, you can say it, I’m not going to judge you.”

Connor crossed his arms, clearly offended. Hank outright laughed at him. “Go get changed,” he said. “I’m tired of seeing you in that uniform. It’s like work being at home with me and I just want to forget about what we don’t know right now. Also, I don’t know if you realise it, but the blue bits can get fucking obnoxious in low light. It’s giving me a headache.”

What Hank really wanted was for Connor to dump the jacket entirely. As far as he knew, most other androids had gotten rid of their uniforms already. Connor, however, still bore his model number and Cyberlife branding like a badge of pride. Why, Hank couldn’t figure out. Was the jacket that important? Or did Connor not yet feel like he’d integrated enough to remove it?

He came back in wearing a grey, long sleeved shirt and a black pair of trousers. It was the plainest outfit combo Hank had ever seen, and yet it was a miracle he’d ever gone that far. One time Hank had told him to get changed and he’d come back sans jacket but still wearing the exact same getup. When Hank had questioned him on it, he’d just said something to the effect of, “It doesn’t matter what I wear,” and ended the conversation at that.

“You ever gonna buy yourself some other outfits?” Hank asked.

Connor glanced down at himself. “Clothes are expensive, and it isn’t as if I need a surplus of different shirts.”

“Yeah, but don’t you get bored?”

“No.” Connor replied bluntly. He sat down and turned the TV on. “I’m going to go into stand-by, so feel free to watch what you want.”

Hank gave him a look. “I thought you said you weren’t tired.”

“I don’t get tired.” Connor said, echoing his statement from earlier. “I just need to stop thinking for a while. I don’t get headaches like humans do, but I feel like there is a great deal of stress on my system. It’s unpleasant.”

“Not gonna stick around for the pizza you ordered?”

“I can’t eat it regardless. And I’d rather not see the calorie count of every slice.” Connor’s smile was a sardonic thing. “If you need me, just shake my shoulders. I’ll wake up.”

“Right.” Hank said. “Wait, you’re gonna just do that sitting up?”

Too late. Connor’s eyes flickered unnervingly and then fell shut, his body going rigid. Sumo padded over from the kitchen, sitting in front of him and wagging his tail. “Christ almighty. Yeah, you’re not getting any pats out of him right now, Sumo, kid’s a fucking statue.” he paused, prodding Connor in his side as a test. Yep. He wasn’t moving anytime soon. “Does he always do it this way?”

Sumo cocked his head, and then pawed at Hank’s leg. “What? What’s up, boy?”

More pawing. For such a big dog, Sumo could sure act like a puppy when he wanted to. His doorbell rang at that moment, signalling the pizza. He sighed and got up. “Alright Sumo, give me a minute.”

The pizza wasn’t delivered by an android, like Hank was used to, but an actual human for once. Times really were changing. Connor had paid in advance, so as soon as the pizza was in hand, Hank was heading back to the living room.

Where Sumo had stolen his seat and curled up next to Connor.

“Oh, so these are the new sleeping arrangements.” Hank said, shaking his head. Connor hadn’t wanted a bed, or even a room. He was content with leaving his pile of limited clothes in Hank’s room and chilling on his side of the sofa when he wasn’t busy. “I was wondering why there was so much dog hair on my couch. I swear, what’s he done to make you love him so much huh? It’s all the petting, ain’t it?”

Sumo looked at him expectantly. Hank flipped the pizza box open and took a slice from it. “You want it? Come get it.”

Sumo looked back at Connor, and then laid his head on his leg. “Oh wow. Now that’s a damn sight. Probably for the best, he’d kill me if he found out I let you snack on pizza.”

He ate two slices of the pizza before calling it a day. Connor had ordered something too large for even him, and he was just one man on his own. He put the remains in the fridge for the morning; they’d make for a good snack on the way to work.

The Whitfield files were still on the floor by his kitchen table where Connor had left them. Hank retrieved them and chucked them on the side to be forgotten about. It sucked, but the dead shop assistant would have to wait. “Alright, Connor, Sumo,” Hank announced. “I’m heading to bed. Don’t fuck anything up, hear me?”

Sumo barked his affirmation. Connor, who was still deep in stand-by mode, said nothing.

Sleep came easy after the day he’d had. He would have been content to be late to work in favour of his bed, except he was rudely awakened by his phone going off. Damn, he knew he should have put the thing in airplane mode.

He grabbed it off the side and fumbled for the accept call button. His shoulder was killing him again. “What?” Hank said blearily, not even giving the caller ID a look.

“Morning to you too, Hank.” Fowler’s voice was tinny down the line. “Where the hell are you?”

“In my bed, enjoying some well deserved sleep.” Hank replied. “What the fuck are you doing calling me at—” he checked the time. “—what the hell? It’s barely past seven, I’m not even late!”

“Another cop’s been killed.” Fowler said, his voice clipped. “The media’s got hold of it, it’s all over the fucking news. I’ve got the android she was partnered with going apeshit and everyone’s losing their goddamn minds. I need you, Hank.”

Hank closed his eyes, a heavy sigh in his throat. “Human this time who died, huh?”

“Yeah. We’ve scoped out the scene, the AX400 is gone. I’m sending you the location, you know what to do.”

He hung up at that. Hank opened his eyes, stared at the ceiling, and contemplated handing in his badge. “Fuck this all to hell.”

Chapter Text

The crime scene was an unorganised muddle of the press and DPD’s own teams when Connor and Hank arrived. The murder had occurred near a housing complex in downtown Detroit, and unfortunately for them, it had been in a public enough area for the news to catch wind of what had happened before DPD could properly contain it. Though they’d blocked off the scene with the holographic tape, the hustle and bustle was deeply concerning.

“Lieutenant Anderson,” a reporter called. He was a young man, bright eyed and enthusiastic. Connor wondered at which point Hank’s name had been acquired by the media. “Is it true that an android is behind these horrifying crimes we’ve seen occur over the past two days?”

Hank ignored him, pushing past. “Lieutenant Anderson!” the reporter called again. “Please, a comment!”

He was going to get nowhere fast. Connor stopped in front of him, putting his hands up to ward him off. Instead of getting him to leave, as he’d hoped, it only seemed to encourage him. “You! You’re Connor, right, the prototype that Cyberlife originally leant to the DPD? How do you feel about the current speculation that it is indeed an android behind the murders we’ve seen here in Detroit recently?”

Potential replies all collided in his mind at once as Connor tried to figure out which one would be the most appropriate. If he said the wrong thing, he could damage public opinion of androids further. If he was polite but dismissive, it was likely that the reporter would keep on at him for another answer. If he was rude, it would reflect badly on DPD, and if he gave out the information the reporter was seeking, he could end up in serious trouble with Fowler. “I—” he began, before stopping abruptly.

How do you feel about the current speculation?

How do you feel?

“How do I…?” it was a quiet question he asked himself. “Disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” the reporter asked eagerly. “What do you mean? Can you elaborate?”

Where had that word come from? Connor hadn’t even contemplated answering the question with an emotional response, and yet it had slipped out regardless. An android, someone like him, choosing to kill instead of foster relationships with the humans? It had disappointed him. It had made him feel something.

“Connor, the hell are you doing?” Hank’s voice cut through the crowd. A hand on his shoulder pulled him away from the reporter, the dismay evident on the young man’s face as his lead was forcibly snatched from under his nose. “Don’t entertain these clowns, we’ve got a job to do. Preferably quick, ‘cause it looks like it’s gonna rain.”

The body was situated around the back of an apartment block, a crumpled heap on the floor. Semi-fresh blood on the floor showed the path the murder had taken. When Connor analysed the face, he found her name to be Miriam Hartley, thirty five years old, mother of two, and partner of PC200 Andrew. Her gun was in hand, and it had been discharged recently.

“What do we know?” he asked Hank.

“Not a lot yet. Hartley was on patrol with Andrew when she got jumped, and the cause of death is the same shit again; three gunshot wounds, one to the leg, two to the chest. Hartley wasn’t responding to any kind of report or anything, so it’s looking like she was targeted randomly. This is doing my fucking head in.”

Connor looked around. There were spots of thirium on the floor, nothing serious, but not enough to get a decent kind of reading from. Hank misread his gaze. “Oh no, no, no way, Connor. Absolutely not, not while I’m here.”

“There’s no point. I wouldn’t be able to get anything from this little.” Connor replied. Hank looked relieved. “No, I was actually wondering, where is Andrew?”

“Back at DPD now. From what Fowler said, he ain’t taking this well at all. Something about needing to check him over. Right, guess we’d better get to work.”

It was becoming like clockwork now. Models made, Connor began to manipulate them about the scene in his reconstruction. Hank said that Hartley had been jumped. First gunshot would have taken her by surprise then, but it hadn’t taken place here. He looked for the trail of blood and followed it to where it began, out near the front of the apartment building. Right. First bullet was fired here.

Hold on.

He went back and checked over the body, analysed the two chest wounds. Frowning, he said to Hank, “There was at least a minute and a half between the shot to the leg and the shots to the chest.”

“You serious?” Hank said, kneeling down beside the body. He winced as the action jarred his shoulder. “Fuck. Right, that means for a minute and a half, something else was going on, ‘cause every other suspect so far was killed pretty much straight after the first shot, right?”

“Right.” Connor checked the blood trail again. Hartley’s movements would have been compromised by the leg wound, but had she tried to escape?

Instead of starting with the body, he needed to start with where the initial bullet had been fired. Walking back around to where the trail of blood began, he looked up at the wall. A smear of blue stained the brickwork of the apartment block. Android attacked here? Possibly.

“Was Andrew present when the crime occurred?” Connor asked.

“Fuck if I know, all Fowler said is that he was going apeshit. Probably isn’t able to talk right now.” Hank came around the front. “Why?”

Connor pointed to the smear. “Thirium. Either our AX400 met with this wall, or Andrew did.”

“Hartley would have been on the floor with a wound to her leg like that.” Hank said. “Can’t see her fighting our killer off in that state.”

“She had fired her gun, but I don’t think it was at this point.” He remembered what Hank had said when they’d been discussing the motive for Glennister’s murder. Even if he didn’t have all the details, he could still make some guesses as to what had happened. “Andrew might have intervened.”

Hank raised an eyebrow. Connor reconstructed a version of the scene where Hartley had been shot down and Andrew threw himself at the AX400. Their fight played out in fast forward while Hartley dragged herself away. “Previously, the AX400 managed to separate the victim from their partners, but I think she improvised severely this time around.  I believe that Andrew attempted to save his partner by attacking the AX400.”

Why wouldn’t he have interfered when Hartley had been shot again then? The smear on the wall. His reconstructed model of the AX400 smashed Andrew’s head into the wall and dropped him while his systems crashed and restarted. Gun in hand, she walked back around to Hartley where the two fired at one another. He doubted that Hartley had hit her target; there wasn’t enough thirium to suggest that her bullet had found home before she’d been killed.

“There’s nothing left here that will help us find her.” Connor said, irritation colouring his tone. “It’s the same thing again and again. She’s on the run from us and she’s hiding well. I need to speak to Andrew. Maybe then—”

He stopped, blinking suddenly as something interfered with him wirelessly. He knew this feeling; an android trying to connect with an android. Someone wanted his attention.

Was it the AX400? 

“Connor?” Hank said, his face appearing in Connor’s vision. He seemed to be concerned. “You alright there?”

Connor nodded, waving him off. This was of the utmost importance, he didn’t have time to explain. “I’m fine. Someone nearby is trying to contact me, give me a moment.” He closed his eyes, and allowed the other android to connect with him.

“Connor?”

A voice like the waves of the ocean on a calm day. Not the AX400, but Markus. That hadn’t been what he’d been expecting at all. “Markus? What are you doing here?”

“Ah, it is you. As I expected. I’m near the scene, out of the way of the press. I’m sending you the coordinates. Meet me there and I’ll explain.”

The line cut abruptly. Connor opened his eyes and found Hank still staring at him. “What the hell was that?” he asked. “Hey, Connor, hello?”

“Markus is here.” Connor said. The coordinates Markus had said he would send popped up in his vision. They weren’t far at all. “I’ll be right back, wait for me in the car.”

He turned and set off without waiting for Hank to reply, darting through the press and down the street. As he’d said, Markus was waiting for him at the end of it, watching from afar.

RK200 looked the same as he always did, dressed down to appear as an ordinary man, his eyes the only real tell-tale sign of his true nature. He was leant against the wall when Connor approached him, a gentle smile on his lips. “I thought I would find you here,” he said. “Looks like I was right.”

Connor watched as Markus looked him over, his gaze picking out every detail. Often Connor wondered of his capabilities; were they similar to his, or, as an older model, did he not have as much available to him? Connor knew frustratingly little of the RK model’s history despite being a part of it. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing, I was just wondering as to why you still wear the symbol of…” he cut himself off with a sigh, shaking his head. “No, it is not my business to ask. Your choices are yours alone. It is good to see you, Connor. It’s been a while.”

He held his hand out. Connor looked down at it before he realised he was proposing a hand shake. It was a very human gesture, and yet one Connor wanted to partake in anyway. He grabbed Markus’s hand and shook it warmly. “It’s good to see you too. Why are you here?”

Markus let go of his hand and pushed himself from the wall, stepping onto the street. He didn’t look at Connor when he spoke, but rather, the clouded sky above. He clasped his hands behind his back. “I am troubled by what I’ve been hearing these past few days.” he said, his tone downhearted. “One of my people, committing crimes that will have repercussions for us all. I’m concerned for the response the humans will have if this carries on. Even after everything we’ve fought for, we know they still harbour uncertainty towards us. This will only prove detrimental in the long run.” he paused, turning to face Connor finally. “I wasn’t sure of the action to take, but North and the others suggested speaking to you. Have you made any progress with this case?”

Connor couldn’t meet his eyes. He owed Markus everything; without his words, he might have still been just a machine, an unfeeling, cold hearted tool used to beat down his own kind. He didn’t want to disappoint him, but what did he have really? “I know the model type and vaguely what the suspect looks like. I gave chase yesterday, but had to pass up the chance to catch her in favour of rescuing a human.”

Markus’s expression softened. “A noble decision.” he said. “Is there anything else?”

Connor thought through everything he’d gathered, the very little he’d managed to discern from everything that had happened. What had made Glennister, Zack, and Hartley targets? What made them different from the three officers that had responded to those false alarms alongside Glennister? What would make them appealing to the AX400?

There was something that stuck out. Officer Kerrins, Officer Jacobs, and Sergeant Merle, the three who had responded to false alarms but had not been targeted—there was one detail that was common to all three.

All of them had been working alone or with human partners.

When he compared that to the three victims he’d encountered thus far, all of them were human-android pairs. Was it something to do with that? Was the motive related to that fact?

“I think there’s something.” Connor said. Markus waited expectantly. “All of the victims were one half of an android-human partnership within DPD. It doesn’t seem to be coincidence—it appears as if she had the opportunity to target officers outside of those prerequisites but chose not to.”

“That’s something.” Markus said, his face serious. “If the situation was as clear cut as one of our people killing humans partnered with androids, I might be able to glean some kind of understanding, but as it stands, one of our own was killed too. I don’t believe this to be as simple as an android acting out of hate towards humans.”

Markus was right. He needed to speak to Andrew and find out what he knew; if he’d fought with the AX400, he might have more detailed information on her that would help Connor find her.

“In the meantime,” Markus continued, “I will start working to contain this situation. We’ve come too far to let something like this damage our efforts. I can’t do this alone, though. I need you, Connor. Do what you can on your end, and I’ll do what I can on mine.”

Connor nodded. “Thank you, Markus. This discussion has given me some insight into the case. I will do my best to ensure that it is solved promptly.”

Connor turned to walk away. Markus grabbed him by shoulder. “Wait, Connor.”

He stopped. Markus moved in front of him, keeping his grip on his shoulder. “I don’t know if you’ve realised this, but you and Lieutenant Anderson both fit the profile of your suspect’s targets. I realise that I probably don’t have to say this to you, but be careful. I don’t want to see you hurt or killed.”

Connor put his hand on Markus’s arm. Touch was soothing, he remembered. “I’ll watch my step. Thank you for your concern.”

Markus let go of him. Both of their arms fell to their sides. “You are a friend, Connor. You’re welcome to visit us at any time, do remember that.”

Markus walked past him, leaving him alone with those parting words. Connor hadn’t been to visit them much at all after the events of November. He still couldn’t shake the memory of standing on that podium with a gun in hand, his programming ready to have him assassinate Markus if he couldn’t fight if off. He didn’t feel like he belonged among them, and he certainly didn’t feel like he deserved the place that Markus so readily offered.

But even despite that, Markus still trusted him, and Connor wasn’t ready to let that trust be misplaced. He went back to the car where Hank was waiting and slid into the driver’s seat beside him. Without a word, he started the engine.

“So?” Hank said. “Explanation? For whatever the hell that was just now?”

“Markus wanted to speak with me.” Connor replied.

“Markus wanted to—are you screwing with me, Connor? You weren’t gonna mention that, were you? You were just gonna drive off without saying a damn thing.”

Connor shrugged. “I think I know what kinds of targets the suspect is after.”

“One track fucking mind! I swear to God, Connor!” Connor couldn’t tell if Hank was amused or exasperated. He went to pull away, only for Hank to shake his head. “No, wait. Come on, you’ve gotta tell me. Why was Markus here?”

“He’s concerned. About the media, about the humans.” About me, Connor thought, but didn’t say. “He wanted to know if we’re any closer to catching the killer. Our discussion made me realise that the suspect is targeting human-android pairs. He also…he also called me his friend.”

He didn’t know why he added that last part, but it felt important. “Nice of him.” Hank said. “I came to the same conclusion, about the android-human thing. Seems like our AX400 really has something against it. Can’t for the life of me guess what right now.”

“Markus wants us to figure it out soon. He’s going to keep things contained on his end, but we need to help him out.” Connor lifted the hand-break and set off. “We’re going back to the station. I need to speak with Andrew immediately.”

“I’ll let Fowler know,” Hank said, pulling out his phone. “We’re gonna figure this out, Connor. I know we will.”

Connor focused on the road ahead. He had no choice but to figure it out. For Markus, for the people who had been killed, for Clara and Decker and now for Andrew too. He had too many people to let down now.

-- 

DPD’s interview room was a sparse thing, just one desk and four chairs. PC200 Andrew sat with his hands clasped, staring down at the plastic surface of the table, and didn’t move when Connor entered. All was silent. Connor’s hands longed for the familiarity of his coin, to recalibrate his senses and give him something to focus on.

He had to be professional. To play with the coin would only be an insult to Andrew. Sitting down in front of him, he leant forward in the chair and gave a friendly wave to try and get his attention. “Hi Andrew,” he said. “My name is Connor. I’m the android assigned to this case. I’m here to help you.”

A similar phrase had worked with Clara, but Andrew didn’t respond. Everyone had been saying he’d been angry beyond belief, but now he just seemed deadened. Connor could see now the damage to his skin at the side of temple, opposite where his LED shone yellow. Suspect had slammed him into the wall. He had gotten involved in a fight with the AX400.

“I know you’ve been through a lot this morning,” Connor tried again, keeping his voice soft. He was emulating Markus, who had proven himself to be much better at calming others in the past. “I went to the scene where everything happened, and I saw what happened to your partner, Miriam. I’m sorry, Andrew. Were you close?”

Andrew flinched at the question. On a closer look, Connor realised his clasped hands were trembling. “You’re Connor, you said?” he muttered, and Connor realised there was bitterness to his voice. “I know you. We all know you. Why even ask me that question? What do you want me to say? Yeah, we were close? You know we were. You know what it’s like, having a human care for you like an equal, having a partner like that. You know what that feels like. Screw you.”

Bad line of questioning. Time to change approach. “I’m sorry, Andrew. I didn’t mean to be insensitive.” Connor wished he would at least look up at him. It was difficult to gauge him without being privy to his emotional states. “You tried to fight off the AX400, didn’t you? Can you tell me what happened?”

Andrew’s shoulders stiffened. His LED was red now, pulsing angrily. “That first shot just came out of nowhere. It was a normal patrol, we do it all the time. I didn’t even realise what had happened until Miriam fell.” his audio processor wavered on the words, unstable. “I’ve never felt panic. Not like that. It was like it was swallowing me up, like it was drowning me. I felt like I was…” Andrew looked up finally, looked him straight in the eyes. “It felt like I was suffocating.”

Androids couldn’t suffocate. It was impossible when they felt no need to breathe, and yet Connor understood what he meant anyway. He had experienced the same sensation when he’d thought Whitfield had killed Hank. “I think I understand.” Connor said. “You still acted though, didn’t you?”

“When I saw her, I grabbed that AX400 by her arm.” Andrew said. “All I could see was that gun. I know about what’s been going on, so I was just scared we were going to be next. I didn’t really think about what I was going to do, I just knew my priority was to get the gun out of her hand, and give Miriam time to get away. We were fighting. We were just fighting and—”

Andrew shuddered. He shook his head. “I can’t.” he said. “No. I can’t do this. I can’t talk about it. I can’t. I want to kill her. I want to tear that AX400 apart piece by piece.”

It wasn’t something an android should be confessing, but Andrew didn’t seem to care. “You’re furious, aren’t you? Channel that anger. I need to know what happened so I can find and bring her to justice. If you don’t help me, I can’t do a thing.”

Andrew clenched his jaw. “Then I can’t help you by talking. Give me your hand.”

Connor tilted his head. “You want to connect?”

“It would be easier.” Andrew said. “Let me drown in your memories instead. I can’t be in my own right now. You live mine and I’ll live yours.”

Connor hesitated. It wasn’t that he was reluctant to take on Andrew’s memories—it was that he didn’t particularly want to share his own. It wasn’t selfishness. It was a desire to remain private, something he longed for after Cyberlife had spent so long watching him, checking him for any sign of deviancy, using him for their agenda.

But he needed the details. He had too many people relying on him to just decline the offer. If connecting with him was the only way that Andrew was willing to give him access to what had happened, he would have to accept that.

Deactivating the skin from his hand, Connor reached across the table. “Thank you for letting me see,” he said.

They clasped hands.

Andrew’s memories were like bullets in themselves, ripping through him in their intensity. He saw Miriam through Andrew’s eyes, a hardened woman who would offer him a smile when things were tough, who stood up for his rights during the protests, who asked to keep working alongside him even after everything had happened. He saw their patrol, Miriam sinking to her knees with a cry as that gunshot rang out. The AX400 stood before them brandishing her gun. Connor felt every suffocating emotion as if it were his own.

The AX400 resembled a blonde, longer haired Kara, her eyes piercing blue. Connor-as-Andrew ran at the AX400, grabbed her arm so tight it would have made any ordinary human drop the gun. She did not. Instead she wrenched her arm free and bashed the gun into the side of his face, knocking his head to the side. Andrew felt no pain, but the impact had given her enough of an advantage to throw him back. She slammed his head into the wall, and his field of vision scrambled. It had jarred him, his connections going haywire.

“I’m going to make you feel how I felt,” came the AX400’s cold, angered voice. It was tinny in his jumbled audio processors. “You’re going to know my pain. All of you.”

Seconds passed in this state, but they felt so much longer. Connor wanted to be free of it, could barely stand another moment inside Andrew’s head.

And then, gunshots. Two in quick succession.

Connor pulled himself from the memory abruptly, knocking the chair over as he got up and staggered backwards. His artificial heart beat fast in his chest. Errors in his vision warned him that his stress levels were too high and he was in danger of overheating. The panic threatened to overwhelm him.

Andrew said, quietly, “You see Lieutenant Anderson as family, don’t you?”

It took Connor a moment to remember that Andrew had seen into his memories in return. He shook his head, trying to calm himself. “Family is a human construct,” he said, but his own audio processor was garbling words now. He could still feel Andrew’s despair. “Hank is my friend.”

“Friendship is a human construct as well. I saw the way he interacts with you, the way you interact with him, with Sumo, everything.” Andrew looked distraught. “I know, it’s the same way it was for me and Miriam. You don’t understand it yet, but you see each other as family.”

Family. What did it even mean? Markus had mentioned Kara getting to Canada with her family before, with that man Luther and the little girl, Alice. Was that family? It was nothing like what he had with Hank. He didn’t understand. He knew the definition but had no idea how to apply it to himself.

He could think about it later. His number one priority was the case. “Thank you for showing me what happened.” Connor said. “I have to—I have to go. I need to tell the Hank about what she said to you. I think it’s important towards the motive. I’ll do everything I can to make sure she’s brought to justice. Just…I’m sorry for what happened.”

As he reached for the door handle, Andrew called out to him. “Don’t take it for granted. I did and now look at me. You match the criteria. Don’t get caught out.”

Connor pressed the door handle down. “No.” he said. “I won’t.”

Chapter Text

Doughnut in hand, Hank was fully committed to becoming the biggest stereotype in DPD as he logged his report into his tablet. There was frustratingly little to say, other than what he and Connor had managed to scrape together from the scene; another human partnered with an android had been murdered, and it didn’t look like the suspect was going to be stopping any time soon.

Absentmindedly, he took another bite of the doughnut. Connor would no doubt fire off a lecture as soon as he returned from questioning Andrew, something about daily calorie recommendations and sugar intake that Hank would only half listen to. He’d already calmed down on the alcohol for him, and yet that still didn’t seem to be enough. One day, Hank would have to get a look at what programmes Connor was running, because surely there had to be a food critique add-on or something in there to make him act so finicky towards Hank’s food choices.

He was just about to finish up when a shadow descended over his desk. It wasn’t Connor, because Connor always announced his arrival with a chipper hello or something completely outlandish. Hank carried on with his work. If someone wanted his attention, they could ask for it instead of hovering over him like a damn teacher in a classroom. It was basic manners, the least they could do was say afternoon like a normal person.

Eventually, whoever it was cleared their through. “Oi, Hank. Where’s your tin can?”

Hank put his tablet down and spun in his chair. He hadn’t seen Gavin since yesterday’s events in the road, and the other man didn’t look as smarmy as he always did. If anything, he looked uncomfortable, his face somewhat ashen. It wasn’t a good look on him. Hank bit back his laugh. “Busy. What’s it to you?”

Gavin clicked his tongue, a harsh sound as he crossed his arms. “Fuck. Forget it, pain in my ass as it is…” he turned, stopping short. “Oh shit, well there it is anyway.”

Hank craned his head to look past him. There was Connor, walking towards them purposefully. To the untrained eye he looked as impassive as ever, but Hank knew him better than that. He could see the slight downturn of his mouth, the minor crease in his forehead, the micro expressions that betrayed Connor’s true emotional state.

He looked mildly shaken.

“Detective Reed,” Connor said in greeting, before sidestepping him to get to Hank. He lowered his voice when he spoke again. “I think I have something.”

“For fuck’s sake, you managed to get something out of that plastic asshole down in the interview room?” Gavin’s laugh was a bitter, acidic thing. “Oh this just gets better. Look, you know what, I’m leaving, forget this shit.”

Hank knew pride when he saw it, and he also knew that Gavin needed to be knocked down a peg or two. “Oh, no, why don’t you just hang on a second there, Gavin? You must’ve come over here for a reason, right? Get this, Connor, this prick was actually looking for you a moment ago.”

Gavin gave him a look so poisonous that Hank was genuinely surprised he didn’t keel over right there on the spot. “Screw you, Hank.”

“You wanted my attention, Detective?” Connor said. Hank smirked, he recognized that derisive tone he was using, a sarcastic lilt to the words. It made Hank proud. “How can I help?”

Gavin thrust an accusatory finger in Connor’s face. Connor didn’t even flinch. “You. Don’t think I’ve forgotten what happened in the evidence room, we’re not even, we’re not chill, we’re not even equal.”

Hank scoffed. “Oh wow, Gavin, you came all the way over here to start a fucking fight? Glad to see nothing ever changes.”

“But,” Gavin said, and he looked like he was fuming now, like it took everything in him to even speak. He kept his eyes focused on Connor. “I meant it when I said I owe you, asshole. You’ve got one fucking favour from me, got it? Use it quick, so I can forget this ever happened and we can both get back to business as usual, got it, Connor?”

“Got it.” Connor replied, looking smug. Gavin turned on his heel and stalked off, muttering something under his breath as he went.

“Well, wasn’t that fun?” Hank said, picking up another doughnut. He’d offer one to Connor, but Connor would probably deny it even if he could eat. “Looks like you’ve made a friend. Apparently that social relations bullshit you’re always going on about can work from time to time.”

“Friend is a strong word.” Connor said. He looked a lot less worried now, so maybe Gavin had been good for something after all. That said, he didn’t have a thing to say about the doughnut that Hank was now steadily working his way through. “He still seems hostile towards me even after yesterday. Either way, that isn’t important right now. I connected with Andrew and witnessed his memories of what happened this morning. I know what happened.”

“Right?” Hank perked up, fully attentive now. He still didn’t really get what all the connection mumbo jumbo was about, but from what he could gather, it seemed as if androids could live through each other’s memories. Was that why Connor had seemed somewhat disturbed when he’d come in? “Okay, so you’ve learned something, right? That’s what the serious look is about.”

Connor nodded, his LED flashing yellow. “The AX400, when she attacked Officer Hartley and Andrew, she said something that seems like it could be related to the motive. She said ‘I’m going to make you feel how I felt. You’re going to know my pain. All of you.’”

“Fuck.” he said softly. That kind of statement didn’t leave much room for interpretation. “So. What are we thinking? She’s after some kind of revenge?”

Connor sat behind his own desk, resting his arms on the surface. “I believe so, but now the question is; for what? I’ve been wondering if it’s related to November, when many androids were killed in the protests, but if that was the case, then why would the killings only start now? Surely it’s been too long for that to be relevant. There has to be some kind of inciting incident. Something that would make her act this way.”

“Think, Connor. The victims have been two cops and an android. Wouldn’t make any sense for November to be related at all.” Hank said.  “There’s gotta be something else. Remember, she said, that she wanted them to feel the pain that she’s felt. She’s only killing off one half of the pairs we keep encountering, so I’d say it isn’t off the mark to say that she’s lost someone too”

Had she lost an android lover or something? Surely that couldn’t be too off the mark. Hank had seen androids fall in love, from those Traci’s back at the Eden club to North and Markus eating each other’s faces on national television. He’d seen cases where humans had killed out of devotion, and now androids shared the very same emotions that drove humanity’s will. Was it so strange then, to assume that they also might kill for the very same reasons?

Connor took his coin from his pocket and flipped it into the air. “Revenge is the most likely motive from the information we’ve gathered, yes. All three of the victims had good relationships with their partners, so it seems that she wants to tear those partnerships apart.”

“There’s got to be a reason for that. Someone’s done this android wrong, probably someone right here at DPD, or else she’d be targeting any kind of android-human pair, not just officers and detectives. Problem is, there are so many assholes here who still have it out for androids, who might have turned a blind eye and let something bad happen. I mean, look at Gavin. That guy hasn’t changed at all.”

Connor didn’t respond to that. His LED, which remained yellow, flickered. His coin stilled in his hand. How deep into his thoughts had he gone now? How much processing power was he using this time? Hank waved his hand in front of his face. “Connor?”

“Are we done for the moment, Hank?” Connor asked.

“What?”

“You’ve done your report, right?” Connor stood up. “It’s finished, all you need to do is hand it into the Captain.” he took the tablet from Hank’s desk. “I’ll take it to him.”

“Hey, hey, what the hell, I can hand it in myself!” Hank pushed himself to his feet, but Connor was already halfway across the office. Gavin watched them with narrow eyes from his desk, and the detective next door to Hank had spun around in his chair to look too. “Jesus Christ, what’s gotten into you all of a sudden? Connor!”

There was no point in trying to stop him now. With an irritated sigh, Hank leant on his desk and waited for him to return. When he had his mind set to something, there was no stopping him—even if Hank didn’t know exactly what it was that his mind was set on.

When he came back, his expression told him that he was a million miles away. Could androids drift off like that? Did they daydream like humans did? Not that it mattered, there were more pressing issues at hand. “Hey, Connor, a little bit of communication would be nice. You know, it’s that thing when you tell me what the fuck is going on in that brain of yours. I know this might be hard for you to grasp, but I can’t read your goddamn mind, it’s like a maze.”

“Right, sorry. I need to return home, will you come with me?”

Hank slapped his good hand into his forehead. “Oh seriously? You just wanted to go home? I hate to break this to you, but we’re still on the clock.

“No, it’s not that.” Connor said. “I want to wait until I’m certain, but I have an idea in mind. You don’t have to come, but it’s important to this investigation and I’d rather have someone to discuss it with. Especially as I think you may be involved.”

“Okay, okay, right, explain. What the hell is at home that you can’t do here?”

“I need to check the files I brought back. The ones from yesterday, I believe they’ll be important to the investigation.” Connor paused. “Please, Hank. I need you for this.”

He’d timed that for maximum effectiveness. Bastard knew exactly what he was doing, Hank realised. Sometimes he forgot that Connor had been made for negotiation, to be persuasive, to be entirely likeable. It used to be that he tailored himself to whoever he was working with, figured out what made them tick and then adjusted his behaviour to match. He rarely did so anymore with Hank, no, Connor had come through in leaps and bounds when it came to personality in the last two months, but right now he was employing his programming to full effect.

And it was working, as much as Hank hated to admit it. His android partner was dangerous when he wanted to be. “You, Connor,” he said, “are the most cryptic, finicky son-of-a-bitch I have ever had the pleasure of working with. How the hell did I end up with Cyberlife’s most expensive goddamn android dictating my every move?”

The faintest smile appeared on Connor’s face. “Is that a yes?”

Hank gave him a look. “Of course it’s a yes.”

-- 

Connor practically burst through the front door ahead of Hank when they returned home, single minded in his mission to find the files. “They’re on the side,” Hank said helpfully as Sumo came up to meet them. “Not right now, Sumo, we’re busy.”

He gave Sumo a gentle pat on the head while Connor dragged one specific file from his very small pile, flipping through the papers inside with only a single glance at each one. If it had been anyone else, Hank would have derided them for not paying attention, but Connor was probably taking in every single detail on every page. He missed nothing. Hank trusted him enough to catch everything that might be important.

Knowing Connor wouldn’t speak until he was done with his analysis, Hank grabbed his pills, sat down, and downed them with a glass of water. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken them, but his shoulder was beginning to ache again and he had a feeling that Connor was about to drag him along on some escapade or another. If there was one thing he’d learned working with him, it was that he always needed to be prepared for any outcome, no matter how ludicrous.

Softly, Connor said, “I knew it.”

He sat opposite Hank and pushed the open file across the table. Inside were the photos of Whitfield’s body where Hank had shot him dead. He winced; it wasn’t something he was proud of. He hadn’t wanted to kill him, but in the moment it had been just him and that man, two guns, and a gunshot wound to his shoulder. If he hadn’t taken the shot, he most likely would have been killed instead.

Hank took the file and looked over it. His stomach turned as he did, his eyes picking out one particular piece of information. It was such a small detail, one he had overlooked, but Whitfield shared one characteristic with the three victims they had seen thus far.

Hank had shot him once in the right leg, and twice in the chest.

He remembered, suddenly, the other night in the bar. Connor had told him that he had a hunch that Whitfield’s partner was an android, that she never left any evidence behind, that CCTV was always down when they did their crimes. It wasn’t difficult to line the pieces up. A female android who they couldn’t find, an AX400 committing crimes in the same manner Whitfield was killed. It was so obvious.

“Oh, fuck.” Hank swore loudly, angrily. “It’s been under our nose this entire time, hasn’t it Oh Jesus shit, this entire thing, it’s been me hasn’t it? She’s fucking killing people because I killed her partner.”

“It’s not your fault, Hank.” Connor interjected immediately. “You did what you had to do; Whitfield would have killed you if you hadn’t shot him first.”

The words were right, but Connor looked conflicted now, his face twisted up in an uncharacteristic display. It did nothing to ease the guilt Hank felt. Glennister, who had been a detective with a good heart . Zack, an innocent android who his partner who had cared deeply for. Hartley, a mother of two whose death had left her partner inconsolable. Wasn’t that all on him then? Their deaths were on his shoulders.

“I know he’d have killed me, Connor.” Hank growled, shoving the file away. The papers inside went askew. “Don’t make it any goddamn easier, does it? It’s me. I’m the asshole cop in this situation. Our android feels hard done by because I had to go and pull the trigger. Fuck, if I had just taken a second, if I hadn’t—”

“If you hadn’t, it would be me in her situation!” Connor snapped suddenly, slamming his fist into the table. His LED turned red, flashing alarmingly. “Stop it. Just. Don’t. Don’t start thinking that way. Your stress levels are high and it’s unhealthy. It’s…” he faltered, raising his hand from the table and staring at it like he’d never seen it before. Sumo came to stand beside him, whining gently. Hank shooed him off, but Connor didn’t even seem to notice that Sumo had come in. “What is this?”

Hank, for once, was stunned into silence. Even for Connor, this behaviour was strange. The way he was looking at his hand, the way he’d shouted so suddenly. Hank knew he could get angry, he’d seen it before when he’d interrogated Carlos Ortiz’s android, but that was also before he’d deviated. That anger had been fabricated, a method of getting a confession.

This hadn’t been fake. This hadn’t been a part of a plan, a quirk of programming, an artificial emotion. Every second of that had been real anger, the kind that came quickly and overtook a moment. The kind that Connor hadn’t ever really experienced.

“Hah,” Hank’s laugh was a disbelieving thing. “Shit, you’re really pissed, aren’t you?”

Connor’s expression was pained. “I keep—” he cut himself off. “Ever since I spoke to Andrew, ever since I experienced his memories, I keep thinking. How it felt when I thought Whitfield had shot you. How I felt when that other Connor had a gun pointed at you. Shit. Shit!”

“Woah there, Connor.” Hank said, putting his hands up as if it might placate him. “I know I swear like a goddamn sailor, but it doesn’t sound right coming out of your mouth. Take a second. You need to calm down.”

Connor took the file from the table and carefully put it back together. “I’m not used to this.” he said, his eyes focused on the file, his hands deftly placing the papers back inside. Hank saw the action for what it was; a way to keep himself busy, the file serving the same function as his coin. “I know anger. I understand anger. I know why it occurs and I know what it is used for. But in the context of myself, I begin to get lost. What you said just then, it made me feel…like you had a disregard for your own life. Like you would have rather not have pulled the trigger in favour of preventing this, even though I’ve spent the last two months trying to stop your self destructive habits.”

Well, that was one way to guilt trip him. He knew that Connor was only being sincere, but damn if it still didn’t sting. “It’s not that, Connor.” he said, knowing he was going to have to navigate his way through very choppy waters. “I’m not trying to get myself killed. Not anymore, anyway, I won’t deny that I’ve been pretty shit at taking care of myself, but that’s beside the point. I know you’re right, that if I hadn’t done what I did then I’d have probably been killed. But it just doesn’t make it any damn easier, Connor, no matter what. If I hadn’t taken those shots, or if I’d shot non-lethally, the android would have no motive.”

Connor didn’t seem pleased with the answer. He stood and put the file back on the side. “You made the right decision, Hank.” he said. “We need to find her. Before she kills someone else, we need to find her.”

So that was the end of the that conversation. Shit, he hadn’t managed to get through to Connor at all this time. “You got any ideas of where she might be? She doesn’t leave any evidence, so it isn’t like we can trace her. We don’t even have a clue where to start.”

“No, I think I know where she is.” Connor said. He had his back turned to Hank now, leaving him unreadable. "Think about it. She’s grieving the loss of her partner. She’s angry and she’s killing people over him. She can’t let go. No, she won’t let go. She won’t move on.”

Hank groaned. He knew exactly what Connor was getting at; the abandoned lot where Whitfield had been killed. “They cleared the place out after Whitfield died, checked it for evidence, and then left it alone. It’s a shit hole out in the middle of nowhere, not even fucking cell reception.”

“Doesn’t that make it the perfect hideout?” Connor asked, turning to face him. “It’s below suspicion. We hadn’t even made the connection that it was the same android until now, and it makes sense that she would return to the place where Whitfield was killed. It’s probably where she feels closest to him.”

He was right. It was as good a guess as any, and it wasn’t as if Hank had anything better to go on. “You sure about this Connor?” Hank said, standing up. “If we’re going there, we need to go prepared.”

“I can call backup—”

“And let her know we’re coming a mile off? Yeah, no. If we do this, we’ve got to be careful about it. We know she’s willing to kill if she has to, we don’t want her to catch on to us heading on in there. That doesn’t mean we can be stupid. We know what this android’s MO is. That means no splitting up, we watch each other’s backs, and we don’t take risks.”

“Of course.” Connor said. “I wouldn’t do anything to put us in jeopardy. I’m not about to let you die on me, Hank.” He looked over at the clock on the microwave. “Give me a second.”

He vanished into the living room for a moment. Sumo came padding out and gave Hank a longing look. Unable to deny him, he knelt down and gave his head a rub. “I can’t believe we’re fucking doing this,” he muttered. “Don’t worry, Sumo, I’m sure things will go great. Fantastic, even. We’re the best DPD has to offer. No way this could go wrong, at all.”

He’d done this kind of thing before. It was practically routine. As long as they kept their wits about them, made sure not to pull anything stupid off, and worked together, they’d be fine.

Connor returned from the living room. He didn’t look any different. Hank wondered what he’d gone to do but as usual, he offered no explanation. “I’m ready to go, Hank. Are you?”

Hank straightened up. Now or never, he told himself. “You bet. Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Chapter Text

The abandoned lot was on the city’s outskirts, out of the way of Detroit’s usual hustle and bustle, lonely and decrepit. It had been that way for years, according to the information Connor had managed to dig up the first time he and Hank had come here. An unfortunate victim of Detroit’s failing economy, the once-beautiful home had been abandoned after its previous owner fell victim to Alzheimer’s and had to be moved to a nursing home. With unemployment rates rising, its unfavourable area partnered with a price too high for most to stomach meant that it was left deserted—until Whitfield and his partner had decided to use it to meet-up.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,” Hank said as Connor pulled up outside. He had been in a mood the entire way, grouchy and more irritable than ever. Connor put the hand-break on and adjusted his tie. “This place is the biggest shithole I’ve ever seen.”

Factually incorrect, Connor knew. He’d personally accompanied Hank to crime scenes that were far worse than this, but he didn’t have it in him to point it out. Everything about his partner, from the way he was acting to his slightly elevated heart rate, told Connor that he was still upset over the fact that he’d killed the AX400’s partner. Joking would be inappropriate.

Besides, he didn’t feel a lot like joking anyway.

When Connor didn’t reply to him, Hank cast his tired gaze out the car’s window, towards the abandoned lot. “Better make sure we’re prepared before we head on in. I ain’t ready to fuck about. You armed, Connor?”

“I am." Of course he was. The gun sat firmly in his holster. It was still a rather alien concept, to have one so freely. Before the revolution, every single time he’d wielded one he had done so in direct violation of the law. Not that it had stopped him using them effectively; if it had been for the sake of his mission, he would have done whatever he needed to complete it. "Because you’re injured, Hank, I think it’s important to note that you need to take the utmost care. Let me lead this investigation, alright?”

Truthfully, he didn’t particularly want Hank there at all, but he had little choice. Hank would never let himself be left out, and Connor needed him in case anything did go wrong. “Yeah, yeah, I’m not useless, Connor, I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you, just so you know.” It was the truth, not that it meant anything. “I’ll be fine. So, are we gonna just sit here and naval gaze, or are we gonna get our asses in gear and check this place the fuck out?”

Connor cast his gaze to the digital clock in the car, making a note of the time before getting out. Hank followed suit, mumbling something under his breath about how he needed a pay rise. He was probably right. His behaviour had improved exponentially over the last two months. Maybe Connor would bring the subject up with Fowler after all was said and done.

When they got to the entrance, Connor put his finger to his lips, a silent gesture for Hank to keep his mouth closed, and then quietly opened the door. It wasn’t locked, of course, it hadn’t been for a long time. Even if it had been, the many broken windows would have given them a way in.

The first thing that was evident were the empty baggies were scattered the floor, Connor’s customary scan’s informing him that Red Ice users had made this place their home at one point. It made sense; this place would be any squatter’s dream. Hank sneered at the sight, but thankfully said nothing. Staying quiet was of the utmost importance.

Drawing his gun, Connor and Hank quietly began to make their way through the lower floor. More Red Ice packages were in plain sight, in the kitchen, in the front room, alongside old newspapers and grubby sleeping bags and other unsavoury delights. The atmosphere the house gave off was unpleasant at best, even to Connor who usually cared little for the feel of a place. The bathroom was a soiled mess that had Hank nearly gagging as he walked in. The effect was lost on Connor, who couldn’t breathe the air in, but he still felt Hank’s discomfort regardless.

There didn’t seem to be anyone down on the first floor. It was eerily quiet, the only real noise being the wind that the broken windows let in. The sun set early in the winter, and already the light was growing dimmer. If they didn’t finish this up soon, they’d be left in the dark, a fact that plummeted their chances of success when Connor ran the numbers.

The probability of the AX400 being here was still high, though, even if the bottom floor was indeed clear. Turning to Hank, he pointed upwards. Hank nodded his agreement, and the two of them made for the stairs.

Connor liked to think he was light on his feet, perfect at stealth and the ideal tool for any situation requiring precision. He had been made that way, carefully programmed to take the utmost care. The staircase, however, cared little for how he thought of himself. As he stepped onto it, it creaked loudly, making both him and Hank wince. There, he realised, went any element of surprise. There was no way of hiding it now. If the AX400 was indeed upstairs and had heard it, she’d know they were here now, no questions asked.

“Fucking idiot, Connor,” he thought he heard Hank say. He resisted the urge to turn around and inform him that if it had been him who had taken the lead, he wouldn’t have been able to avoid the creaky step either.

Readjusting the grip on his gun, he crept up the next few steps, taking each one slowly. Hank followed, tracing his path to avoid making anymore noise. He’d even made his breathing shallow. Connor could barely hear him.

Stepping up onto the second floor, Connor knew immediately that they weren’t alone. Sensing another presence, he turned, his gun pointed down the hallway. His optical units picked out a feminine shape in the dim light. “Hank,” he said, raising his other hand in a gesture to stop.

Hank hesitated on the last step. Nodding his approval, Connor looked back to the AX400. Softly, he said, “Come out slowly.”

The AX400 stepped forward. Connor kept his gun trained on her, his aim steady in a way only an android’s could be. She put her hands up, showing him she was unarmed. “Don’t shoot,” she said, her words sharp. “You. You’re Connor, aren’t you? The famous deviant hunter.” she paused, her gaze finding Hank. He saw something change in her expression, something acidic in the way she was looking. “Partner of Lieutenant Anderson.”

She was getting very near to them. “Connor,” Hank said warningly.

Connor nodded. “Don’t come any closer.”

She didn’t stop. If anything, her strides grew longer. “Will you shoot me if I don’t?” she asked. “By all means, pull the trigger. Your partner there didn’t have any reservations about doing it to Neil, after all.”

The bitterness to her voice stung. Hank didn’t say a thing. Conner kept the gun trained on her, but he didn’t want to shoot. Dead androids told no tales, and he wanted to understand exactly what it was that had driven her to commit such drastic crimes. The emotions, the thought processes, the decisions—he wanted to know it all.

“There’ll be a lot of paperwork for you, if you fire that gun.” The AX400 said. Was she taunting him? “I think that was why that android back at the parking lot waited too long before he fired on me. Restrictions, restrictions, restrictions. It’s always about the restrictions!”

She was close. Arm’s reach. “Stay where you are,” Connor said. “This is the last warning I’m going to give you.”

Her expression twisted into something cruel. “And where,” she said, “was the last warning your partner gave Neil?”

Lightning quick, she grabbed the gun by the barrel and tore it from Connor’s grasp, throwing him back into Hank in the same movement. With a surprised grunt, Hank grabbed onto the stair railing to stop himself falling while Connor tried to right his balance. Danger. They were in danger. That had been stupid of him, to let her get hold of his weapon so easily. He had to wrest the gun back.

He threw his weight forward, grabbing at the AX400’s wrist, clamping his fingers around it in an attempt to get her to drop the firearm. She had a better vantage point than him, though; an already formulated plan while he was still trying to calculate which options gave him the best chances. She grabbed him by the throat with her free hand, shoving him back against the wall, the two of them grappling for control. He had no lead over her, even with Hank there. His injury was making him slower to react.

“Connor!” he heard him shout, but there was little time to focus. The AX400 let go of his throat and grabbed him by his hair instead, slamming his head back against the wall. His systems froze momentarily, his vision scrambling at the impact, his legs buckling. His grip on her wrist faltered and she tore herself away from him. Dammit!

Gunshot. His systems came back online, vision clearing, and he saw the AX400 charging towards Hank, her shoulder blue with leaking thirium. Androids didn’t feel pain. It would have done nothing to slow her down or stop her. Connor pushed himself from the wall, the action stuttering as he forced his dazed processors back into action. Hank shot again, the bullet catching her in the arm this time. She didn’t stop.

As she reached him the tussle turned close range, Hank disadvantaged by his injured shoulder and the AX400 relentless. She grabbed him, throwing him backwards; they were getting closer and closer to the stairs again. The probability of him getting thrown down them was high. There was little time to act. Connor had to get there and he had to get there now.

He darted forwards and caught her by her waist, dragging her backwards. She turned in his grip and bashed the butt of the gun into the side of his temple twice in succession. His artificial skin broke beneath the contact, thirium leaking out. She wrenched herself from his grip and barrelled into Hank again.

It was enough to throw him off balance. Connor tried to push past the AX400 to grab him, but he was half a second out. Hank went crashing down the stairs, and Connor didn’t even have the time to check that he was alright. The AX400 grabbed him and pulled him back, her face close to his, her eyes piercing even despite the low light.

“That won’t kill him,” she hissed. “He’s not my target.”

Connor went for the gun in her grasp again. She snapped her hand away from him and threw it down the stairs. Why? No time to question it. Chaos controlled the situation, so much movement that he had to keep his focus or he would lose. He slammed his forehead into hers and shoved her back.

She stumbled, but as she regained her balance her hand went behind her back. Hidden gun, Connor realised, but by then she already had it out, trained on him. Of course. She’d thrown his down the stairs so he was unarmed.

“Well, haven’t the tables turned?” she spat. He stepped forwards. She clicked off the safety. “No. Don’t you dare move.”

He put his hands up, a mimicry of what she’d done earlier when he’d aimed at her. “Okay, okay.” he said, calm, soft. The situation wasn’t lost yet. He looked past her to check the stairs, but Hank hadn’t come back up. Unconscious? Likely. He had to hope that was the extent of it. He looked back at her “Look, I’m not moving, okay? What’s your name?”

He had to take control. He had worked through situations like this before, had managed to come out of them unscathed. She narrowed her eyes at his question, her mouth pulled tight into a grimace. “What do you care?”

He had to pick an approach. Gentle. He wanted to calm her down. To do that, he needed to connect with her. “You know my name. It’d be easier to talk if I knew yours.”

She hesitated, but her aim didn’t falter. “Nina.” she said. “My name is Nina.”

“Is that the name Neil gave you?” Connor asked. The probability of her shooting him sat solidly at 95%. He fit the profile, and she hadn’t seemed interested in shooting Hank. She’d had plenty of opportunity to do so in the tussle, and yet she’d settled for getting him out of the picture instead. He needed to distract her so she wouldn’t fire.

“Stop talking.” she snapped. “It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter anymore because he’s dead. Your partner murdered him. Neil wasn’t even trying to kill him; he was just trying to protect me! Anderson was snooping around and he was going to find me!”

“You say that, but you and Neil murdered a shop assistant.” Connor pointed out. “He might not have been trying to kill Hank, but he still killed him. How can you explain that?”

Her stress levels were rising. That wasn’t what he’d wanted. Bad approach, he needed to change. Needed her to realise that she’d done wrong.

"It was just stealing! It wasn’t supposed to be that serious, it wasn’t!” her pitch rose, something resembling desperation colouring it. “We had no money. When our people took control of everything to do with android production, Neil lost his job at Cyberlife, and he couldn't find anything else. We stole. And we stole, and we stole, but no one was supposed to get hurt. That shop assistant pulled a gun on me. He was going to shoot, but Neil shot him to protect me! No one was supposed to die!”

Connor shook his head gently. “It’s not an excuse, Nina. You’ve gone further than that. You’ve killed three others in your pursuit of revenge, all of them innocent. You’re going to have to face up for that. If you kill me, then that’s another strike against your name. Is this really how you want to honour Neil’s memory?”

Silence. Had that done it? She looked at the gun, as if she was seeing it for the first time, and then her eyes found him again.

Her gaze was cold. “Yes.”

Numbers and calculations. She was going to shoot him now, no doubt. If he dodged the first bullet, she would only shoot at him again while he recovered, but if he ran at her, he might take the first bullet but be able to grab the gun from her hands anyway.

He could take one bullet. She would aim for his leg first going by the previous victims. It would cause damage, but not enough to slow him down. Decision made, there was no time left to think. He charged forwards.

The gun went off, but it was not in his leg that the first bullet found home. It smashed his way through his abdomen, close to his thirium pump, the impact causing massive damage to his internal wiring. Errors flashed up in his vision, debilitating and distracting, but he had little time to dismiss them. Momentum not lost, he crashed into Nina, the two of them a chaotic mess as he fought for her gun. She pulled her hand down and pressed the barrel against his chest. No.

No chance to react. The gun went off again, his body jerking as a second bullet tore through his chest. The warning that flashed in his vision was alarming. ERROR. Biocomponent #8432w damaged.

Heartbeat regulator. It wasn’t destroyed, but being damaged meant that thirium wouldn’t be able to move around his body as well. His strength waned from the stress his frame was under.

“Stupid,” Nina muttered, shoving him away from her. She aimed for his right leg and fired again. #6848j damaged. He staggered backwards, crashing to the floor as his damaged leg locked up on him. “You thought I’d shoot there first, didn’t you? I heard that RK800 was clever, but you’re just single minded. Why would I be that predictable?"

He knew what came next. She was going to tear his regulator out and leave him to shut down, but he could barely see and his limbs weren’t responding to him properly. His commands kept bouncing back, unsuccessful. Chances of survival plummeted, the probability even worse than when he’d run into the road to save Gavin. She knelt beside him and put her hand on his abdomen.

“It wasn’t your fault, you know.” she said. He forced his arm to move, to grab her wrist, but his grip was weak. There was no way he could pull her back. When he looked her in the eye, he could see that she was crying, artificial tears leaking down her cheeks. “But Anderson? I want him to feel my pain. I want him to feel every aching sense of despair. I want him to understand how it felt to see someone you love die. It’s the only way I can be at peace.”

“This isn’t the right way,” Connor said. His audio processor was strained. Hank had already had to live through losing someone he loved, and it had made him destructive. Connor didn’t want him to revert back to his old ways. “Even if you kill me, it won’t bring him back.”

“Parroting humans? Don’t tell me it won’t make me feel any better!” her eyes blazed as she gripped his regulator and tore it from him. Connor’s audio processor stuttered, forcing a strangled noise past his lips as fatal error warnings assaulted him from every angle.

SHUTDOWN IMMINENT. SHUT DOWN IMMINENT. ONE MINUTE AND THIRTY SECONDS REMAINING.

No. No. No.

His artificial heart beat irregularly quickly, out of pace because of his damaged parts. He didn’t want to die.

She stood over him, his regulator in hand. There was no way he could grab it back from where he was. He tried pushing himself up, but with his damaged biocomponents, his body was failing him. His time was running down. There was no coming back from this if he couldn’t save himself.

If he could hang in just a little longer, help would come. If he could get his regulator back, stop her somehow, he’d be able to survive long enough for that help to arrive. He had to convince her. He had to.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” he rasped. “You can still—”

“Neil was like a father to me!” she cut him off, her words anguished. She looked like she was possessed, more human than android, aware and hurting. “He took care of me, he made sure I was safe. Everything he did, he did for me! I want you to break for what Anderson did to him! I want Anderson to wonder for the rest of his life if things could have been different!”

ONE MINUTE REMAINING.

Despite the warnings, despite the fear, those words got meant something to Connor. His memory replayed the moment he heard the gunshot when Whitfield had shot at Hank, the fear he’d felt, the uncertainty of that moment, and suddenly he understood. He understood every single thing that had driven Nina. He understood why she’d taken such drastic measures.

“You’re not just my enemy,” he said, voice cracking.

You’re my shadow.

He didn’t get to say it. A gunshot cracked through the air, and Nina jerked, her eyes wide. Connor’s vision, as static as it was, picked out the blue that now coated Nina’s forehead, the hole that pierced the middle of it.

“No.” it took all he had to get the word out, but it was too late. Nina sunk to her knees slowly, her entire body going rigid. Her LED faded out.

She was dead. Hank stood behind her, his gun still raised. Blood ran from a wound in his hairline, his expression horrified as he took in the thirium coated mess that Connor was.

THIRTY SECONDS REMAINING.

“Hank.” Connor said. He could see his regulator still in her hand. His time was running down. If he didn’t return it soon, he would die. “Hank. Help me.”

Chapter Text

Hank came to at the bottom of a flight of stairs, disoriented and confused. His head ached something awful, and the pain in his shoulder was fire. When he opened his eyes, his vision swam, the nausea in his gut threatening to make him vomit.

What the hell had happened to him? He was a crumpled heap with no wits about him. Groaning, he pushed himself up, pain lancing again through his shoulder. “Fuck,” he muttered, blinking hard as he tried to clear his vision. House. Dimly lit, shit hole. They’d come here looking for the suspect, he remembered suddenly, there had been a tussle at the top of the stairs. Connor had been fighting with the suspect, Connor, who had let her get close enough to take the gun off of him.

“Neil was like a father to me!” a shrill voice came from the top of the stairs, despair ridden and harsh. Shit. Connor hadn’t gotten her yet? There was a gun to his right, not his own because Hank’s still sat in its holster. Connor was up there unarmed. He swore again and grabbed it, pushing himself to his feet.

“He took care of me, he made sure I was safe!” the suspect continued. Hank’s head spun as stood straight. He’d been concussed before, knew what it felt like, shit. “Everything he did, he did for me! I want you to break for what Anderson did to him! I want Anderson to wonder for the rest of his life if things could have been different!”

Those words lit a fire in him, though, one that not even the concussion could touch. He remembered dread like this, getting the phone call about Cole, when the android that had tried to save him came to deliver the worst news he would ever have to face. It was the fear that came with the knowledge that you were about to lose something important, that crushing moment when everything in you felt like it was about to fall apart.

As fast as his injured body could take him, he got to the top of the stairs. The AX400 had her back to him, leering over Connor, his pump regulator in hand. Hank wasn’t that knowledgeable about androids, didn’t know them inside out or have much awareness about what their individual parts were used for, but he knew that without that, Connor had very little time.

He had to get it fast.

“You’re not just my enemy,” Connor said, his voice splintering over the words. Hank knew that he wasn’t in pain, not really. It was likely just damage to his internal systems straining his voice processor or whatever he called it, but it sounded real enough to be concerning.  Hank raised his gun, lining it up with the back of the AX400’s head. He needed to take the shot, or Connor would die.

Would he regret this like he regretted Neil Whitfield? There was no time to wonder. No matter the outcome, he would have to accept what came.

Taking a breath to steady himself, he pulled the trigger.

The shot was perfect, by some miracle. Even concussed and injured, Hank managed to put the shot directly through her head. “No,” Connor rasped as she sank to her knees, going rigid in that unnerving way androids did when they shut down. Silence, the air felt so cold all of a sudden. It was just him and the body of a dead android, and Connor, who was struggling to push himself up, to get the regulator that she’d pulled from him.

With her down, he finally saw the mess she’d made of his partner, bullet holes torn through his shirt, blue blood everywhere. If he’d been human, he would have been dead. There was no way to survive damage like that.

“Hank,” Connor said. There was a pleading desperation to his voice that Hank had never heard before, something that sounded entirely wrong coming from him. “Hank, help me.”

“Fuck, fucking hell,” Hank staggered forward, dropping down beside the AX400 to wrench the regulator from her grasp. “Hang in there, Connor, shit, I’ve got it. I’ve got it, kid.”

Connor was dead weight when he got to him. Hank knelt and pulled him upright, Connor’s back against his chest, and jammed the regulator back in the hole in his chest. A bullet had torn its way through his shirt, giving him easy access. “There, shit, is that better? Christ, I don’t have a fucking clue what makes androids fucking work—!”

“It’s alright.” Connor said. He didn’t sound convinced by his own words, and his LED was bright red as if to highlight that fact. As if noticing the bullet holes for the first time, he said, “Oh, I really liked this jacket.”

That was alarming. Was he in shock? Could androids go into shock? He had no idea. He didn’t know what deviancy had done to them when it came to situations like this. “Jesus fucking Christ, Connor, shut up. You’re not okay, are you? You’re bleeding all over me.”

“No, I’m not okay. It’s hard to see, I’m getting too many error readings. Biocomponent #8432w and #6848j are damaged.”

“English, please, Connor, I don’t have a goddamn clue what any of that means!”

Connor shifted in his grasp. Hank caught a glimpse of his face, saw that it was twisted into a grimace. “My heartbeat regulator and my right leg unit. Thirium isn’t moving around my body properly and I’m losing it at a rapid rate anyway.” he paused. Shit, he sounded scared. “I don’t want to die, but if this carries on, my chances of survival are slim.”

Hank didn’t know what to say. What even was there to say? It didn’t sound promising. He remembered the conversation from after the chase in the road, Connor’s own admission that he’d been afraid, and his heart plummeted down somewhere into his gut.

He went for his phone, and then caught sight of the empty bars on the top of the screen. No fucking signal. Of course, this place was in the middle of nowhere. “Shit!”

“What time is it?” Connor asked.

Hank ignored him, his attention entirely taken up by how he was going to drag Connor down the stairs and out of here without jostling his internal systems further or screwing up his own shoulder more. Part of him wanted to be angry; there was no way Connor should have ended up this badly damaged against the kind of android had been made to do laundry and look after kids. He had to have hesitated somewhere along the way, and that mistake had nearly gotten him killed and Hank thrown down a flight of stairs.

“Hank,” Connor said again. His voice was so quiet. “What time is it?”

“Forget the time. We’ve got to get you out of here. I’m going to need your help, alright? Your left leg still functioning okay?”

“It’s got some power. Lack of thirium is making things difficult, but for now, it should be alright.” He paused. “Is it nearly six?”

Maybe he really was in shock. Hank glanced at his phone again, and shook his head. “No, ten past already.”

“We need to get downstairs then.” Connor said. “Back up…back up should be here any moment, as long as Detective Reed makes good on his favour.”

“Connor, there’s no backup coming. We came here alone.” he remembered Connor’s suggestion that they call for help, and now felt immensely awful that he’d turned it down. “We’re on our own. Alright, I’m going to figure this out. Hold on.”

“No, it is. I—” his voice failed him before he found it again. His expression betrayed him. As much as Connor was trying to look impassive, he looked shaken. “I calculated the rough amount of time it should take us to see this through, and then I sent a message to Gavin before we left, telling him that if he hadn’t heard from us by quarter to six that we would require help. If I’m right, then he’s probably about to arrive.”

Hank sorely hoped that Connor meant what he was saying and that his memory banks hadn’t been scrambled or something equally as distressing. “Alright, I believe you. I’m going to stand you up. You ready?”

Connor didn’t look ready, but he nodded nonetheless. Freeing his bad arm from the sling, Hank bit through the pain and hauled Connor up, hissing as he had to move quickly to stop him from collapsing on him. “Shit, Connor, I thought you said you could move!”

“I thought I could.” Connor replied, that desperation creeping back into his tone again. “My commands keep bouncing back. I’ve got power to the left leg unit, but it’s barely functioning. You’re going to injure your shoulder far worse by doing this, don’t on my behalf.”

Hank saw the trail of blue blood that he was leaving behind and winced. “Okay, yeah, that’s bad. Connor, forget about my goddamn shoulder, I’m not the one who’s nearly dead. Shut up, conserve your strength, and help me get you the hell out of here, okay?”

Connor’s jaw tightened but it seemed like he took the words on board. With a tense nod, he wrapped his arm around Hank’s shoulders, and the two of them began to gingerly make their way down the stairs.

Carting Connor around was less like helping another human being and more like dragging a mannequin about. The damage to his leg had rendered it a rigid hunk of metal that did very little to help either of them; Connor couldn’t stand on it, much less use it. He wasn’t heavy in the way another person would be; he didn’t have organs or muscles or anything else that would add weight, but he was still as cumbersome as any full sized adult would be, and Hank was dizzy and injured as it was. There was one moment, and then another, where he nearly sent the two of them crashing down the stairs again. “Careful, Hank,” Connor said quietly.

As Hank finally got them down the final step, the front door burst open, Gavin Reed standing in the entrance with his gun drawn. As he saw Hank move, he pointed the gun their way, the safety clicking off.

“Hey, oi, back the hell up!” Hank snapped as their eyes met. “Suspect’s down, she’s dead, there’s no goddamn threat, okay?”

Gavin pulled back and holstered his gun. “Great, some fucking thanks I get, I haul my ass all the way over here because of your plastic asshole, and—” he stopped as he finally took in the state of both of them, his expression not much more than a scowl. “What the hell happened?”

“If we could—could save the questions for later, Detective,” Connor said, sounding strained, “I’m starting to hit critical levels. Shutdown isn’t imminent, but if I don’t do something soon, it won’t be long until it is.”

“Fuck’s sake, can’t leave you two alone for a minute, can we?” Gavin said, stepping forward. Roughly, he pulled Connor away from Hank. “Give it—him, don’t fucking look at me like that—give him to me. I can carry him a lot better than you, asshole.”

“Watch yourself, Gavin, your compassion’s showing.” Hank muttered back. Shit, he could barely see straight. “I need to call this in. Drive us to whichever Cyberlife store is closest. Markus made sure they were all converted into like, android-fucking-doctor-surgeries or something. Buy and sell replacement parts. Repairs. Something like that.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m dropping you off at the hospital on the way.” Gavin said, pulling Connor’s arm around his own shoulders. “You’re bleeding out of your head and you look like shit, weren’t you injured anyway?”

Hank scowled. “You’re not dropping me off anywhere, Gavin.”

“You think you’re in much of a state to argue with me?” Gavin barked a laugh, all but dragging Connor back to the front door. “That’s funny. Don’t trust me with your plastic toy?”

“Do what he says, Hank.” Connor said. “My scans aren’t…aren’t working right, but I can see that you’re concussed. I’ll be fine.”

I’ll be fine. Hank knew, logically, that he was right. Androids were not like humans, there was no uncertainty in their survival as long as they were repaired with the correct parts. He recognized that, and yet, he couldn’t help but be concerned over Connor’s injuries.

“If you’re lying to me to get me to go, Connor,” Hank said, “I will personally chase you into whatever android-bullshit-heaven there is and I will kick your goddamn ass.”

Connor’s smile was a small thing. “Of course. Don’t worry, I know you can tell when I’m lying, Hank.”

--

Hank hated hospitals.

The android who was currently tending to his shoulder was a gentle young woman with clear blue eyes and a calming voice. She’d been a nurse before the revolution, she had explained, and she’d enjoyed it so much that she’d decided to carry on afterwards. Hank, who cared little for small talk, half heartedly grunted his responses and tried not to engage in any other kind of conversation.

He knew she was only being kind, but he had a bad track record when it came to hospitals and his hatred for them only grew as time passed. The atmosphere was all wrong, the orderlies were all too overbearingly kind, and it was the place where his young son had taken his last breaths, left to a android who could do nothing while a human doctor went and got off his face on Red Ice instead.

He had moved past the android issue, realised how unfair he had been, but it didn’t change his opinion on the place itself. His head still hurt like a bitch even though he he’d been given pain relief, and the nausea hadn’t subsided. Being here wasn’t helping him in either regard.

As soon as the android was done, his arm firmly back in a sling and his head patched up, he was free to go. Not much they could do for a concussion other than sleep and waiting it out now they’d confirmed it wasn’t a serious brain injury. There had also been a mention of avoiding alcohol, but Hank had switched off at the mention. He was going to go home and he was going to drain an entire bottle.

His car had been left behind at the abandoned lot, but it wasn’t like he could drive it with his arm back in the sling anyway. He left the hospital and pulled out his phone, standing on the sidewalk as he looked for Gavin’s number. He found it under the label, Station Asswipe, and called it.

Gavin picked up on the fifth ring. “You took your time,” he said in lieu of a greeting.

“You get thrown down a flight of stairs, see how you deal.” Hank bit back. Typical Gavin, unable to start a single conversation without turning it into an outright confrontation. “What’s going on?”

“My night’s ruined, that’s what. I’ve got fucking blue blood all over me, and I’m stuck in plastic-prick heaven with all of these assholes looking at me like I’m the piece of shit in this situation. You know how many times these pretentious assholes asked me if I was the one who fucked him up? I hate these things.” The speaker muffled as Gavin presumably moved the phone. When he spoke again, his voice sounded further away. “What was that? Oh screw you, I don’t give a damn.”

“Talking shit about androids in one of their spaces? Real damn classy.” Hank said. “Where’s Connor?”

“Still getting fixed. Damage was extensive, from what they told me. You know what? I’ll send you the address, and then you can take this over. I want to get the fuck home.”

“Please, would make things better for us all.” Hank muttered, but then he realised—Gavin had come to help. As much as he hated Connor, as much as he hated Hank, he had listened and he had put himself out for them. It probably meant nothing, things would probably go straight back to the way they’d always been—but he had to be grateful for it, or Connor might have been dead by now.

“Gavin.” he said. His pride wanted him to shut up, but he had to be the bigger man. “Thanks, for coming out. Connor made the right choice, asking for your help.”

“Yeah, well, don’t make a habit of it. This makes all of us even, you got it?”

“Oh trust me, I get it.” Hank said, hanging up. Seconds later, the address for the Cyberlife store Gavin had chosen pinged through. Typically, he had to be an asshole to the end; the store was out of the way and a hell of a trek to get to. Cutting his losses, Hank called a cab.

Twenty minutes later, he was outside the transformed store. Gavin was stood against the wall, leaning back on it with his arms crossed. When he’d said he’d been covered in blood, he hadn’t been lying. His shirt was soaked through with thirium, and Hank didn’t know or care if it would come out in the wash. “Finally,” Gavin said when he saw him. “Guess I can go home. You called this shit in to Fowler, yeah?”

“Yeah. Chewed me the hell out for it, not that I can blame him. He’s got people at the lot now.” he looked up at the old Cyberlife building. “How’s it going?”

“Like I’d know. I told them you were coming, so feel free to go in. I’m going home.” Gavin pushed himself off the wall and stalked past him. “Try not to drink yourself into a coma later.”

The words were harsh, but there was no bite to them. Hank laughed. “Screw you, Gavin.”

Without another word, Gavin vanished off down the street. Hank took that as his cue to head inside. He’d never been inside a Cyberlife store before the android’s revolution, but he had a vague idea of what they used to look like. Now it more resembled a doctor’s surgery, complete with a reception desk and waiting chairs.

The young man (android? No LED so it was hard to tell,) behind the desk gave him a friendly smile. Hank didn’t feel much like reciprocating it, so he picked a chair and sat down. Androids didn’t sleep, any time of day was fine for them, and that seemed to be reflected in the fact that it was still busy even though it was late. Plenty of androids were sat in the other chairs, some with visible faults, others without. Hank had to wonder what it had been like when Gavin had pulled Connor in here, both of them covered in blue blood, and Connor barely functioning.

Android parts weren’t difficult to replace, but they were expensive. A leaflet on the small table beside Hank detailed the parts and their prices, and he found himself wincing as he looked over them. It was, he thought, a good thing that Connor spent absolutely nothing of his pay checks; he’d been hoarding money like a dragon might hoard gold. He was going to need it; a new leg unit reportedly cost upwards of $500.

He hadn’t noticed that he’d dozed off in the seat until someone was shaking him awake. They weren’t being gentle about it, no, it felt like he was experiencing a small scale earthquake. Jolting awake, Hank let out a sharp cry, somewhere between a “Hey!” and a “What!”

Connor was peering down at him, those brown eyes of his concerned. “Hank?” he said. “Are you awake? It’s me, Connor.”

Relief was a pleasant wave against his headache. Hank laid his hand over where Connor’s was resting on his shoulder, removing it carefully. “You’re alright?”

“Better now, yes, and much lighter in terms of money. They had to replace my heartbeat regulator entirely, but the damage to my leg unit was actually repairable. They gave me the bullets in case I wanted to keep them.” he held up the jar that held them.

Seeing them was somewhat horrifying. It made the whole experience that much more real. Connor really had almost died. He realised he wasn’t just relieved; he was angry. Angry that Connor had put himself in such a dangerous situation, that he let the AX400 get the upper hand on him. It was a selfish thought, but he could have been killed. It was exactly what she’d wanted, and Hank would have been left wondering if he’d done something different, maybe he could have saved him.

It could wait. He’d question him when they got home. “Christ,” Hank breathed. “You were in there for what, two hours, and they managed to patch you right up?”

“Machines don’t need to heal. We’re fortunate in that respect, as soon as the repairs are done, we’re free to go.” he smiled, and then glanced around. “I noticed Gavin isn’t here. Did he return home?”

“Yeah, he’s gone. Pissed off as soon as he could.”

“Probably for the best. I didn’t really know how to say thank you in a way that wouldn’t leave both of us uncomfortable.” Connor paused, his smile falling. There was a pull to his eyebrows that wasn’t usually present. He might have been physically alright, but there was evidently still something going on behind his façade. “Hank. I’m going to call us a cab home, is that okay?”

“Yeah.” Hank said. “And when we get there, I want to talk. There’s so much crap we need to unpack about today, because it was a straight up shit show and it shouldn’t have gone down that way."

Connor nodded, turning his back. “Yeah.” he said. “I know."

Chapter Text

The cab ride back was a quiet affair, not a word traded back and forth between the two of them. Normally Hank would have had something to say by now, some offhand quip about Connor or the situation at hand, but he seemed content to just stare out the window with that gruff look on his face, his eyebrows drawn, his frown lines taut. Connor chose to follow suit, staring down at his jar of bullets for want of something to focus on. They seemed so small looking at them now.

The problem seemed to be that there was too much to say and nowhere decent to start. As a result, both of them chose to say nothing at all. Connor had questions that he wanted answers to, but Hank didn’t look like he was in any kind of mood to respond to them yet. Instead, Connor adjusted the sleeves of his jacket (ruined), his tie (also ruined), and tried to forget the look that Hank had given him when he’d seen him in front of Nina, broken and weak and on the verge of shutdown.

No. Don’t think of it. He changed tact. He hoped he would be able to find a replacement for the jacket.

When they finally arrived back, Sumo was ready to greet them, the fact that it was late having had no effect on him. As if he could sense the tension though, he did not come bounding out, nor did he even bark. He sat patiently by the door as they came in, his tail thumping against the floor.

Hank went into the kitchen as Connor dropped his jar on the side and reached down to scratch Sumo’s head. “Hey,” he said softly. Sumo pressed his nose into Connor’s leg, the one that had been damaged. Did he know that he’d been shot there? Maybe he could smell the thirium that had stained his trousers. “It’s okay, Sumo. I’m okay, see?”

He heard the clinking of glass from the kitchen. It was a familiar sound, one Connor associated with Hank slurring his words, stumbling about the house in a stupor. He straightened up and marched to the kitchen. What was he thinking? He’d already analysed him in the cab, knew that he’d been given pills. He knew not to mix them, so why was he already breaking the rules?

He entered the kitchen. As Connor had predicted, Hank was going for the beer. Not if he could help it; reaching out and pulled the bottle from him with a sharp tug, earning himself a look of ire.

“Don’t give me that, Lieutenant.” Connor said. Why did things feel so cold between them? “You know not to mix pills and alcohol.”

“You’re not my goddamn mother,” Hank said. “Put it down and get the hell out of those clothes, you look like shit and I can’t stand the sight of all the fucking blue blood.”

Connor didn’t put the bottle down. He didn’t make to move either. Hank’s stress levels were sky high. His heart rate was elevated. The events of tonight had affected him, that much was clear even at a glance.

They had so much to discuss. They had to start somewhere, so Connor decided to take the plunge. “Why did you kill her?” he asked, his voice quiet.

Hank stared at him, his expression incredulous. That, or he was pissed off. Connor was having trouble telling the difference. “Are you seriously asking me that?”

Connor put the bottle on the side and faced Hank again. “Yes, I am. Why did you kill Nina?”

“So that was her name.” Hank said. His tone changed, softened. “Why do you think I shot her? She was about to let you die, Connor, how the hell did you let it get to that point? You’re the fucking state of the art, expensive, prototype whatever it is, and you let her walk all over you. What happened? Why did you let her get close enough to beat the shit out of us?”

Connor searched for the answer in his memory, in his algorithms, but he seemed to be running slow. Was it that he didn’t know how to answer, or was it that he didn’t want to? It was hard to tell, and that in itself was disconcerting. It wasn’t that he didn’t like being a deviant; it was just that sometimes being a deviant was more difficult than not being one.

Hank sank into one of the chairs when he didn’t answer, a heavy sigh in his throat. “I didn’t want to kill her,” he said, running his hand over his face. “I wanted to take her in, I wanted to clear this shit up. I didn’t want her to be Whitfield all over again but I didn’t have a choice in it. It was her or you, Connor, and I wasn’t going to be the one left behind wondering if I could have saved you. I wasn’t going to…fuck.”

His stress levels rose higher. Connor saw his gaze flick over to where Cole’s picture stood, and Connor understood. He hadn’t wanted to be the one left behind again, and that was what had driven his actions.

Connor owed him an explanation. Hank had been through a lot in the last few hours, and he deserved to know what had happened.

“I wanted to understand her.” he said, hyperaware of Hank, of Sumo, of every word he was saying. “I spent this whole case trying to figure out what the suspect was thinking, and when we figured out the motive, I think I felt…no, that’s the problem. I felt.”

Emotions were still so difficult. Some androids had no difficulty in adapting to them, some like Markus thrived with them. Connor, on the other hand, was still working it out, still learning. Sometimes, it felt like a compulsion. He had to understand or it would destroy him.

“You felt bad for her, so you let her get the jump on you?” Hank asked. “Fuck, Connor, I knew you could do empathy, but to the point where it gets you into trouble? That’s serious.”

“No, it wasn’t just that.” Connor looked down at his hands. If he were human, they might have been shaking, but he wasn’t flesh and bone. Uncertainty and anxiety had no way of manifesting physically within his body. He wasn’t even sure if it was right to call it anxiety; rather, it seemed like his programming was clashing, causing him to feel wrong. “I told you, I wanted to understand her—but I think I already did. When we came face to face, I realised that was my chance. I wanted her to tell me everything; I wanted to know what would make an android do something as drastic as she had. I wanted to know so badly that I was reluctant to shoot her.”

He could no longer read Hank’s expression. “Did you find your answer?” Hank asked. “It better have been worth it.”

Connor’s hesitated before he answered. “I did. Find the answer, that is.”

“Yeah, and what was it?”

“She was no different. To me, I mean. No different to me.” Connor couldn’t look at Hank now. Was this shame? It felt like it. “When I thought you had been killed by Whitfield, I thought I was going to crash out. That was the kind of fear I felt. Ever since, I’ve not felt right, I thought you had died and it did something to me. So when she said what she said, I understood. I knew exactly what had driven her to that point. I wouldn’t have followed the same road as her. I wouldn’t have broken the law or sought revenge, but I know why she did it. She couldn’t let go of those same feelings. She probably didn’t even understand them. She just acted out of instinct, and I know why!”

The outburst was uncalled for, and it didn’t make him feel any better either. Sumo whined as Hank stood up. Quicker than even Connor could comprehend, he grabbed him by his shoulder and pulled him close. Hug, Connor’s processors supplied. Different from the one back when he’d chased Nina into the road. Back then, it had been out of relief. This time, it appeared that Hank was trying to calm him down.

It was working. He relaxed in his hold. “You fucking idiot, Connor,” he said, “you put yourself through the goddamn ringer, didn’t you? Got too far into her head that you messed yourself up. Christ, Connor, I thought I was gonna have to watch you die. You know how relieved I was when Gavin showed up? Gavin. You crafty little shit, calling him behind my back.”

“I knew you wouldn’t want him there.” Connor said. He pulled back, forcing a sheepish smile on his face. “I thought I was going to die too. I realised—I realised that my mistakes put me in that position, and it terrified me. I apologise, Hank, for putting you in that situation too. Causing you stress was not my intention.”

“Yeah, well, trust me, you caused a shit ton. If you ever do that again, I’ll dismantle you myself.”

“That’s illegal, Hank.” Connor reminded him. He looked down at himself, finally seeing properly what a mess he was. His clothes were stained in thirium, his shirt was a write-off. He took his coin from his pocket and placed it on the table so it wouldn’t be thrown out when he had to trash the jacket.

“Connor,” Hank said. “I’m serious, don’t you ever pull a stunt like that again. Start valuing your goddamn life, ‘cause I don’t want you dead, you hear me? And don’t you dare beat yourself up over what happened with the AX400—Nina. You weren’t anything like each other. You said it yourself, you wouldn’t go on a revenge killing spree. I guess it takes a certain kind to do it, same with humans.”

Connor listened to every word of it, taking it all on board, storing it away so that he might revisit it later. Hank spouted a lot of advice, most of it useless, but from time to time he could be insightful. That kind of helpful advice seemed to be showing up more and more often lately. Maybe it was because he was spending less time drinking.

“Hank?” he said.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. I mean that, really. Sometimes I don’t know what I would be without you to talk me down. I’m still trying to work my way around this, around being…deviant. I appreciate your insight. And I appreciate your care for my life. I’m the same, Hank. Please look after yourself, especially in regards to mixing alcohol and medication. I don’t want you dead either.”

Hank seemed surprised at that; perhaps at the sincerity of it? Connor wasn’t sure. After a second, he laughed. “I could have guessed that.”

“You could?”

"Yeah,” he grinned, and in Hank’s own words, it was definitely a ‘shit eating’ one. “You compared yourself to Nina after she called Whitfield her fucking dad, you dumbass.”

Connor stared at him. The very beginnings of what felt like embarrassment pooled in his chest, unfamiliar and uncomfortable. “You heard her say that?”

Hank was laughing now, doubled over. Sumo barked, jumping up with the kind of energy normally seen in young puppies. “Fuck, fuck, this is killing my shoulder!” he gasped. “Oh your face, Connor, shit, your face. You look like someone’s poured ice down your back. I swear, don’t ever change.”

Connor remembered him saying that to him the other night in the bar, the same kind of amusement in his voice. Covering his face with a hand, trying to hide his humiliation, Connor said, “I’ll try not to.”

-- 

Connor had to take back the files on Whitfield in the morning, so leaving Hank and Sumo behind, he dressed in his informal hoodie and went back to the office. Hank was back on leave, and Connor’s own recent damage meant that apparently he was on the grounds for leave also. They hadn’t quite worked out android sick leave yet. Connor saw no need for it given that he could be repaired almost instantly, but humans would be humans, and that would be that according to Fowler.

The office was quiet. As Connor walked past his desk, he saw an envelope lying on top, magnolia coloured with his name penned in Cyberlife Sans-Serif on the surface. Frowning, he dropped the files on the desk and picked it up, ripping it open in the same movement.

It was a card, with the letters THANK YOU embossed on the top. He scanned it. Cards were a rarity nowadays; most people chose to send E-cards, but this one had been bought from the novelty shop Carlton Cards that was located downtown. When he opened it, five $100 bills fell out. Physical money, another rarity. The message was inside was written in the same Cyberlife Sans-Serif, concise but heartfelt.

RK800 Connor,

We heard that you were damaged in pursuit of the AX400—Nina—yesterday, but that you also managed to neutralise her in the process. All three of us lost much over the past week, and it is thanks to your efforts that we can begin to look for closure. To say our thanks, we decided to do this. Myself and Andrew don’t use our pay checks for much yet, so we thought we would pitch in to pay for your repairs. Officer Dekker couldn’t offer much—he has a family to care for—but he also put in one of the $100 notes towards our fund. We cannot thank you enough. If you ever need help, I know you have assistance in us.

Sincerely,

PC200 Clara, PC200 Andrew, and Martin Decker.

Connor smiled, turning the card in his hand as he gathered the money together in the other. He wished he could tell them that it was unnecessary, but he also felt it would be rude to turn down the gesture. How kind, he thought. An unexpected gesture, but one he would remember.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

The sound of Gavin’s voice made him put the card down. Probability of a fight breaking out was low, but Connor didn’t want to push the rates up regardless. “Returning the files from the other day, Detective.” he said. “Why do you ask?”

“Are you serious?” when Connor turned to face him, he found Gavin looking exhausted, shadows under his eyes, a cup of coffee in his hands. “Last time I saw you, you were messed up big time, and now you’re just back here like nothing happened? In normal clothes too? You creep the fuck out of me; you don’t even look like you.”

Oh, he’d forgotten, but that was right. He had been barely functioning at the time, and hardly remembered it as a result, but Gavin had driven him to the Cyberlife store last night. Which meant he’d gone home, slept for a few hours at best, and then come back into work again. “I think I should be asking you that question, Detective. Why did you come in after spending all night up helping us?”

“Because I give a damn about my job.” Gavin muttered. He took a sip of his coffee. “Hank alright?”

“He’s fine. We stayed up most of the night watching old baseball reruns.” Connor said. He didn’t know why he felt the need to include that detail. “Detective, I know we’ve had our differences in the past—”

“You beating the shit out of me in the evidence room is a difference?”

“You were going to shoot me.” Connor pointed out. “Anyway, as I was saying, despite our differences, I wanted to thank you for last night. Credit where credit is due. We don’t have to like each other, but I believe we could work together in the future, given time.”

Gavin snorted. “You’re optimistic for a piece of plastic.”

“And you’re lively despite looking like a dead man walking.”

Gavin rolled his eyes, waving Connor off. “Get the fuck out of here. Aren’t you on sick leave or something? It’s bullshit, they should put you back on the job, you’re fine.”

“Are you that desperate for a partner, Detective?”

“Screw that,” Gavin scoffed. “Go home, Connor.”

Connor shrugged, offering him a smile. “I think I will. See you around, Detective.”

--

Hank’s favourite bar was still a foreign entity to Connor. Glass against glass, the TV buzzing in the background, the quiet chatter of people all around. It had been a long time since Connor had stormed in looking for Lieutenant Anderson, and yet it was still as shady and scummy as it had been back in November. Though Connor didn’t particularly like these sorts of places—he preferred them to be cleaner, more law-abiding, less rough—he still found that he quite enjoyed the vibe. There was something a little bit exciting in the air. Something he wasn’t entirely used to.

Hank had his coin in hand, throwing it clumsily up and down. Connor had told him that he would teach him how to do it sometime, but with one arm in a sling, that time would most certainly not be now. Hank had claimed he’d wanted to try “The thing with the knuckles,” but Connor was beginning to suspect that he’d taken it just to stop Connor from fiddling with it.

“So tell me, Connor,” Hank said, his eyes focused on the coin. “Why are you here, when you apparently don’t like coming by?”

“I never said that,” Connor said. “I only ever said it wasn’t really my thing.”

“So is it your ‘thing’ now?”

Connor pretended to consider the question, and then, with a tilt of his head, he said, “No.”

Hank sighed, an amused sound. “You know what people say to me when I tell them that I made off with Cyberlife’s most expensive, most advanced android?”

Connor shook his head. “No, I don’t. But you’re going to tell me anyway, aren’t you?”

“Yep. They always go to me, ‘Well, holy shit Anderson, I bet he’s a fucking nightmare. You know what all those deviants are like, causing riots and revolutions and all that. What the hell does your one do? He running for president or something?’”

Connor frowned. He wasn’t sure where exactly this conversation was going. “And what do you say back?”

“I say, ‘nah, but he sure does seem eager to come to the bar with me even when he can’t drink.’”

Connor was 95% sure that was supposed to be a joke, so he laughed. Hank grinned and shook his head. “Tell you what, next time, you’re picking where we go, so long as it ain’t the fucking office or a library or some other bullshit place. You like cards? We could gamble. What’s the law on android gambling, because can’t you go and just scan the other hands or something?”

“You can’t use me to cheat, I can only process visual information that I can see. Cards are quite safe from me.”

“Oh, but you can calculate probabilities like a fucking computer.”

“I am a computer, technically.”

“Technicalities.” Hank paused. “But you could. Figure out the chances of winning, I mean, and then we could put down some serious bets.”

“I’m not gambling with you, Hank.”

Hank handed him back his coin and drummed his fingers on the bar counter. “So no gambling. Don’t worry, kid, we’ll figure out what you like at some point. Even if we have to go to every weirdass joint over Detroit, you’ve gotta have some kind of vice. If its thrash metal though, I’ll show myself the nearest door. Don’t get me wrong, I love it, but you’re on a-whole-nother level of that shit at this point.”

Connor flipped the coin into the air once before pocketing it, his smile firmly in place. “Give me a minute with my databases. I’m sure I’ll find somewhere that will suit both of our tastes.”