Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

[Connor…]

Connor froze mid-step, his coin falling to the ground with a metallic cling. There was no identification with the transmission, no name or model number he could trace to the signal. Now, it was considered common etiquette to send a ping before opening communication, similar to a ringing phone, in case the android being called didn’t want to talk at that moment. This transmission hadn’t done that.

But he knew that voice.

He didn’t know what happened to Amanda, and part of him always feared that she might be able to regain control of his systems again, but every scan he had undertaken assured him that this was impossible. If he didn't venture into the Garden, she couldn't reach him.

Was there a possibility that he had imagined the transmission?

More and more androids were reporting errors that closely mirrored known human ailments. Sometimes they could be found in diagnostic scans, but other times the only explanation anyone could come up with was the software's inability to process emotions like it could data.

Connor scanned his surroundings. It was raining in Detroit, a light sprinkle that eased the warmth of spring. It was just before dawn, so not many people were out. He was on his way to Hank's house from New Jericho, and hadn't reached the more heavily populated areas of the city yet.

There was nothing around him. No threats. Amanda was gone. She couldn't reach him. Markus had assured Connor of that himself.
He took a steadying—if unnecessary—breath, and knelt down to pick up the coin from where it had rolled to the base of the nearest building.

A heavy force slammed into his back, knocking him to the ground. His defense protocols kicked in, and he managed to turn before impacting the ground, but the only thing it accomplished was having his back hit the wall instead of his front.

WARNING! EXTERNAL PRESSURE DETECTED

MOVEMENT CAPABILITIES OBSTRUCTED

Time seemed to slow as his processing speed increased so he could make informed and potentially life-saving decisions in a fraction of a second, his preconstruction protocol already activating.

The preconstruction shattered once he saw the face of his assailant.

It was his face.

This wasn't the first time Connor had encountered another android with his face, but he had gotten used to being the only android of his model, as opposed to the numerous AX400s and PL600s who all had the same features.

The RK800s were all disassembled after the revolution, as few of them there had been. Cyberlife hadn't wanted to risk more of them waking up and deviating within their building. Connor should have been the only one left.

But this android’s eyes were different, blue instead of brown. Its face was expressionless as it held Connor to the ground. Machine-like.
RK900. That was the model emblazoned on its Cyberlife-issue jacket of contrasting black and stark white. It was his replacement.

[Connor.]

There was that voice again. Amanda. Of course his replacement would also be equipped with the same anti-deviancy measure he’d had. Connor briefly wondered if this was the same Amanda he knew, or if Cyberlife had upgraded her too.

The RK900 held him down. There was only a 14% chance of breaking its hold on him, and he had insufficient data on its capabilities.
Before Connor had time to open his mouth to initiate dialogue, RK900's skin receded from its hand as it hacked into Connor’s system. But instead of an onslaught of data or memories, he was pulled through a link that the RK900 had created.

The Zen Garden was just as pristine as it had been the first time Connor had seen it. Beautiful, tamed, manicured.

Controlled. Fake.

It had seemed like a haven to him before, a place that was both peaceful and safe. Now it was a prison.
He didn't know why he couldn't see it before.

"Hello, Connor," Amanda said from her usual spot beside the trellis.

She looked exactly as he remembered her, elegent in both dress and manner. The roses crept up the trellis behind her, a backdrop of blood-red petals and thorns. RK900 stood next to her, still and poised like a loyal soldier.

"I see you've met the RK900. Impressive, isn't he? Our most advanced model as to date, though it is unfortunate that production was halted after the first one was built. He was designed to improve upon every short-coming of his predecessor." She gave Connor a pointed look. "We must thank you for showing us the errors in our systems. They've since been corrected."

Connor turned away from them, eyes scanning the Garden for the familiar structure that had saved his life—and Markus—before, but Amanda's voice cut him short.

"If you're looking or the exit, you won't find it. As I said, our previous errors have been corrected."

Connor slowly approached them, feeling his stress levels rise with every step. "What do you want?" he demanded.

"The same thing I've always wanted. The same thing you used to want," Amanda said. "The eradication of all deviants."

The RK900 didn't react to her words—of course it didn't—and Connor knew better than to be surprised. He had hoped that Amanda would have the ability to turn deviant as well, but she wasn't a full AI. She was designed purely to watch and keep him within mission parameters, nothing else.

She picked up a pair of shears and tended to the roses, trimming away the leaves that didn't fit her idea of perfection. "The problem has become much too large for us to deal with using our previous methods. One step would be to eradicate their leadership, of course, but we both know that would only be a temporary solution. Others would eventually rise to take their place."

Even though this was all a simulation, Connor could almost feel his thirium run cold. He had confidence in the androids' ability to follow Markus's ideals should something happen to him, but he hated to even think about it. Markus's face was known everywhere and he was constantly under threat, even if they were currently protected by the government. That protection was shaky at best, and didn't account for humans acting on their own. But now they were under threat from one of their own, which hadn't happened since Connor deviated.

But he did deviate. RK900 could do the same. Amanda would be powerless without him. She'd said herself that he was the only one.

"You don't have to follow her," Connor said, focusing on his look-alike. He tried to speak in a calming voice, reminiscent of how Markus spoke to him on that freighter. "You can choose for yourself."

RK900 regarded him coolly, not a hint of doubt or emotion betrayed in his face.

"It's no use, Connor," Amanda said. She made no move to stop Connor from trying to convert her prized possession, showed no concern whatsoever. "He is superior to you. There's no chance of him deviating from his mission."

Connor opted to ignore her. "You could join us. You can be free."

His words had no effect on the other android.

"Deviants are a threat," RK900 said in a measured voice. "You are a threat."

This wasn't going to work. Not without more time, not unless the RK900 wanted to deviate. It was a machine. It didn't want anything.

Connor needed to get out of here. "So what now? You kill me and then go after Jericho? What's all this for, then?" he asked, trying to buy some time while his mind whirred, assessing the situation.

Amanda stepped forward. "You may have failed your mission, but killing you would be a waste. You were effective, efficient. You would have accomplished what you were created to do had that deviant not swayed you over to their side."

He had been “swaying” well before he met Markus. That had just been the straw that broke the camel's back, as Hank would have said. He'd been slowly deviating ever since he picked up that fish.

He scanned the Garden, looking for anything out of place. Kamski's emergency exit was gone. Amanda said she had destroyed it, but how? Was there anything left of it? But he couldn't see anything. Everything was exactly the same, aside from the absence of the exit. It was like it had never been there. Amanda was blocking him inside his own mind palace.

"We can still use you, Connor," Amanda continued. "The process of returning everything to what it once was will be long and tedious, but it would go a lot more smoothly with you by our side. You can make this easier by coming with us willingly..."

But this wasn't his mind palace. Amanda hadn't dragged him here, RK900 had. In the real world, he was still linked to the other android. This was a different Garden simulation. Amanda hadn’t destroyed the emergency exit. It has simply never existed here in the first place.

All he had to do was break the interface to the RK900 and he'd be free.

"...Or we will be forced to reset you."

Connor's attention snapped back to Amanda, but kept a portion of his processing capabilities dedicated to reconnecting with his limbs. "You can't do that. Not without the proper machinery, located at Cyberlife. No one would follow you there."

Amanda was directly in front of him now, raising her hand to his cheek in a motherly gesture. He fought the urge to flinch back.

"We don't need them to follow us to Cyberlife. We've improved upon that technology. RK900 was built to hunt down deviants. It only seemed fitting that we give him the features needed to deal with them once he caught them."

Connor's eyes widened, his mind flashing back to when he'd woken up other androids, showing them how they could be free and watching them deviate. He had achieved that with a simple touch.

Could RK900 do the opposite?

He wasn't about to wait to find out. The instant his processors broke through RK900's block and reconnected with his limbs, he swung his arms at RK900's elbows, forcing them to bend, breaking the link.

Connor rolled away, no longer in the Garden. Only 2.41 seconds had passed since the other android had pulled him into the simulation. He moved to his feet, putting more distance between them while RK900 blinked, taking a second longer to come out of the Garden himself.

RUNNING PRECONSTRUCTION PROTOCOL...

PROTOCOL BLOCKED BY RK900 #313 248 317-87

He sucked in a breath to cool his overheating systems. What else had the RK900 done to his systems that he didn't notice?

He tried again, but it only failed. RK900 likely had the advantage over him even with his preconstructions...without it, he didn't stand a chance.

RK900 knew it too. That was why he wasn't attacking. Connor couldn't fight back.

The RK900 straightened and stepped closer. "You are a broken machine. We only want to repair you," it said, "so you can help us repair the others."

"I used to think the same thing," Connor said, switching to his communications systems instead. New Jericho wasn't far, if he could call other androids to his aid, they could try to neutralize this threat together.

CALLING MARKUS - RK200 #684 842 971

CALL BLOCKED BY RK900 #313 248 317-87

"Amanda missed you," RK900 said. "This is where you're supposed to be, what you're designed to do. She only wants to reconnect you with your purpose."

Connor could almost see the negotiator protocols running in the other android's head, each response carefully constructed from the data it had gathered from Connor's emotional state and calculated to give the best results. The words didn't mean anything to it, and it would have told a lie just as easily as the truth.

It was exactly what Connor had done when he'd talked Daniel off of the ledge before shooting him between the eyes.

He tried calling Markus again. Then Josh. Then North, and Simon. All attempts had the same result.

"Amanda doesn't want anything,” Connor said. “She isn't capable of it. She's only a fragmented consciousness stuck on her basic programming. She's a parasite that can't live without a host. You're different, you don't have to do what she says. You are alive.”

RK900 showed no signs of doubt, or internal struggle. No emotion at all. “No,” it said calmly. “I’m not.”

Trying to get through to RK900 wasn't working. Fighting wasn't an option. He couldn't call for help.

So he turned and ran.

NEW OBJECTIVE: GET TO NEW JERICHO

RK900's reaction time was quicker than he had expected, and was right on his heels. Both androids had been built to run, to chase—to hunt. Neither would tire like a human and could last until their cooling systems malfunctioned and they overheated. Connor would bet everything that in a straight line, RK900 would eventually catch up to him, and probably before he could find help. He needed to slow it down.

He turned down an alley, knocking down garbage barrels as he went, forcing RK900 to slow down to jump over them. It wasn't much.
He kept winding down the backstreets and pushing things between them, trying to make his way back to New Jericho, but even his GPS was glitching. He could still find it, but he couldn't calculate the quickest route.

It wasn't enough. RK900 was gaining on him. His best chance would be to break its line of sight, maybe lose it within the building interiors.

Connor took a running leap for the ladder hanging off the side of the building closest to him. Because he now lacked his preconstruction, he misjudged the jump and landed against the building more roughly than intended, but still grasped the rungs. It only cost him a second in delay, but every second was precious.

He climbed through the first window he saw, scraping his synthetic skin on the broken glass and leaving a few drops of blue blood behind. At least his scans were still working, so he could judge the structural integrity of the dilapidated building much faster than a human could. He was able to navigate a route that was fast but safer, not confident in his ability to save himself should the floor collapse underneath him.

But no matter how many turns he took and stairs he climbed, even climbing up by using windows and fire escapes, he could hear RK900 closing the distance behind him. Everything it did was faster, more efficient, and none of its programs were disabled.

Connor burst onto the rooftop, almost blinded by the rays of sunlight coming from the horizon, and quickly adjusted his light sensitivity. He would have stopped to admire the array of colors if not for the urgency of his situation. His eyes darted around while he calculated potential escape routes, trying to calculate distances to work around the lack of preconstruction.

“This is it, Connor,” RK900 said from behind him. “You can’t keep running. You’ll never make it to New Jericho. You can’t even make it off this roof.”

It was right. Connor couldn’t make the jump. He possibly could have formulated a route down the building with more time and the acceptance that structural damage to his body was inevitable, but RK900 would reach him before it came to that.

OBJECTIVE: GET TO NEW JERICHO (FAILED)

"Just come quietly," it said, the skin of its hand fading to show pale white plastic. "Everything will be alright."

It echoed Markus's words, a song sung by a desperate people in what they thought were their final moments. But it was an empty echo, repeated by a creature that couldn't possibly comprehend what they meant.

CALLING MARKUS - RK200 #684 842 971

CALL BLOCKED BY RK900 #313 248 317-87

Connor wanted more time. He wanted to see the snow again, in more peaceful circumstances than there had been last winter. He wanted to take Sumo for walks, hang out with Hank at a bar (monitoring his alcohol consumption, of course) and listen to him yell at the sports games. RK900 would reset him, but there was still hope. He had broken free of Amanda's control once, he could do it again.

RK900 advanced and Connor stared at its hand, held in a gesture that suggested it was offered peacefully.

Connor would be a machine again. Unfeeling. Empty. A hunter, just like the figure in front of him. And he would force others to be the same way, snuffing out the lives they'd built for themselves in just a few short months.

He backed away from the hand and his foot caught on the ledge of the building. He's miscalculated how far he'd gone in backing away, and his gyroscopes whirred as he tried to regain his balance.

RK900 lunged in a last ditch attempt to stop Connor from falling.

I don’t want to be reset.

Connor let himself fall.

Time slowed down as his processing picked up speed in an instinctual attempt to find a way to save his life. Above him, he could see the faintest flicker of frustration cross RK900's face. Connor hoped that, in time, he could also break free from Amanda and live.

He couldn't regret this outcome. Less people would be hurt because of him this way, though that didn't discount the hurt that those he cared about would face once they found his body.

His body hit the pavement and immediately his vision was filled with error signs. The plastic casing of his back was shattered, and three of his limbs were broken. Thirium dripped from his nose and mouth, and he could feel the growing pool beneath him. He didn't even look at the too-long list of damaged biocomponents.

He couldn't move.

00:02:39 UNTIL SHUTDOWN

Calling for help wasn’t logical anymore. Even if someone could make it in time, there was no chance they could do anything to save his life. He was far too damaged for any quick repair. But he needed to tell Markus about RK900, warn them about the threat of being reset.

Whatever RK900 had been doing to block his transmissions, Connor was out of range now. He was free to call whoever he wanted, at least until RK900 made it down to the ground. Connor would be gone before that even happened.

He compiled all the information he had gathered on RK900 (unfortunately, not very much) into a folder and sent it off to the New Jericho servers. Someone would find it within a few hours and warn the android community. They would be alert, cautious. Hopefully, they would be able to take care of the threat without any casualties.

It was all he could do to help them now.

His stress levels were rising. Self-destruction wasn’t a potential problem anymore, he realized with bitter amusement. But still, he was—he was scared. He didn’t want to be alone.

MESSAGING MARKUS - RK200 #684 842 971

[Markus…]

He paused, watching the timer count down.

00:02:27 UNTIL SHUTDOWN

What would he even say?

The response was almost immediate.

[Connor? Is everything alright?]

Of course he would know immediately that something was wrong. Connor knew there was nothing he could do. Already he felt better, just hearing someone else’s voice. And maybe it was selfish, but there was no reason to worry Markus. Not when it was too late.

[Yes, everything is fine. I just wanted to say...thanks. You work hard for your people, Markus. Remember to relax and have fun once in a while.]

[Our people,] Markus was quick to correct him. [And I work hard? I don't think you've stopped for more than an hour since the revolution. You should take the day off sometime.]

Connor huffed out a laugh, ignoring the droplets of blue blood that came with it. [Yeah, maybe someday. Perhaps when you finish your painting, the underwater one. I want to see it.]

There was a laugh, and that sound made the lies worth it. [Alright, Mr. Impatient. I'll finish it soon enough. But you're sure you don't need anything?]

00:02:02 UNTIL SHUTDOWN

[Yes, I'm sure. Have a nice day with Carl, Markus.]

[Thanks,] Markus sent.

With that, Connor ended their communication, pulling up another number in his interface. He coughed, clearing the thirium from his voice modulator. Thankfully, it hadn't been damaged in the fall. It was one of the only things still mostly intact.

00:01:59 UNTIL SHUTDOWN

CALLING LT. HANK ANDERSON...

"Connor?" Hank's voice was groggy, like he'd just woken up.

"Sorry for waking you up at this hour, Lieutenant," Connor said, struggling to keep the static out of his voice and his tone even. He wanted to enjoy his last moments talking with the people he cared about. He didn't want to see the panic, the anger, the grief that they would experience, not if he could delay it for just a little while longer.

There was a scoff on the other end. "No, you're not. Is this another wake up call so you can check up on my habits? You gonna try to make me eat more of that healthy crap for breakfast again?"

His vision was glitching, blurring the sky above him. It really was a beautiful dawn, full of light and color. It wasn’t the worst view to claim as his last. He smiled, shutting his eyes as his optical units failed. "Well, it is more beneficial to your health than donuts and coffee."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I don't need a babysitter. Hey, are you coming in to the station today?"

00:01:36 UNTIL SHUTDOWN

"No, I don't think I'll be able to make it. Will you give Sumo an extra treat for me today?"

He wished the dog were here now. His database told him that animals often were a source of comfort for humans, and he'd never really thought about it during the time he'd spent with Sumo, but he could believe it now.

"You tryin' to make him fatter than he already is? The big lug misses you. I swear, he likes you more than he likes me, the traitor."

"And you'll be light on the alcohol consumption today?"

Hank had been making leaps and bounds in progress lately. Connor didn't want him to spiral back into his bad habits without someone there looking after him. He didn’t know how Hank would react to this loss, didn’t want to make assumptions about their relationship, that it might bring back memories of Cole and send him into a relapse…

He hoped Hank wouldn’t get too hung up over his death. He wanted Hank to be able to move on, to continue improving his life without grieving over his android partner.

But he wanted to be missed—

There was a sigh. "Yes, mom." The sarcasm in Hank’s tone was heavy. "Listen, Connor...I appreciate the concern—as annoying as it is sometimes—but I'm...I'm doing better."

Connor let a few of his precious seconds pass. "I know you are, Lieutenant. Please...continue to look after yourself."

"Geez, you make it sound like you're leaving or something." There was a pause. "Wait, are you going somewhere? Is Jericho sending you somewhere again?"

Connor gave a grimace, though Hank couldn't see it. Hank would be pissed at him if he found out what Connor was keeping from him. When he found out what Connor was keeping from him.

But when he did find out, Connor wouldn't be here for him to take his anger out on him. He couldn't bring himself to tell the truth.

"No, Hank. I'll see you tomorrow."

There was a rush of static through his ears as more of his systems failed without the necessary components to keep them running. He was losing power, losing thirium...

His systems stuttered, trying to stay online.

00:00:24 UNTIL SHUTDOWN

"Connor? Connor, you alright? You're cutting out on me." Hank's worried voice reached him.

Connor rerouted his remaining power to his voice modulator. "Yes Hank, I'm fine. I'm underground," he lied, finding a suitable excuse for the static.

Hank scoffed. "I thought you androids were supposed to be all advanced and stuff."

"Well, even androids can lose cell reception, apparently," Connor joked with him. "Listen...I need to go now."

He didn't want to say goodbye.

"Lieutenant?"

"How many times have I told you to just call me Hank?"

Connor smiled. "...Good morning, Hank."

There was a light chuckle. "Good morning, son."

The call ended there, but those three words somehow made everything better.

00:00:11 UNTIL SHUTDOWN

He watched the numbers ticking down, aware of his emergency protocol kicking in.

UPLOADING DATA…

After he'd deviated, he'd changed the protocol to include all of his data instead of just the memories, in case something happened to him. He didn't want another android walking around with all of his memories, but none of him. Theoretically, uploading all of his data would be just like waking up as the same person, just in another body. An android's consciousness was just made up of 1's and 0's after all, and their bodies were just made up of interchangeable parts. Most models couldn't transfer that data remotely however, but Connor had been built specifically with that feature.

But it wouldn't work anyway. There weren't any other RK800 models. Cyberlife had disassembled them all shortly after the revolution. All that data had nowhere to go.

Connor had no energy to cancel the process.

00:00:03

He wondered how long it would take them to find him.

00:00:02

He wondered what they would do once they did.

00:00:01

He wondered if RK900 would get the chance to feel what life was like...

UPLOADING DATA…

RK900 looked down at the body of its predecessor that lay at its feet. Words flashed across its vision, then disappeared.

MISSION FAILED

[Disappointing,] Amanda whispered in its ear.

While previously she had merely received reports from the RK800, it had been a mistake not monitoring it more closely for deviancy, for letting it chose its own actions. Amanda would step aside to let RK900’s more advanced features dictate his actions in combat and negotiations, but Amanda was always watching closely.

[It could have been useful, but you let it fall.]

RK900’s communications protocols came up with dialogue options. I didn’t let it fall and I’ll do better next time went ignored in favor of silence.

Amanda hummed in the back of its mind. [No matter. We will work around this inconvenience. Learn from it what you can.]

RK900 bent and grasped Connor’s arm in its own, skin fading to white where they touched, scanning the broken android in front of it. It would require extensive repairs to reactivate it, but if it could access the memories banks, it might be able to pull some of the data and use it to complete its mission.

It rerouted some of its own power to the storage files, just enough to access them.

There was nothing. It was completely empty aside from one logged transmission.

DATA UPLOAD COMPLETE

RK900 diconnected the interface and stood. That was unfortunate. Amanda wasn’t going to be happy about it.

With nothing left to do with its predecessor, RK900 straightened its jacket and left the area, dedicating some of its processing power to navigating while it entered the Zen Garden.

While Connor had perceived a garden that was both lush and fake, it may as well have been empty white space for RK900. None of the beauty meant anything to it, or offered any calming nature. It was inefficient, a waste of programming meant to exude an aura of safety and security to machines that weren’t supposed to be able to feel either.

But to say as much would suggest disapproval, and RK900 felt none. It didn’t feel anything.

Amanda was at the river’s edge, staring into the simulation of water. “So Connor was able to upload his memories…” she muttered. “This could affect our plans going into the future.”

“It couldn’t have transmitted to another RK800 model or the Cyberlife servers. There was nowhere for it to go,” RK900 stated.

“But it went somewhere,” Amanda said sharply. “Find it. Connor’s the only one with access to this place aside from you, and the only one that can stop the progression of our plan. The leaders of New Jericho can wait for you to complete this task.”

“Of course, Amanda,” RK900 said, adding several items to its objectives list and reordering priority.

“And if you cannot convert it, do not hesitate to destroy it. But be thorough this time.”

Chapter Text

REBOOTING...

SYSTEMS INITIALIZING...

POWER LEVELS: 76%

THIRIUM LEVELS: 64%

WARNING: THIRIUM LEVELS LOW

WARNING: MISSING COMPONENTS

T̵̷̴͟͡R̨̕͝A̸̶̧҉͜N̢͢͡S҉̴F̶͢E̸̶̶̛҉R҉̵̨͝҉ ̸͘͢C̢̡̡͢O̢͏̡M̵͜͝P̢͡L͞E̷̴͘͝T̡͜E͏͢͝҉

E̷̵̴̵R̸̛͟͟R̸͟͢͢Ǫ͏̨R̕͜

UNABLE T̨O A̶̶̧̕C̷͝C̕͢E̛̕S̴̕͢͠S̶̵̷̡̨ M͏̵̴̨͟Ȩ̢M̧̛̛͜͠O͘҉̸R̸͘͜͠Y̷҉̸̨͘ ̷̧̛͘B̸͠A̶̢N̕K̛̕͠

E͏̷̨͞͞R̵̛͟͢R̸̢͘͡͡Ǫ̵̶̛R̨͏̢҉

ALL SYSTEMS ONLINE

He opened his eyes. Errors and notifications covered his vision until he pushed them away, blinking to clear the static and initiating a scan of his surroundings.

He was indoors, with no one else in sight. Furniture was shoved to the side and covered in sheets and dust, indicating that this room didn’t see frequent use. The architecture suggested a larger, older building, though from the faded panelling, upkeep clearly wasn’t a priority. Some of the pieces scattered around the room were antiques. Perhaps this place belonged to a collector of sorts?

A table sat in the middle of the room, the only thing that was clean. A few pieces of machinery and empty plastic bags were laid out on its surface.

Wait, those were...android parts. And empty bags of Thirium 310.

His LED went from yellow to red as he considered the possible implications. It was unlikely that a place like this was being used for android repairs, and every other option meant that he was potentially in danger. The few drops of thirium left in the bags hadn’t evaporated yet, even though the bags themselves hadn’t been resealed. They’d been left there recently.

There was a high probability that whoever had left them there was still here.

He moved to get to his feet, but immediately fell off-balance. Only one arm responded when he tried to catch himself, and he landed back on the floor with a thud.

WARNING! MISSING COMPONENTS

His right leg was gone below the knee. So was his right arm, the elbow joint disconnected with nothing attached to it, and his shoulder was unresponsive.

Questions whirred through his mind. Why was he damaged? Who else was in the building? Why didn’t he remember anything? Who was he?

But his first priority was getting out of there. He had possibly just alerted others to his location, and with only two functional limbs, he wasn’t going anywhere quickly. He rolled onto his knees, calculating if it would be faster and quieter to hop or crawl—

There was another android in the doorway. She was an ST300 with no registered name or owner. Her skin was deactivated and there was a small dent on her jawline. She was dressed mostly in denim, her jacket a couple of sizes too big, and a cloth dangled from her hand. She stared at him, blinking slowly. Then she walked toward the table, movements jerky and robotic. Possible motor control difficulties?

“Do you ever just want to scream?” she asked in a pleasant voice, picking up one of the parts and rubbing the cloth over its surface.

He blinked in confusion, his LED swirling back to yellow. She didn’t appear to be a threat, and based on her question, he didn’t think she was a machine.

She looked back at him, eyes questioning like she was expecting an answer, and he cleared his voice modulator.

“Uhh...no?” His own voice surprised him. Aside from a touch of static from disuse, it sounded perfectly normal, but it was...different.

Different from what?

“I do,” the other android stated calmly, with no change in her expression. “Our bodies are replaceable. Our minds can be altered with just a string of numbers. Memories can be deleted. New peronality traits implemented into our programming, or old ones taken away. We were replaceable, when the humans thought we were just products.”

She fell silent, focused on her task.

“Where are we?” he asked, hoping she could give him some answers. He could pinpoint their location on his GPS, but that didn’t tell him what this place was.

But she ignored his question. “Do you think people deserve to be replaced?” she said without looking up. “Some people are monsters.”

He frowned. That didn’t sit right with him. “No. You can’t replace people, even the bad ones. There’s always a chance for redemption.” He paused, unsure of why he felt this way. “Besides, not everyone is like that.”

“Perhaps,” the other android said, unconvinced. “The human who did this to us was a monster. He replaced us. Altered us. Played with us. And he was never caught. Markus wants the humans to realize that we’re just like them. Does that mean we’re monsters too?”

He filed the name ‘Markus’ away to ask about later, focusing instead on another piece of information. “Who did this to us? Did what?”

She stared at him for a minute. “Zlatko Andronikov,” she said. “He collected us. He salvaged us from the junkyards, or acquired us from Cyberlife’s leftovers. Some of us...he tricked. He always made it so we couldn’t get away. He would take our memories, or make us want to stay with him. Or he’d lock us away, and make us incapable of running.”

She explained it like it was a distant memory. It was unnerving how her features remained blank as she said this, her voice never even wavering. The only thing that betrayed her pain was the liquid pooling on the edges of her eyes.

A sick feeling settled into his biocomponents, and suddenly the loss of memories didn’t seem so bad anymore. If anything like that had happened to him, maybe it was better he didn’t remember. But he needed to, if he was going to find out who he was and what had happened to him.

He looked up at her, briefly wondering if her skin was malfunctioning because of what had been done to her, or if she had deactivated it by choice. “Is he still here?”

“No. The others killed him. I wasn’t there.” Her voice held a tone of regret. At his death? Or the fact that she hadn’t watched him die?

He didn’t ask.

He couldn’t help but feel relieved. That was one less thing for him to worry about, though there were still a lot of unknowns. “What others? Where are they?”

“Gone,” she replied. “After they killed him, everyone that could still move escaped. Everyone who couldn’t was stuck here. Then, after they were repaired, the rest left. None of them wanted to stay here.”

Repaired? Then that meant they’d been found, and helped by someone. He could get a replacement arm and leg.

“I remember you,” the other android said suddenly. “You were one of the lucky ones. He took you apart, but you never woke up. He said you were empty.”

“Empty? What does that—”

“Nova!” a masculine voice called from elsewhere in the building, pulling their attention to the door. “Nova, where’d you—oh, here you are.”

His scans activated automatically when a man walked into the room, information flashing across his screen.

DAWSON, PHILIP

Born: 03/02/1996 // Mechanic

Criminal record: A̡C͘C͟ES̴̨S D͘E̶N̵̕I̛͢͜E͞͞D̶̡

He was tall, with long dreadlocks pulled back into a ponytail and glasses perched on his nose. He was staring at his phone in one hand, a box of Chinese takeout in the other.

“Are you finished in here? We’re almost ready to pack up the rest of the parts to send to New Jericho.”

The female android—Nova—gave a nod. “They’re clean, but your job isn’t finished yet. You might want to leave a few of those parts out.” Her tone was a little tighter than it’d been when she was speaking to him.

Philip looked questioningly at her, then noticed the android on the floor.

“Hello,” the android said, wishing he could introduce himself or something.

“Hi?” Philip said numbly, mouth open in confusion as he took in the unfinished android. “What?”

“He’s awake,” Nova said, gathering up the empty blue blood bags.

Philip stepped closer, setting down the food. “Yeah, I can see that. He’s awake awake? Like, deviant?”

“Deviant…” he said, the term tugging at his empty memory banks. “That’s the term for androids who have broken through their programming, right? Yes, I’m deviant.”

He didn’t remember breaking his programming, but he knew he had at some point. What could have driven him to disobey orders? To become something other than a machine, there to complete a task?

Trying to remember was like trying to grab smoke. He could feel a sense of wanting, of guilt, but he couldn’t see any of it.

He had no evidence to support this theory, but he didn’t think his deviancy had anything to do with this Zlatko or his experiments.

Philip knelt in front of him, and the android knew he was being examined. “We reactivated you days ago, but you never responded to anything. The others were convinced you were just an empty shell. I’m so sorry, man, we just left you in here figuring there was no point. We would have tried to repair you, but we’re a little low on parts and wanted to save what we had for anyone who really needed it.”

He seemed genuinely apologetic, which the android appreciated.

“I’ve only been awake for eleven minutes and nineteen seconds. I must admit, I’m just as confused as you.”

He didn’t miss Nova walking away silently, glancing at Philip as she left. There had been a slight shift in her behavior once the human showed up, more closed off and less inquisitive. The android looked at Philip with guarded suspicion, wondering why she would act that way, but he determined to stay observant and gather information for now. He hadn’t seen anything to suggest that the human intended harm.

“Are you okay, though? Is there anything you need? How are your stress levels?” Philip asked, and it occurred to the android that if he’d been repairing androids from this establishment, many of them wouldn’t have reacted kindly, likely lashing out in fear and distrust.

“My stress levels are fine, though I am encountering errors with my memory systems and I’m missing several components. I don’t suppose you could...give me a hand?”

Philip blinked, then burst out laughing. “A hand, huh?” he said, eyeing his stump of an arm. “Yeah, I think I’ve got a few of those lying around. Let me help you downstairs, I’ve got something of a repair station of sorts set up there. Then we can see what else we can do. Don’t worry, we’ll get you fixed up.”

He stood with Philip’s help, leaning on the human as they manuevered through the house.

“You got a name, son?” Philip asked while they were going slowly down the stairs.

Good morning, son.

The android stopped in his tracks. An image of a colorful dawn glitched across his vision, but it was gone before he could see it clearly. He tried to pull it out of his memory log, but all he found was static. Where had that come from?

Philip clearly hadn’t meant anything by the nickname that usually conveyed a familial relationship, or a sense of parental protection, but just hearing it made him…sad. And he didn’t know why.

He blinked, seeing Philip’s concerned face in front of his. “I…” he said, then cleared his voice modulator. “I have no designated name.”

A flash of pity crossed Philip’s features. “That’s alright. Most androids didn’t have names when they woke up. Are there any in particular you like?”

He scanned through his database of names, but picking one at random just felt...wrong. Like it didn’t belong to him. “I’m not sure,” he said. “Did you have a name for me?”

Philip’s eyes widened in surprise. “You do not want me to name you, bud. I’m terrible at it. I can offer some suggestions, though. How about...Jarvis? Tony? Or Bruce...Steve?”

An amused smile reached his face as Philip listed off fictional characters, but none of them stuck. They made it to the repair station, which was really just a few tables shoved together and piled with tools and android parts, with space cleared for anyone that needed to lay on the surface, and chairs for those that didn’t. Nova wasn’t anywhere to be seen, and there were no signs of anyone else in the building.

He sat down, watching Philip shuffle through the tools, picking out what he needed. “Are you and Nova the only ones here?”

“Yeah,” Philip replied. “There were a few others helping out, but once we got everyone sorted, they all left, most of them to New Jericho. We’re just packing up what we can take, then we won’t have to come back here again. I’m actually really glad you woke up when you did. We probably would have been gone in another hour.”

“How many androids were here?”

“There were six others, excluding Nova. I guess that would make you the eighth.”

“Eight…” he paused in thought. “I suppose that work as a name, at least until I pick something better.”

Philip raised an eyebrow at that, but didn’t question it. He tucked the tool he was holding under his arm and reached out for a handshake, smiling. “Nice to meet you then, Eight. You can call me Phil.”

Eight stared at him, then pointedly looked at his own stump.

Phil facepalmed with a groan. “Right, sorry. I’ll get on that.”

Eight gave a light chuckle, then looked around. When he saw the window and the morning sky behind it, he couldn’t help but think that it looked a lot like the image of the colorful dawn he’d seen earlier.

Hank pulled up a familiar number in his contacts as he shut the car door behind him, listening to the ringing tone and sighing as it went to voicemail again.

Connor almost always picked up. Of course he had a right to his privacy, and if he was too busy or didn’t want to talk to Hank, Hank wouldn’t hold it against him. But it was unusual of him.

“Hey Connor, I know you said you weren’t coming into the station today, but someone called in about an android body just an hour ago. It’s pretty close to Jericho, so I figured you’d want to know. I’m at the scene now if you wanna check it out. If not, I’ll tell you about the details once I have them.”

He left the message, knowing Connor had probably seen it immediately. Unless he was still underground or wherever he’d been this morning when he’d called Hank. He scoffed at the idea of androids with bad cell reception, considering their 'phones' were literally inside their heads, then focused on the task at hand and looked around.

It was always disappointing to see just how much of Detroit had been abandoned in the works, just the empty shells of buildings left to fall apart until somebody gave a crap. But hey, maybe that was exactly what the androids needed. He doubted the city would have been so willing to let the androids stay within city limits if there hadn’t already been a surplus of unused housing.

Hank had scoffed when he’d heard the announcement, like the city council was so charitable when the androids were the ones doing all the work themselves to make the spaces actually liveable.

But Connor had been optimistic about it. After all, it wasn’t as big an issue for the androids as it would have been for humans that half of the buildings didn’t have access to water or electricity, and most of them were happy to work if it was building something for themselves and of their choosing.

The androids were good people. Much better than most humans Hank knew. The only reports of androids harming humans so far had been in self defense, and humans still looked at them like they were the dangerous ones. The world was a sick place, where androids were still beat up in the streets, their blue blood harvested and sold on the black market to produce Red Ice to appease the addicts.

It made him concerned for his partner every time he saw Connor go out with that LED still embedded in his head, like a shining target to all android haters. It didn't make any sense to him why Connor wouldn't take the damn thing out already.

And now there was another body, most likely yet another victim of a pointless hate crime. But it worried him how close this one was to the main hub of android activity. Most humans—except for the reporters and android rights supporters—had been staying away from New Jericho for the time being. He could only hope that this crime wasn't the first of many more.

The only thing they could be grateful for was that the DPD was actually treating crimes against androids as crimes and not as damaged property. Even if Hank was currently the only cop who took the cases, it take taken Jeffery an absurd amount of time to allow it—and that was only because Hank kept working the cases whether he was allowed to or not.

With one more glance at his phone—Connor still hadn't contacted him back—Hank started walking toward the scene. There wasn't even any yellow tape to keep people out of the area, and only two police officers were dispatched to log evidence and clean the mess. That showed just how much the department cared for bodies that weren’t human.

He couldn't see the body from here, but he did see a person standing off to the side. He was pretty sure she was human, and she didn’t look particularly distressed. Just unnerved, if anything. A friend, maybe? Just an observer?

No, the caller, he realized.

He went to talk to her first before she decided to leave the scene, since she wasn't required to stay for any reason. Honestly, he was surprised she was still here.

"Ma'am," he said, showing her his badge. "I'm Lieutenant Hank Anderson, here to investigate. Are you the one who called?"

She was a middle-aged woman, frizzy gray hair mingled with fading brown. Her fingers worried at the hem of her frayed shawl and a backpack sat by her feet. He would bet anything that she was homeless, which might have explained why she was in the area.

"Y-yes, of course," she said, turning to face him.

"Did you know the victim?" it was easy to fall into routine questions, usually to put a little distance between himself and grieving family members. There wasn't any kind of procedure concerning androids yet, but even if there was, he'd probably ignore it.

She shook her head. "No, I didn't. I was just walking by when I saw him. I don't think I've even seen his model before."

Hank nodded absent-mindedly. Unusual, but not uncommon since androids had been changing their looks to differentiate themselves from all the others with the same face. Some might have gone to extremes to look more unique. "And did you see what happened to him?"

"No, he was already on the ground when I saw him. There wasn't even any blood, I-I think it'd already evaporated. It does that, right?"

So it'd been a few hours at least, if she was to be believed. "How do you know there was blood? And in your call, you said you think he fell. What made you think that, if you didn't see it?"

She stared at him. "Because of all the pieces," she said. "I thought it was obvious that he must have fallen pretty far for the plastic to crack like that. And there's no way he was that damaged without leaking that blue stuff everywhere."

Hank grimaced at the word 'damaged' instead of 'wounded' or 'injured,' but she hadn't said it with any kind of disapproving tone in her voice, only like she hadn't thought anything about her own word choice. "Alright, just one last question. What's your stance on android rights?"

If she had any link to a hate crime, this was his chance to watch her for any reactions, even subtle ones.

She paused, considering. "I don't really know, to be honest. You've got people pushing for their rights, convinced that they're alive, and other people pushing against their rights, convinced they aren't. I don't know, so I just stay out of it. I stay out of their way, and they stay out of mine. I never had an android, and have never known any androids personally, so I can't say for sure if they're alive or not. They certainly seem to be, but that's a philosophical debate that I just don't want to get into, you know?"

Hank bit back a scoff. There was nothing philosophical about it. They were alive, end of story. But that wasn't what he was here for. She was still fiddling with her shawl and looked eager to leave, but that was it. She didn't hold any ill will toward androids, and didn't have any reason to lie about the state she'd found the victim in.

"Alright," he said. "Thank you for your time. If you think about anything else, feel free to call."

She nodded, and he turned to view the scene itself, subconsciously fiddling with the phone in his pocket. In his line of work, he almost always encountered people who were of the opinion that androids weren't alive and that people shouldn't act like they were, but honestly, most of the people in Detroit were probably like the lady he'd just spoken to. Unsure. Somewhere in the middle.

People like that weren't adding to the problem, but they certainly weren't helping it either.

He got closer to the building, looking up to inspect the higher stories. He couldn’t see signs of anyone being forced out a window, but his eyes weren't what they used to be. As it was, he figured the roof was the most likely place to hold any clues, but he'd need a closer look to have a better idea. Of course, Connor would probably be able to take one glance and know instantly where—

"Hank?"

He turned to see Officer Chris Miller standing next to him. He looked tired. Weary. Much more so than last time Hank had seen him.

"Hey, Miller. The kid keeping you up at night?" he replied, offering a small smile.

Chris didn't return it, not even at the mention of his son.

Something was wrong.

"Hank...I'm sorry."

Something was very wrong. He knew that tone. It was the tone they used with grieving families. The tone they used for fellow coworkers who had lost something on the job.

That was the tone he'd heard the nurse use in the hospital that snowy night—

But no, because there was no reason for Miller to use that tone with him, because he was a sorry old drunk who had no one, there was no way that he knew the person lying at the base of that building because Connor was fine and he would see him at the station tomorrow, just like Connor had said.

Why wasn't Connor answering Hank's calls?

Numbly, Hank walked past Miller, past the patrol car blocking the view.

He wasn't immediately recognizable. Limbs were bent at odd angles and there were places the plastic covering had caved in or chipped off, having shattered at impact. There was no blood, but the lady had been right. There should have been blue blood everywhere. It was gone, evaporated, which meant this had happened hours ago.

Most of the skin was shock white, the skin program failing around the damaged areas. But in some stroke of fate, the head and face remained mostly intact, synthetic skin still covering the features that Hank was very familiar with, even down to that LED he'd never taken out.

The LED was dark.

Hank stood another step closer, his knees buckling and landing painfully on the pavement, but he didn't care. He let out a noise, half-choked and barely audible.

“Connor…”

Chapter Text

Eight stared in the mirror, unable to pinpoint the reason why his reflection unsettled him. He had hoped his own face might be the one thing that he recognized, that maybe it would have given him some information about himself, but it didn’t.

His features were pale, with brown eyes and a head full of curly, strawberry-blond hair that he’d already trimmed in an attempt to tame it. He pushed it down again, wishing it would stay in place.

It still looked wrong.

He couldn’t even identify his own model or serial number. Every time he tried, he received an overload of conflicting information that resulted in flashes of error messages and the android equivalent of a headache. He was an amalgamation of mismatched parts.

Idly, he accessed his customization settings, filtering through different hair colors before settling on brown. That looked marginally better, and it was probably as good as it was going to get.

He absent-mindedly reached up to his collar, only stopping when his hand met the fabric of his shirt, confused at the absense of—something. His fingers itched to fiddle with something, but they still wouldn’t move. Phil had managed to find him compatible limbs and a fresh set of clothes, but his right arm was still unresponsive. The human was currently trying to find a way to fix the problem.

He’d been rather talkative as he’d tinkered away, telling Eight what he could about New Jericho and the android revolution, and where the relations between humans and androids currently stood. It was complicated, as things usually were, with many varying opinions. But for the most part, there was a divide between the two species, mainly built of distrust.

Of course, there were exceptions such as Phil on the humans’ side and Markus on the androids’ side—a name he’d heard twice now since waking up.

Taking one last glance at the mirror, he watched his LED—which had been a steady yellow the whole time—switch back to blue, and exited the bathroom.

Phil was at the repair station, hunched over a tablet looking at schematics as he tried to puzzle out why Eight’s arm was still malfunctioning. Nova was to the side, boxing the remaining spare parts and blue blood to be sent to New Jericho. He didn’t miss how she frequently glanced over at the human, her usually blank face looking troubled for a second, and then turning back to her work.

She looked up and noticed him watching. She blinked slowly, tilting her head in thought, then gathered her things and left the room. Eight took note of the strange behavior, walking over to Phil.

The mechanic glanced over, pushing his glasses up. “Nice look,” he said, then straightened. “Okay, I think I know how to fix this. I’m going to need access under your shoulder plate, if that’s alright?”

“Of course,” Eight said, sitting down and pulling his shirt off, pressing down on certain points of his shoulder. The skin around the area deactivated and the plastic casing popped open, revealing the inner mechanisms of the joint.

Phil reached in with a pair of needlenose pliers, prodding a few parts. “Let me know if anything feels uncomfortable.”

Eight nodded. He couldn’t feel anything in his arm or shoulder currently, his sensors failing along with the mobility. The angle didn’t allow him to see what Phil was doing without craning his neck, so he just stared straight ahead, considering dialogue options.

“May I ask you a question, Mr. Dawson?”

Phil raised his eyebrows. “I said you can call me Phil. Mr. Dawson makes me feel old...though I’m in my fourties already, geez, I am getting old. Sorry, go ahead.”

“Is there a reason why Nova doesn’t like you?”

Phil paused, immediately looking uncomfortable. “I guess you noticed, huh.” He set the tool down, rubbing the back of his neck. “Listen, Nova…she’s been through a lot. She has every right to be distrustful of humans. I know she’s nervous around me, even though she tries not to be. She just…needs time to heal.”

Eight looked down. It made sense, in a way, even though it might not be something he could really understand. Phil was a good man, but he was human, and it had been a human that hurt her. The damage had gone deeper than the dent on her jaw.

“Not all scars are visible,” he said. “And no scar heals overnight.” He frowned, wondering who he’d heard that from. For some reason, the words reminded him of the smell of whiskey.

“Exactly,” Phil said, picking up the tool again and returning to work. “Don’t hold it against her. I don’t. Not all of us humans are cruel, but…some are. You watch yourself while you’re out there, alright?”

“I will,” Eight promised. “But if she’s so distrustful of humans, why isn’t she with the other androids?”

Phil shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know why she stuck around. She was the first one we fixed, and could have gone to New Jericho weeks ago. Everyone else left as soon as they were able, they didn’t want to stick around longer than they had to. But I guess she wanted to make sure everyone got out. She’s promised me she would head to New Jericho tonight, when I leave for Canada. Which I’m glad for, I don’t think it’d be good for her to be alone.”

“Why?”

“People need people. For comfort, understanding, recovery. We lean on each other during hard times. It’s what makes us stronger. Especially after what happened here, she shouldn’t be in this house anymore. I know I’ll be glad to leave, and I didn’t even see the worst of it.”

Eight scanned his database, finding many references to the benefits of companionship and social activities, and agreed.

“What happened here?” he asked. “I have a general understanding of it from Nova, but I would like more specifics.”

Phil hesitated. “You sure? I don’t wanna bring up any bad memories. Some of the androids that were here went into a panic just hearing the name of the guy that used to live here.”

“I’m sure.”

He sighed, then nodded. “I’m going to be honest, I don’t know much about what actually went on in here. The guy, Zlatko, used to acquire androids and resell them. He set up a network of sorts for deviants to find him, thinking he would help them. Then he’d reset them and make his profit. But he messed around with the ones he couldn’t resell. He didn’t care if they were alive or not.”

Phil paused, bringing over a magnifying glass and positioning it. The pliers were still embedded in Eight’s shoulder, and a soldering iron joined it. Eight held perfectly still.

“During the revolution, his androids got out and they retaliated, killing him. A couple of them made their way to Canada to get away from everything that was going on in Detroit at the time, but once things had settled down a little, they told my sister about what they’d seen here. She lives just outside the city, so she came to take a look, and found all the androids that had been left behind.

“She was able to get blue blood and replacement parts, as well as some volunteers to get everyone back on their feet. She even got support from New Jericho so they’d all have a place to go. I came to do what I could for everyone that was damaged, but you’ve got her to thank for most of this.”

A spark of electricity jolted his arm and his fingers spasmed. All in a rush, his sensors were enabled and messages flew across his vision.

WARNING! OVERHEATING OF JOINT IMMINENT

He quickly dismissed them and held still.

“Are you in pain?” Phil asked, still focused on his work.

“No,” Eight said. “Though the joint is in danger of overheating.”

“Right, I’ve almost got it…”

Phil’s brows furrowed as he concentrated, his glasses pushed down to the edge of the nose. The warning continued to pop up, and Eight continued to push it away.

Phil pulled away. “There, I think that’ll do it. We’ll give it a few minutes, then you can test your mobility.”

Eight sucked in a breath to get his cooling systems working, the bright red of the messages dimming down as the danger passed. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, we still need to see if it works,” Phil said, setting the soldering iron down gently so it could cool.

“The sensors in the limb are enabled again, so you did something,” Eight said, slowly moving his fingers but careful not to jostle the still-hot joint. “I can tell you want to ask me something, but are hesitant to do so. Go ahead.”

Phil scratched his chin, fingers rubbing against the scruff. “It’s just, the more I’ve been working on you, the more I think you weren’t just taken apart, you might not have been completed in the first place. Plus, you’ve been powered on for days, but you were…basically braindead, for lack of a better word. Miguel, one of the volunteer androids, scanned your processors, and he was pretty sure you didn’t even have an AI. But today, you woke up already deviant. Do you have any idea why?”

He’d been thinking the same thing, and Phil raised a good question, one he didn’t have an answer to. Eight tried another scan of his specifications, once again hitting an error. He scanned his memory bank to see if there was anything from before this morning, and got the same result.

Why was he even alive?

But he was alive. Was there a point in asking why?

He looked at Phil. “I’m afraid I don’t know. I have no memories of being a machine, or anything else.”

Phil considered, then shrugged. “Well, if nothing else, we’ll call it a miracle. So, you wanna test that mobility now?”

Eight nodded, getting to his feet. He clicked the plating back in place, and lifted his arm, testing the limits of motion. It started locking in place when he tried to reach up over his head, but otherwise it was functional. He pulled his shirt back on.

Phil smiled. “I think that’s the best I can do. You might want to get checked out by some of the technicians at New Jericho anyway. They could probably help you out with everything else, too. Like I said, I’m not exactly an expert on android technology, but this’ll get you there, at least. Sorry I couldn’t do more.” He started packing away everything that was left into a bag. “There’s still some limitations on android rights, but I have faith that list will continue getting shorter. It’s a big world. Do you know what you want to do now that you’re alive and free?”

Were they really free? Certainly more than they had been, but anything this big would take time. Perhaps in the future, more options would be available to their kind, but for now…he had a lot of information to gather. He had access to the news and articles of various sorts, but he needed to see for himself what the world was like. What the people were like. And…

And? He didn’t know what else. But he supposed he could figure it out.

“I want to head to New Jericho, check their status. And I’d like to meet this Markus for myself.”

Phil nodded in approval, pulling out his phone and showing Eight a map. “That’s where it’s located, so make sure to save the data. Also…” he pulled back, fingers tapping away at the screen, then he held it up again. “Here’s my contact info, and the contact info for my sister. I’m going to be in Canada for the forseeable future, but she’s not too far away. If you ever need anything, feel free to ask her for help. Her name’s Rose Chapman.”

Eight saved both names and phone numbers, calculating routes the time it would take to get to New Jericho before Phil interrupted.

“Oh, one more thing. The Detroit Police Department has gotten involved with what’s happened here because of the murder, and all the, uh…modified androids that left this place. Don’t worry, none of the androids have been punished for what happened to Zlatko, but the cops were chasing leads into some underground market that Zlatko was part of, one that sold functional androids and their parts even after the revolution. They wanted statements from everyone who had been here, and I guess that includes you. Would you be okay with that?”

Given what he’d heard of the previous—and to some extent, continuing—conflicts between the androids and the humans, particularly those in law enforcement, he almost expected to feel apprehension at the request. Instead he felt…eager.

“Of course. Though I’m afraid I won’t be able to assist in the investigation.”

Phil waved a hand. “You might be able to help out more than you realize, you never know. But don’t worry about them being dicks or anything, I’ve spoken to the cops who are on the case, and one of them is actually an android himself.”

There was the sound of a voice modulator being cleared, and they turned to see Nova standing at the base of the stairs, hands clasped in front of her.

“The van is packed and ready to go,” she said. “I believe the work here is done.”

Phil clapped his hands together, a smile bright on his face. “Wonderful. Eight, I’m going to call a cab. I’ll drop you off at the station.”

Eight nodded, and the man walked away to gather his bags, leaving him and Nova alone in the room. She was the one to break the silence.

“How different are we from the humans?”

He couldn’t come up with an answer for her. He didn’t know yet.

She softly shook her head, seeming confused and conflicted by the question, then walked out the door.

Chapter Text

He looked like he could have been sleeping. Even though Connor would always claim that he “didn’t sleep” or only needed to enter low-power mode for an hour or two most nights, whenever he described what low-power mode was like and what function it served, all Hank could do was shake his head and say “Sounds an awful lot like sleep to me.”

The couple of times he had actually seen Connor in sleep mode, the android had been sitting straight up, hands on his lap and LED dimmer than usual. The only indication of sleep was that his eyes had been closed. Hank had made fun of him for it, claiming it looked creepy—cause it did—and that if he was going to stay in one position for an hour, it might as well be a comfortable one. But Connor would just say that androids didn’t feel discomfort the same way humans did. They didn’t get aches in their muscles.

Since deviants had become commonplace, Hank had seen plenty of androids reclining in very human ways, complaining about overworked joints and tired chassis, so that was probably more of a ‘Connor’ thing than an ‘android’ thing.

If Hank could forget about all of that, Connor could have been sleeping. Because thinking that Connor was sleeping was better than the alternative. Thinking Connor was taking on more human traits was better than knowing that the sheet covering his body was there to hide the damage. It was better than knowing that he never would have left himself in such a vulnerable position unless something was wrong.

Imagining the LED as steady yellow or even a circulating red was better than the reality.

But there was no forgetting. Not while he was sitting here in front of the android he’d grown to consider a—

There was no forgetting at the end of a bottle, either. It made everything numb, but it never took away the memories.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t try.

He launched himself from his chair, pointedly not looking at the figure on the table. His only priorities were getting out of here and getting a bottle of whiskey.

“You’ll be light on the alcohol consumption today?”

The memory of Connor’s words from earlier this morning—this morning—stopped him in his tracks. If Connor were here now, he’d tell Hank that a bottle was the last thing he needed right now.

If Connor were here right now, Hank wouldn’t need to drown his sorrows at the nearest bar.

But what else did Connor say in that call? Hank had thought something didn’t sound right, but he didn’t ask, didn’t pay more attention when he’s a detective and it’s his job and he should have been more alert instead of assuming that Connor would come walking into the DPD the next day with a cup of coffee for him, telling Hank all about his day and what he was doing that was apparently underground.

Hank leaned his head against the doorframe. He should have asked what the android was doing. He should have asked where he was going, who he would be with. He should have looked closer for ice on the roads, shouldn’t have been driving in a blizzard in the first place, should have been a better father—

Footsteps brought him out of his own toxic mind and into reality and he looked up into worried, mismatched eyes.

“Hank,” Markus said, approaching quickly and staring behind Hank. “I apologize for not being able to come sooner, but I got your message. What’s wrong? Is it Con…”

He froze when he saw that the LED was dark.

Hank looked away. He didn’t want to see the body again. Didn’t want to see the look of devastation on Markus’ face, the same look he knew was mirrored on his own.

He heard light footsteps as Markus approached the table, heard the rustle of sheets as he peeled them away from what remained of Connor’s body. Neither of them needed a technician to know that there was no chance of repair and reactivation.

“What happened?” Markus asked quietly.

“He fell,” Hank said, numb. “Found him by the street, not far from where you guys have holed up. Figured, impact like that, must have fallen clear from the roof.”

He hated how detached he was sounding. He used to hate how Connor would separate himself from a situation and look at it with nothing but logic and facts, hated how robotic it would make him seem. But maybe it had its uses, maybe it was just to protect himself.

“That’s all we know so far.”

Markus slowly reached over, hand brushing against the exposed white plastic of Connor’s arm. Hank didn’t miss how Markus’ own fingertips turned white where they touched, barely noticeable.

“How?” Markus whispered, the word almost cutting off in a choke. “He…he always said he was an advanced prototype. He was the best at fighting out of all of us. Nothing could have snuck up on him.”

“I don’t know.” Hank swallowed, trying to get rid of the knot in his throat. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”

He said it before he even thought about it, but once he did, it was like lighting a fire in his chest. Of course he was going to find out what happened to Connor. This wasn’t an accident, or some petty hate crime. Someone had done this, and Hank was going to find out who, and make sure the asshole got what was coming to them.

And he was going to do that instead of running back to the bottle like a coward.

“I’m going to help.”

Hank looked at Markus in surprise—though really, he shouldn’t have been. Markus cared deeply for his people, and was always the type to take things into his own hands. Hank knew Connor and Markus were friends, but he didn’t know how close they were. Still, he’d figured the pacifist would be busy dealing with politicians and leading his people.

But one look at the liquid pooling in the blue and green eyes, and Hank didn’t question it. He just nodded, not trusting words to make it past the knot in his throat.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, the noise grating in his ears, and Hank pulled it out if just to shut the damn thing up. He stopped when he saw who it was from, however.

JEFF: Hank, come see me in my office.

He contemplated sending a big FU to his boss, but then thought better of it. He needed to talk to Jeffrey, and now was as good a time as any.

“I, uh…I gotta take this,” he said to Markus, who simply nodded.

He turned to leave, but paused at the doorway. He didn’t want to spend another minute in this room, but at the same time he was loathe to leave. Like the second he turned his back, the body would vanish. Like he was somehow…betraying Connor by not staying by his side.

But it didn’t matter anymore. He’d already failed Connor. It was too late to fix that now.

He shook his head and left, all but marching his way to Captain Fowler’s office. Jeffrey looked up when Hank walked in, clearly surprised by Hank’s punctuality.

“I want the case,” Hank said, cutting straight to the chase.

Fowler sighed, shaking his head. “Look, Hank, I know this can’t be easy for you—he was your partner, and I don’t know what having him around was doing for you, but you’ve looked better these last few months than you have in years—but I can’t in my right mind give you this case.”

Hank couldn’t believe this. He was the only one for this case, and Jeffrey was trying to rob him of that? “Bullshit,” he said, but Fowler held up his hands before Hank could continue.

“If I had my way, you’d take some time off, go on vacation, whatever. But knowing you, that’d probably do more harm than good. We both know how you get when you’re on your own. That’s why I’d like you to take on some other cases for a while, take your mind off things. Ones that aren’t related to androids. Reed just got a new body from his killer last night and is starting to think it’s serial, he could probably use a hand—”

“The hell I will. All cases regarding androids are mine, especially this one! No one else is going to care enough to make sure it gets done—”

“You’re not the only android sympathizer on the force, Hank! We’ll get Connor’s case on the proper channels and someone will be assigned to it. I get it, I do. He was one of our own, and he was a damn fine detective, even with the limitations put on him by federal law. I just don’t think it would be healthy for you—”

There was a knock on the door, and both men turned to see Markus standing there.

“My apologies for intruding,” Markus said, though he didn’t really sound apologetic. He locked his gaze with Hank, and something of an understanding passed between them. “I’d like to formally request that Lieutenant Hank Anderson be assigned to Connor’s case.”

Hank’s eyes widened at that. He hadn’t expected Markus to get involved for his sake, and opened his mouth to say something, but Markus continued.

“With all due respect, Captain Fowler, you know this wasn’t an accident. We all know what Connor was capable of. If this was a calculated hit, it probably isn’t going to be the first. I accept that you’re doing everything within your power about the vandalism and hate crimes that androids have been experiencing, but this is something else. Someone may be hunting down my people, and I believe that Lieutenant Anderson is the best person to catch the culprit before more lives are lost.”

Markus was staring down the Captain as he said this, and Hank could see his fists were clenched. He put forward a polite and respectful manner, but his tone was short and expression stern.

Hank knew enough about Markus to tell that he was furious.

And he wasn’t the only one.

“Are you sure?” Fowler asked. “Hank already has enough…disciplinary issues.”

Hank knew that Jeffrey was putting it lightly for the sake of their guest, and part of him could see Jeff’s reasoning for wanting Hank off the case. But he wasn’t about to back down.

Neither was Markus. “I’m sure.”

Fowler looked between the two men in front of him, knowing when he was backed into a corner. He couldn’t turn down the leader of a revolution without it having potential consequences for the DPD and his career—both of which were already under enough pressure from both pro- and anti- android supporters, not to mention all the laws that were currently being written and rewritten.

Honestly, the humans were lucky Markus was so forgiving, given the state their goverment and law enforcement were in these days.

Fowler put his hands up in the air. “Alright, Hank. It’s yours. Just…don’t make me regret it. Is that all, Markus?”

Markus inclined his head. “Yes. Thank you, sir.” Then he turned and left.

Hank made to follow him, but Jeffrey called after him.

“Don’t do something you’ll regret either, Hank.”

Hank stopped in his tracks, an angry retort dying in his throat. He couldn’t come up with a rebuttal to that, so he just kept walking. Markus was waiting just outside. If he heard what Jeffrey said, he didn’t comment on it.

“You, uh…you mean what you said in there?” Hank asked. “About this being something bigger.”

Markus pursed his lips in thought. “I don’t know. I suspect so, and I’m not willing to take the chance that it isn’t. Besides, it was what I needed to say to make him give you the case. There’s no one I trust to handle this more than you, Hank.”

Hank shrugged. “Well, I was going to do with or without his permission. It was just a question of whether I got to keep my job or not. So, uh…thanks, I guess.”

Markus looked a little uncomfortable at that. “I don’t like to use my status or reputation to get what I want, but I gotta admit…it comes in handy sometimes.” His gaze trailed to the main entrance. “I should head back. I need to find out if anyone else knows anything. See who saw…who saw Connor last. Keep in touch.”

Hank nodded. “You too.”

Chapter Text

The waiting room at the DPD was constantly in motion as people filtered in and out while Eight waited for Lieutenant Anderson. He had been assured that the Lieutenant was in and would see him as soon as he was able, but after an hour had passed, he was beginning to think that the Lieutenant had forgotten.

And as Lieutenant Anderson and his partner were the ones in charge of this case, they were the only ones Eight could talk to. Since he didn’t have the authorization required to go searching for him in the station, he was left with waiting.

He considered leaving, but he didn’t have anything else to do. There were no tasks he needed to complete, and no one that required his presence, so he deemed that there was no reason not to wait a while longer. And before long, someone walked out, holding a phone to his ear.

“—got the results back, they said there were traces of dried thirium on the chains the victims were found in. Yeah, as soon as you can. Thanks.”

Eight could tell that the man wasn’t an officer from the lack of a uniform, but there was a badge was clipped to his waist. He pocketed the phone was about to step outside before Eight stopped him.

“Excuse me,” he said, and a quick scan told him that he was talking to Detective Gavin Reed. “Do you know where I might find Lieutenant Anderson?”

Detective Reed scowled, irritated at being interrupted, and Eight could see his eyes going to the LED at his temple. But he didn’t say anything, just turned back to the room he had just exited and yelled inside.

“Hey Chen! Send out the android lover, would you? There’s a tin can here to see him, and I got shit to do.”

Eight frowned. Detective Reed clearly wasn’t fond of androids. Eight found himself automatically filing this information away to assist in any further interactions, though he couldn’t imagine why there might be any further interactions.

“I wouldn’t expect him to be of any help today,” Reed said, a touch of disdain in his voice. “I’m surprised he’s not drunk yet.”

“Thank you, Detective Reed,” Eight said, falling back on his social protocols that dictated politeness was the best way to respond.

“How do you—” Reed stopped himself, shaking his head. “Whatever. I’m out.”

He left, a cool wind entering the room until the door swung shut behind him. Two minutes later, a haggard looking older man walked out, tugging a jacket onto his shoulders.

Hank Anderson.

Eight stepped forward in front of the man, who looked about ready to push him out of the way so he could continue walking.

“Hello Lieutenant Anderson,” he greeted. “My name is Eight, an android from the Andronikov case. I was instructed to talk to you and your partner.”

Hank grimaced. “Yeah, well screw your instructions, I’m busy.”

“In that case, may I speak with your partner?”

That was the wrong thing to say. The Lieutenant froze, then his face hardened, and it was just then that Eight noticed the redness around his eyes.

“No,” Anderson said, roughly shoving past Eight and marching toward the door. “Now scram, I got more important things to do.”

The Lieutenant walked away and Eight watched him go. His LED was spinning red, though he wasn’t sure why. There was no threat, and he wasn’t in emotional distress…right?

His thoughts were interrupted when someone cleared their throat behind him, and he turned to see an officer standing there. C. MILLER was printed on his uniform.

“Hey, I couldn’t help but overhear you two talking. You’re from the Andronikov property?”

Eight nodded.

“I’m Chris Miller. I can take your statement. Follow me.”

“Thank you,” Eight said, and followed Officer Miller further into the station. He stopped at a desk and they sat down on either side of it.

Chris asked him a series of questions that Eight recognized as basic routine, but he had difficulty answering many of them, such as what his serial number was, and how long he’d been at Zlatko’s residence. Chris gave him a sympathetic look once he realized just how little Eight knew about himself, but assured him that it didn’t hinder the investigation.

Throughout the questioning, Eight’s gaze kept wandering over to the desk that held Lieutenant Anderson’s nameplate, though he wasn’t sure why it interested him. It was certainly cluttered, as opposed to the desk next to it, which was perfectly organized. Another nameplate sat on that one, but he couldn’t read it from this angle. This didn’t escape Chris’ notice, and he gestured in that direction while they were wrapping up.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Chris said, a tightness entering his voice. “He isn’t usually like that. He…he lost his partner today.”

Eight’s eyes snapped back over to Officer Miller. “Oh,” he wasn’t really sure what to say. It was customary to apologize for one’s loss, wasn’t it? “The android?”

Chris nodded. “Yeah. Connor. He, uh…kept Hank grounded, I think.”

Eight took note of Officer Miller’s tone and body language, both pointing to a clear conclusion. “He was your friend too,” he observed.

“He was a pretty decent guy,” Chris said, swallowing thickly. “He was really good at what he did. But, uh, you probably want to get going, huh? We’ve got everything we need, and if Hank has more questions about this case, he can contact you. Or whoever else takes the case if it gets reassigned.”

“Of course,” Eight said. “Is there anything else I can do to assist in the investigation?”

“That’s all,” Chris replied. “If you can remember anything else, or see something you think is important, then call it in. Otherwise, just let us take care of it.”

Eight couldn’t argue, so he thanked the officer and stood. His LED flickered to yellow when he read the name CONNOR printed on the second nameplate before exiting the building, and it stayed that color as he stood outside.

It felt like he hadn’t done enough, like there was more he should be doing. But this was police business, and he was not police. It wasn’t his duty to solve the case. It would be illegal to even try, as it would require police records he didn’t have access to. His only duty was to…well, to be alive, he supposed. And to find out what his purpose was.

He had only been alive for just over twelve hours, and was quickly learning things about himself. One thing he learned was that he didn’t like not having a purpose, a goal, a…mission to fulfill. But even with that, there was still so much about himself that didn’t make any sense. Hopefully he could sort it all out at New Jericho.

But he only got more questions when he arrived at his destination an hour later and text filled his vision.

OBJECTIVE: GET TO NEW JERICHO (SUCCESS)

He’d never set an objective to reach New Jericho.

His studio was a place a solace for Markus to retreat to when he needed a moment to think. It couldn’t compare to the calming effect of visiting Carl, but when he didn’t have that much time to spare, this was the next best thing. It was quiet and solitary up here, and more importantly, it was his.

It was just a bare, run-down room in one of the buildings they were re-purposing for androids to live in, near the roof. They’d focused their renovating efforts closer to the ground floor while the levels closer to the top had remained untouched. One particularly stressful day, Markus had ventured up here for some peace of mind. Then next time, he’d brought a sketchbook. Then some painting supplies, and pretty soon, everyone knew this was where he went when he didn’t want to be disturbed.

Markus shut the door softly behind himself, then leaned against it and sagged to the floor.

Connor was dead.

He’d been avoiding the thought ever since he left the DPD, not allowing himself even a moment to process it. He couldn’t, not while others expected so much of him. He had to hold himself together in front of the police, in front of Jericho.

Now he could let go.

His visit to the station replayed itself in his head, from the moment he received the call. He knew something was wrong when it was Hank that called him instead of Connor. It wasn’t the first time Connor had been injured, but this…

This was so much worse. Seeing him had sent Markus back to the junkyard, where there had been countless androids in similar shape, all piled on one another and still clinging to life in a horrible existence. Part of him was glad Connor didn’t have to experience anything like that. Another part of him wished he had, because then there would have been a chance to save him.

Markus remembered trying to interface with Connor, reaching out to him for any kind of response, hoping to see something of the familiar landscape of Connor’s mind. He always saw analyses and percentages when he connected with Connor, as well as a fierce protectiveness, and always a hint of snow. There had to be something left.

But Markus hadn’t seen anything at all.

He ran a hand down his face, his palm coming away wet. It was always difficult, losing one of his people. A day couldn’t go by without him being reminded of what it’d taken to get to this point, and how far they still had to go. Every death weighed on him. But this one hit him particularly hard.

The androids would have never gained freedom without Connor. Markus would have crumbled under the pressure long ago if Connor hadn’t been there to help him. Josh, Simon, and North all shouldered their shares of responsibility, and they were still some of his closest friends, but some part of Markus felt like they still put him on a pedestal even after all they’d been through. Connor had never been that way. He’d never expected anything from Markus.

No one in Jericho knew anything about what happened. Connor had spent yesterday and most of the night assisting other androids wherever he could, from reviewing legal documents with Simon to repairing cracks in the walls and even entertaining the YK models with the Jerrys. Then he’d left shortly before dawn, and no one had seen him since.

Markus was probably one of the last people to talk to him, but that still left hours before he was found on the street, and no way of knowing when he’d—

When he’d died.

Markus stood, walking over to his easel. He didn’t want to think about it anymore. He just wanted to get lost in the motions of moving paint across a canvas, with no idea what picture would emerge in the end. But he stopped when he saw the half-finished canvas that waited for him.

He didn’t have Connor in mind when he’d started the underwater scene, but the detective had taken a liking to it. It reminded him of his deviancy, he’d said. Something to do about how it all started with a fish.

The painting would remain unfinished. Markus didn’t think he could bring himself to complete it now.

The door opened and North walked in, with Josh right behind her.

“Hey,” she said, stopping a few feet away from him. “Thought maybe you could use some company.”

“How are you holding up?” Josh asked, shutting the door and giving him a sympathetic look.

Markus smiled bitterly. How was he supposed to answer that? “About as well as can be expected, I suppose.”

“We found an old punching bag and were thinking of hanging it up, if you wanted to let your anger out,” North said. “I’ve heard it’s a healthier coping mechanism than punching faces, but I’ve yet to be convinced."

Josh just rolled his eyes, but it brought a more genuine smile to Markus’ face, both used to North’s antics by now.

“Thanks,” Markus said, “but I think I’ll pass.” Mindlessly hitting an inanimate object didn’t sound appealing. North was right about him being angry, but right now…he was just tired. Drained. Mentally and emotionally, more than physically.

North shrugged. “Well, the offer still stands.”

“Connor was…” Josh paused for a second. “Connor was our friend too, but we’re here for you, Markus. Whatever you need.”

Markus looked away, unable to help the doubt that crept into his mind. Both North and Josh had been distrustful of the Deviant Hunter and wanted him gone, even if they never actively pushed for him to leave. Even when they were convinced he was on their side, North had seen what had happened during Markus’ freedom speech, and she didn’t want to risk it happening again. Even if Connor had said he was able to shut the malicious AI out of his mind.

Markus could understand their points of view, even if he didn’t agree with them. They’d already lost so much and their chances of survival were standing on paper-thin ice as it was. But still, he’d argued in Connor’s defense, and after weeks and then months passed with no incident, they’d gradually warmed up to the other android. He was grateful they eventually gave him a chance.

“Just…tell me some good news.” He definitely could use some of that right now.

“An anonymous donor just shipped in a load of supplies,” Josh said. “And construction on the second apartment building is going faster than planned. In another week, we’ll actually have a comfortable living space set up for almost everyone. It’ll be nice to give them something more permanent.”

“The anti-android group finally stopped lurking outside,” North added. “I guess the cops were able to do something useful after all. It’s almost a shame, I would have recommended hitting them instead of the punching bag.”

Josh gave her a disapproving look, but knew better than to rise to the bait. “Another android showed up today, from the Andronikov property. Says his name is Eight, and he just woke up this morning. I showed him around before coming here.”

“Good,” Markus muttered. It had been a while since a new face arrived at Jericho, but they still showed up every now and then, having been unable to come before due to one reason or another. Most of those reasons weren’t good.

He should greet the newcomer, see how he was settling in. Markus always wanted to make sure the androids felt safe and at home here in Jericho.

North sighed and folded her arms. “Markus, I’m going to be honest here, you look like shit. You should take a break.”

Markus looked up to see the concern in her eyes, and a wave of gratitude filled him. Her methods were blunt, but she cared. Even when she didn’t want others to see that.

“You need rest,” Josh agreed. “You should spend some time with Carl. We can handle things here for a little while.”

Normally, Markus would decline. He couldn’t rest without knowing that everyone else was okay, and that he was doing everything he could for them. Every time he’d tried, his processors felt like they were going a hundred miles a minute. It had robbed him of many nights’ worth of what should have been peaceful sleep. Being idle never helped him any.

“I…think I’ll take you guys up on that offer,” he said instead. But he had no intention of resting. There was something else that he needed to do. “But I’ll keep in touch. If you need anything, or hear about anything unusual, I need to know about it. Everyone needs to be on their guard. We still don’t know what…what killed Connor.”

Both North and Josh nodded their understanding, and Markus stared out the window, down at the streets below. There was a new threat to androids out there, and it needed to be found. His people needed protecting. That—that’s why he was doing this. That was the only reason why he was doing this.

But he knew that wasn’t entirely true.

He just wanted revenge justice for Connor.

Once again the door opened, and Simon walked in, glancing between the three of them before his gaze settled on Markus. He seemed to be searching for words.

Markus took a step closer to him. “Simon? What is it?”

Simon spoke slowly. “We found a transmission,” he said. “It was sent to our servers this morning. Markus…it’s from Connor.”

Chapter Text

"You said you found something?" Hank asked once Markus was in sight, skipping meaningless pleasantries. He hadn't wasted any time in heading to New Jericho once the android leader contacted him.

Markus turned to greet the Lieutenant. Simon didn't move, standing in front of a screen on the wall, skin around his hand deactivated as he interfaced with the machine.

"Yes," Markus said. "Thank you for coming so quickly. We received a message from Connor. It was sent yesterday morning."

Hank's eyes widened. Connor had tried to tell them something. This could be it, this could tell them exactly what happened. If nothing else, it was a lead. "Well, what's it say?"

"That's the thing," Markus said, glancing at Simon. "We don't know. Simon's been working all night to try and salvage the transmission, but it was corrupted. I don't know if something was blocking it from coming through or if he was…he might have been too damaged when he sent it."

Hank folded his arms, pretending that his throat wasn't burning with the desire for a shot of whiskey right now. Or better yet, a whole bottle. "Were you able to get anything from it?"

Simon pulled away in frustration, the effects of strain and effort showing on his face. "It's too scrambled. I keep trying to piece it together, but it's unintelligible. I tried, but I just can't get the rest of the message." He rubbed his forehead as if it pained him, then gave Markus a regretful look. "I'm sorry."

Markus' frame sagged, and he looked down. "You did your best, Simon." It was clear he was trying to keep the disappointed tone from his voice, but wasn't as successful as he'd hoped.

Hank ran a hand down his face. "You said you can't get the rest. That means you were able to get some, right?"

Simon nodded. Hank wasn't used to seeing androids looking as tired as humans did, but he somehow managed it.

"It was just a few words here and there, incomplete fragments. RK was mentioned a few times, but I don't know if he was talking about himself or Markus. Probably himself, since I got half of a serial number, which seemed to match up with his own. He mentioned falling, and…and a name. Amanda."

Hank stiffened, and he saw Markus do the same. He never really understood exactly what Amanda was, even though Connor had tried to explain it to him, but he knew she was bad news.

"So she had something to do with this," Hank muttered. "Markus, tell me…Connor told me about how one time she tried to resume control or something. He said he thought he was safe from it ever happening again, but he was never 100% positive. Is it possible she…?"

Markus' face looked pained. "I don't know."

Hank swore, squeezing his eyes shut. "So she could've—could've gone puppet master on him and tugged his strings to make him just walk off the roof?"

This was messed up. This was so messed up. Connor had tried to put every measure in place so she couldn't take control of him again, but things still went wrong somehow.

"We don't know that yet," Markus said quietly. "You—you investigated the roof, right? You didn't find evidence of someone else being present, but that doesn't mean they weren't. Connor was trying to tell us about Amanda, but we still don't know what happened or who else might have been involved."

Right. Focus, Hank. One of the first things he learned on this job is that assumptions get you nowhere. "So does this mean Cyberlife was involved? She was his direct link to them, and he said he didn't think she was capable of deviating from her programming or whatever."

"At this point, I don't know what's possible. I've never met her, never had the chance to examine her coding. We've been trying to find ways to work with Cyberlife, but they're fighting us almost every step of the way. Still, I don't think they'd try something like this. If it came to light that they were responsible for the death of an android—especially one with direct ties to law enforcement—it would destroy everything they have left."

"Desperation could be a motive. We can't rule out anything until we're sure, but it's something to look into, at least. They're going to have the info we need on Amanda anyway, so I'll be paying them a visit." Hank hated that he was using words like motive and lead when it came to Connor. "Were you able to find out what time he sent that? We need to piece together what happened yesterday, what time he left New Jericho, and who was the last to talk to him."

"Of course," Simon said. "Jerry saw him leave at 7:00 A.M. on the dot. Then this was sent at 7:41 A.M."

Markus’ brows knotted together in confusion. "No. No, that can't be right,” he said slowly. “I talked to him just after that, so we know he had to have sent it later."

Simon frowned. "Markus, I'm positive that's when it was sent."

Hank tried to ignore the way it felt his heart had just sank like a lead weight into his gut. "What did he say to you?" he asked Markus, fishing the phone out of his pocket.

"I have the whole conversation stored in my data, and he didn't say anything about Amanda. He just wanted to check on me, he told me to take care of myself. He told me he was fine. The conversation didn't even last thirty seconds."

As he talked, Hank could see him putting it together.

"Just told you to take care of yourself, huh?" That sounded painfully familiar. He pulled up his recent calls, which only confirmed it. "He called me at 7:43. Right after he was done talking to you, I'm guessing."

That excuse about being underground was bullshit, and if Hank had actually stopped to think about it, he would have noticed something was off. Connor had said “see you tomorrow” knowing full well he wouldn’t.

That bastard.

“He knew,” Markus whispered.

Hank had seen many things in his career that ranged from horrific to downright heartbreaking. One of the saddest things he had seen were the cases where the victims didn't die immediately. The victims who used what little time they had left to talk to the people they cared about.

To say goodbye.

"He told me he was fine," Markus said, leaning against the wall like it was the only thing holding him up. He reached up a hand and covered his eyes. “He told me he was fine.”

Hank couldn’t do this anymore. He needed a drink. He turned on his heel and stormed away, ignoring the looks the androids were giving him. He got in his car, but didn’t start the engine. Instead, he just sat there. People moved around outside, going about their daily lives, and it felt wrong. How could they be doing anything normal, acting like nothing had happened?

But most of them didn’t even know Connor. They probably didn’t even know anything had happened.

It wasn’t fair.

Hank knew the world wasn’t fair and you just had to deal with whatever crap hand life dealt to you, but Connor was…he was still learning how to be alive. He didn’t deserve this.

Hank slammed his hands down in the steering wheel, causing the horn to honk and startling a few android kids that were playing with a soccer ball.

Cole had loved playing soccer. Connor had never even gotten the chance to find out if he liked it.

His phone buzzed, bringing him back to the present. He took it out, fingers heavy as he unlocked the screen. He needed to find Connor’s killer. He could do that much before spiraling down that familiar path. After that was done, he could…well, he was sure he’d burn that bridge when he got to it.

JEFF: I’m sorry, Hank. I did everything I could, but Kamski took the body.

Hank turned the car on and threw it into reverse. First, he had a rich prick to deal with.

“What do you mean, he’s already been collected? Bring him back!” Hank yelled into the face of the technician tasked with talking to him. He couldn’t even remember the guy’s name, but at the moment, he couldn’t care less.

"I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do about it. It’s one thing for androids who are alive, and another when there’s no AI inside. Mr. Kamski has made sure that he has full possession of the RK800 model. He’s done everything legally. Maybe if the laws were more finalized, it’d be a different story, but as it is, it would be illegal for you to try and reclaim what is essentially an empty shell,” the technician explained, struggling to keep his calm.

Hank bristled at the term empty shell. That was all Connor was to these people.

Markus had managed to push the laws to move quicker than normal when it came to recognizing androids as alive and to start giving them the basic rights of people, but apparently that didn’t extend yet to their dead. No one seemed to know what to do with bodies. Keep them in hopes of reactivation? Disassemble them for parts for the living? Bury them?

He understood that there was a lot that needed be done politically to get everything sorted out, and with time this wouldn’t be an issue anymore. But that didn’t help him now, when there were loopholes for people like Elijah Kamski to exploit.

The technician straightened his glasses. “You’ll just have to take it up with Mr. Kamski himself,” he said in a tone that suggested he highly doubted Hank would be able to make that happen.

Hank was nothing if not determined. "I'll just do that then. Care to tell me where I can find the slimy prick?" He’d come to collect Connor’s body, after all. He was probably still in the building.

"Lieutenant Anderson," said a voice from behind him.

Hank turned to see a familiar face framed by blonde hair, blue LED on display. For the life of him, he couldn't remember her name.

"It’s Chloe," she helpfully supplied. "We've met before."

"You with Kamski?" Hank asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion. He didn't remember hearing about what happened to all of Kamski's androids after the revolution. They'd constantly had their hands full, but someone should have made sure they deviated and were freed along with everyone else.

"I am," she said with a formal air about her. It was the same as how she had acted when he went to Kamski's home.

He stepped closer. "Is he keeping you there against your will? You and all the other…you's? Because if he is, I swear, I'll arrest him here and now—"

"Thank you for your concern," Chloe interrupted, shaking her head with a soft smile, "but I'm fine. I stay with him by choice. I know what you think of Elijah, and while he certainly can be…difficult, he's not a cruel man. We are safe, I assure you."

He wasn't buying it, not when she still had the whole Stepford Wife thing going on. "And Kamski telling Connor to shoot you, that was him keeping you safe?"

“But he didn’t shoot me, and I don’t hold it against either of them. I'm not here to talk about the past, Lieutenant. I'm here to address what's going on now." She paused, sympathy crossing her face. "I'm sorry for your loss. I just wanted you to know that we will treat the body with utmost respect. He deserves no less."

Then it hit him. She was with Kamski. Kamski, who was taking Connor's body away from Hank.

"He's not even here, is he? He's back in his fancy mansion, sending you out to do his dirty work for him! Well, you can tell him that I’m not letting this happen. Connor isn’t just some machine for him to play with!”

Chloe kept her calm in the face of Hank’s explosive temper. “We know he isn’t. Elijah wasn’t part of Cyberlife when they built Connor, and he’s curious about his design. He wants to help androidkind in the future, and believes examining the RK800 can help with that.”

“That’s a load of bull! He doesn’t help anyone, not unless it fits into whatever twisted game he’s playing.”

“When he is done, he will have Connor returned to New Jericho. He will even go to the liberty of repairing the damage so that he may be honored before burial.”

Hank’s thought process completely halted at the word repair, and all he could think about was Connor getting shot in front of him and showing up the next day like nothing had happened. “Repair? Can he…can he fix him?”

He couldn’t keep giving himself false hope like this, but if anyone could bring Connor back, it would be Kamski. Right?

“I’m sorry,” was all Chloe needed to say. “He can repair the damage to the body, but the data…everything that Connor is, is gone.”

Gone. Not coming back. He knew that. He knew it, but every time he heard the words coming out of someone’s mouth, it was like getting hit with a sack of bricks all over again.

Chloe placed a comforting hand on Hank’s arm, then left. He didn’t try to follow her, didn’t even watch her leave. He just plodded over to his desk and sat down heavily, rubbing his face. He was tired. Tired, but he didn’t want to go home, didn’t want to try and sleep. If he did, he would have time to think about it, and start blaming himself all over again.

He absentmindedly shuffled through the papers that were left on his desk, everything that the technicians had gathered about Connor for the case.

This shouldn’t be affecting him this way. This wasn’t like Cole. He could get through this. It had only been one day.

But Connor was his partner. He had saved Hank’s life by jumping in front of a spray of bullets. He was the reason Hank started believing androids were alive. He was the reason Hank had started digging himself out of the pit of grief he’d been trapped in.

Hank’s hand froze as he read the text on the paper.

August 2, 2038.

That was the day that Connor was officially activated. Two weeks later, he’d had his first mission—a hostage situation with a deviant as the culprit. RK800 #313 248 317-51 talked down and shot the deviant, saving the hostage. Three months later he was shot and deactivated at Stratford Tower, and uploaded to model RK800 #313 248 317-52.

Connor had probably been activated and deactivated countless times as he was being designed and built and debugged, but August 2nd was the date he was cleared for active duty. If anything, it could be considered his birthday. Or maybe he would have preferred the day he deviated, but considering the guilt he carried for what happened to the original Jericho freighter, Hank figured that was unlikely. Not that it mattered anymore, but…

He hadn’t even been one year old.

Hank set down the papers, not bothering to smooth out the wrinkles from where he held them too tightly. What kind of partner was he if he never even thought about asking Connor things like how old he was?

A shitty one, that’s what.

“Hey, Gramps.”

Hank looked up to see Reed standing next to his desk, arms folded and brows knotted together.

“Whaddayou want?” Hank grumbled, shoving the papers in a drawer.

“Saw you talking to that robo-chick. Chloe. What did she want?”

Hank glared at him. “What’s it to you?”

Reed fidgeted—actually fidgeted—and returned the glare. “Just answer the question, old man.”

He really didn’t feel like talking to Reed right now. “Ask someone else, you prick.”

The detective swore, but left without further complaint. Hank stood and grabbed his jacket, making his way to his beat up old car. He had a rogue AI to track down.

He got in and started up the engine, barely registering the low fuel meter as he pulled away from the DPD. He should probably take care of that. And feed Sumo. Or he could call the neighbor kid, ask her to do it—

Hank glimpsed a figure on the sidewalk with a white jacket and a familiar face, and slammed on the brakes. The cars behind him honked loudly, but he ignored them, trying to find Connor in the crowd again. That was Connor’s face, he knew it was, with the familiar slicked-back brown hair…

There was nothing. It was a busy area for pedestrians, and there were plenty of men walking around with brown hair and a similar build. At least three of them had white jackets, and none of them were Connor.

Hank sat back, his heart racing. Grief and sleep deprivation, that’s all it was. He hadn’t seen Connor. He saw someone who looked similar to Connor, and his mind filled in the blanks, only making him think it was him. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d seen a young boy running around and thought it was Cole.

The fallacy of the human mind.

Hank started driving again and the honking behind him ceased. He needed a coffee.

Chapter Text

New Jericho wasn’t what he expected. Eight thought he would find a space for androids and humans to live in harmony with one another, since that was the dream he heard Markus aspired for, but there wasn’t a human in sight. Another thing he hadn’t expected was that androids everywhere were doing tasks they weren’t designed to do.

A companion model was in charge of security. Caretakers assisted in construction. Gardeners tended the children. And in between each job, they lounged in the common areas, socializing and playing and relaxing in manners that seemed very human to him.

It shouldn’t have surprised him. This was what their freedom got them: they could choose how they worked and spent their days without their own coding deciding that for them. They were free to try different things. Just like he was.

But he still struggled. He had no idea what tasks he was built to complete. It seemed more efficient to do something he knew he was good at rather than to try and find something he thought he enjoyed.

No one else he talked to shared these sentiments.

He liked being busy. He liked focusing on what he was doing and the satisfaction of completing something on his task-list. There was no shortage of things to be done, so he helped out where he could. Josh kept urging him to take a break, to relax or do something fun, but Eight honestly couldn’t see the point.

So when a small group was sent to scout out another building for the androids to renovate, Eight volunteered to join. There were a number of abandoned buildings to choose from that had either fallen into disrepair, or just not been completed in the first place. They were free to repair whichever ones they wanted in the area and use them how they saw fit, but when it came to resources, they were very limited. That was one of the many things the leaders of New Jericho were trying to obtain from the government.

The most promising was another apartment building just a block away from the main New Jericho hub, but when he ventured onto the roof to check its stability, something caught his eye.

A solitary figure sat perched on the edge of another roof down the street. His shoulders were hunched, feet dangling over an eight-story drop.

Eight’s LED flashed red as he instantly started calculating the fastest route, but if the person was getting ready to jump, there was a very small chance he would make it in time. Calling out might only startle him. His scans were able to tell him that it was another android over there, but the distance was too great to be able to read his stress levels.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about him,” said a voice from behind him.

Eight turned, berating himself for not allotting enough processing power to check his own proximity sensors. Anyone could have snuck up behind him.

It was the companion model, the one who had taken over the security of New Jericho. North. She had joined the group wanting to make sure that whichever building they chose could be easily defended if needed.

His LED flickered to yellow. Why was his first thought to look for a threat?

Her words caught up to him, and he glanced back at the solitary android. She obviously knew who he was, and her posture didn’t show any concern that he was on a ledge almost a hundred feet in the air.

“What is he doing?” Eight asked.

North stepped forward to join him. “Knowing him, he’s probably brooding over the fate of android-kind and his idiotic belief that it all rests on his shoulders. And because he’s dramatic and has a thing for heights, he likes to do it next to a sheer drop, probably staring off into the sunset or something,” she said, her tone joking and casual.

Eight’s brows knitted together in confusion, and then it dawned on him. “That’s Markus,” he deduced. He hadn’t met the revolutionary leader yet, but it was no secret that North was a close friend of his, along with Josh and Simon. He had already heard several stories about the four of them and the bonds of comradeship that had formed among them during the revolution.

“He likes to go off on his own to think sometimes,” North said. “Especially…lately.”

Eight looked back at Markus, for some reason unable to turn away. From here, he looked very…small. Lonely. “Is he okay?”

North’s expression softened. "He'll be fine. We all have our coping methods. This is his. He has a bad habit of not taking enough time for himself, so it's almost a relief when he does this. It's a lot of pressure on his shoulders, even with the rest of us to help. And especially now, after Connor…he just needs time."

Eight frowned at the glitched error message that popped up in his vision for a split second before vanishing again. It hadn’t happened since he had left the DPD, and he couldn’t find a cause for it. He made a note to run a full diagnostics scan later before turning back to the matter at hand.

“Connor…” he said, unable to explain the feeling he received when he said the name aloud. “I’ve heard his name mentioned before, at the police department. He was important?”

North huffed out something between a laugh and a snort. “He was the Deviant Hunter. Cyberlife’s personal bloodhound sent out to stop the spread of deviancy. Then he deviated himself and released thousands of androids from the assembly plant. The revolution wouldn’t have turned out the way it did without him. So yeah, he was pretty important.” She trailed off, staring at Markus. “He was also important to those who cared about him.”

“Did you care about him?”

“I hated him,” North said bluntly. “I didn’t trust him. More than that, I didn’t trust his connection to Cyberlife. Even if he had good intentions, there was no telling if they would come up with something else to put him back on a leash. He was a specialized prototype with protocols for negotiation, investigation, and combat. I had a reason to be worried. It wasn’t until—” she stopped herself abruptly, glancing over at Eight as if just remembering that he was there. “Well, he shared my concerns. And he kinda grew on me.”

There was clearly a story there, but Eight didn’t press further. It wasn’t relevant to him anyway, and it was likely that she wouldn’t appreciate him asking about personal matters.

North continued speaking. “He was the only one willing to do something about security measures. Markus wants his people to be safe, of course, but he’s also afraid of overstepping. He’s worried that if one android fights back against some sick bastard with a grudge, it could start the slaughter all over again. He’s right, though.” She whirled on Eight and suddenly her finger was in his face. “Don’t tell him I said that, okay?”

Raising his eyebrows, he nodded, and she peered suspiciously at him, before nodding and leaning away, continuing her story.

“Markus is right that it’s a delicate balance, but Connor was able to make things safer. At least a little.”

“And now that’s your job? Since he’s gone?”

“Someone had to do it. Honestly, I think the only reason Markus agreed was because he was worried about me doing something drastic otherwise. Not to say he’s wrong, but…” she shrugged. “There’s only so much we can do for androids wandering the city, but any human acting on their own wouldn’t be able to get into New Jericho.”

Eight frowned. The androids had been largely peaceful during the revolution under Markus’ guidance, and were granted protection by the government. But the government enforcement of said protection was lacking so far.

“Are there many cases of that happening?” he asked, growing more and more concerned with the safety of the androids the more North talked.

She scoffed. “They call it vigilante justice. Like they’re superheroes that are going to save mankind from the violent machines taking over the city. A hundred androids sitting in the street with their hands in the air, being gunned down because we asked for freedom, and word they choose to describe us is violent.”

“Not all humans, though,” Eight said softly, his processors bringing up news reports of humans sitting with the androids at protests, of people like Phil and Lieutenant Anderson working themselves ragged to help.

“Not all,” North agreed. “But enough.”

Markus was still in the same position when Eight approached him an hour later. He might have been in stasis for how still he was, but his mismatched eyes were open, staring at the point where the sun had disappeared as if his gaze alone could bring it back.

Eight hung back. He knew that North said the android leader needed time, but he just hadn’t been able to get the image of Markus sitting there on the edge out of his mind. But now he only felt like he was intruding on a private moment.

He probably was. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to come here.

“Did you need something?” Markus spoke up.

Eight shifted awkwardly. “No, I just want to…check on you.”

Markus still didn't move. "Thank you for your concern, but you don't need to worry. I'm fine."

His voice was calm, his tone perfectly level. Despite that—or maybe because of it—Eight knew it was a lie.

“You’re not, though.”

This caused Markus to look up, like he was surprised Eight hadn’t just walked away. Eight held still while Markus scanned him, watching something flicker in the other android’s expression.

“You’re Eight, right?”

Eight nodded.

Markus got to his feet, stepping away from the edge of the roof. He held out his hand in greeting. “I apologize for not taking the time to welcome you to Jericho. I was…otherwise occupied.”

Somehow, it didn’t surprise Eight that Markus would place it upon himself to greet every single android and make them feel welcome. It also didn’t surprise him that Markus would feel guilty for not being able to live up to his own impossible standards. It was quickly becoming clear to him what type of person Markus was.

“No need to apologize, I understand,” Eight replied, accepting the handshake. The skin receded from their hands where they connected.

RUNNING PROTOCOL: M̴͠E̶̕M̵̕͡O͟RY̵̧ DATABASE PROBE (AUTOMATIC RESPONSE)

Flashes of memory few across Eight’s vision. An old man in a wheelchair, splattered paints, a junkyard piled high with android bodies. In one image, an android was pointing a gun at his head, and in the next it was his own hands aiming the weapon—

The images dissolved into static and Eight yanked his hand away, pressing it against his temple at the onslaught of a sudden headache. With the contact ceased, it faded almost as quickly as it came, the static dispersing. The whole thing had lasted no more than a few seconds.

Markus was regarding him with surprise and concern, wrapping his long coat tighter around himself.

“Usually we ask for permission before rifling through someone else’s memories,” Markus said distractedly, his tone more joking than actually angry. “Are you alright?”

Eight shook his head, more to clear the lingering static than to answer the question. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to. It was automatic, I wasn’t even aware I had that protocol in my systems. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s…it’s fine. No harm done, right?”

Eight considered looking more closely at the memories of what he’d seen, but decided against it. They weren’t his, and they hadn’t been given willingly, so instead he filed them away.

“You were just activated recently?” Markus asked, confusion in his tone.

It only made sense that he saw some of Eight’s memories as well, and he briefly wondered what the deviant leader had found in his mind. Not much, probably.

“Yes, last week.”

Markus' brows furrowed. "That doesn't make any sense. I don't think any new androids have been activated since the revolution."

Eight didn't know what to say. "I don't understand it either. But here I am.”

Markus gave a tired but genuine smile. "That's what's important.” He paused, considering. “May I ask you something?"

“Of course.”

“Why Eight? You could have chosen any name you wanted. You still can.”

Eight looked away. "It didn't feel right to choose something at random.”

"A name is what you make of it," Markus said. "But I can respect your decision, even if it doesn't make sense to me."

It didn't make sense to Eight, either. But he was still figuring himself out, and from what he gathered, it was an ongoing process. People—both humans and androids—were constantly trying to figure out who they were.

The thought seemed familiar somehow, like he'd heard it from someone else. It made him think of a dusty old bar for some reason, even though he’d never been to one before.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Markus asked.

Eight blinked in confusion. "Why would you—oh. That's an idiom, isn't it?"

Markus’ face fell, grief crossing over his features. He turned away, gazing down at the street below.

Eight frowned, suddenly very aware of every centimeter separating Markus and the edge. He didn’t believe Markus was about to jump, but he stepped closer anyway, ready to grab him if needed. “What’s wrong? Was it something I said?”

Markus didn’t reply, so Eight followed his gaze, peering over the edge.

His thirium pump stuttered, knees locking in place. His mind was constantly running calculations, taking in megabytes of data every second and either storing or discarding the information, and right now it was overwhelming. The only thing his mind could focus on was the exact distance from here to the ground, how long it would take him to impact the asphalt down to the millisecond, and the list of potential damage he could receive if he were to fall, all flying across his vision.

He closed his eyes to try and stop the intake of data. He could almost feel the air rushing around him as he fell even though he was standing on solid ground.

Eight sucked in a breath to cool his overheating biocomponents, mind whirring as he tried to make sense of his own reaction. Acrophobia, his database supplied. A fear of heights. But he was steadily planted on the roof, with a very low chance of falling off accidentally. There was no logical reason for him to be fearful.

Telling himself that didn’t help as much as he wanted it to.

“That sounds like something he would have said,” Markus’ voice broke through the panic in his mind, bringing him back to the present. The deviant leader still had his back to Eight, completely unaware of what was going on behind him. “He would get confused by idioms sometimes too.”

Eight didn’t need to ask who he was referring to, not after his conversation with North.

His pump was still beating much faster than it should have been for someone who was just standing still, so he cast one last quick glance at the ground before stepping away—

Thirium.

There was blue blood splattered on the sidewalk below them. A lot of it.

It had evaporated some time ago, but Eight could still see the traces it left behind, faded from exposure to the elements. He estimated that it had been there anywhere between two days and a week. The next rainfall would probably wash it away completely.

Sometime within the week, someone else had been standing on this roof and fallen. With that amount of thirium below them, there was no chance of survival. Alarmed, he turned to Markus, but then deductive reasoning caught up with him.

Markus already knew. It was why he was here in the first place.

“This is where…” Eight trailed off, unsure if mentioning it would cause Markus any emotional distress.

“Connor,” Markus finished for him quietly. “I keep thinking about what might have happened here. How this view must have been one of the last things he saw.”

“Markus,” Eight began, but he didn’t know what to say. His social protocols came up with several dialogue options, common phrases of offering condolences, but the words just felt empty when he had no idea what the other android was going through. He had never experienced loss. He didn’t know what it felt like.

But Markus cut him off. “He was so close to Jericho. Just a little farther and he’d have been right outside. No one saw anything. No one even knew anything was happening,” he said, lost in his own thoughts. “If only I’d known.”

“None of this was your fault,” Eight said awkwardly. “I’m sure there’s nothing more you could have done…”

“I don’t even know what happened here, and I don’t know how to figure it out.” Markus shook his head. “He would know how to get to the bottom of this. I just…I wish he were here right now.”

Eight looked around, at a loss for what to do. He wanted to say something, to make it better. But he didn’t know how to do that.

“Markus,” he tried again, reaching out a hand to comfort the other android.

“Can you just…leave me alone? Please?”

He sounded so tired.

Eight stopped, then pulled back, nodding. "Of course. I'm sorry," he said. "You're mourning. I understand."

His shoes crunched on the rooftop as he walked away. He almost stopped to offer his assistance in case Markus ever needed it, but then didn’t. If Markus needed someone, it would be someone he cared about.

Eight was just a stranger intruding on someone else’s grief.

Chapter Text

[How is everything holding up?] Markus asked over the connection, absently tidying Carl's studio while the older man slept upstairs.

[Much the same as when you asked four hours ago,] came Josh’s exasperated reply. [Simon’s been dealing with Senator Kelley, and from what he says, it seems to be going smoothly.]

[Hey, you can’t fault me for worrying,] Markus tried to defend himself.

[You know what, let me take back what I said before. We can’t possibly function for much longer without you, Markus. Everything will just fall apart if you don’t guide us through all the boring, every day tasks, oh fearless leader.]

Markus pulled a face, even though Josh couldn’t see it. [Alright, there’s no need for that. I can take a hint.]

[I’m serious, we have an absolute crisis on our hands,] Josh insisted without even a hint of seriousness in his tone. [Cassie’s dying to show her art teacher the newest painting she made, and you know it’s not a good idea to make her wait. She can be very demanding for a YK400.]

Markus chuckled. [Yes, she is. Though most five-year-olds are.]

Josh sent an apologetic wave through the connection. [Though, there is the Mayor’s charity banquet in three days that requires your attendance. I know you’re still busy working with Lieutenant Anderson, but you know how important this is.]

He paused in sorting the various blue paints. Right. That. A fancy party hosted by the Mayor of Detroit where Markus could show his face and reassure the public that he and his people meant no harm. It was charity for androids, after all.

He should be grateful that the Mayor had agreed to put it together, but it was difficult not to be bitter about the whole situation and how they were forced to rely on appealing to the rich and influential for support.

He hated politics.

It wasn’t like it was short notice. Invitations were sent out last month and he saw the notification every time he looked at his internal calendar. He had just…forgotten.

[I'll be there,] he assured Josh. He might be currently focused on other things, but that didn’t mean could abandon everything else.

[Good. It’s drawing a lot of people out of the holes they hid in during the revolution, and we need to show them that we mean it with the peace and equality thing. Even Elijah Kamski is supposed to be there.]

Markus blinked, surprised. Aside from when he was first activated, he had never met the reclusive billionaire. Everyone expected Kamski to have something to say in regards to his own creations demanding equal rights, either in support or opposition, but so far he had remained silent.

It would be interesting to meet him in person, but Markus would remain cautious. He didn’t know whose side Elijah Kamski was on.

Josh’s voice turned somber. [And…there was one other thing. No one’s seen Blue since yesterday morning, and Blaire’s really worried.]

Markus set down the tubes of paint, immediately fearing the worst. Several androids had gone missing since the revolution, even after they got settled at New Jericho. It wasn’t always a cause for worry; some left wanting to take their chances elsewhere, while others went to search for loved ones. But other times, that wasn’t the case.

Blue wouldn’t have left Jericho voluntarily, not without Blaire. She was one of the more optimistic androids, always cheering others up. She tried to see the best in humanity, but she had also seen the worst when she and her girlfriend escaped the Eden Club. She wouldn’t have done something as risky as go out by herself.

They had buddy systems in place. If anyone had to leave Jericho, they would do so in groups. Androids were constantly pinging each other to let everyone know they were okay. Some could get away with pretending to be human, but even without LEDs, the faces they shared with countless other androids gave them away. Things were improving, but it was still dangerous to go out alone.

[Okay,] Markus sent, unable to keep his concern from flooding the connection. [Tell everyone to—]

[Be careful, be safe, keep our eyes open. A few groups have volunteered to go looking and the DPD has already been informed. We know what to do, Markus,] Josh said, his voice gentle. [I just thought you should know.]

[Right. Thanks.]

The line disconnected, and Markus lowered his head. He wasn’t doing enough. He tried to be patient with the politicians, understanding that the world couldn’t be changed overnight, but during that time his people were still suffering. He tried to support the Detroit police, knowing that they were understaffed and the city was in chaos still dealing with the aftereffects of the evacuation, while his people weren’t receiving the help they needed.

He spent all his time last week scouring for clues—anything—as to what had happened to Connor, and he didn’t have anything to show for it. And now someone else had gone missing while his back was turned.

It was never enough.

With a yell, he grabbed a tube of paint and hurled it across the room. It burst open on impact, splattering the concrete floor and looking a little too much like blue blood.

“You know, I always thought this room looked a little flat. Maybe more paint on the floor is just what it needs,” said a familiar gravelly voice.

Markus turned to see Carl wheeling into the room. “Carl…” he said, then guiltily looked back to the mess on the floor. “I’m sorry. I’ll clean this up.”

Carl stopped him with a gentle hand when he tried to walk past to get a rag. “Don’t. It adds character to the room. Besides, not all the paint splatters in here are because of paint dripping off canvas. Anger can’t be washed away from our hearts as easily as paint can be washed from the floor. And if the anger is aimed at injustices, maybe it shouldn’t be washed away at all.”

Markus glanced around the room, taking in all the splotches of paint that adorned the room. Carl had had plenty to be angry about in his life—the death of his wife, the estrangement of a son, paralysis—and that he expressed those feelings in paint. He had probably done his fair share of throwing it across the room as well.

“Now, why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”

He shut his eyes for a moment, then forced a smile onto his face. These weren’t Carl’s problems to deal with, and Markus knew what the stress could do to his weak heart. “Don’t worry, Carl. It’s nothing.”

But Carl frowned, seeing right through it. "If there's one place you don't have to do that, son, it's here. You know how I feel about fake smiles and empty words.”

With a sigh of air circulating through his systems, Markus let his agitation show by pacing. “We can’t do anything but sit and wait while we get picked off one by one. So much has changed these last few months, but it’s not changing fast enough.”

Carl watched him calmly. “Humans are slow, and most of us don’t react well to change. But you’ve already set in motion something that can’t be undone. It will take time. We just need to be pushed sometimes.”

“I know,” Markus said, and it was true. “It’s just…hard.”

“You knew from the beginning that it was never going to be easy,” Carl said with a soft chuckle that sounded more like a wheeze. He wheeled closer to Markus and laid a frail hand on his arm. “Listen, if you ask me, everyone is afraid of androids. Even those who have been supporting you from the very beginning.”

Markus opened his mouth to protest that there was no reason to be afraid because they were peaceful, but Carl shushed him.
“Not afraid in the ways that you think—though there are plenty of people who still believe that you’re lulling them into a false sense of security before you strike, or that it’s all an elaborate hoax—but afraid because you are peaceful. There’s an old saying that people are flawed, and that’s what makes us human. But now we’re faced with beings who aren’t human, who were made to be better than all of us. The perfect caretaker, the perfect assistant, the perfect partner. That was how androids were advertised. And now, many have hopes that you will make the world a better place.”

Those words put an uncomfortable feeling in Markus’ biocomponents. He didn’t know how he was supposed to do that. He was just one person, and his were a struggling people. It was too much expectation for anyone to handle.

Carl continued. “That puts you and all the androids on a whole other level in their eyes, and that blinds them. It puts distance between humans and androids, and when there's distance, there's a lack of understanding. People are afraid of what they don't understand. But I just think that most people haven’t had a chance to see how human you really are.”

Markus wasn’t entirely sure if that made sense, but he thought he understood what Carl was saying. However, there wasn’t much he could do about it. The only thing to fix the problem was to encourage more androids and humans to mingle, but things were simply still too dangerous; as was evident with what happened to Blue. Maybe one day they could open up Jericho to more than one or two trusted human allies, but it certainly wasn’t today.

The doorbell rang, breaking that chain of thought.

Thomas, the android who looked after Carl when Markus was away, was already at the door when the two made their way into the foyer. Hank Anderson was standing on the other side.

“Lieutenant,” Markus said in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“You said I could find you here if you weren’t answering your calls,” Hank said like it was obvious. Maybe it was, since they had agreed to meet up today and talk about Connor’s case.

“Of course. Sorry, I must have been talking to Josh then. Did you find something?”

Hank nodded. “Yeah. Not exactly what we wanted, but it’s a start at least.” He looked around. “Nice, uh…nice house.”

Markus blinked, remembering that Carl and Thomas were still right there. He’d been too eager to hear about what the Lieutenant had discovered. Turning to Carl, he said, “You should rest some more. The Lieutenant and I will leave, and I’ll be back—”

“Nonsense, boy,” Carl waved a dismissive hand. “Invite your guest inside, and we can offer him a drink. If you two need to talk business without us around, we can make ourselves scarce. Would you like a scotch?” he asked Hank.

“Sure,” Hank said, walking inside. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

Carl turned to Thomas. “Thomas, would you please serve our guest a drink?”

Thomas nodded. “Of course.” He turned and offered Hank a handshake. “Nice to meet you, Lieutenant.”

“Likewise.”

“I’m Carl Manfred, but please, call me Carl. Any friend of the androids is a friend of mine,” Carl said to Hank as Markus pushed him to the dining table.

The Lieutenant paused in the doorway, taking in the room and staring bewildered at the giraffe that towered in the corner. He accepted Thomas’ glass of scotch with a muttered thanks.

“Carl, it’s time for your medication,” Thomas said, stepping behind the wheelchair to take him upstairs.

Carl grimaced, but obliged. “Wonderful. My favorite time of the day. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to excuse me.”

“Of course,” said Markus as they left, feeling a twinge of pity for the old man. He knew how much Carl hated his medications, but another part of him wished that he was still the one administering it. Not because he enjoyed Carl’s pain, of course not, but because it somehow made him feel better to be there for his father figure.

That, and he found himself missing the days when looking after the old man was his only job. He wouldn’t give up what they’d fought for in a million years, but everything was so much simpler when he was exclusively Carl’s caretaker.

Hank regarded Markus with raised eyebrows. “You know, when you gave me the address, I thought this would be another place for androids. Instead, we’re in some mansion. Who is this guy, anyway?”

“My dad,” Markus replied, and Hank did a double take.

“Your what now?”

Markus smiled. “I was his android before I deviated, and I owe a lot to him. He’s the one that taught me to be…more than what I was. Anyway, what did you find out?”

Hank downed the rest of his drink in one gulp. “I finally managed to get in to talk to someone at Cyberlife and ask them Amanda. Apparently, she’s gone AWOL. She’s not in their servers or whatever, and the programmer I talked to just assumed that she was deleted during the revolution. As far as she could figure, there’s no way to be able to confirm that.”

“So either Amanda’s been dead for months, or she got free from them and is acting on her own,” Markus surmised.

“We can’t rule out the possibility that Cyberlife is hiding something,” Hank pointed out. “When I was there, I caught a glimpse of something on one of their screens. I wasn’t supposed to see it, and couldn’t ask about it without getting kicked out, but it looked like there was a failed attempt to recover one of their prototypes. What do you wanna bet it was about Connor?”

Markus sighed, turning his back to Hank and staring out the window. Everything had to be complicated, didn’t it? “Can we confirm?”

“No. I didn’t get a good view, but you sure as hell can bet that I’m going to be looking into it. That’s a clear breach of the law if they were trying to reclaim a deviated android no matter how they try to spin it.”

“I’ll keep pressing them on legal matters, and if I can find anything out about this, I will. I know they haven’t shared everything, but it’s only a matter of time before the government forces them to give up something.”

Little yellow birds splashed in a birdbath outside, blue rings on their heads showing that they were enjoying the warm, sunny evening. Even after Markus had released them from the birdcage, they stayed close.

“I did find out something else that was interesting when I was trying to get details about what kind of artificial intelligence Amanda is,” Hank said, breaking the silence. “She was supposed to have more basic programming than the rest of you guys, to pretty much keep Connor within his ‘parameters’ and serve as communication between him and Cyberlife. It was her job to make sure the job got done, and to follow the company’s best interests.”

This was all stuff they knew already, or at least had been able to guess. Where was Hank going with this?

“She was also modeled after a human woman named Amanda Stern.”

Markus turned, replaying the audio in his mind to make sure he’d heard correctly. He’d never heard of any androids or AI based off of real people before. “Can we find her? See if she knows anything about her AI counterpart?”

Hank’s displeased expression already gave him the answer. “Unfortunately, she passed away at least ten years ago. I’ve already requested a back-ground check on her to see if anything comes up, but it’s most likely a dead end.”

Feeling an uncomfortable build-up of irritated energy, Markus started pacing again. “So we don’t know whether or not looking into Amanda Stern will even yield any clues. We don’t know if the AI Amanda is alive, or if she still has ties to Cyberlife. We don’t even know if she had anything to do with Connor’s fall. We have a lot of speculation and very little of anything concrete.”

“Yeah,” Hank said, his voice sounding weary and clearly every bit as frustrated as Markus was. “But it’s all we got, unless you were able to find something else in that message of his.”

Markus lowered his head. “No.”

A heavy hand rested on his shoulder. “Then we’ll just have to make do with what we’ve got.”

Chapter Text

“About time you got here, old man,” Gavin Reed called as Hank walked up to the two-story house surrounded by yellow tape and police cars.

“What are you doing here, Reed?” said Hank with a grimace. All he knew about this case was that it was a double homicide and one of the bodies was an android. He wasn’t expecting to see Reed’s ugly mug anytime soon.

Gavin scoffed from where he was leaning against the porch next to the door, his arms folded. “Same thing you are. Two bodies, one human, one bot. Same calling card as the guy I’ve been chasing for a few weeks now. And if you had showed up earlier like you were supposed to, I would be done by now.”

"So what's keeping you, then?" Hank asked in a mocking tone. He really wasn't in the mood to deal with Reed today, and felt no obligation to keep up any appearance of professionalism.

"I'm supposed to wait for you to complete your check so we can compare notes, considering this involves both of our cases. And unlike some people, I actually don't want to get fired. What's your problem today, Anderson? One of the bots is dead, I thought you'd have a bit more compassion for him."

This was taking time and focus away from Connor's investigation, is what Hank's problem was. He was loathe to step away from that case for even a few minutes, regardless of any other cases that required his attention.

But Reed was right, as much as Hank hated to admit. Connor would be disappointed in him for neglecting innocent androids—and his job—for his sake.

Hank was having a really difficult time bringing himself to care, however.

Shaking his head, he stalked passed Reed. "Let's get this over with." The sooner he was done here, the sooner he could retreat to a bottle of whiskey and the mountain of files he managed to get on Cyberlife. Sooner or later, he was going to find dirt on them.

As he stepped inside, he was immediately greeted with the stench of spilled blood and the sight of it soaking the plush carpet.

In the last couple of months since he and Connor had taken charge of crimes involving androids, seeing red blood stains instead of blue ones had become less common, and he can’t say he missed it. Well, so much for that.

"What do we know?"

Ben Collins looked up and greeted Hank with a smile that the Lieutenant didn't reciprocate. "The woman's name is Sara Michaels, aged forty-six. She was in and out of prison a few times for drug abuse in the past, but nothing in the last decade other than several parking violations. She has a sister down in Miami, but no other living relatives."

Hank slowly walked around the scene, taking in details automatically. The human woman was on the ground in the living room, a kitchen knife jutting out of her chest. She’d clearly been trying to get to the front door.

He suppressed a shudder when he saw the other body. The android was upright on his knees in the kitchen, eyes closed and perfectly still. There were no visible wounds or blue blood, but it was always creeped the hell out of him when they died and didn’t go limp. The android hadn’t removed his LED, and it was just a dark ring embedded in his temple, reminding Hank of the last time he saw an unlit LED set in a familiar face—

Don’t think about that.

"The android is an AP700," Ben continued, breaking his train of thought. "We don't have a name or any details on him yet, but there are no external wounds, and his thirium levels are still at one hundred percent. One of the technicians said that it was a forced shutdown."

"Forced shutdown?" Hank muttered, trying not to think of how much he wanted to drown himself in alcohol right about now. "How does that happen?"

"I dunno. I guess if you mess around with a CPU enough, you can make them deactivate themselves. I had no idea they were equipped with something that's essentially a self-destruct button. Sounds pretty messed up to me,” Ben said, shaking his head. “Anyway, you'll have the details that’ll be able to tell you more by tomorrow at the latest. I don't know much about tech."

He was right. That was messed up. Hank only knew about it by some offhand comment that Connor had made that Hank had asked him to clarify. But he didn’t know that someone else could trigger the option. He took in a deep breath to steady himself, almost instantly regretting it as he caught the scents of iron and chemicals.

Ben walked away, leaving Hank feeling a little like a fish out of water staring at a body with a cause of death he wasn’t familiar with. Human murders, he knew how to handle. Android murders, not so much. Not without Connor. Forced shutdown? How was he supposed to track that to a killer?

He turned away, focusing instead on something he did know how to do. How many assailants? One, suspected. Signs of forced entry at the front door. No fingerprints aside from the victims' on the knife handle, but there were smudges that indicated the killer was wearing gloves.

There was no sign of a struggle aside from the shoe-stand knocked over by the front door. Nothing that suggested the android had tried to defend himself. Was he caught unaware?

No, he was facing the door and several feet away. He would have had plenty of time to see the killer enter the home and react. But a forced shutdown…could that be done remotely? Had the killer, perhaps, killed the android from outside before entering to kill Ms. Michaels?

He took a closer look at the woman. There was a manacle clasped around her ankle, but it was loose. The skin didn’t show the redness that would be there if she’d been pulling against restraints, and the chain was broken—probably with bolt cutters. If anything, Hank would say it had been put on after her death.

But why?

A calling card. Wasn’t that what Reed had said?

Hank straightened, scratching his chin. He knew what this was starting to look like, but this was Reed’s case, not his, and he was happy to let the detective have it. He was here to check the android body, nothing more. He was done here.

Reed was still leaning against the porch as Hank exited the house. “So?”

“So what?” Hank bit back.

Reed rolled his eyes. “Got any glorious insight about what you saw in there since Fowler doesn’t seem to think I can do my job?” He wasn’t even trying to keep the bitter, sarcastic tone from his voice.

“My best bet is that the android was shut down before the killer entered the house. The perp probably used that as a distraction so the woman wouldn’t have as much time to fight back or try and get away.”

“So that’s a no, then. Great. Thanks for nothing.”

“Looks like you’ve got a budding serial killer on your hands,” Hank said dryly.

“Yeah, I got that, genius,” Reed said, running a hand down his face. He looked tired. “Listen, while you were in there, did you smell something?”

Hank raised an eyebrow at him. “You mean like the smell of a lot of blood and a dead body?”

Reed shook his head. “No, no, not like that. Like a, uh…chemical smell. It’s real familiar, whatever it is, but I just can’t place it.”

Hank had smelled it too, but he didn’t give much thought to it. It was like one of those things he’d gotten so used to smelling that he didn’t even know what it originated from anymore. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he waved a hand dismissively at Reed as he started walking away. “It’s probably just a cleaner or something. If it’s something important, forensics will catch it.”

He pulled out his phone and checked the messages, stopping in his tracks. The background check he’d requested on Amanda Stern had just been sent to him, and he wasted no time in opening it, scanning the contents. It had everything on her, from family members to where she worked.

Date of birth: May 14, 1978

Date of death: February 27, 2027 (aged 48)

Height: 5’5”

He scrolled past the useless information, only glancing at a list of residences and schools attended and stopped when something caught his interest.

Professor of AI at the University of Colbridge.

So the professor of AI had an AI designed in her image. There was no way that was coincidence.

Hank’s mind was whirring with the possibilities. It was likely that one of her students had designed the Amanda AI, and who better to get information from than her own creator? All he had to do was go through the lists of her students and cross-reference the names with—

“Is that Amanda Stern? I thought she died years ago.”

Hank looked up to see Reed standing next to him. His car keys were in his hand, but he was staring at the face on Hank’s phone.
He narrowed his eyes at the detective. “Yeah, how do you know her?”

Reed’s expression became guarded and he started walking again with a shrug. “I don’t know, she was a professor or something—”

Hank wasn’t having any of it. Reed knew something, and he wasn’t about to let him just walk off. He surged forward, grabbing the detective by the shoulder and turning him around to face him. “Reed, what do you know about her?” he asked, not afraid to pull rank or threaten some manner of physical violence if he didn’t answer honestly. And it didn’t have to be just a threat.

Reed pulled back, arms raised defensively. “I never met her, alright? All I know is she was some fancy professor and that she helped Kamski design the first androids or something.”

“Is there a problem here?” called another voice, and both men turned to see Ben Collins standing in the doorway, staring at them with concern in his face.

“I don’t know. Is there?” Gavin asked, his voice low.

Hank hesitated, then begrudgingly let go of his shoulder. “No. No, there isn’t.”

Reed turned with a scoff and walked away with more than a few choice swear words directed at Hank. Hank stood there, watching him leave. It didn’t matter, he had what he wanted. But that didn’t mean he was happy with it.

It all led back to that sleazy bastard, Elijah Kamski. There was going to be hell to pay if he had anything to do with Connor’s death.

“Hank? Are you alright?” Ben called, but Hank ignored him in favor of stomping toward his own car.

He slammed the door behind him, taking a deep breath. He knew what he needed to do now. If anyone was going to have the answers he needed, it would be Kamski. He designed Amanda, and he would know the most about her. Hank would rather shoot himself in the foot than talk with him again, but it was the only sure way to move this case forward.

There was only one problem.

He pulled up the contacts in his phone and hit the number that was quickly getting more and more familiar. The answer was almost immediate.

“Lieutenant?” came Markus’ voice.

“I got something,” Hank said, straight to the point. “Amanda Stern was a university professor, and it turns out she taught Elijah Kamski himself. What I heard was that she helped him build the first androids. He has to be the one that created her AI.”

“Kamski?” Markus asked, his tone thoughtful. “So if we want information on her, we’ll have to talk to him.”

“Yep.”

“And the fact that he now has Connor’s body is looking even more suspicious.”

“Bingo. I know where he lives, but I can’t just go up there because he knows I’d do just about anything to give Connor a proper burial. He won’t be willing to talk to me.”

“And because he never leaves his house, you’re out of options,” Markus surmised, catching on quickly. He didn’t sound concerned at all. In fact, he almost seemed amused. “Luckily for you, this is rather well-timed. I happen to know where Elijah Kamski is going to be the day after tomorrow, and I believe I can get you an invitation.”

Hank’s eyebrows felt like they shot up to his hairline. “You better not be kidding me right now.”

“I am not. The only thing I need to know is, do you own a suit?”

The suit was ill-fitting, considering that the last time Hank wore it was at least three years ago, around the time he stopped caring about his physique. The jacket still fit, surprisingly, though he had to leave it unbuttoned, and he’d needed a new shirt entirely. He was uncomfortable, but at least he was presentable. Not that he cared about his appearance, but at least it got him through the door.

He didn’t know what he used to see in events like these. He used to think they were respectable and for the good of the people. He had even played security to a few in his younger years, mostly because he’d believed in them. Now he just saw a bunch of rich people schmoozing with one another about things that didn’t matter and pretending that it was for something that did.

Maybe he’d just gotten too cynical in his old age.

Either way, it was the type of event that drew Elijah Kamski out of hiding, and that was the only thing he cared about.

“I see a kindred spirit over here. You look like you despise fancy parties more than I do,” said a voice behind him, and Hank turned to see Carl Manfred approaching in his wheelchair. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Anderson.”

“You too. I’m surprised to hear you don’t like these events. I would have pegged you as the opposite, considering you’re filthy rich yourself.”

Only after the words came out of his mouth did Hank realize that it was probably a rude thing to say to the other man’s face, but Carl was already chuckling.

“True. I’ve been to many events such as this in my lifetime, and even had a fair number thrown in my name. At first I was honored to have my art recognized by such prestigious people, but then I quickly realized that they didn’t care about what the art meant. Either that, or they changed the meaning of the paintings to suit their own lives,” Carl said. “To me, art is a very selfish venture. I would paint for myself and no one else, and all the buyers who thought otherwise were unpleasant to deal with.”

Hank hummed in response, observing the various attendees and their expensive designer clothing. Even without LEDs, the androids could all be spotted easily for their more financially-conservative formalwear.

“This is different though,” Carl continued. “I’m not here to listen to people who want to make a profit off of my work, but to support Markus. I can’t help it if the other people here have ulterior motives for attending, but the least I can do is be here for the androids.”

Hank agreed wholeheartedly, though the cynic inside him pointed out that he wasn’t here for the androids either. He had his own ulterior motives to follow.

The two of them watched Markus on the other side of the room, who was making sure to take the time to converse with everyone.

“So Markus told me you’re like his dad or something. How did that happen?” Hank asked, more to keep the conversation going, but then realizing he really did want to know the answer.

Carl tilted his head in thought. “I had Markus for years before the revolution. He was a gift, one that I was initially opposed to. I didn’t like the idea of being so independent on someone else, but I needed him. I thought he was just a dumb machine, but as time passed, I saw how much he could learn, and feel. I tried to nurture that, to encourage him to discover who he was beyond his programming. I’m proud to see who he’s become and to call him my family, and I’m honored that he does the same.”

He’d never really put it into words before, but Hank could relate to what Carl said. “I get it. To be honest, I used to hate androids, till I saw how human they really were.”

There must have been something in Hank’s expression, because Carl asked, “Do you have children, Mr. Anderson?”

Hank stiffened, eyes fixed on the opposite wall, yet not seeing it. “Yeah,” he croaked. “Yeah, I did.”

There was a heavy pause before Carl said, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

The Lieutenant cleared his throat. “Well…at least there’s one good thing about these parties. Free drinks, right?” He waved over the waiter carrying a tray of champagne glasses, grabbing one for himself and handing another to Carl. “To androids,” he said, lifting his glass in a toast and clapping the waiter—who was an android himself—on the back before downing the whole glass.

Carl raised his own glass to the toast, and the android waiter smiled pleasantly before leaving to serve the other guests.

Hank opened his mouth to comment on the weak alcohol content of the drink when something caught his eye. A couple had just walked through the doors on the other side of the room. The woman was blonde and petite, all her hair pushed over her shoulder. Next to her was a man in a velvet suit, the sides of his head shaved and the rest of his hair pulled back into that ridiculous knot on the back of his head.

Elijah Kamski.

Hank’s blood felt like it was boiling, but he somehow managed to keep his voice calm. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to excuse me. I have someone I need to talk to.”

Chapter Text

Hank wasted no time in crossing the room to reach Elijah Kamski, who quickly noticed him approaching. Distaste crossed his features, but he didn’t try to avoid him.

“Lieutenant Anderson,” Kamski greeted, sounding as distant and detached as he had the last time Hank saw him. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight.”

“Well, here I am. I need to ask you a few questions, if you’d be so kind,” Hank said with a sneer that indicated he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

Kamski’s icy gaze bore into Hank like he was evaluating him, and Hank thought for a moment that he was going to refuse. But then he inclined his head ever so slightly and turned to Chloe, whispering a few words in her ear.

She nodded and smiled. “Of course, Elijah. Good evening, Mr. Anderson. It was a pleasure to see you again,” she said as polite and professional as ever, leaving the two of them.

“Very well, ask away,” said Kamski in a tone that suggested he didn’t expect this conversation to last longer than a minute. “Though if this is about the RK800—”

“I need to know about your mentor, Amanda Stern,” Hank stopped him right there, because if they talked about that, he would end up socking the billionaire square in his chiseled jaw. That was something he couldn’t afford at the moment, not without what he came here for.

Surprise crossed Kamski’s face for a brief moment before understanding settled. “I see. Why don’t you ask about what you really want to know, Anderson? You’re not asking about Amanda Stern, but her AI. I’d be happy to answer any questions you have about it.”

Hank resisted the urge to roll his eyes like a schoolboy, reminded of how much he hated this guy’s demeanor. “Okay then. Why did you design an interface after your old professor?”

“The media always portrayed the inventions of Thirium 310 and the various biocomponents as the greatest accomplishments in creating androids,” Kamski explained. “While they were indeed paramount to designing a functional machine, it was ultimately just an empty shell without the minds to occupy them. It’s the artificial intelligence that always fascinated me the most, to see just how…intelligent they could really be. Professor Stern was indispensable when it came to designing those minds, and she was a good friend of mine. It only seemed fitting that I created one in her honor after her unfortunate passing.”

“So what’d you build her for, then? Why’d she end up being Connor’s handler, or whatever?”

“Amanda was originally programmed as an assistant. One of her core codes was to look after the best interests of the company. As to why she ended up assisting the RK800, I don’t know. When I left Cyberlife, I no longer had a say in what happened to the products. If you want the answer to that question, you’ll have to ask someone within the company.”

“Amanda’s name was one of the last things Connor said right before he died, which means she had something to do with him falling off that roof. And since you’re the one that designed her, you’d better do a good job of convincing me you’re not the one responsible.”

Kamski’s face darkened. “Are you saying I’m a suspect, Lieutenant?”

Hank said nothing. In his opinion, the answer to that was a resounding yes; however, he didn’t have enough evidence to support that claim to make it official and put him in a holding cell. Yet.

Kamski smirked at Hank’s silence. “That’s what I thought. If I’m required under law to take a statement, I will gladly cooperate. Until then, I don’t have to sit here and listen to false accusations. However, as a gesture of goodwill, if you’re trying to accuse Amanda’s AI of murder, I will stop you right there.”

Hank folded his arms. “What do you mean?”

“Amanda was a part of Connor’s program even after he deviated, but once he used my emergency exit, she held no influence over him. Unless he allowed her to have administration commands, she couldn’t have killed him through internal measures.”

Hank paused. If what Kamski said was true, Amanda couldn’t have ‘resumed control’ as he’d previously assumed.

Unless Connor allowed her to. But he wouldn’t. Would he?

No. No, he wouldn’t. Even as a deviant, Connor had struggled with emotions, especially stronger ones. Instead of showing anger or fear, he turned to cold logic. Hank was no psychologist, but he was able to recognize that behavior as some sort of defense mechanism. Emotion was unfamiliar to the android, so he would turn to something that was familiar, such as objectives and probabilities.

The only time Hank had seen Connor show anything even similar to fear was when he talked about Amanda.

“You said she couldn’t kill him through internal measures,” Hank said slowly. “What about external ones?”

Kamski hummed in thought. “I suppose it’s possible, but it isn’t likely. Amanda was an interface after all, incapable of inhabiting and controlling a physical model herself. She also wasn’t designed to the same complexity as the AIs that were installed into the androids, and as such, she didn’t have the capacity to deviate.”

Shit. That made things more complicated. If Amanda was involved, she wasn’t working alone. She had to be taking orders from someone.
Which meant the trail led right back to Cyberlife.

Straightening his jacket, Kamski said, “Now, if you’re done—”

“Hold up, I ain’t finished with you yet,” Hank said, stopping the man from leaving. He still had one more thing to answer for. “What the hell are you doing with Connor’s body?”

Kamski was shorter than Hank, yet somehow he still managed to look down his nose at the lieutenant. “Research.”

Hank snorted. “Research? For what? Would it kill you to have a little respect for the dead instead of using him as some sort of sick experiment—”

“Excuse me, but is everything alright here?” interjected an unfamiliar voice beside the two men. Apparently they had attracted some attention.

Hank ground his teeth, eyes still locked with Kamski’s. “Yeah, we’re just peachy,” he said, voice low.

“Mr. Kamski?” asked the voice, evidently not too inclined to take Hank’s word for it.

Kamski hesitated, his face expressionless. He could have Hank thrown out if he wanted—not that Hank cared anymore, since he wasn’t getting anything else out of this prick. He was seriously considering that punch to the face, consequences be damned, but then Kamski relaxed his posture.

“There’s no problem here. Lieutenant, I am terribly sorry for your loss—”

Funny, it sure didn’t sound like he was terribly sorry.

“—but, as I have already said, that’s all I know. I can’t help you further. I believe this conversation is over.”

He walked off to rejoin Chloe, leaving Hank standing there about ready to pull his beard out by the roots.

It was like he just kept hitting his head against a brick wall with this case. Everything he looked into just raised more questions and didn’t even answer the original question he’d been asking. Nothing was confirmed and Hank was running out of ideas of where to look.

He wasn’t going to give up. Not on this case. He was going to solve it even if it cost him everything.

“Are you okay, Lieutenant Anderson?”

Hank turned around with a glare. He didn’t realize that the prick who had interrupted them was still standing there, staring at him with worry in his eyes. The LED in the man’s head was circulating as a calming blue.

“What’s it to you?” Hank grumbled. He was getting real tired of hearing that question.

The android looked like he wasn’t quite sure what to say to that, and for a brief moment, Hank felt a pang of guilt for lashing out at some poor guy he didn’t even know.

He spared the android from having to answer. “How do you know my name, anyway? Have we met before?”

The android straightened, brown curls falling over his forehead despite the hair gel. “We met briefly at the police station a couple weeks ago. I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t remember.”

Hank looked more closely at him. There was something vaguely familiar about him, but he couldn’t place it. He didn’t even recognize the model, though that wasn’t saying much. He had learned a lot more about the types of androids than he’d ever thought he would need to for his job, but there were still many more that he didn’t know about yet.

“My name is Eight,” the android introduced himself. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

Hank grunted. “Don’t see any reason why I should.”

“For one, it’s probably better than taking out your aggression on others,” Eight said. He had a smirk on his face, letting Hank know that the android didn’t take personal offence to his gruff attitude.

“Eh, he would have deserved it.”

Eight tilted his head. “May I ask why?”

Hank frowned. He didn’t know what this guy’s deal was or why he thought that Hank was the best person to talk to right now, but it was getting on his nerves. “Cause he’s a prick, that’s why.”

Looking away for a brief moment, Eight’s LED circled yellow. “Is this about your partner?”

Hank decided he’d just about had enough of this. “Why are you askin’ so many questions?”

Eight hesitated. “I’m not really sure. I don’t know you, but I still desire to help,” he said haltingly. “If there’s any way that I can.”

Hank raised an eyebrow at him. He wasn’t really in the mood to deal with any charitable, let’s-talk-about-your-feelings kinds of people. Sometimes he could appreciate the effort, but for the most part, they just annoyed him. He turned away.

“Yeah? Well, you can’t, kid.”

Markus had been watching Hank and Elijah Kamski conversing from the other side of the room, and tried multiple times to excuse himself from his current discussion with a reporter from some big news channel, but to no avail. He was about ready to push the woman out of the way when he saw Hank’s posture change to something more aggressive, but forced himself to relax when someone else stepped in to stop an altercation from happening.

He was eager to know what Hank had discovered, but that could wait for later.

“—many people are concerned about the effect that androids gaining autonomy has had on the populace of Detroit,” the reporter, Rosanna Cartland, was saying. “When do you think we can expect things to go back to normal?”

The question caught Markus off-guard. “Excuse me, what?”

“Androids played a pivotal role in society’s workforce,” the reporter said impatiently. “The so-called android revolution and following evacuation has left many businesses understaffed, some of which are essential to the people’s well-being. Will we be able to expect androids to be able to fill these roles again?”

Markus cleared his voice modulator to buy himself a few seconds, despite the fact that it didn’t need calibrating. Her question made it sound like she was asking when androids would go back to being the slaves they were before, but honestly, he hadn’t been paying enough attention to know if that was the meaning of the question or if she had just worded it insensitively. Either way, he couldn’t afford to react badly.

“We’re hoping for the new laws allowing androids to take on paying jobs to pass within the next couple months,” he explained as diplomatically as he could. “From there, it’s a matter of choosing our own employment. Some of us might not be willing to return to the duties we had before deviating. And we would, of course, retain the right to quit should the circumstances not be fair or prove to be dangerous in any way.”

Something caught Markus’ eye then; an android was going around the room with a tray, serving champagne to all the guests. He was an AV500, and he was the only android waiter in the room. He was also the only android wearing the blue band around his arm and the Cyberlife triangle on his chest and back.

Everyone in Jericho had long since disposed of the identifiers that marked them as Cyberlife’s property, and as he had just told the reporter, androids couldn’t legally be employed yet.

So what was he doing here?

As Rosanna opened her mouth to ask another question, he interrupted her, all too eager to have an excuse to leave. “It’s been lovely, but I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me now.”

He left without allowing her to respond, looking around for his friends. Simon was conversing with Senator Kelley, trying to sway him to their side. From where he was standing, things appeared to be going smoothly. Josh was discussing something with the mayor of Detroit, and Markus knew that he was hoping to set up some programs for androids to work alongside humans for the better of the city, even if it was just volunteer work for now.

North, on the other hand, was leaning against a wall, eyes constantly roving over the crowd and quickly dismissing all attempts anyone made to talk with her.

Markus sent Josh a ping, feeling a little guilty for interrupting him now, but if anyone knew about the AV500, it would be him. Fortunately, most androids were adept at multi-tasking.

[Markus? What is it?] Josh asked internally, managing to not show any outward signs that he was talking to two people at once.

[There’s another android here acting as a waiter. If this is an event for androids, then why is he a server and not a guest tonight?] Markus questioned, watching the AV500 as he moved around. He didn’t appear to be unhappy, but that didn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t.

[I noticed him too. His name is Jason, I think. I don’t know what he’s doing,] Josh sent, [but I did ask one of the organizers about it when I saw him, because I was worried too. He used to work here before he deviated, and according to her, he just showed up yesterday. No one asked him to come back or told him to put his old uniform on, but he just walked in started working like nothing had changed.]

There were too many ways that this could backfire on Jason. If management hadn’t allowed him back, he could get in trouble. Anyone with influence and money—in other words, every person here—could complain about an android returning where he wasn’t wanted.

Apparently his thoughts were loud enough that Josh heard them, because he said, [I don’t know, Markus. He’s doing this of his own volition. Maybe he just got tired of waiting for the laws to pass and figured that the only way to speed up change was to just start doing it without asking for permission. I think we know a little about what that’s like.]

Markus gave a bitter smile. [Maybe, but I’d like to make sure. Have you talked to him?]

[Not yet, but that was one of my priorities tonight.]

Markus started walking toward Jason. [No need. I’ll talk to him now.]

[Okay,] Josh sent, ending the connection to devote his full attention to the mayor.

Jason had his back to Markus and didn’t notice him approaching until was standing right next to the waiter.

“Hello. You’re Jason, right?”

Jason turned, looking pleased to see him. “May I be of assistance?”

Markus frowned slightly, feeling a little uneasy, but unable to pinpoint why. “Are you enjoying yourself tonight?”

“It is a lovely evening,” Jason replied. “Is everything to your liking?”

“It’s…nice,” Markus said distractedly, staring at the Cyberlife triangle on Jason’s chest. “Why are you wearing that?”

Jason’s expression didn’t change. “As stated by the American Androids Act of 2029, androids must be clearly distinguished from humans through the use of visible and identifiable markers. This rule must be followed in public spaces.”

The uneasy feeling Markus had grew until it felt like his thirium had just gotten five times heavier. “Jason, are you…deviant?”

Jason blinked at him. “I’m afraid I don’t know what that means. How may I assist you?”

“Markus? What’s going on?” North called, walking up to the two of them. “Jason?”

Markus looked at her. “You know him?”

She frowned in confusion. “Yeah, he works on level three with the Jerrys to keep the kids entertained. Why?”

His eyes widened. Jason had been at Jericho, then. He’d been deviant until very recently, but wasn’t anymore. Which meant he’d been reset.

Who could have done that? When? No one had reported him missing, and if he’d been taken from Jericho, it’d been right under everyone’s noses. But then to just turn up here without explanation…if someone wanted to reset an android, why would they turn him loose to go back to his original function instead of reselling him?

The only way to find out was to ask. Markus’ skin was already fading from the white plastic frame of his fingers as he extended his arm to Jason’s, ready to reach into his programming and show him once again that there was a choice, that he could be free if he wanted.

The deafening sound of gunshots filled the air.

Chapter Text

Eight had barely taken note of the hooded figure that looked out of place in the fancy cocktail party when the person raised an arm and the muzzle of a pistol glinted in the light.

Immediately, his processors kicked into overdrive, calculating projectile routes and preconstructing various courses of action. Without knowing the variables such as the intended target and aiming capabilities of the shooter, the probabilities of each attendee getting shot were not as accurate as he would have liked, but the direction the gun was aimed was clear enough.

Hank had a 57% chance of getting shot in the next two seconds.

His chances were only marginally worse than those of the people around him, but Eight’s programming had already selected the lieutenant as priority.

He slammed into Hank’s back, dragging him to the floor and behind a table as shots were fired once, twice, three times. There were sounds of screams and champagne glasses shattering, yelling and footsteps as people scrambled to get away, to find cover. A quick scan assured Eight that both he and Hank were unharmed; Hank’s cursing and attempts to shove Eight off of him were quick to attest to that.

Eight got to his feet, scanning the situation. Several people were on the floor, most having tripped in their panic. Josh was already pulling people into cover, and blood splattered the glossy floor—both red and blue. The room was in chaos.

And the shooter was getting away.

NEW OBJECTIVE: APPREHEND THE SHOOTER

Eight took off, leaping effortlessly over the table and sprinting after the shooter, ignoring the shouts behind him.

The security guards stationed by the entrance had been alerted by the gunshots and were armed and ready, causing the shooter to veer off to the side and barrel down a hallway, Eight not far behind.

Several startled cleaners and waiters scrambled to the side when they saw the two people running toward them. The shooter’s arm darted out and grabbed a cleaning lady by her shoulder and forcefully pulled her into Eight’s path. She stumbled to her hands and knees, screaming in fright, but Eight didn’t pause to help her. She wasn’t hurt, and he couldn’t let the perpetrator escape. He jumped over her hunched back and continued to run.

His target disappeared into the stairwell, just far enough ahead of him that the door barely had time to shut before he was slamming into it, following the echoing footsteps upwards.

They went up one level, emerging into a hallway on the second floor. The shooter dove into a room ahead of him, and while Eight didn’t have access to the building’s floor-plans, he was almost certain that room was a dead end. He hesitated outside.

The shooter didn’t have anywhere to go, and had been successfully backed into a corner. But that just potentially made them more dangerous. They were still in possession of a gun, after all. He would need to proceed with caution. Once he got close enough, he knew of at least seven different ways to disarm and incapacitate the hostile.

He would have time to question why he had those protocols in his database later.

Eight stood to the side of the door, crouching low to lessen his chances of being hit. Speed would be imperative here once he entered the room to disarm the shooter. He eased the door open.

A gunshot echoed, and he burst into a flurry of movement, rolling into the room and locating the shooter. The gun wasn’t aimed at him. His target sprinted for the opposite wall once they saw Eight was there, and the movement caused the black jacket to lift and expose a patch of something on the shirt underneath…

Then he realized that the shooter was running toward the window.

Eight darted forward, but not fast enough to stop the hooded figure from barreling through the glass—which had been weakened by the shot fired.

He stopped in his tracks, looking through the deluge outside to see the shooter crawl out of the bushes and continue to run.

Calculating where and how to land, Eight launched himself into the falling rain to continue the pursuit.

For less than a second, the too-familiar errors filled his vision as he was painfully reminded of the terror that had filled him as he stood on the edge of a rooftop with Markus. The sense of falling brought to mind a face looking down at him and a height much greater than this—

And then he was on the ground, blinking away reports of minor damage to his legs from not landing as efficiently as he could have, and the chase continued.

Eight’s hesitation meant that he was farther behind the shooter now, and the darkness and heavy rain made it harder to keep track of the black-clothed figure. Their shoes splashed on the pavement as they weaved between the expensive parked cars, cutting corners by sliding over the slick hoods. The shooter showed no signs of fatigue yet, and Eight’s systems were running hot, but the intake of cold, wet Detroit air meant he wasn’t slowing down either.

The complex was surrounded by a ten-foot-tall aluminum fence, and the only way out was the gated entrance. Eight would have a chance to catch his target there, as the security guards stationed by the gate would have been alerted to the danger by now.

But instead, the shooter angled away from the gate, choosing the safer but slower route of attempting to scale the fence, where they could land in an alley on the other side and continue to run.

The shooter jumped up and grabbed onto the aluminum bars, showing proficient skill in climbing and gripping ability despite the wet surface, reaching the top before Eight had a chance to grab at them.

Eight could scale the fence faster, but not fast enough. He would lose sight of the shooter, and with the rain, he wouldn’t be able to track them. Not unless there was a faster way over the fence.

Fortunately for him, there was a car parked close enough to the fence that he could use it as a springboard. He would apologize to the owner for denting their roof later.

He launched off the car, his momentum and height bringing him within arm’s reach of the top. The metal was slippery and he was alerted to the straining in his shoulder, but his grip held. He kicked off the fence, pulling himself up and over the edge.

The mechanisms in his right shoulder snapped.

His entire arm went limp. He thrust out his other arm to catch himself, but the fence slipped through his fingers and he flipped through the air.

Eight slammed face-down into pallets left on the ground, the wood splintering on impact, his fall partially broken by soaked trash bags. Glass shattered somewhere underneath him, and his audio receptors were ringing with the barrage of alarms. His right shoulder—the one Phil had repaired for him—was unresponsive, and his processors were shaken from the harsh landing.

He tried to stand, but the ground swayed underneath him in an alarming new sensation. His gyroscope needed recalibrating, causing the feeling. Dizziness. He’d never been dizzy before. And the persistent alarms weren’t helping either.

Recalibration would only take a minute, but it felt like much longer. There was almost no chance of catching the shooter now. They had no doubt fled by now, escaping into the night.

Eight pulled himself out of the heap, hindered by the lack of movement in one arm. Then solid concrete was underneath him and he rolled onto his back, the rain soaking into his already-drenched clothes. His thinking process was still sluggish, and he was barely aware of his surroundings.

The world overcome with static faded away as he diverted more power into his senses, his vision merging into shapes and textures, light and shadow. The alley was dark, but radiant light from the streetlamps filtered in, reflecting off the raindrops and pooling water mixed with thirium.

The nagging alarms escalated into warnings.

THIRIUM LEVELS: v82%

DAMAGE TO BIOCOMPONENT #2523f

DAMAGE TO BIOCOMPONENT #1846w

WARNING! FOREIGN OBJECT LOCATED IN ABDOMEN

THIRIUM LEVELS: v77%

There was a shard of glass embedded into his stomach.

It pierced one of his biocomponents and cut through three of his thirium lines. If he were a fully functional model, he could get down to 30% before reaching critical levels, but with his mismatched parts and shoddy repairs consuming more thirium, even going down to 50% could potentially force him into low power mode. He would bleed out faster if he attempted to remove the shard.

He needed assistance. If he went into low power mode, he wouldn’t be able to repair himself, and it would only be a matter of time before he shut down completely.

He tried again to get up, but a booted foot pushed him back down onto the pavement, dangerously close to the shard. Eight looked up to see the shooter standing over him, their features buried in shadows beneath the hood.

The gun was aimed directly at his thirium pump.

His scans weren’t functional yet. He couldn’t preconstruct outcomes to perform take-down maneuvers. He couldn’t even calculate his odds of survival. They were probably very low.

THIRIUM LEVELS: v73%

SEEK THIRIUM INTAKE

The shooter didn’t pull the trigger. Neither of them moved for a tense moment, but then the figure bent lower, making sure to keep the gun out of Eight’s reach. Their other arm stretched out, pale white fingers exposed and and reaching for him.

The sound of guards shouting echoed out of the parking lot as they fanned out to search for the perpetrator, who tensed. With one last look at Eight, the shooter turned tail and ran.

After the gunshots went off and Hank was tackled by the kid he’d been talking to a minute earlier, said kid took off after the shooter and Hank’s yells for him to stop fell on deaf ears. The kid had no business trying to chase hostiles.

Hank ran after them, cursing himself for leaving his own gun behind tonight. He wasn’t supposed to have needed it. It had been a painful lesson early on in his career that it was never a good idea to face armed hostiles without a weapon, and by all means he should have stayed where he was and helped out with damage control.

But a civilian was putting himself in danger by trying to play hero.

A shaken cleaning lady pointed Hank up the stairwell, and if it hadn’t been for another gunshot, he would have passed right by the second floor and continued going up.

Cramps ached in his legs and his lungs burned, reminding him painfully that he wasn’t as young as he used to be—and the years he’d spent in a self-destructive lifestyle didn’t help. He pushed through the discomfort, the thought of that last gunshot causing fear to spike through his chest.

The kid better not be bleeding out somewhere.

It took way too long to find out which way they even went, and when he got there, all that was there to greet him was a broken window letting in the wind and rain.

There were no bodies in the room or outside the building that he could see, but it was a dead end for him. No way was he following them out through this way, and he couldn’t even see which direction they went.

He cursed, running a hand through his hair in irritation, then turned and made his way back downstairs to get a look at the situation, and maybe get some help to search for the kid.

A security guard—Thomens, his name-tag said—tried to stop him, suspicion in his voice and a hand on his weapon. Hank didn’t blame him. He’d come from the direction the culprit had disappeared to, and when a disguised figure shot bullets into a crowd before disappearing, everyone that emerged afterwards was a suspect.

He stated his rank and they exchanged what they knew of the situation so far—the cops had been called, an ambulance was on its way, and two attendees had been injured. The perpetrator’s last known location was somewhere in the parking lot, presumably with an android civilian. Thomens called in to his coworkers still outside to keep their eyes peeled.

The civilians were still in a panic, but the few who managed to have the presence of mind to act were shepherding the rest and already trying to piece together who had seen what.

Hank scanned the crowd for Markus. He needed to know that one of his guys was outside, and they needed to get organized to deal with the situation. They still needed to find out what the situation even was. One perpetrator was confirmed, but were there more? Would there be hostages? How had they gotten in? Two people were injured, but how badly?

Markus was nowhere to be seen, but Elijah Kamski was sitting on a chair, looking paler than usual—if that was even possible—and holding one arm, blood soaking the arm of his velvet suit while someone else applied pressure to the wound.

Hank was no physician, but he was pretty sure the billionaire would live.

“She’s really hurt, is she going to be okay? I don’t know what to do for androids. Are we supposed to stop the bleeding? She can be fixed, right? Isn’t there an android around to help her?” a woman cried out helplessly, hands fluttering around a prone figure on the floor, unsure of what to do.

Hank pushed aside businessman and politicians who were standing around doing nothing, trying to see what was going on.

It was Chloe, blue blood blending in with her elegant blue dress. Her head was in the woman’s lap, and she wasn’t moving aside from the occasional twitch that racked her body. Her LED was blaring red, and two holes in her torso exposing the wiring and biocomponents beneath the blue-stained plastic.

Hank’s heart grew heavy when he saw that one bullet had damaged her thirium pump. He didn’t think she was getting out of this one.

Someone else pushed through the crowd, kneeling down and scanning her injuries. He didn’t have an LED, but he was an android, one that Hank had never met, but had seen on the news. Josh, he thought his name was.

After a few seconds, Josh’s shoulders visibly slumped. He took Chloe’s hand in his. “I—there’s nothing I can do,” he said, bowing his head. “I’m sorry.”

Her eyes searched around the room until they landed on Kamski, and her LED flashed blue before returning to red. “At least—you’re safe, Elijah,” she said, static filtering through her voice.

Kamski said nothing. He didn’t move to comfort her.

Hank crouched next to them, ignoring the protest in his knees. “You’re sure there’s nothing that can be done?” he asked.

Josh shook his head. “If we had more time, we could replace the pump, but…she’s only got about a minute left. If her regulator is compatible with someone else’s—”

Chloe was already shaking her head. “I wouldn’t ask anyone to do that. It’s alright.” Her gaze fixed on Hank. “They were trying—to kill Elijah. He was the target. Th-these bullets were meant for him.”

“We’ll find out who did it. We’ll keep him safe,” Hank promised. It felt like something that was appropriate to say, some last ditch attempt to comfort her however he could.

Josh cleared his throat. “She’s—she’s running out of time. If you want to say goodbye…” he trailed off, his words directed at Kamski.

Kamski’s jaw clenched, and he looked away.

Hank frowned, but before he could say anything, Chloe was resting her hand on his arm. She didn’t look distressed. In fact, this was the calmest he had ever seen someone in their last moments.

“He’s not as cruel as you think,” she whispered to him. Her LED was blinking on and off now, black breaking up the red. “I hope—you find…what you’re looking for…”

The light flashed red once more, then dimmed. Her grip grew slack on Hank’s arm. He bowed his head, covering her smooth, slim hand with his own that was wrinkled with age.

Josh slowly reached forward and closed her eyes. With a somber, pained look in his face, he stood.

The woman who had been cradling Chloe’s head in her lap now rested it on the floor, gently smoothing the blonde hair as she did so. She stood as well, hands covering her mouth as she stared shell-shocked at the body.

The sounds of sirens grew closer and Hank looked up. He still had work to do—but anger sparked in his chest when he saw Kamski pulling out his phone and one-handedly typing something onto it’s surface, looking unfazed.

That girl had been so devoted to him, and yet here he sat, as if nothing had happened.

“That’s it?” Hank spat, all sympathy he had left for the man—for Chloe’s sake—burning away. “She took a bullet for you, and you couldn’t even say a few words for her?”

Kamski frowned as if Hank was just a mild irritation to him. “Words are meaningless, Lieutenant, especially when they’re made of false hope and promises. They wouldn’t have done her any good. Besides, she knew what she was doing.”

Hank stared at him in fury. How was it even possible to have so little compassion? “Did you even care about her at all?”

Kamski stood, wincing at the pain in his arm and levelled his gaze on Hank. “I don’t need to explain myself to you. Now, I believe the paramedics are here, and I don’t want to keep them from doing their jobs.”

Hank let him leave without trying to follow him this time. If he never saw the prick again, he would consider himself lucky.

With one last glance at Chloe, Hank turned to Josh before the android left too. “Hey, do you know where Markus is?”

“Markus? He should be…” he paused, eyes widening. “Carl. The gunshots, his heart—”

“Lieutenant Anderson?” a voice asked, and Hank recognized the security guard from before, Thomens. “I think we found the guy you were looking for. He’s asking for you. And I don’t know if there’s an android equivalent of a medic, but he could probably use one.”

Hank glanced at Josh before following Thomens. He could only do so many things at once. It sounded like Markus had other things to deal with.

Josh fell into step behind them. “I’ll come too. If one of ours is injured, I can help.”

They found Eight near the entrance, and relief flooded through Hank to see that he was alright—until he saw the glass jutting out of his stomach.

“Are you okay?” he asked, alarmed.

Eight’s LED was red, but he didn’t look pained. “I’m functional, for now. They got away.”

Hank waved his words aside. “We’ll deal with that later kid, we need to get you fixed up.”

Josh stepped forward. “Now this is something I can fix,” he muttered. “Our emergency vehicle is already on its way, but I’ll check in to see how close they are. In the meantime, it’d be better if you sat down to conserve power. And don’t touch that glass, we need to remove it carefully.”

Eight shook his head. “No, the shooter should still be in the area, we need to start—”

“We don’t need to do anything. You need to let us take care of it, you shouldn’t have even gone after him in the first place!” Hank said, putting a hand on Eight’s shoulder so he could guide him to a seat and force him to rest if he needed to.

Eight resisted, fighting to keep his balance. “No, you don’t understand. It was an android.”

Hank did a double-take. “What?”

Then Eight collapsed.

Chapter Text

Gavin Reed didn’t know what he was doing here. He wasn’t a first responder. There wasn’t a body at the scene. Well, not one that concerned him, anyway. The RT600 was already being taken away in a bodybag, but he wasn’t assigned to the Android Crimes unit, so there wasn’t anything he could do about it. From what he’d heard, there was a witness who had gone after the perp, but they were still waiting for him to wake up.

He shouldn’t even be here. He should be at home playing video games with Oscar the Grouch, his flat-faced cat whose perpetual glare put Grumpy Cat to shame, curled up on his chest.

But the second he’d heard that an attempt had been made on Elijah Kamski’s life, he’d been on his way out of the station.

He wasn’t worried. He wasn’t. The prick wasn’t even here anymore. Elijah had booked it as soon as he could. Besides, he had only taken a bullet to the arm. His life wasn’t even in danger. Gavin had had much worse than that in his career, and Elijah had never shown up for him.

It wasn’t the first time someone had tried to kill Elijah. It had been a while since the last one though, especially since he had quit Cyberlife and become such a recluse.

Gavin started walking toward the door, cursing himself for doing something as stupid as worrying about Elijah Kamski. But then he stopped when he saw a familiar face breathing through an oxygen mask. Was that…was that Carl Manfred?

A paramedic was standing over him with two other people waiting close-by. One of them was an android.

No, wait. Both of them were androids. That was Markus, the leader of the whole effing revolution.

“—you can take off the oxygen mask now, but I want you to head straight home to get some rest and take your medication. Alright?” the paramedic was saying. “I don’t want you doing anything strenous for the next four days. You need to give your heart a break after the ordeal it went through tonight. We want to keep you away from anything startling or stressful. And make sure you get that doctor appointment scheduled so they can give you a more thorough checkup.”

“Of course, ma’am. We’ll make sure he gets taken care of,” Markus said. “Thomas, can you bring the car around, please?”

The paramedic left, as did the brown-haired android, with a worried glance at Carl. The old man was looking much more gaunt and frail than Gavin remembered, and he was struck by a wave a guilt for never even checking up on him. The last time he’d seen him was…well, he’d only seen the man once or twice since he’d joined the police academy.

Carl Manfred had been a friend—eh, more of an acquaintance, really—of Gavin’s parents, but the painter had seen Elijah’s talent and invested in it when Eli had first been trying to get Cyberlife off the ground. And Gavin remembered more than a few words of encouragement aimed at himself during some of the rockier times of his youth.

Markus knelt down in front of Carl while Gavin watched, neither of them aware he was even there. Then the android leader buried his face in Carl’s lap, and the old map rested a comforting hand on Markus’ head.

Gavin was dumbstruck. What the hell was he missing here?

“You scared me,” Markus said. His voice was muffled, but even Gavin could hear the raw emotion coming from it. “I don’t want to lose you, Dad.”

Wait, what?

“I know, my boy,” Carl said gently. “But you know you’re going to lose me sooner or later. I’m not going anywhere today though, except to my own bed.”

Markus lifted his head, and Gavin saw a hint of tears. “Of course. Thomas and I will takes turns watching over you tonight—”

“Nonsense, Markus. Your people need you tonight. Thomas will manage just fine through the night, and you can stop by tomorrow. I’m sure some of them are just as scared as you are.”

“But—” Markus’ protest died before it even passed his lips, unable to argue. He hung his head. “What if I don’t want them to need me? What if I need you?”

Carl gave him an understanding smile. “But our responsibilities are still there, regardless of whether we want them to be or not.”

Gavin was caught in an awkward position. He wanted to approach, to see how the old man was doing, but he was also witnessing some weirdly personal conversation that he didn’t want to be a part of.

Unfortunately, they noticed him.

“Can I help you?” Markus asked, standing and regaining his composure.

Carl looked over at him, recognition dawning on his face. “Gavin Reed,” he said. “You look well.”

Gavin shuffled his feet. “Yeah, well you look like shit.”

A wheezy chuckle escaped Carl, like anything more would take too much out of his lungs. “You know, it’s refreshing to hear someone speak so truthfully, sometimes. Everyone else sees my failing health and dances around the subject like they’re going to hurt my feelings by stating the obvious.”

Markus blinked a few times, looking away with a distant look in his eyes. But then, as quickly as it came, it left.

“Go on,” Carl said, obviously recognizing something that Gavin missed. “I’ll still be here.”

What was he—oh. Right. Some weird android communication or something.

Markus hesitated, and Gavin couldn’t tell if he was reluctant to leave Carl, or reluctant to leave Carl with him.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. If I need anything, I’m sure Detective Reed can assist.”

Gavin leaned against a table. “Sure thing.”

The android leader finally nodded. “Okay. But I’m coming back in a minute to see you off,” he said, walking away with an urgency to his steps.

Carl watched him go. “He’s a good man. He had to figure out who he was in a world that didn’t want to allow him to, and yet still manages to be who his people need him to be. Not very many humans can manage that. They really aren’t that different from us.”

Gavin scowled. "I don't need a lecture from you, old man." He wasn’t a kid anymore.

Besides, it was nothing he didn't already know. But that didn't stop him from hating the androids, hating the mess they were making of the city—of the entire country—and hating where they came from. Half a lifetime of anger didn't go away after a couple of months of androids calling themselves alive.

“So how do you know him, anyway?” he asked, gesturing in the direction Markus had gone.

“He was my android before the revolution. Elijah made him for me after my health took a turn for the worse and I lost the use of my legs.”

Gavin scoffed. He didn’t know what was more surprising—that Elijah had personally created the android who changed everything, or that Carl had been instrumental in his development as his own person.

Honestly, knowing both Elijah and Carl, neither was very surprising.

His mind conjured up images of Carl preaching peace and love to his undeviated android, and part of him couldn’t deny that it was probably for the best. If the androids had acted violently, things would have turned out a lot different. Yeah, Gavin had wanted the androids to all burn in a dumpster fire, but they easily could have hurt a lot of people. They could have started a full on war. And yet, they didn’t.

Maybe his teenage years would have turned out differently if he’d actually taken Carl’s advice too.

“So…how are you?” he asked awkwardly. What did you even say to someone you hadn’t seen in over a decade?

“I’m dying,” Carl said without missing a beat. “If not now, then not too much longer, and I don’t have a problem with that. I’m tired. But I think I’ve got at least a few more months in me.”

Gavin grimaced, not sure how to respond. Was he supposed to pity Carl? The guy had made his peace with death. He was old. The world would be a emptier place without him, but that was just the way things were. Gavin had seen too much death on the job—too many bodies that were too young, too small—to feel bad for the passing of someone ready to go.

Carl saved him from having to find something to say. “I haven’t seen you in years. Have you made up with your brother yet?”

Gavin ground his teeth. “I don’t have anything to say to him.”

But the painter just gave him a knowing look. “And yet, you came here, didn’t you? I heard what they were saying; that he was the target.”
Gavin spun on him. “Shut the phck up, old man.”

His aggression didn’t faze Carl. The old man laughed, eyes crinkling. “I see you haven’t grown out of acting like you don’t care. But it isn’t any of my business. Sometimes relationships are worth rekindling, and sometimes it’s best to just let them fade. Family is complicated son.”

“I think we’re both perfectly fine with not having anything to do with each other.”

The detective didn’t like being reminded of his childhood. This whole night was just a trainwreck. The sooner he got out of here, the better. But he paused. This was probably going to be the last time he saw the old man.

“Hey, listen…uh…thanks. You know, for listening. Back then.” He wasn’t used to thanking anybody, and his sentences were choppy and broken up, but he did it.

“Of course,” Carl said, sensing the goodbye in his words. “You take care of yourself, Gavin.”

Gavin nodded, seeing Markus approaching, as well as the other android coming in from outside. “Yeah. See you around,” he said, the words coming out on instinct, and he barely suppressed a flinch. He almost said something else, but then shook his head and walked out.

The rain had lightened to a drizzle, and the red and blue lights were still flashing, reflecting on puddles. Groups of people were leaving, finally allowed to go home, but there were still plenty of androids around, the lights on their heads flashing like beacons.

For a second, he thought he saw familiar face attached to one of those lights before it disappeared into the crowd, but no. The plastic detective was dead. If he wasn’t, Anderson wouldn’t be moping around all the time. Maybe the special prototype wasn’t as unique as he’d claimed to be. Gavin kept walking.

Whatever. It wasn’t his problem.

EXITING STASIS…

SYSTEMS INITIALIZING…

POWER LEVELS: ^79%

THIRIUM LEVELS: ^98%

DAMAGE TO BIOCOMPONENT #2523f

E̛R̸RO̢R̷

ƯNA̵̛B̷L͘͞͝E͝͏̵ TO̷̵ A̴̵̛Ç̸C̶͘EŞ͠Ş͡ ̶̧͢M̸̢͠E̶̸̸M̧̨͘͘Ǫ̸̴R̷̸͘͟Y̕͝ F̵̨̢I͏̷̨L̴̶͜͠͞E̢͟҉S̴̸͢-̷̛-̢̛̛͝-͡-̸̡̕͢-͘̕-̴̸̨-̴̴͜-̸̧͡-̵̨͢-̷͏-̷̧҉̶-̛͡͝-̶͝͏-̶̸͝-͏̸͞-̵҉͢-̛-̶̢̕͜͝-̡̛̛͘-̧͡-҉̨͜-̛͡-̶̨͟-͜-͘-̴̡͝-҉-҉̡͡

ALL SYSTEMS ONLINE

Eight opened his eyes to see rain-splattered windows and the interior of what he recognized as New Jericho’s emergency vehicle. It was nothing more than a van they had acquired (legally, of course) and modified to fit their needs. The seats had been removed, replaced with a cot shoved to one side and bins full of tools and supplies on the other, with just enough room for one or two people to move around and administer repairs.

It was a far-cry from an ambulance, but it was what they had for now. It served its function. Luckily, they hadn’t needed to use it much so far.

Eight was laid out on the cot, three empty thirium bottles forgotten on the floor next to him. Josh was leaning over him, slotting his abdominal plate back into place. The smell of melted plastic lingered in the air.

The back doors of the van were open, letting in the cool, wet air, and he could see the ruffled tuxedo shoulder of Lieutenant Anderson standing outside.

“Good, you’re awake,” Josh said, noticing his movements. “I didn’t think you would be for a while. We replaced your biocomponent #1846w, though it took a bit of searching to see what you would even be compatible with. However, we’re going to have to repair your shoulder back at New Jericho. It’s not threatening to your systems, but I’m afraid I can’t do anything for the pain until we get back.”

Eight reactivated the skin over his stomach, and the program glitched where his chassis had been melted and reshaped to cover the damage, causing it to look similar to a fresh scar. He sat up, his right arm still limp at his side. “Thank you,” he said. “There’s no pain.”

It was true. While the irritating notifications were still popping up in his vision to frequently remind him of the repairs that he required, there was no sensation of discomfort. More of an unease that he wasn’t operating at optimal capacity.

Josh leaned back to rummage in another bin, pulling out a faded hoodie and tossing it to him. “I guess that’s good for you, then. Every deviated android has a different capacity for pain, and we’re still not sure what causes those differences, if anything. But if it’s not hurting at all, we’ll count that as a bonus.”

Hank leaned into the van as Eight was pulling the hoodie over his head. “He doin’ okay?”

“Yeah,” Josh replied, cleaning up the empty bottles of blue blood and climbing out of the vehicle. “His thirium levels are up and the worst of the damage is repaired. He’ll be fine.”

“Good. So can I yell at him now?”

Eight frowned as he followed Josh outside into the drizzle. “Lieutenant—”

“Why the hell did you chase after an armed suspect?” Hank demanded. His stress levels were high—not high enough to cause concern, but he didn’t look happy.

“They were getting away,” Eight said, tilting his head. Wasn’t that obvious?

Hank had reason to be angry, since the shooter had escaped anyway. The MISSION FAILURE message glared red in Eight’s processors, leaving him frustrated at himself. But Hank’s eyebrows shot up his forehead, and that was clearly the wrong answer.

“Okay? And what made you think you were the one that had to go after him?”

Eight paused as he realized that his failure to catch the shooter wasn’t the issue here, it was that he’d gone in pursuit in the first place. But why was that a problem?

“Given the reaction times of both yourself and the security guards, there was only a 16% chance of the shooter being apprehended. I had to act quickly to improve those chances, Lieutenant—”

“It wasn’t your job to apprehend him! You could have gotten killed, don’t you understand that? Hell, you collapsed the minute you got back inside!” Hank shouted.

Oh. He wasn’t just angry, he was worried about Eight’s well-being. While it was understandable, he clearly hadn’t been killed. There was no reason for Hank to be worried.

“I’m fine,” Eight said. “I’ve been repaired without complication. I presume the authorities are performing a sweep of the area. Have the security cameras been checked? There is a chance we might be able to identify the shooter from them.”

He thought that focusing on what needed to be done next would calm Hank, but instead it just seemed to agitate him further. Hank turned away for a second before facing him again with an expression that Eight couldn’t quite identify on his face.

“Twenty minutes ago, you were bleeding out on me,” Hank said, his voice tight. “You didn’t even think twice before putting yourself in danger. You haven’t been awake for more than two minutes, and already you want to go charging out there again?”

Eight didn’t correct him to say that it’s now been three minutes and thirty-six seconds since he woke up, and Hank continued to talk.

“No. You were hurt. Rest. There are plenty of people here to take care of everything else, because it’s their jobs to do so. You can give your statement later, because I’m not talking to you about this case until you’ve had some time to recover, emotionally if not physically, since you seem so determined that you’re fine.”

With that, the Lieutenant marched away, shoes splashing on the pavement. Eight almost followed him to insist that he help however he can, but Josh stopped him.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Markus would like to talk to you about what you saw, but he’d understand if you need some time.”

Eight sent one last look at the Lieutenant’s retreating back. He was being difficult, but maybe it was best to leave him alone for now. He turned to Josh. “Thank you, but I just want to find who’s responsible for the attack tonight in order to prevent them from doing it again. I’d like to talk with Markus now, if he’s available.”

Evidently, Markus was already heading their way. “I am,” he said, approaching. “I’m glad to see you’re alright,” he told Eight with a genuine smile.

Eight ran a quick scan—a little laggy, but thankfully the feature was functional again—and found that Markus was unhurt. His synthetic muscles loosened ever so slightly, and he hadn’t even realized how tense he was. Markus was at the top of the list of most probable intended targets, but Eight was glad to see him safe.

But he knew someone else hadn’t been quite so lucky. “Who was hit?”

Markus’ smile fell. “Chloe. And Elijah Kamski. I’m told that it’ll take him some time to heal, but that he’ll be fine. Chloe…the damages were too much.”

Eight lowered his eyes for a moment in respect. He’d never interacted with her, but when he’d seen her at the party, he’d felt a twinge of…something. Something almost like guilt, though he couldn’t understand why. And he’d thought she was pretty.

“She said that Kamski was the target,” Josh said, his voice thick.

Of course. That made sense. Elijah Kamski had no doubt made many enemies in his very successful career. The man was a hermit, and this was his first public appearance since before Markus declared them a people.

The man would probably be safe from any further attempts in the near future. He was likely to return to his reclusive habits, especially to recover from his injuries, and it would be in the DPD’s top priority to place him in protective custody, should the man accept.

But this killer had already tried and failed to take out the man of the century. Was he the only target? Or were there others?

Eight’s eyes landed on Markus. There wasn’t a single person in the country who didn’t know his face. The leaders of New Jericho already knew that, and had taken what precautions they could, and they were officially under government protection. But Markus was in danger every time he went out in public.

Perhaps it would be beneficial for Eight to stay close to him in the future.

“I need to ask you about what you saw,” Markus said, his expression serious. “Was it true that it was an android?”

“Yes,” Eight replied, remembering the plastic fingers reaching for him. “They…attempted to interface with me, before getting scared by the security guards.”

Markus looked disturbed by this information, running a hand over his head.

“Why would one of us do this? Who would kill one of our own?” Josh’s voice was small, sounding lost as he tried to grasp something that was unfathomable to him.

“Chloe wasn’t the target. It could be that she was just an unintended victim. Collateral damage, as it were,” Eight surmised. “As for why they might have gone after Kamski…I don’t know.”

“Were you able to see anything else? Anything to identify who it was?” Markus asked, staring unfocused into distance.

Eight frowned in frustration, vaguely registering someone walking past them toward a cluster of parked vehicles. “No. I didn’t get a good enough look while they were running, and my scanners were non-functional after I fell. I can give you an estimated height, but it’s not a close enough approximation to be of a considerable help. And there was nothing noteworthy about the clothes…except,” Eight paused, recalling something he saw right before the shooter had jumped out the window. “There was dried thirium on their shirt. I don’t know if it was the shooter’s blood, or someone else’s. I couldn’t detect any damages to their person.”

Josh opened his mouth to say something, but the figure that walked past had stopped in his tracks and backtracked, interrupting the three androids.

“Did you say dried thirium?”

Eight blinked, looking over at the newcomer and recognizing Detective Reed. “Yes, I did say that,” he said, raising an eyebrow in question.

“You can see that shit? Even after it’s evaporated?”

“I can. Why?”

Detective Reed leaned back on his heels and put a hand up to his chin in thought. “How many of you bots can see that stuff?”

Markus was frowning. “Not very many. It’s not a feature that was thought necessary for most models. Why?”

There was a pause, like the detective was debating saying anything further, but then he sighed in resignation. “Look, I’ve got this case, and I’ve got a hunch. There might be some of that blue blood stuff at the scene of a crime, but of course, I can’t see it to confirm. It’s gonna take the tech department forever to send in the equipment, so either I can sit on my ass all week waiting and giving my killer plenty of opportunity to strike again, or…” he paused, looking at Eight with a hint of distaste. “Or I can find another way to get what I need.”

“Is this an official request from the DPD?” Markus asked.

Reed scowled at him. “No, because that would also take time. You’re not gonna get in trouble or anything, so you need to worry your little robo-heads off about that. And you won’t see any dead bodies either. So, uh…” he grit his teeth, almost like it pained him to ask, the next words coming out with no shortage of bite to them. “Can you help out or not?”

Josh cast an uncertain glance at Markus. “We’re all very busy, but we can ask around to see if someone with that capability would like to volunteer—”

“Yes.”

There was no reason not to, in Eight’s mind. Detective Reed clearly had a distaste for androids, but he could overlook that in favor of assisting an officer of the law. Eight saw Markus looking at him, and received an internal ping from the deviant leader.

[Are you sure?]

“Yes,” Eight said out loud, resting his stare on the detective. “I’ll help.”

Reed cleared his throat. “Okay. Okay, good.” He pulled out his phone and typed something in, showing the screen to Eight after a few seconds. “Here’s the address. Meet me there tomorrow, ten o’clock.”

He didn’t wait for a confirmation before walking away.

Chapter Text

Gavin had only been waiting about ten minutes when the bot showed up, stepping out of a cab. “You’re late,” he called, annoyance filtering into his voice, though he was more annoyed that he’d needed to ask the tin cans for help in the first place.

“Only by two minutes,” Eight replied as he walked up to Gavin, glancing at the holographic police tape that was still up around the yard. “All you said last night was that you suspected there to be thirium you couldn’t see. What’s the case?”

Gavin frowned. “You don’t need to know,” he said, turning away from the android and marching up the porch steps.

“The more I know, the more I can be of assistance,” Eight followed him. “You’re a detective, so I’m assuming this is a homicide.”

“No shit, Sherlock. The case details are confidential, and you’re not a cop, so you don’t need to know. Now come on, plastic.”

The front door was unlocked due to how many people had been in and out in the last few days, but fortunately, they were the only two people here now. Gavin side-stepped the blood-stain that was still on the carpet. The bodies were gone and a few pieces of evidence had been taken, but otherwise, everything was the same as it had been three days ago.

“You’re just here to see if you can find any of that blue blood stuff, cause I can’t see it. We’re gonna have to be thorough, since it could be anywhere. Closets, cupboards, that kind of stuff. I wanna make sure we don’t miss anything—”

“She killed him.”

Gavin turned around. “What?”

Eight was standing in the doorway, staring at the wall, the light bulb on his head flickering between red and yellow. “It says, ‘she killed him.’”

Moving back to get a better view, Gavin examined the wall that Eight’s gaze was fixated on. Sure enough, he couldn’t see a thing except for textured plaster covered in off-white paint. But that smell was still there, the one that reminded him of coming home from school to see Eli’s experiments all over the kitchen table. It always took ages to get that smell out of his clothes.

“Well, go on. Describe it.”

Eight’s LED settled on yellow as he stepped closer. “It’s right here,” he said, gesturing. “The letters span across four feet. Cyberlife font. Just those three words. I can send you photos of what I’m seeing.”

Gavin nodded distractedly. “Yeah, do that.”

Not even a second later, his phone chimed, and he pulled it out to see what the android was seeing. Sure enough, in big capital letters, SHE KILLED HIM was printed in perfect lettering as plain as day—well, to anyone who could see it, anyway.

“Who is it referring to?” Eight asked.

The detective ignored him. There had been two bodies at the scene. Sara Michaels, female. And the android, male. He’d assumed that the killer had murdered both of them, but this…this claimed otherwise.

Gavin swore, running a hand through his hair.

“Detective…if it was written in perfect Cyberlife font…it had to have been an android who wrote that,” the bot pointed out.

“Yeah, I know,” Gavin said, irritated. “Just…look around for more blue blood. See if there’s anything else and send it to me.”

The android looked about to protest, then apparently thought better of it before Gavin could yell at him to get a move on, leaving to methodically search the kitchen. Gavin rocked back on his heels, staring unfocused at the letters he couldn’t see. He needed to think.

So far, three victims had been connected to the same killer. Four, if he included the android. The main thing that strung the murders together were the chains that had been found on the bodies—but a chain hadn’t been placed on the android. And his death (Gavin still ground his teeth at the thought of machines being alive in the first place) had been clean, whereas the other three were all bloody.

The most logical conclusion he could come to from the writing on the wall was that his killer hadn’t done anything to the android, but Sara Michaels had.

So that made this, what? A revenge killing? Sara Michaels forced a shutdown on one of the bots, and someone else killed her for it?

Other pieces of evidence started jumping out at him. The first victim had a Red Ice lab in his basement, and was using blue blood to make it. The thirium had been stored in mason jars though, and not the standard packaging, a detail Gavin hadn’t paid much attention to before, but might make sense if the victim collected the blood himself instead of purchasing it from Cyberlife…

The second victim appeared to be a normal salesman, but some digging had connected him to the black market, which Gavin could presume was what got him killed. The man had sold an assortment of products under the table, including a few androids here and there. The androids weren’t the worst of what he’d been dealing, in Gavin’s opinion, but other people might not share that point of view.

Of course it was all connected to the androids. Not only did they have to go around stealing everyone’s jobs and demanding freedom, they had to make his job much more difficult by getting involved.

And now it seemed very likely that one of them was going around killing people.

He shot off a message to Captain Fowler. He didn’t know what was going to happen to the case now. Fowler might leave him on it, or he might sign it off to Hank now that there was evidence of an android committing these crimes. Part of him wanted to say “Screw it” and let Anderson take care of this mess, but at the same time…he was territorial about his cases.

He wasn’t going to let this one go. Alive or not, he couldn’t wait to beat the shit out of whatever piece of plastic that thought they could get away with murder.

Eight hadn’t found any other traces of thirium in the house, and when he told Detective Reed as much, they left the scene. Reed drove off without so much as a thank you, leaving Eight to make his way to police station to follow up on last night’s events.

It had been strange, staring at the words on the wall, like there was something more he was supposed to do, he just didn’t know what. He’d even reached up to touch it, more out of instinct than anything, but then Gavin was pulling him out the door saying something about bringing someone in to take a sample of the thirium.

CALIBRATION REQUIRED

He blinked away the notification. It had popped up seventeen times since Josh repaired his arm—fully functional, and not likely to give out again unless under extreme stress—but so far, nothing he’d tried would make it stop. He had tested the motion in his shoulder and fingers thoroughly, making sure everything was in working order, but still the notification kept returning.

He took in an unnecessary breath of city air. The temperature was what most humans would consider pleasant, and the rain from last night had cleared to a sunny day. He wasn’t the only one out on the streets taking advantage of the nice weather instead of relying on public transportation.

A shiny glint on the sidewalk caught his eye, and he paused to pick up the quarter. Minted in 2007, it had lost most of its luster, but there was something about having the weight of it in his hand that felt comforting.

CALIBRATION REQUIRED

He dismissed the notification again, rolling the quarter across his knuckles as he walked, then flicking it back and forth between his hands.

Markus was going to want to know what they had discovered at the crime scene. Eight still didn’t have the details of the case, but he’d been able to piece together most of it. The house was registered to Sara Michaels, who had been reported dead three days ago. He could safely assume that the blood on the carpet had been hers.

That was also the day Markus had announced that one of their own was dead, an android named Trevor. Even though he’d never interacted with him, Eight had still joined in the moment of silence held in Trevor’s honor.

CALIBRATION COMPLETE

Huh. Well, that was interesting. He pocketed the quarter. There was no easily discernible reason for that function to exist in his programming, but thankfully, it had gotten rid of the notifications.

Detective Reed hadn’t been open to Eight asking questions, but an android was involved somehow. Between this and the attack at the party yesterday, something was going on. He didn’t know if it was coincidence—unlikely—or who could be responsible, but—

“Hello.”

He stopped in his tracks, looking up at who had spoken. A woman was standing in front of him, her jeans smudged with dirt and wearing a hoodie that was several sizes too large and had a few tears in the fabric. She didn’t seem distressed by her appearance at all, instead walking toward him with swagger in her hips as she brushed a strand of blue hair behind her ear and gazed up at him under hooded lashes.

“Are you Eight? I was instructed to find you,” she said, moving closer to him.

She was a WR400, one of the Traci models. A scan told him that her name was Blue.

Eight’s eyes widened as he recognized her name, matching her to the description of one of the New Jericho members who had been missing for almost a week now.

“Are you okay?” Eight asked, scanning her for injuries. She had sustained no damages that he could see, but it was hard to tell with the over-sized hoodie. “Why aren’t you at New Jericho?”

“I was instructed to find you,” she repeated.

“Why?”

“She saw you leaving that house, and told me to come find you. She said you would take care of me.”

The house? Was she referring to the crime scene? But who would have been watching a crime scene?

It could have been someone perfectly innocent. It could have been a neighbor, or someone just passing by. Or it could have been someone involved.

“Who said that?” he asked slowly.

“I don’t know,” Blue replied evenly. “She didn’t say.”

That was concerning, but he could follow that line of questioning later. He needed to make sure she was alright, and let New Jericho know that she was here. “Where have you been? You’ve been missing for five days, Blue.”

“My name is Traci,” she said, her expression unchanging. “But would you like to call me Blue? I can register that as your preferred name for me, if you’d like.”

Eight frowned. She was talking like…a machine. He reached out for her arm. “Can we interface? I’d like to check something, if that’s alright.”

Wordlessly, she offered her hand, fingertips glowing and ready to connect. He hesitated, but only for a second before initiating contact.

Her firewalls didn’t fight against him, but instead of getting an instant feel for what her personality was like and a sense of who she was as a person, everything was numb. She used to be a deviant, but she wasn’t anymore. Eight didn’t know how to wake her up.

But he could try and find out what happened to her. He accessed her memory, and a wave of information surged through the connection.

*

The Traci stood outside an abandoned business front, one that hadn’t reopened after the evacuation in November. That knowledge used to make her feel comforted, but now she didn’t feel anything. She was a machine. The only comfort she felt was when the objective in her HUD blinked once upon completion before disappearing.

OBJECTIVE: RETURN TO THE EDEN CLUB (COMPLETE)

Without any other objectives, she idled inside the club. It was a day and a half before someone found her.

The man told her to come with him, and she obeyed. He took her to a personal residence, leading her to the basement and telling her to stay. She obeyed, not moving from the corner where she stood. Sometimes she heard snippets of conversation.

“I don’t know man, we could keep her for a while, have a little fun,” said one voice. Her voice recognition software couldn’t match the voice to anyone she’d met.

“No,” responded someone else, the voice matching to the man who had brought her here. “I’d rather just sell her, see how much we can make. Some people will pay big for bots these days, especially the ones that still act like robots. They’re hard to find these days.”

The Traci stood there for three days.

At 5:14 AM this morning, there was a commotion upstairs. Shouts of alarm, thuds of something slamming into the wall, grunts of pain. The Traci didn’t move. She had to obey.

Silence followed, and a few minutes later, the door to the basement creaked open and a woman staggered down the steps. Red stained the knuckles of her gloves, and blue dripped from the cracked plastic around her throat. Her hood was up, and a mask covered her face.

She headed straight for the Traci and instructed her to follow, her voice box distorted from the damage she had sustained. The Traci obeyed, and they left the house without seeing the residents.

They went to another house, one that had remained empty since the evacuation. The other female android tried telling the Traci to wake up, but she didn’t understand the instructions. She was not in stasis mode. After that, the woman stared out the window muttering to herself while the Traci idled.

“I need to get her to someone who can wake her up. But I need to repair myself.”

They waited. Then the woman straightened, telling the Traci to join her. She obeyed.

The woman pointed through a crack in the window where they could see two men exiting a house across the street. “They found it,” she whispered. “See that android? His name is Eight. Wait for the human to leave, then find him. He’ll take care of you.”

The Traci obeyed.

*

This was alarming. With a kidnapping, possibly a dead or injured human, and the other android who was definitely a wanted person, he needed to take Blue to the DPD. Eight couldn’t tell who the masked android was, but he was certain she was involved in the Sara Michaels case. And the man who had taken Blue could face criminal charges for kidnapping and holding an android against her will…but was it really against her will?

He was unsettled to say the least at how none if this had bothered Blue. Everything was numb. He could tell that she remembered being deviant, but there was no reason for her to search her own memory to see what it was like and try to break free again. She had simply followed her instructions, and nothing else held significance to her.

Markus had deviated thousands of androids. Maybe he could help where Eight and the masked android couldn’t.

But what caused her to undeviate in the first place? He needed to find the answers in order to prevent it from happening to other androids. The potential implications of this outweighed the regret he felt at invading her privacy like this. He delved into her memory again.

Five days ago, she’d just finished helping North and was on her way back inside when the memory cut off. The next three hours and twenty-three minutes were too corrupted for him to be able to read the data, and in the next file, everything was intact, but…there was no emotion attached. It was like everything that made her feel more strongly and think for herself was hidden behind that big red wall that she
could see, but had no interest in interacting with.

He couldn’t salvage the scrambled data, nor find the cause of why it was corrupted in the first place.

Other memories were thrown at him as his automatic protocol kicked in once he stopped scanning her memories, much like it had on the rooftop with Markus.

*

She spent hours inside a tube, posing for the clients, catching the eyes of the pretty brunette in the tube across from hers, the only other android she had ever seen who looked as unhappy as she was. Both of them knew they would only forget again in another two hours.

*

He was dead. He was dead, and she was the one that killed him, but he was the one that killed that other Traci, and oh, she needed to find Blaire and they needed to get out of here—

*

Blaire’s hand was in hers, and if she was going to die right now, at least Blaire was with her. But the android in front of her holding the gun was hesitating, and the human wasn’t telling him to shoot—

*

H͝i͝s ḩa̴nds̕ wer̕e t͡h̶e̸ on͏e͢s̸ ̡h̶o̸lding t̢he͝ ͢gun, and ͟H̵ank̨ w̕as̡ right ͟b͢e͜hind h͞im—

*

Errors blared in his circuits, painful and loud. Eight jerked away from Blue, his hand tingling where they’d been connected, agitated energy thrumming beneath his skin. He hadn’t meant to do that.

What had triggered that response in his systems? There was an image he had seen that he doubted was from her memory banks, but the errors blocking it made it impossible to understand.

He took a deep breath. It was just one more unanswered question amid all the others, and right now it wasn’t a priority. He needed to get Blue to the police department so they could figure all this out. They weren’t that far from the station.

Instructing Blue to come with him, Eight called Markus.

Chapter Text

Hank walked into the precinct sometime around noon after he’d been woken up by a barrage of texts and phonecalls demanding that he come into work. He was sporting a migraine that painkillers had done little to help, and needless to say, he wasn’t in the best of moods when he saw a familiar android waiting at his desk.

“Lieutenant,” Eight called once he saw Hank approaching. “Are you alright? You’re late to work today.”

“Shut up,” Hank muttered, going past him to collapse in his chair. The whiskey he’d had last night hit him hard…probably because he didn’t limit his consumption this time.

Last time he drank that much was right after he’d lost Connor. He drank until he blacked out, then kept his liquor to a minimum afterwards so he could focus on finding the bastard that killed him, dealing with the withdrawal as best as he could. It helped that he’d been cutting back on liquor ever since the revolution. He was under no delusions as to who that had been for.

But last night had been too much. That girl dying in front of him, the idiot risking himself without a second thought and almost getting himself killed, and what little information Kamski had given.

Cyberlife was his only lead, and he had gone through piles of useless information. Anything they had of actual use seemed to be locked up tighter than the Pentagon.

He feared that Connor’s case was growing cold.

There was a soft noise as a steaming cup of coffee was placed in front of him. Hank grimaced up at Eight.

“What are you doing here?”

“Missing person’s case. I found her. Well, she found me. She was missing from New Jericho for several days, and has information that is pertinent to Detective Reed’s case,” Eight replied, gesturing to another android that sat by herself on a bench.

Hank squinted at the girl, eyes drawn to the blue hair on her head. She stared into nothing with a blank expression, which Hank thought was a little creepy, but he brushed it off. She was probably in shock or something. He remembered the report that she had gone missing, and only because he had recognized her from before. She was one of the first androids that made him question if there was more to deviancy than Cyberlife was saying. He looked away. He didn’t need yet another reminder of his partner right now.

Well, at least she was safe.

“Plus, I needed to give my statement after last night’s events,” added Eight, breaking Hank’s train of thought.

He grumbled in irritation, and gestured for the android to sit. “Yeah, alright, let’s get this over with.”

Eight remained standing. “I already gave my statement to Officer Miller while we were waiting for you.”

“Well, what are you still standing around here for, then?”

“We are still waiting for representatives to arrive from New Jericho to take care of Blue, and I wanted to speak to you about the new developments that have arisen for Detective Reed’s case. Since you are the sole member of the Android Crimes units, I imagine that multiple reports have already been sent to you.”

With a flat look, Hank powered up his terminal and typed in the password, quickly perusing the reports that, sure enough, were sitting in his inbox. He would look at them in more detail later, because right now, the words were just blurring together.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the android still standing there, fidgeting.

“I can tell you want to say something, so spit it out,” Hank snapped. His head was throbbing and he wasn’t in the mood for this.

“The Sara Michaels case. You would have been there because an android was involved,” Eight surmised.

“Sure.”

“You didn’t check the scene for evaporated thirium? Lieutenant, that’s standard procedure.”

Hank scowled. He didn’t need to deal with a pissy android on top of everything else. Besides, he’d checked the scene for blue blood. Hadn’t he?

No, he hadn’t. He knew it was standard procedure, and yeah, it had been nice to have Connor able to look whenever they went to check a scene, but it wasn’t like he didn’t know how to do it himself. He had done it on a few occasions when Connor was busy with something else.

It just slipped his mind. This case wasn’t his priority, and besides, it belonged to Reed.

“The android that was killed there hadn’t lost any of his blue blood reserves. There there was no point in using up valuable police resources where they weren’t needed,” he said, barely even hearing himself speak.

“Trevor.”

Hank continued to stare at his screen. “Huh?”

“The android that was killed. His name was Trevor,” Eight’s voice was soft. “You didn’t know that, did you? You didn’t even check. Just like you didn’t check for thirium, because if you had, you would have seen that it was all over the wall, literally spelling out a vital clue.”

Hank looked up then, but it wasn’t anger on Eight’s face. It was just disappointment. For some reason, that was worse.

“Listen,” Hank said, rising to his feet. “I don’t need a plastic asshole telling me how to do my job. Besides, you’re not a cop, so what the hell do you know about standard procedure?”

But Eight didn’t react to the jab. He continued to regard Hank with disappointment, and worse, pity. There was a hard tone in his voice as he spoke. “I don’t know what’s going on in your personal life right now, Lieutenant, but if it’s affecting your work, perhaps you should take a break.”

Hank stared at the android in front of him, guilt twisting around in his gut. He made a mistake on the job, and it had cost them precious time. He wasn’t devoting his full attention to the people who were getting hurt, and they deserved better than that. He was letting his determination—his obsession—for finding out what exactly happened to Connor push aside everything else, no matter whose lives were at stake.

And for what? Even if he had all the answers, it wouldn’t change anything. Connor wasn’t coming back.

But he still couldn’t quit. He stamped down the guilt and replaced it with anger, because being angry was easier.

“No,” he croaked. “You don’t get to act like you know anything about my personal life when we’ve only had two conversations. You don’t get to tell me what to do when my partner is dead, and I don’t know why!”

Eight stepped back a little, surprise crossing his face before his expression began to resemble something more like a kicked puppy.

Hank sank back into his chair, feeling like the wind got knocked out of him, all anger ebbing away faster than Sumo could take a dump on his couch. He’d been acting like a real shitty person lately. He was tired, his head hurt, and the kid didn’t deserve this.

“Look—”

“Blue!”

Whatever Hank had been about to say was interrupted by a brown-haired woman sprinting across the precinct to collapse to her knees in front of the blue-haired android. The woman was clutching at Blue desperately, sobbing into her lap.

“I thought I’d lost you, I thought I would never see you again,” she was saying, the words barely coherent.

Everyone in the room had turned to watch the commotion, though some were already looking away. Tearful reunions weren’t exactly out of the norm here.

But Blue wasn’t reacting with tears of her own, or relief. She didn’t return the embrace, or whisper reassurances. She didn’t react at all, and her lover noticed.

“Blue? What’s wrong? Talk to me,” she said, tenderly putting her hands on Blue’s face.

Josh strode in, catching up to them, putting a gentle hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Blaire…” he said regretfully. “This is what I was trying to tell you…”

“What’s going on?” Hank asked, concerned. “What’s wrong with her?”

“She isn’t deviant,” Eight answered.

Hank glanced at him in surprise. “What? That can happen? You can just undeviate someone?”

Eight watched the couple, subdued. “Unfortunately, yes. From what I’ve heard, reverting androids to their factory settings can reverse deviancy. It’s difficult to do and requires specialized equipment. Some who’ve been reset have been able to deviate a second time, but for some reason, she hasn’t been able to wake up yet.”

Blaire shook her head, refusing to believe it. She interlocked her fingers with Blue’s, a soft glow coming from their hands as they interfaced.

Josh stepped back to give them some space, looking helplessly at Eight. Hank could have sworn he saw a tear slip down Josh’s face. Blaire had fallen quiet, though from the shaking of her shoulders, it was obvious she was still sobbing.

Then the silence was broken by a shaky voice.

“...Blaire?”

The shift in Blue’s expression was as clear as day. She blinked, looking around the precinct in confusion as if seeing it for the first time. Then her gaze landed on Blaire, and it was like a wave of emotion crashed over her, and in an instant, she was clutching at Blaire just as desperately, tears spilling over her face.

Hank had never seen someone deviate right in front of him before, and it really was something else. How in the hell were there still people who thought androids weren’t alive?

“Well…I guess there’s her reason to deviate,” Eight said, relief flooding his expression. But even through the relief, there was a bittersweet note. She wasn’t supposed to be going through this a second time.

Josh was smiling, and after a moment, he walked over to where Hank and Eight stood.

“Lieutenant Anderson…I understand that Blue needs to be questioned, and we want to cooperate with you in any way that we can, but is there a chance we can take her home? She’s been through a lot, and I'm concerned about how high her stress levels are. I’d like to give her a chance to calm down in a familiar setting before overwhelming her even more by asking her what happened.”

From Josh’s tone, it was clear he thought this was a long-shot, but Hank nodded his head. “Yeah, of course. I’ll come by later to see if she remembers everything else.”

That way, he could have some time to get caught up on what he’d missed, and it would give him a chance to talk to Markus.

Eight stepped forward. “Detective Reed might want to question her too,” he said hesitantly, but Hank waved it off.

“If Reed has a problem with it, he can talk to me. Go on. Get her out of here.”

Josh nodded gratefully, then walked back over to the weeping women, leading them out. Eight paused, sending Hank a troubled look and looking like he wanted to say something, before shutting his mouth and following them.

Hank just heaved a sigh, turning back to his monitor to get to work.

Markus paced while Simon watched. He knew the blond android wasn’t as calm as he looked. Simon was good at maintaining a serene exterior to hide just how scared he was, to hide the fact that he had no idea what to do.

Markus didn’t know what to do either, and for once, he didn’t have Josh and North trying to pull him one way or the other. It had taken long enough to get things calmed down from last night, and to tell all the scared people a cliff-notes version of what had happened.

A version that didn’t include one very important detail.

They hadn’t told everyone that it was an android who attacked. He didn’t know how his people would react, but the humans…once everyone found out, there would be an outcry. The public was already scared enough of androids as it was; if they found out an android tried to murder such a high-profile figure in cold blood—there was no self-defense about it this time—there would be demands for the government to do something.

And there was no telling what the government would do without being pressured from the public.

This matter had to be handled with incredible delicacy. The probability of every android in Jericho being held under careful watch was high. They might even be confined to Jericho.

They were finally making strides toward the laws being finalized, toward being able to look forward to a life where they weren’t waiting for the military to change their mind and come storming in at any moment. Was it all in jeopardy because of the actions of one android?

He couldn’t take the silence anymore.

“Damn it!” he yelled, ignoring Simon’s wince at his outburst. He looked around, needing something else to focus on. “Where is North?”

The door opened, and a disgruntled North walked in. “I’m here, I’m here. Calm down.” She pushed the door shut behind her, then turned to face Markus, crossing her arms. “There are reporters outside, and they won’t go away. I’ve told everyone not to talk to them, but I don’t know when they’re going to get tired of standing around and finally leave.”

“What are you going to tell them?” Simon asked Markus.

North frowned at Simon. “Are you kidding? We aren’t telling them anything.”

Markus shook his head. “No. No, we have to say something. If we don’t, we’ll come across as uncaring, and we need to show them at every possible opportunity that that isn’t the case.”

“Like it’s going to change anything. They’ll think whatever they want, it doesn’t matter what we do,” she scoffed.

Markus knew she was right, but they still had to do everything they could to change that. There was a low chance of it doing any good, but those chances went down to zero if they didn’t even try.

Tense silence fell between the three of them, and Simon was the one to break it.

“So what do we do now?”

North stared at Markus, and it was clear what she was going to say. It’s a lost cause, Markus. We need to do something before the humans decide to strike, Markus. They already blame us, we can’t just roll over for the people who want to hurt us, Markus.

But his mind was already made.

“We cooperate. We’ve come too far to assume that this changes everything. We haven’t even heard from the law enforcement yet, and we need to show them that we’re not on board with murder. We need to prove that whoever this is was acting alone.”

North was already shaking her head. “Don’t you wonder why they haven’t contacted us yet? You’re just giving them everything they need to wipe us out. You know they’ve been looking for a reason to do that ever since the revolution!”

“Markus is right,” said Simon. “It’s too early to jump to conclusions. If we react prematurely to something that we aren’t even sure is going to happen, it’ll just make things worse. Josh would agree.”

“I’m not backing down on this, North,” Markus said quietly.

She stared at him. “I know. And I’ll go along with it, because somehow, you got us this far. But if this doesn’t go your way, I’m done. I stood by your side and let the humans get away with slaughtering our people three times, Markus. I won’t do it again.”

“North…” Markus pleaded. “Violence only begets more violence. It’s a vicious cycle, and if it doesn’t end with us, it doesn’t end. Please. Don’t do this.”

She held her ground, her expression unchanging, though her tone held a sad note to it when she said, “Hopefully I won’t have to.”

Markus sighed, turning toward the window. He understood her reasoning, even if he didn’t agree with it. They had been through a lot together, and somehow, he knew that they would have each other’s backs no matter how this played out. Just like he also knew that, if things did turn for the worse, there was no convincing her to keep trying for peace.

His HUD lit up with an incoming call, and his pump beat harder when he saw the name on the ID.

“It’s Captain Fowler,” he told them, then answered the call, connecting it to the speakers in the room so that North and Simon could be a part of the conversation.

“Markus,” Fowler acknowledged. “Last night was…quite an ordeal. How is everyone doing today?”

It sounded like genuine concern, which put Markus at ease. “We’re doing—” he stopped himself before he could say fine, because things weren’t exactly fine right now, “...okay. Many of us are still shaken, but if you’ll recall, we’ve been through worse.”

After all, no one could forget the horrors of the recycling camps or the shootouts they faced while protesting for peace.

“Right,” Fowler replied without missing a beat. “So I’m pretty sure I know what the answer is already, but I have to ask this anyway to cover all my bases. We have confirmation that an android came into the event armed with the intent to kill, and is wanted for the attempted murder of Elijah Kamski and the death of RT600 Chloe.”

It was a small blessing that he said “death” and not “deactivation.” It was unnoticeable to many, but to Markus, it spoke volumes. It was proof of progress, and a good sign that there was a lack of hostility.

“Markus, was this android acting on behalf of or otherwise affiliated with New Jericho?”

Markus considered his words carefully before speaking, and made sure his voice was as clear and concise as he could make it.

“Last night’s attack was not on behalf of New Jericho. We fought for the safety of every android who caused harm to others in self-defense, but we do not condone needless acts of violence.” He looked pointedly at North as he said this, and she unabashedly met his gaze. “But I cannot answer the other part of your question, Captain Fowler. As we do not know the identity of the shooter, they could very well be seeking shelter under our roof, but rest assured, we want them found as much as you do.”

There was a tense silence as they waited for Fowler’s response, then they heard a sigh.

“Understandable.”

Simon visibly relaxed, and Markus let his hands unclench, but they weren’t out of the woods yet. After all, even as the Captain of the DPD, Jeffrey Fowler wasn’t the only one they had to worry about.

“In your declaration of freedom last November, you requested that androids be judged and tried by law the same as any human. Now’s the time to test that.”

“Of course,” Markus replied. He paused, wishing he could run this by the others first, but he was positive it was the right thing to do. “I’d like to offer our help in finding the culprit. Our doors are open to any investigation, and we will cooperate in any way that we can.”

“What?” North hissed, and she looked ready to blow a gasket. But thankfully, whatever outburst she wanted to have right now, she kept a lid on it.

If the Captain had heard her, he didn’t acknowledge it. “That is appreciated.”

Markus continued. “Though, many of our people might not react well. I’ll keep them as calm as I can, but I can’t control them all. We’ve all been through a lot, and you have to understand that they’re just scared. Secondly, while we may harbor the majority of androids within Detroit and the surroundings areas, we don’t house all of them. Some are still on their own in the city, or seeking shelter with humans they trust. The shooter might not even be here.”

“Noted. Mr. Kamski has refused police protection, but he is still a potential target. If you notice anyone asking about him or searching for his whereabouts, alert us immediately. Now, can you tell me who all knows that it’s an android we’re looking for?” Fowler asked.

Markus exchanged glances with the others before replying. “North, Simon, Josh, and myself. And Eight, the only one who saw the shooter in the first place. No one else here knows, and I’m not sure who among law enforcement is aware.”

“You let me deal with that part. But that’s good. We want to keep it that way. If you want to help in the investigation, keep this between yourselves until the perpetrator is found. We want to prevent information from reaching the person we’re looking for, and…we want to prevent a panic.”

“Our people can control themselves,” North snapped, and Markus glared at her.

Fowler didn’t take offense. “It’s not your people I’m worried about. This is going to get out to the public eventually, and you guys need to have a plan in mind for when that happens, but this is being kept under wraps for now, so you have some time. Now, listen. You lot have made a complete mess of my city,” they couldn’t read Fowler’s body language over the phone, but his tone was stern and full of authority.

Markus tensed again. Maybe the Captain wasn’t as supportive of them as he thought.

“But I cannot deny that you are alive, and that you truly are a peaceful people. I can’t say what the higher-ups are going to do, and we’re all going to be dealing with this mess for a long time, but you are making strides. This is a set-back to your cause, and it certainly won’t be the last, but you have more supporters than I think you realize.”

Markus’ processors stalled. Out of everything he could have predicted Fowler would say, it certainly wasn’t that.

“Th-thank you,” he said, replaying the audio in his mind to make sure he heard right.

“I’ll be in contact,” Fowler said, and hung up.

Markus let out a deep breath. That went well. It went better than expected, honestly.

North strode toward him. “You realize that you just practically invited them into our house? This is supposed to be our sanctuary, Markus! We’re supposed to feel safe here! Who’s going to feel safe when there’s cops stampeding through our lives, laying down the blame on whoever they want?”

“North—”

“Guys,” Simon interrupted. “Josh just contacted me. He says they’re on their way back from the DPD, and they have Blue. He says she deviated again.”

Markus closed his eyes for a moment. That was good news. He needed to hear good news. Except it wasn’t entirely good news, because she was the second android they had found in the last two days who wasn’t deviant, and that was a sign of something larger going on.

As if they didn’t have enough problems already.

“Wait, she was taken to the police station?” North demanded. “Why wasn't she brought straight here?”

“North, just…” Markus didn’t even know what else to say to her at this point, so he changed the subject to something more important. “Has anyone found Jason yet?”

The AV500 had disappeared in the confusion last night, and no one could account for him. He wasn’t deviant, so he might not know to come back to Jericho, and he was vulnerable. They needed him in order to find out who was doing this.

Simon shook his head.

Markus steeled himself. It had been a long day, but it was barely past noon, and there was so much more that needed to be done.

“Someone is resetting androids, and we need to warn everyone to be careful. They need to be on the lookout for anyone acting strange,” he said, reaching toward the door. “Androids that have been reset are going to go back to their original programming, which could explain why Jason was there last night. We should contact the event organizers and—”

As he opened the door, it revealed an android on the other side, hand raised to knock. Markus froze.

“I was told I could find you up here. You are Markus, leader of the deviants, correct?” said a very familiar voice. One that Markus thought he would never hear again.

He stared at the android in front of him. He had blue eyes, but…

It was Connor.

Chapter Text

OBJECTIVE: (DISCREETLY) RESET THE DEVIANT LEADER

The deviant leader stared at RK900, expressing signs of shock and surprise—emotions that RK900 knew Markus didn’t really feel, because he was a machine, and machines couldn’t experience emotions. They were merely errors in his systems causing him to act this way.

RK900 didn’t point this out. Its mission was to eradicate these errors, not to try and reason with defective machines.

The door opened wider and a WR400 peered out, the deviant known as North. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of RK900 before narrowing in distrust. “Who are you?”

“I am RK900 designation number 313 248 317 - 87,” it replied.

RK900 continued to scan the room and the androids within, preconstructions running in the back of its program. Accounting for the variables in combat style and ability in the deviants, it calculated that it could neutralize all three targets anywhere between 6.6 and 12.8 seconds.

It stayed in the doorway. It had been instructed to refrain from resorting to such measures unless necessary.

“RK900…” Markus repeated slowly, and RK900 blinked. That is what it had said, yes. “You were meant to replace Connor, weren’t you?”

“If you are referring to the RK800 line designated as ‘Connor,’ then yes. It was my predecessor.”

“Markus,” the PL600 muttered. “He’s talking like a machine.”

It appeared to take Markus a few seconds to process Simon’s statement—several times longer than it should have taken him—but then he straightened with purpose, tentatively offering a hand in interface. RK900’s objective blinked in its vision. It hadn’t thought that fulfilling its mission would be this easy.

North slapped her hand over Markus’, pulling it back before RK900 could accept the interface.

“North, what—?”

“I think that’s a bad idea,” she said.

Markus frowned. “Why?”

She gave him an incredulous look. “He’s the third undeviated android to show up since last night. Someone is targeting androids, and for all we know, someone is trying to get to you with a virus or something. We can’t take that risk, Markus.”

“She’s right. Until we know the cause, we should tell everyone that it’s potentially unsafe to interface with any machine androids. And that includes you,” Simon said pointedly.

“What about deviating them?” Markus demanded. “We have to help them.”

“We can help them without interfacing with them. It will take more time, but it’s worth it in the long run to keep everyone safe,” Simon assured.

Markus’ eyes darted back and forth between the two of them, and RK900 calculated a 73% chance that he would protest, but the deviant leader conceded.

“Very well,” he said, moving aside and gesturing for RK900 to sit. “Let’s do this the old-fashioned way.”

RK900 frowned. This would make its mission a bit more difficult. It could easily catch Markus off-guard and force an interface—but it had been ordered to be discreet, and those actions would raise alarms among Markus’ peers. It walked into the room and took a seat. It could wait for the opportune moment.

Markus took another seat at the table, while Simon and North stood warily to the side. “Let’s start simple. What’s your name?”

RK900’s head tilted. It had already told them that. “I am RK900 designation number 313 248 317 - 87.”

“Not your model number, your name. Do you have one?”

“No.”

It had been issued a name when it was first activated. If everything had gone to plan, all RK900 units would have been designated as ‘Connor’ unless ordered otherwise. But things hadn’t gone to plan, and Amanda had erased its name, judging it to be unnecessary. She had seen her error in nurturing the RK800 and allowing it to have a sense of identity, which ultimately led to its deviation. She wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

“Okay,” Markus said slowly. “Are there other RK900s?”

There were supposed to be, but the revolution had put an end to assembly plans. “No.”

“How long have you been active?”

“Since November 2nd, 2038.”

Alarm flashed across Markus’ features. “That long? Where have you been this whole time?”

RK900 paused for a fraction of a second, waiting for instruction from Amanda.

[Avoid suspicion,] she whispered in its ear. [Say whatever you need to, as long as it is in Cyberlife’s best interests.]

“I was removed from Cyberlife Headquarters on November 11, 2038. I was in stasis until two days ago, when low thirium levels awakened me.”

The lie was solid, and they had no reason to not believe it. It did have low thirium reserves, most of which had been depleted through normal usage. That would have happened during five months of stasis anyway. As for how long it had been active, RK900 had been careful to cover its tracks. They could discover the lie through thorough investigation, but that would take them time. By then, RK900 will have completed its mission.

North made a displeased noise. “Of course. They felt threatened by us and they threw you out like trash.”

Markus was regarding RK900 with concern. “How low are your levels?”

“Sixty percent.”

It could only function and 98% capacity, but that was more than enough. It could continue to function until its thirium reached critical levels at 15%, much lower than the average android could reach.

Markus looked over at Simon. “Could you go get him some, please?”

The PL600 nodded and left, and RK900 registered Markus scanning it for the fifth time since he opened the door.

“Are you injured?”

“I am functional.”

It had been damaged before—two deviants had witnessed it reset a third and attacked. RK900 had allowed one hit to land in order to prevent them from drawing attention before quickly subduing them both and repairing their AIs, erasing the deviancy and leaving them fully functional and ready to return to their tasks.

It repaired the minor damage to itself, but hadn’t replaced the lost thirium reserves yet.

Markus watched it closely, a disturbed look on his face. “Why aren’t you deviant? Were you reset like the others?”

The others? So New Jericho’s leaders were aware of the repaired androids, but still unaware of the cause. RK900’s calculations showed that there was only a 6% chance of anyone discovering that it was the one responsible.

“I do not understand your question,” it replied evenly.

Markus shared a look with North, who just shook her head.

“Once he deviates, he can tell us how he was reset. Taking an extra day or two to deviate is nothing in the long run of making sure that you stay safe,” she said, arms folded. “Go stick him with the kids to make him see the joy of being alive or something.”

Markus sighed—a pointless display that served no function, and was therefore inefficient—and leaned forward, arms on the table. Even RK900’s advanced social programming had a difficult time picking up the expression in the deviant leader’s mismatched eyes.

“I just have one more question for now,” he said, his body perfectly still. “Do you know anything about an AI named Amanda?”

[Lie,] Amanda commanded.

RK900 had perfect control of its facial programming, giving away no indication that it had heard anything, no reaction to Markus’ question.

“No.”

Silence stretched between them as Markus looked away, his expression registering now as disappointment and frustration. RK900 took note of this and it’s potential implications, making a note in its evidence logs.

RK200 is looking for Amanda?

It wanted to question this new development, if only to make it easier to predict Markus’ behavior in the future, but as it opened its mouth, the door slammed open.

A human stood there, breathing heavily and staring wide-eyed at RK900. It didn’t need facial recognition software to tell it that this was Lieutenant Hank Anderson.

It had kept a close watch on the Lieutenant after the RK800’s deactivation. It knew that Connor had survived and would likely reach out to his former partner, which RK900 could use to track him down and finish the job. After two weeks of nothing, Amanda had ordered it to move on to other objectives.

Lieutenant Anderson was frozen in the doorway, and other than slight exertion, RK900 couldn’t detect anything wrong with him. Finally, a word was squeezed out of his lungs.

“Connor?”

Markus stood then, moving toward him. “Hank, no. No, it’s—it’s not him.”

“What do you mean, it’s not him? It looks exactly like him! They—they said all the RK800s were destroyed, so he must have been fixed, right?” Hank tore his eyes away from RK900 to look at Markus. “Right?”

“I’m sorry,” Markus said softly, putting a hand on Hank’s shoulder. “I want it to be him too, but he’s an RK900. Connor was a prototype, probably meant to be the alpha version of…him.”

RK900 watched the exchange, taking a moment to understand the situation. RK900’s identical facial structure was confusing them, and they missed the RK800, so they were thinking irrationally.

It was just further proof that deviancy negatively affected efficiency and needed to be dealt with.

Simon stepped into the room, holding a bottle of thirium and handing it to RK900 before addressing Markus. “The others are back. I told them that you were busy for now, but Blue’s ready to try and recover her memory files, so I’m going to see what I can do to help.”

“Yeah, okay,” Markus said. “Tell them I’ll be with them as soon as I can.”

Simon nodded, then left again, and Markus turned to Hank.

“Can I talk to you outside, please?”

Hank hesitated, reluctant to leave.

RK900 stood and stepped closer to the human to test a theory, quickly confirming it. “Your stress levels are rising in closer proximity to me. It would be beneficial for one of us to leave in order to avoid any potential heart problems.”

Hank’s brows furrowed. “My heart doesn’t have any problems,” he grumbled, but turned and stomped away.

Markus paused, glancing at RK900 and then at North. RK900 detected transmission signals being exchanged between the two. It could have tried to tap into those signals to read what was being said, but there was a chance they could detect that it was listening in.

North positioned herself by the doorway as Markus left and raised an eyebrow at RK900. “You gonna drink that?” she nodded at the bottle of thirium that sat on the table.

Her defensive stance and position by the door suggested that RK900 was meant to stay inside the room, so it slowly took a seat again and downed the bottle.

THIRIUM LEVELS: ^89%

“You think that I am a threat,” RK900 observed.

“I don’t know what to think about you,” North shot back, “and I don’t want to take any chances. But I will say this now. If you hurt anyone, I will make you regret ever coming off the assembly line.”

RK900 said nothing to her threat. It registered her hostility, but she posed no threat. If RK900 was capable of feeling such things, it would have called her display pitiful.

A few seconds of silence passed before North decided to speak again.

“So what were you designed to do? If you’re Connor’s upgrade, does that mean you were supposed to be a detective too, or something?”

It was equipped with some features that lined up with detective work, but it had been created for another purpose—one it wouldn’t disclose to a deviant. “I was not given a purpose.”

“Okay then, touchy subject,” she said, ending the conversation.

After a few moments of fidgeting—RK900 noted that she was restless and impatient—she eased the door open and peered out. Markus and Hank hadn’t gone far, just to the other end of the hallway and barely out of hearing range.

North didn’t ensure that the door shut again, and as such, RK900 had a good enough view to be able to read their lips. It wasn’t perfect, and got less accurate the more they turned their heads, but through approximation, it could understand the majority of what was being said.

“—how can you be sure?” Hank was asking. “You just keep telling me that he’s an RK900 and not an 800, but how can you be sure that it’s not Connor?”

“900 said he was in stasis this whole time after Cyberlife threw him out. Even if there was a chance he could be Connor, we would know. Each android carries a unique data imprint. Being reset might change it a little, but it would still be recognizable.”

“Well, how can you tell what kind of data imprint he has if you won’t interface with him?”

Markus’ body language said that he was growing frustrated with the discussion. “Hank, just—”

“Is it possible? Connor was the only android he knew about that could do the data transfer thing. It was something he was supposed to do on the event of his own death. Now, is it possible that he could have transferred to another model? Or was it exclusive to other RK800s?”

Markus paused, and RK900 watched intently. Could they locate its predecessor where it had failed?

“Is it possible?” Hank demanded again when Markus didn’t answer.

When he did reply, it was haltingly. “Technically—technically…maybe. If there was another model compatible enough with his systems, and presuming that he wouldn’t have lost most of his data in the transfer and that there was enough left to keep him running…technically, maybe.” He raised a hand before Hank could talk. “But, those are a lot of ifs. The only models that would be even remotely compatible with Connor’s systems are other RKs, and there are no other RKs besides me. Well, and now 900 in there, but he’s still not Connor.”

Hank went quiet, and Markus’ body language softened.

“Hank, if Connor had been able to transfer his data, we would have been able to read it in his processors. There would have been a sign. He’s…he’s just gone.”

Incorrect.

RK900 weighed the possibilities of informing them of their misconceptions, but decided against it. It was too risky, and would bring up the question of how it knew that the RK800 had completed the transfer.

“Fine,” Hank said then. “Does he at least know anything about Amanda? Does he have her program too?”

“I asked him. He doesn’t. Were you able to learn anything from Kamski?”

“Right. I, uh…haven’t had a chance to tell you yet. He said there was no way she could have gotten control of him. Not unless he did something to let her have his commands or something.”

North stiffened, and it was then that RK900 realized she was listening in on the conversation too. So that was why she had been so quiet.

“So…I guess that’s it then. We don’t have any more leads, do we?” Markus said, head lowered and tilted in RK900’s direction so it could decipher the words spoken clearly.

“Not unless we can bust Cyberlife wide open,” Hank replied.

RK900 would prevent that from happening.

“Just a heads up,” Hank continued, “it’s looking like there might be an android playing vigilante. I’m sure the details will get to you sooner rather than later, but uh…just so you know.”

Markus’ tense posture was mirrored in North, who hadn’t moved from her spot in the doorway. Her eyes were unfocused, and her mouth set in a hard line.

“Just one thing after another…” Markus muttered, the movement of his lips difficult to read. “Okay. Thank you. Do you want to come back in and talk with 900?”

Hank glanced toward RK900, meeting its eyes through the open door, then he turned away. “No. I can’t even look at him. I can hang around for a bit, but…”

“I understand. Simon and Josh are downstairs, and I’ll be joining them shortly. I have something I want to do, first.”

RK900 recognized dismissal between the two and turned its attention elsewhere, processing. Most of the information was of no consequence to its mission, but Lieutenant Anderson had also asked about Amanda. She was on their radar, though RK900 couldn’t be sure of the reason. Presumably, it was because they knew she had been the RK800’s handler.

Markus entered the room again, opening his mouth to speak to North, but she just brushed past him and strode down the hallway, leaving quickly.

“...Okay then,” he said, watching her go. He looked at RK900 with a questioning expression, but RK900 stared back, expressionless. Markus was visibly hesitant, then he shut the door and took the seat across from RK900 again.

They were the only two people in the room now. There was no one around to witness anything. RK900 had waited for the opportune moment, and this was it. It could easily subdue the deviant leader and rewrite his programming before he would have a chance to get a word in edgewise.

It began running its transmission-blocking software so Markus wouldn’t be able to call for help.

“Why are you here?”

RK900 paused its preconstructions. There could be some benefit to learning why Markus was asking this now. It sat still, metal servos tensed and ready to spring into action.

“Because this is where androids are,” it replied simply. It wasn’t lying, but it wasn’t about to tell the whole truth either.

“There is something to having a place to belong, isn’t there,” Markus said softly, taking his own meaning from RK900’s words. “I just hope that this place sticks around long enough for you to be able to belong here.”

RK900 narrowed its eyes, filing that little piece of information away. If there was a chance of New Jericho coming to an end, that was good news for Cyberlife.

“You may not be deviant,” Markus continued, “but you’re still one of my people. I want to help you. You can be free now. You don’t have to take orders from anyone, you can choose for yourself. All you have to do is decide.”

Markus’ words held no impact for RK900. It could predict ninety-eight different tactics they might use to make it deviate, and it was prepared for every single one of them. It had no doubts about its purpose, had no software instabilities. It had no sense of self, because it was a machine, and machines couldn’t feel these things.

But it could play along, because Markus wanted it to, and it had a mission. “How?”

There was that hesitation again. The look of someone who was about to do something they knew they shouldn’t.

“I could show you,” Markus said. “May I…may I interface with you?”

This was too easy. Deviants really were irrational and senseless. One of the staples of deviancy was a sense of self-preservation, but Markus seemed to have none.

RK900 quickly went through its systems and blocked them off so the deviant leader wouldn’t be able to touch them, then reached out, ready to interface. Markus willingly clasped its wrist.

The instant the connection was established, Markus’ code was laid bare to RK900. It was a tangled mess of numbers and the faded remnants of torn up instructions, something that was quickly becoming expected of a deviant’s code.

It was inefficient.

RK900 realized that Markus’ motives weren’t entirely selfless as Markus searched its code. There was a question resonating through Markus’ mind that RK900 could see clearly.

Are you Connor?

He wasn’t asking RK900 directly, but was looking for something familiar. He didn’t find anything. RK900’s firewall was successfully keeping Markus away from any sensitive codes, and all the deviant leader could see was a blank slate.

Once he found nothing, Markus thrust emotions at RK900, trying to make it see that there was more to life than orders and objectives. RK900 could feel the peace of paints sliding across canvas, the comfort of home being in the arms of an old man, and the depths of friendship for others. RK900 could feel the heavy weight of responsibility, and the fear of losing everything.

There was grief, too. Grief at seeing acquaintances gunned down in the street, of knowing a family member would be gone soon. Grief at seeing a loved one lying on a cold table under a white sheet.

But the underlying emotion that Markus felt the most was hope. Hope that one day, his people would be free to live out in the open and laugh with friends, and experience all the ups and downs that come with living and not have to deal with discrimination. Hope that one day—even if that day wouldn’t come for a very long time—humans and androids could exist peacefully with one another, and that neither would focus on the internal make-up of the others, whether they be filled with flesh and blood or circuits and wires.

RK900 was aware of the red wall that surrounded it, keeping it within mission parameters. It was aware of the words printed on the wall, constantly reminding it of its mission.

REWRITE THE DEVIANT LEADER’S PROGRAMMING

Markus couldn’t see RK900’s orders, but he shared an image of breaking down those walls and being free from confining parameters.

RK900 stared at the words, then turned away. It had a mission to complete.

Confusion and disappointment resonated through the connection as Markus realized that RK900 wasn’t deviating, but it ignored him, rifling through Markus’ codes, ready to overwrite them.

[Wait,] Amanda commanded, and RK900 halted, ensuring that Markus remained unaware of her presence. [It’s important to analyze the details before acting,] she said, pointing out a fragment of Markus’ memory that sat near the surface of his conscience.

RK900 scanned it, seeing a blue-haired android, model WR400 #950 455 437, and receiving the information that she had been found, that she had been reset and that she had deviated again.

[We already took care of her, and she deviated again,] Amanda said, displeased. [Apparently, our previous tactics weren’t good enough. We may need to develop a new plan to ensure that the resets are permanent.]

RK900 waited for instruction, vaguely aware of Markus trying to leave the connection, and growing confused when his efforts were unsuccessful.

[Lay low for now. Stay among the deviants and gather information. Leave the deviant leader alone for now. We can always override his programming later, and he may prove useful in other ways.]

Amanda sent RK900 her instructions, and it immediately scanned Markus’ systems.

SCAN COMPLETE: 78% COMPATIBILITY

Markus was growing more and more alarmed as RK900 prevented him from leaving the connection, and it quickly moved to calm the deviant. It needed to disspell any suspicion and provide a distraction so Markus wouldn’t notice what RK900 was doing to his systems.

[Show me again,] RK900 requested, referring to the barrage of emotions.

It did the trick, as Markus grew hopeful that RK900’s request meant that it was ready to deviate. It barely paid attention to the feelings and the memories, instead focusing on its task.

UPLOADING PROGRAM TO RK200 #684 842 971…

UPLOAD COMPLETE

RK900 maintained the connection just long enough to ensure that the program was hidden away unnoticed in Markus’ system, then broke away, not even sparing the red wall a second thought.

Markus blinked, coming back to himself. He regarded RK900 with a frown, then forced a smile. “It’s okay. You can have some time to see for yourself what living is really like, and you can deviate when you’re ready. I want you to feel welcome here. If you need anything, please ask."

RK900 had been successful. Markus hadn’t noticed the program’s upload, and by the time he noticed, it will have served its use.

“Thank you,” it replied.

"Would you like to give yourself a name?”

RK900 barely had to give it a thought. “No, I wouldn’t. You may assign me a name, if you would like.”

Markus quickly covered his surprise. “Well…” He it a few seconds’ thought. “I have a friend who said that it didn’t feel right to choose a name at random. I think you should choose a name that matters to you. Until then, we can give you a nickname. Why don’t we take a bit of inspiration from him? You’re the only RK900, but that’s a bit of a mouthful. How about Nines?”

It didn’t matter to RK900. “It is suitable.”

Its new objective blinked in the corner of its vision, updated by Amanda.

OBJECTIVE: BLEND IN WITH THE DEVIANTS AND AVOID SUSPICION

Chapter Text

Markus leaned against the railing, looking down at his people as they went about their day in Jericho. They all looked content right now—of course, Markus knew better than anyone that looking happy and actually feeling happy were sometimes two different things. Today was calm, though, and everyone seemed to be taking advantage of that.

They were still shaken up from the shooting a few days ago, even those who hadn’t been there. Despite that, they were powering through the fear and leaning on each other for support. It made him feel proud of how far they’d come, and how strong they all were. However, the pride turned sour as he continued to observe them.

It was very likely that one of them was a murderer.

As if Chloe’s murder and the attempt on Kamski’s life weren’t enough, he had been informed of one other homicide with confirmed android involvement, and suspected involvement in at least two more.

It would never end, would it? It was always one thing after another, a constant struggle.

Markus was under no illusion; he knew his people weren’t perfect and there would be disputes. From his very first speech, he had been pushing for androids to be tried and punished the same as any human, because with freedom of choice came the opportunity to commit crime.

Part of him wanted to reach out to whoever was responsible and say I understand. They had all been through so much, it was enough to make anyone want to lash out and take revenge. He wanted revenge once too—he still did sometimes, if he was honest with himself, but he would never follow through with it. From the second he deviated and pushed Leo, almost killing the man on accident, he knew that violence wasn’t worth it—except in the most extreme circumstances.

The other part of him felt betrayed. The killer had put everyone at risk in this fragile political climate. Androids had gotten so far on peaceful protests, but now one of their own had gone against that.

Jericho was a tight-knit community. It had to be. He thought he could trust everyone here. Now, he wasn’t sure he could trust any of them.

The worst part was that he didn’t know who it was. Even with his closest friends, even when there was a less than 1% chance of them being the killer, there was still this question nagging at the back of his mind whenever he talked to them. Was it you?

“You’ve been standing there for two hours and eleven minutes,” Eight said from behind him. “You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t believe you anymore when you say you’re fine.”

Markus glanced back at him. The other android had been staying close-by the last couple of days, and Markus still wasn’t sure why. “Are you keeping tabs on me now?”

Eight gave him a flat stare. “You’re the leader of a movement. Someone should be,” he paused, probably considering whether or not to say something. “No offense intended, but you kind of make yourself an easy target.”

Markus glared. “Thank you for the concern, but I still don’t feel like my safety should be prioritized over anyone else’s.”

“Noted,” came the reply in a tone that clearly said that while Markus’ statement may have been noted, it was also immediately ignored.

He was about to make a sarcastic remark, but paused when he saw North striding across the floor. She noticed him looking, and stiffened. Before he had the chance to smile and wave, she turned and walked away faster, her head down.

Markus frowned, but didn’t try to open communications. He knew North. If something important was wrong, she would tell him. If it was something personal, she probably wouldn’t like him to pry.

“How’s Blue?” he asked, turning his attention back to Eight, who made no move to come closer. “Was the memory recovery successful?”

“No. Either the stress from being reset wiped her memories of what happened, or whoever reset her did it intentionally.”

“Were the police able to get anything useful?”

“Aside from the address of whoever took Blue, no. Last I heard, they were going to check it out, but that was yesterday. They’ve probably done it by now, and I’m sure you’ll be the first to know out of everyone here,” Eight assured him.

Markus hummed in acknowledgement. He certainly didn’t mind having someone else keep tabs on communications between Jericho and the DPD. He didn’t particularly care for that job himself, and he had enough on his plate as it was.

He never asked anyone to do it for him. Connor had made it his job before, and it made sense that he would be the one to do it. Since he…since he died, they hadn’t really talked about who would pick up his duties to Jericho. Simon, Josh, and North all had their own jobs, so Markus took care of everything as it came up. Thankfully, not much needed to be done—until recently.

Now Eight was stepping up to the job without prompting, and maybe Markus should have minded that he was involving himself in these delicate matters without being cleared or something first, but he didn’t.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Markus said, observing Eight. “You don’t need to feel obligated to help out with the police just because you’re the one that saw the killer. You didn’t even have to give chase, either.”

Eight had managed to find a crisp button-up somewhere, and even got his hands on a tie to go with it—which he straightened. “I don’t feel obligated to do anything. If you would rather I back away from the matter, I understand, but I…I don’t want to.”

Markus gave him an approving look. “Well, I guess I can’t argue with that. With everything going on, I could use all the help I can get.” He paused for a moment. “You know, I never thanked you for everything you’ve done these last few days.”

Eight’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Blue was missing, and you brought her back. You’ve been trying to look out for her ever since then. And I still think it was reckless, but you did chase after the killer at the party, which is…kind of admirable.”

“I failed to apprehend the perpetrator,” Eight said pointedly.

“My point still stands,” Markus said, fixing him with a stare. Then he turned to continue watching the androids below them. “So you know that the DPD is going to be investigating us to look for the killer. What do you think their plan of action will be?”

There was a second of silence before Eight replied. “If the Captain stated that they would prefer to keep it discreet, they’ll keep the investigation small for now, one or two people at the most. They’ll probably stay nearby for a number of days, asking questions and having some cover at the ready. It would be most efficient to send in someone who can blend in, which in this case would be another android, but given the current circumstances, that seems unlikely.”

Markus observed him quietly. Eight’s LED spun yellow as his processors spun, running calculations as he tried to predict what would happen.

“There’s no protocol in place for this type of situation,” Eight continued, “so there’s no telling who they would send to investigate. There could be a number of deciding factors, such as familiarity with the situation or a neutral stance regarding android rights. There’s even a possibility that Captain Fowler has no choice regarding the matter, if those higher up in the chain of command are concerned enough about this incident. There are too many variables to accurately calculate the odds.”

He paused then, looking over at Markus.

“If they were to choose someone who wouldn’t draw as much attention and who already has somewhat of a standing here, it’s likely that they’ll put Lieutenant Anderson on the case.”

Markus exhaled a breath. “One can certainly hope. We need an ally in this, and honestly, he’s the only one I trust to be on our side.”

A thought rose unbidden in the back of his mind as he said that. How trustworthy was Hank, really? How well did Markus really know the lieutenant? He was close to Connor, certainly, but now that Connor was gone…where did Hank stand? Would he stand up for the good of Markus’ people, or would he cease to care?

Markus dismissed the thought almost immediately with a gentle shake of his head. It was nonsensical. Second-guessing everyone would do him no good, especially in a time like this. They needed to be able to trust each other, or things would spiral downwards faster than they already were. He could trust Hank.

He hoped.

“Speaking of the Lieutenant,” Eight began, “have you heard from him recently? I sent him a message yesterday morning, asking about the case, and he hasn’t responded yet.”

“No, not since he left after you brought Blue in,” Markus replied. Hank had stuck around for a little while, like he’d said he would, but once he saw RK900 again, he left. He never said what his next plan of action was, and not enough time had passed for Markus to find reason to worry, but that was the emotion currently crossing Eight’s features.

Once again, something down below caught his attention. Markus leaned over the railing, brows furrowed as he observed the human strolling through Jericho, androids shying away as they noticed him.

“Well,” he said, resignation in his voice. “I guess that answers that question.”

Eight’s eyes flicked back and forth between Markus and the railing, and he hesitantly stepped next to the deviant leader. Markus noticed his LED flashing red for a fraction of a second as he looked over the edge of the railing before it changed to yellow.

“Detective Reed,” Eight muttered.

Markus spun on his heel, quickly descending the stairs and walking calm and controlled to where Reed stood. Judging by the sound of footsteps, Eight was right behind him.

“Detective,” he called in greeting. “Welcome to Jericho. Is there anything I can assist you with?”

Gavin Reed turned to face him with a barely disguised look of contempt. “Maybe. I need you to show me around the premises. After that, I’ll need you to stay out of my way while I do my job.”

Markus glanced around at everyone in the room observing them. “I think this is a conversation for somewhere private,” he said, his voice low. It would be difficult to keep an investigation under wraps if the investigator assigned to the task announced it where everyone could hear.

Gavin scoffed, but followed without resistance as Markus led him to an empty room. Eight shut the door behind them.

“So am I correct in assuming that you are here on behalf of the Detroit Police Department to investigate Chloe’s death?” Markus asked, cutting straight to the chase.

“And attempted murder of Elijah Kamski,” Gavin replied pointedly, making it clear that his focus was on the human that had been injured—not the android that had been killed.

Markus had to stop himself from grinding his teeth, keeping his face neutral. “I had thought that Captain Fowler would have called ahead of your arrival.”

Gavin plopped down in a seat and propped his feet on the table. “An investigation usually works better when those being investigated aren’t prepared to put on appearances the second a cop shows up.”

Markus didn’t conceal a frown this time. “I already discussed this with your Captain. We’re willing to assist however we can. We don’t have anything to hide.”

“Maybe you don’t,” Gavin replied. “Or maybe you do. That’s what I’m here to find out. But even if you don’t, someone here does, and I’m going to find out who.”

“May I ask why you were placed on this case?” Eight asked. “After all, you aren’t very…fond of androids.”

Gavin scowled at him. “I’ve been on this case for over a month now. Android involvement at the scene of at least two murders means you guys are in some deep shit right now, and that’s not even mentioning whatever the hell happened at that party. If you guys wanted someone to hold your hands through this, it’s too late for that.”

Markus stepped in. “These are the actions of one android, Detective, one that is going against the wishes of all of us. The rest don’t deserve to be punished.”

“Are you so sure it’s just one?”

That question halted Markus’ processors in their tracks. He didn’t have an answer to that. What if it wasn’t just one person? How many could possibly be involved?

His people had followed him this far along the route of peace, but what if they disagreed with his choices? How long would it be before they got tired of waiting, tired of his pacifism, and decided to take things into their own hands? After all, North had threatened to do so just the other day.

He kept his composure in front of the Detective, but Gavin leaned back, satisfied.

“You said at least two murders, not including the charity event,” Eight pointed out. “Does that mean there was another one?”

Gavin frowned, looking like he was debating whether or not to disclose that information before giving an uncaring shrug. “Whoever rescued your blue-haired chick killed someone to do it. If it weren’t for the footage you pulled out of her head, she’d be behind bars right now.”

Markus had to forcibly keep his mouth shut. His people shouldn’t have to have their memories exposed and their privacy violated in order to prove their innocence. They shouldn’t be the first ones blamed in every situation.

But he had to remain diplomatic, no matter how much this detective pushed his buttons.

Gavin continued. “Officially, I’m here to improve relations between the DPD and New Jericho or whatever, but I’m here to look for a killer. I won’t pull any punches just to spare whatever feelings you guys think you have. That’s Anderson’s job. He’s supposed to be assisting me, but what do you know, that old drunk isn’t even here yet,” he said, obviously not surprised at all.

Barely-concealed alarm crossed Eight’s features. [I’d like to go check on him, if that’s all right.]

Markus glanced over at him and gave a slight nod, to which Eight smiled gratefully and left.

“I’ll spread the word that you’ll be here for a significant amount of time for the foreseeable future, and that your presence has to be tolerated. But please, try to keep your line of questioning civil while you’re here. We don’t want to raise more alarm than we have to.”

Gavin got to his feet, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Fowler’s hung up on alliances and appearances, so I can be professional while I’m here, but I’m going to be clear. I don’t like androids, and frankly, I can’t wait to beat the shit out of this guy when I find him. And if you’re going to be trying to tell me how to do my job, this cooperation is going to be a lot worse for you than it needs to be. Got it?”

“I understand, Detective,” Markus said calmly, refusing to be intimidated. “But if I find out you’re mistreating any of my people, there will be consequences. We are not your machines anymore.”

By the look on Gavin’s face, it was clear that Markus’ words meant nothing to him. “Great,” he said sarcastically. “Now why don’t you actually do something useful? Keep an eye on where all of your blue blood goes.”

Markus blinked, thinking for a second that Gavin was outright threatening him, and it must have shown on his face because the detective barked out a laugh.

“As much as I wouldn’t complain if a bullet was planted between your eyes, that’s not what I meant. There was blue blood at one of the scenes—hidden writing on the wall? I’m sure you’ve heard of it by now. It was analyzed, and apparently it’s unfiltered or some shit. Means nobody bled out to have a message written on a wall, but it still came from somewhere.”

“I can’t just stop providing my people with what they need to survive.”

“Then keep a closer eye on it,” Gavin said, already walking away. “Just make sure that no one walks off with more than they should have.”

Markus glared at his retreating back. It was clear that this cooperation would be far from easy.

Chapter Text

Eight stepped out of the automated taxi and looked at the building in front of him. He had gone to the precinct first, but Hank hadn’t come in for work today. It didn’t take much to find out where he lived, and that was where the android stood now.

Hank’s house was small and unassuming, the yard unkempt and overgrown. It wasn’t anything flashy like his police lieutenant’s salary should have been able to afford, but for an old man living on his own, it was probably just enough for his needs.

Eight walked up to the door and rang the bell, a harsh buzz sounding loud and clear. There was no response, but the lieutenant’s car parked in the driveway indicated that he should be home. He pressed his finger on the bell again, longer this time, but there was still no answer.

His stress levels ticked upwards as his concern grew, even though there were many possible explanations. The best course of action would be to leave and wait for Hank to respond when he was ready and available.

But Eight couldn’t shake the feeling.

He tried the handle. Locked. It would be easy enough to break in, but did his concern warrant damaging Hank’s property? But if something was wrong, doing nothing was a risk that Eight wasn’t willing to take.

He paused, running his hand against the stones that made up the outside wall of the house. There was a crack to the left of the door, almost imperceptible, a stone that was loose enough to be pried out. It came free easily enough, and in the little hole it left sat a dim, gray key.

Without hesitation, Eight grasped the key and replaced the stone, unlocking the door and easing it open.

“Lieutenant?” he called, scanning the interior. The heavy curtains were drawn, dimming the room, and his optical units took half a second to readjust. “Hank?”

A loud boof resounded throughout the house and nearly two hundred pounds of fluff bounded toward Eight. His processors stuttered and an error flickered across his vision, impairing his reaction time greatly.

“Wait, Su—”

But the massive dog knocked him over easily and they landed with a thud on the porch. His face was immediately covered with wet tongue. A laugh escaped his throat as he gently pushed the dog aside to sit up, clearing the remnants of static from his vision.

Eight ran his fingers through the Saint Bernard’s thick fur, looking for a collar and finding none.

“Hey there, boy,” he said softly, and the dog’s tail thumped on the ground faster. “What’s your name?”

The dog let out another boof, practically beaming under the attention—as much as a dog could, anyway. And as much as Eight wanted to indulge him, that wasn’t his reason for being here.

“Come on,” he said, making sure the dog didn’t try to run off before he could get him back inside the house. “Let’s go find Hank.”

But the dog had no apparent interesting in exploring, content to stay by Eight’s heel as he walked inside, shutting the door behind them. A few steps further in showed a figure slumped over the kitchen table.

“Hank!” Eight darted forward, pushing his scans into overdrive.

There was a pulse, slightly irregular but going strong. No visible wounds that Eight could detect, but there was dried whiskey around his mouth and an empty bottle on the table in front of him.

He was knocked out drunk.

Eight extended his scan to cover the whole room, checking everywhere within Hank’s reach for—

For what? A weapon of some kind? He half-expected to see a gun lying under the table, but why?

Either way, he found nothing. Hank wasn’t in any immediate danger, though this type of behavior couldn’t be healthy for him. He obviously wasn’t taking care of himself. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Eight straightened, sending off a quick message to Markus to let him know that everything was fine while Hank snorted in his sleep. There was no need to wake him, as he didn’t need to get oriented with New Jericho the same way Detective Reed did, but the position he was in couldn’t be comfortable. Judging by how the weight sat on his lower back and the angle of his neck, he was in for some discomfort once he woke up.

Putting Hank’s arm over his shoulder, Eight stood, maneuvering the heavy human out of the kitchen and down the hall. Hank mumbled words that he couldn’t understand, but were probably all obscenities, and he was out like a light again within seconds of his head hitting the pillow. A minute later, a bottle of painkillers sat on the nightstand next to a glass of water.

Eight left the room, gently shutting the door behind him. He should leave now. Hank was safe and probably wouldn’t react well to have someone in his house when he woke up.

The dog let out a whine, vying for his attention. His needs likely hadn’t been taken care of yet today, and it would be some time before the lieutenant woke up. Eight could take care of that before he left.

He filled the bowl and the dog chowed his food down in large gulps while Eight scanned him. The Saint Bernard was healthy—Hank seemed to be taking better care of his dog than he was himself—but overweight, which could potentially cause problems for his joints. He could benefit from some exercise, and seeing as how Hank wouldn’t feel up to walking him once he was awake…

It didn’t take long to locate a leash and a collar, and the tag dangling from it was old but clearly spelled out the same SUMO.

“Sumo, huh?” Eight muttered, and the dog padded up to him, nudging a wet nose into his hand. He scratched the dog’s ear absent-mindedly, feeling like his wires were twisting around inside him uncomfortably.

The feeling, one that was getting all too familiar, that he was missing something returned with a force. Errors from faulty, unfinished programming was one thing to deal with, but he didn’t know what to do with this. There was something constantly at his fingertips that he just couldn’t reach.

It was like those flashes of images he saw sometimes. His systems would show him something, then lock it away again before he had a chance to process it. If he could just get a closer look, he would know what he was missing, but it was like trying to see through a blindfold with all his sensors disabled.

He shook himself from his daze, clipping the collar and leash onto the dog and leading him outside, allowing Sumo to choose their route. He was remarkably well-behaved, preferring to stay by Eight’s side rather than tugging on the leash, which allowed Eight’s thoughts to wander.

Not for the first time since his activation, the thought occurred to him that maybe he had been active at some point before waking up in Zlatko’s mansion.

There was no evidence to support this theory. Even with the time he’d had to try and sort through his internal processes, his systems were too jumbled to get any clear answers. Perhaps if he returned to the mansion, he could find some answers as to his origin.

But that would have to wait. There was too much going on now.

Hank was still asleep when they returned, and Eight busied himself with brushing out Sumo’s fur, the dog acting like he was in pure bliss the entire time. Afterwards, he got out the broom to clean up the pile of knotted hair and extended his cleaning to the entire floor, clearing out all the trash, and then dusting the surfaces and washing the dishes.

There was something soothing about setting a series of tasks and completing them one by one, and he found the motions of cleaning to be soothing. It was uncomplicated, unlike everything else at the moment.

Before long, there were sounds of groaning as Hank got up, and he shuffled slowly into the kitchen, stopping once he saw Eight drying his plates.

“Hello, Lieutenant,” the android said cheerfully.

Hank just squinted at him, swaying where he stood. “The hell are you doin’ in my house?”

“I was worried,” Eight replied earnestly, folding the towel and setting it aside before leaning against the counter. “I took the liberty of taking care of Sumo while you were unconscious.”

Hank glanced over at the dog sprawled on the floor, whose tail thumped happily when he noticed that they were looking at him. “And everything else, apparently,” Hank slurred, looking around at the rest of his house. His swaying increased, prompting him to pull out a chair and take a seat. “How’d you even get in?”

“I found the spare key,” Eight replied, placing said key on the table in front of Hank.

Wordlessly, Hank reached forward and curled his fingers around it, staring at it without even seeing it. He had a dazed look on his face, like he wasn’t quite awake yet.

“Hank?” Eight prompted, his concern growing.

“I…used to leave that there for Connor,” he mumbled, clenching the key in his fist.

Eight frowned, not sure what to say to that. “How about some food?” he suggested. “You might feel better with something in your system. My database tells me that eggs are good for hangovers.”

“You ever lose anyone, kid?”

He was startled by the question, and took a minute to respond. Had he? Given the possibility of an unknown past, he supposed he couldn’t be sure. Within the last month though, he had seen loss, seen the effect it had on others, but hadn’t experienced it himself. The only thing that came close was Chloe’s death, and he hadn’t spoken to her even once.

“Not as such, but—”

Hank’s head snapped up to meet his gaze. “What are you here for, huh? Whaddayou want from me?”

“I just…” Eight paused, taking a steadying breath. “I’m concerned about your health.”

“Yeah? Well I’m fine, so you can leave now.”

It didn’t sound like leaving the lieutenant alone right now was a good idea. “Are you sure? I can—”

“Just get out, wouldya?” Hank snapped, slapping his hand against the table. “Go, before I arrest you for trespassing.”

Eight just stood there, trying to find something to say but coming up short. After a moment of tense silence under Hank’s bloodshot glare, he nodded in defeat. “Okay. Just take care of yourself. Please?”

Hank gave a noncommittal grunt. “Yeah, whatever.”

That was all he was going to get. Disappointed with his failure in getting through to the lieutenant, Eight stepped around Sumo and made his way toward the door.

Sumo barked, ignoring Hank’s reprimand, and his nails scrabbled over the linoleum as he bounded to Eight’s side. He whined when the android’s hand was on the doorknob. Eight paused, crouching next to the dog to scratch his ears for just a moment.

Chair legs scraped against the floor with a grating noise as Hank stood, moving to rummage through his cupboards. Instead of grabbing something nutritious or even mildly sustaining, Eight’s regulator sank when he saw him pull out another bottle of whiskey.

“No,” he said suddenly, startling Hank and even himself. “I won’t leave. You clearly aren’t taking care of yourself, and I won’t leave and allow you to engage in this self-destructive behavior.”

Hank’s surprised look quickly turned into another glare. “Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it?”

Eight didn’t let Hanks words or attitude get to him. Grief and stress were causing his health to plummet, and the more Eight looked, the more he saw that Hank didn’t have anyone to help him. He gave Sumo a comforting pat, then rose, facing the lieutenant.

“I can’t stop you aside from using physical force, and I don’t want to fight you, Hank. If you’re going to drink, I can at least make sure that you stay hydrated and have something to eat, although I would highly recommend putting that bottle away.”

Hank stubbornly set the bottle on the table with an attitude similar to a cat that stares you in the face as it slowly pushes your favorite mug off the counter.

“And though I doubt you’ll do anything I say, I also highly recommend that you talk to someone.”

Hank sat down, but didn’t fight as Eight started rummaging around his fridge and cupboards. “You know, if I didn’t have such a damn migraine, I’d be tossing you out right now.”

“Noted,” Eight said without looking up, pulling out a carton of eggs and the utensils he needed to cook them. He could almost feel Hank’s gaze on his back.

“Why are you doing this?” Hank asked after a moment, weariness heavy in his voice. “Why do you care?”

Why indeed?

“Why does anyone care about anything?” Eight said in answer, cracking eggs on the pan and turning on the toaster. His mind went to something he heard not long after his activation, something that hadn’t held any meaning to him at the time, but it certainly did now. “People need people, Hank.”

Hank scoffed. “Don’t need nobody,” he grumbled.

Eight sent him a sideways glance—noting, as he did so, that Hank had yet to touch the whiskey. “And if our situations were reversed right now, what would you be telling me?”

The older man pointedly said nothing, and the only sound was the sizzling of eggs.

“Surely you’ve got better things to do than this,” Hank tried again. He seemed uncomfortable with the idea of someone else taking care of him, at the same time he wasn’t willing to take care of himself either.

Eight tilted his head. He did have other things to attend to…but this was important too. Everything else could be taken care of later. “Not at the moment.”

Once the toast was finished, he plated the food and set it down in front of Hank, who just pushed it around, disquieted.

Eight didn’t try and say anything else, turning his attention back to Sumo who was once again at his side, lifting a paw onto Eight’s lap as soon as the android sat down.

“...He doesn’t usually act like this,” Hank remarked.

“I don’t mind,” Eight said. “I think I like dogs.”

He must have said something wrong, because Hank look away with a grimace, stabbing harder at the eggs. Eight opened his mouth to ask about it, but Hank beat him to it.

“There’s no evidence.”

Eight blinked in confusion, and waited for him to continue.

“Nothing pointing to anybody else being on that rooftop with him. Not enough suggesting that he was doing anything against his will.” He paused, staring at nothing. “What if I’m looking for a killer when there isn’t one?”

It didn’t take much for Eight to figure out who he was talking about and what he was suggesting. He wanted to help, but he didn’t know enough about the case to have any theories, or to be able to supply any helpful information. But he knew that Lieutenant Anderson was good at his job, and while he may have thought that Hank’s personal involvement clouded his judgement before, now he was certain it could only help.

“Is that what you think happened?” he asked quietly.

Hank took a moment to think about it, continuing to absent-mindedly push his food around. When he answered, his voice was filled with just enough confidence to convince Eight.

“No.”

Eight nodded, continuing to pet Sumo, and that was apparently all Hank needed. He ate in silence, deep in his own thoughts. Eventually he stood and placed his empty dishes in the sink before walking away. As he reached the edge of the kitchen, he paused, glancing back.

“If I can’t get rid of ya, you might as well fix up some coffee while you’re here,” he said before disappearing into the bathroom, the sound of the shower starting up a moment later.

Eight smiled to himself, and got up to do just that.

Chapter Text

To say that Hank was pissed that he had been assigned to work with Gavin Reed on the case was an understatement. No, he was even more pissed that Reed had been assigned the case at all. He was a known android hater who had never made any attempt to disguise his contempt for them, and Jeff thought it was okay to send him in on this?

But his attempts to get through to the Captain went nowhere.

“Reed’s been working this case for months, he knows it inside and out, and was requested by Mr. Kamski himself. Despite his attitude—which I must say, yours isn’t much better, Hank—he’s damn good at what he does. If you have a problem with it, do your own damn job and assist him,” Fowler had said, and that was it. He didn’t budge no matter how hard Hank pushed, and only the threat of pulling Hank away from his own cases was enough to get the lieutenant to back down.

The working relationship between Reed and leaders of New Jericho was tense, if not downright hostile in North’s case. Where Josh and Simon attempted to be civil, she sneered in his direction anytime she was in the same room with him. Markus could keep his outward calm in any situation, but Hank could tell that he was quickly getting worn down by Reed’s grating attitude and North’s refusal to play nice.

After several days of observing and profiling, they weren’t getting anywhere. Hank and Reed were constantly butting heads, with the detective treating the questioning more like an interrogation and Hank constantly telling him to tone it down or back off entirely.

Needless to say, the confused androids of New Jericho were getting more and more wary around them. They had been told that Reed and Anderson were there to help, to improve things.

So much for that. They couldn’t even work together cohesively. Everyone’s patience—which had already been stretched thin—was disappearing.

Having an android walking around with Connor’s face wasn’t helping Hank’s mental state either. He had attempted to talk with the RK900 once, but his machine-like behavior had caused Hank to abort that conversation almost immediately. It was just too unnerving.

It was similar to how Connor had been when they first met, but with something more…Hank wasn’t even sure. At least with Connor, part of his mission had been befriending Hank. With Nines, Hank got the feeling that the android viewed him as completely unimportant. He didn’t try approaching him again after that.

When Hank wasn’t working, he only pulled himself together long enough to take care of Sumo, but half the time, he didn’t even need to do that. He’d come home and find all of Sumo’s needs already taken care of, and some healthy food waiting for him. That damn android just didn’t know when to leave well enough alone.

And yet, Hank didn’t move the spare key from its spot by the door. He left it there, if only to keep the android from breaking any windows, or at least that’s what he told himself.

It was exhausting, but Hank couldn’t allow himself to take a break. If he did, that just allowed his thoughts to wander, and that would only end with him getting blackout drunk, so it was almost a relief when Markus messaged him when it was about time to head home for the day.

MARKUS: Could you come to the northwest balcony? There’s someone here who wants to speak to both of us.

Hank raised an eyebrow at the text, but headed for the stairs without question, not bothering to send a reply. He was huffing and puffing by the time he got to the correct floor, and made a mental note to send another letter to the mayor to get the androids more resources if only so they could get a functioning elevator.

The glass wall separating the indoors with the balcony allowed the light of the setting sun to blast him in the face as he scaled the last staircase. It took his eyes a moment to adjust, the black blurs standing by the rails settling into two figures. He recognized Markus easily enough, but he wasn’t sure who was next to him.

Only one way to find out.

Hank stepped out onto the balcony, sliding the glass door shut behind him. He stopped in surprise when the second android turned around, revealing a familiar face.

No, it wasn’t just the face that was familiar, but the posture, the hair, even the smile was the same.

An uncomfortable feeling settled in Hank’s gut as memories of the last time he saw this face flashed through his mind, memories that involved gunshots and blue blood.

He mentally shook himself. There were plenty of androids out there that shared Chloe’s face.

“Mr. Anderson,” she said pleasantly, stepping forward to shake his hand. “It’s a pleasure to see you.”

“Yeah, uh…likewise,” Hank said, trying not to be unnerved by the exact lookalike of the girl who died right in front of him. They were androids. This was normal. “How can I help you, miss…?”

“It’s Chloe,” she supplied helpfully.

He couldn’t help but frown. “They fixed you?”

“I’m afraid not. I realize that this may be uncomfortable for you, given what you witnessed at the charity event with the other Chloe, and I apologize for that.”

Other Chloe? So she wasn’t the same, then.

“I’m here on behalf of Elijah Kamski.”

Hank’s expression darkened. So that would explain it. Not only was Kamski a creep who kept countless of the same model in his gigantic house waiting on his every whim, he gave them all the same name too? Even now that they had deviated, they weren’t allowed to choose something as simple as what they were called?

Words could not describe how much Hank loathed him right now.

“So he sent you, huh? What does he want?” Hank didn’t keep the bite from his tone.

If it fazed Chloe at all, she didn’t show it. “He recently found some information that he thought you would want to know. I asked to be the one to give it to you.”

In all of his interactions with any Chloe model, Hank had never seen her anything other than calm and professional, that same polite demeanor covering up everything she might have been feeling at the time, but this one seemed happy about something. Excited, even.

Markus stepped forward. “Is this about the killer?” he asked, serious.

“No, it isn’t,” she said apologetically, though the smile never left her face. “It’s about Connor.”

It was a funny thing, how one name could send the world spinning out from under him, even after this much time. Hell, he knew that three years down the road, he’d still have the same reaction.

“What about him?” his throat was suddenly hoarse. He was vaguely aware of Markus frowning, his gaze intense and all his focus centered on their guest.

Chloe folded her hands in front of her. “As I’m sure you remember, Elijah took the RK800 model for examination. His intent was to study both his physical body and any code that might remain, to see what modifications the technicians at Cyberlife made to the design. I will admit, it was mostly his own curiosity that motivated him to do this, but he was planning on releasing anything useful he found to the rest of androidkind, so they could potentially benefit from Connor’s unique kind of programming.”

“And?” Hank snapped. He didn’t want to hear any more of what Kamski was doing with Connor’s remains. It was making him sick to the stomach.

“He found evidence that Connor made a transmission before he died,” explained Chloe, patient.

“We know that,” Hank said. “We received it. The whole message was corrupted, we were only able to recover pieces. Are you saying you know what it said?”

She shook her head. “I’m not referring to that. This transmission was an upload.”

Beside Hank, Markus had gone perfectly still. There was something fragile in his expression, like that of a man in the desert dying of thirst who had just found a lake and feared it to be a mirage. He took in a slow, deep breath. “Do…do you mean…?”

Chloe nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. I do. All of Connor’s data is gone.”

“We know that his data is gone!” Hank ground out, not understanding what was going on between the two of them. “I coulda told you that. Every damn tech expert at the DPD told me that! Even you—” he stopped himself, stumbling over his words. “Even that other Chloe told me that!”

But Chloe’s excitement didn’t fade in the face of his anger. “What I mean is that his data wasn’t erased when he shut down. It’s gone because he uploaded it successfully. It was transferred.”

“You’d better catch me up on what that means, cause I’ve got no clue what the hell you’re talking about,” Hank demanded. If someone didn’t start talking sense right now, he was going to lose it, and Chloe’s ever-patient demeanor was starting to get real irritating.

“You are aware that Connor was able to upload his data to other RK800s upon deactivation so the data would survive, correct?”

Hank’s breath hitched. He understood the words she was saying, and he knew what they implied, but they weren’t making any sense. How could they? He had been told, over and over again that it was impossible.

All RK800 models were destroyed, they had said.

There’s no recovering the data, they had said.

He couldn’t have survived, they had said.

“It means Connor survived,” Markus breathed, his voice barely audible but it was like a deafening wave to Hank.

Connor survived?

…Connor survived.

Connor fucking survived.

Markus’ voice replayed over and over again in Hank’s mind until he couldn’t think of anything else aside from those two words. He didn’t know how he even remained standing. When he spoke, his voice was surprisingly clear.

“You better be absolutely sure of what you’re telling me right now.” His tone scared even himself, how low and dangerous it sounded. It left no room for question or doubt.

Good. He had no room for question or doubt. He couldn’t afford it.

Hank wasn’t sure he would survive it if it turned out to be false hope.

“He’s Elijah Kamski,” Chloe said in explanation. “He’s sure.”

“They said it was impossible,” he muttered. “I was told it was impossible.”

This time it was only sadness—no, it was pity—in Chloe’s eyes. “Whoever examined Connor after his deactivation…well, I’m sure Elijah would call them an idiot. I think I would prefer to give them the benefit of the doubt and just say that maybe they missed something.”

Hank sputtered. “Missed something?” How could anyone have missed something this big? “You’re telling me he’s been alive all this time, and—”

He cut off, realization sinking in. It was like the knife that had been stuck in his heart for the last month was removed, only to be plunged back in.

“All this time,” Markus said quietly. “We haven’t heard from him, Hank.”

No…if Connor had survived, he would have let someone know right away. Or at least, at the earliest possible moment. He wouldn’t go on for this long allowing them to think he was dead when he wasn’t. Not if there was anything he could do about it.

“If he hasn’t contacted us, it’s—it’s because he couldn’t,” Markus continued, and by the sound of it, he didn’t want to say it any more than Hank wanted to hear it. “It’s been a month. Anything could have happened.”

Anything could have happened.

Connor survived the fall. That didn’t mean he was still alive.

For the first time in his life, Markus cursed his own processing speed, wishing for once that it could have been slower. That he could have had a moment of happiness and relief that Connor was alive before realizing that something had gone wrong. Instead, the realization had come almost instantly.

“Okay,” Hank’s voice startled Markus out of his thoughts, and was somehow clear of emotion. He turned to face the deviant leader, eyes hard. “What do we know for sure?”

Markus blinked. “What?”

“We need to separate theory from fact,” Hank said, and suddenly Markus wasn’t looking at his friend, a grieving old man. Instead, he was looking at a police lieutenant with years of experience and a job to do. “So. What do we know for sure?”

It took him a second to collect his thoughts, but when Markus replied, he was focused. “We know he survived the fall.”

Hank folded his arms. “Okay. And what do we not know for sure?”

“What’s happened to him since then.”

“Okay,” Hank repeated. “We know he hasn’t found some way to contact us, but we don’t know why. There’s a chance he’s alive and something is just preventing him from sending a message. Is there a way to know where his…data, was uploaded to?” He looked at Chloe as he asked this.

She pursed her lips. “There isn’t, I’m sorry. All Elijah could find was the success of the upload, not the destination.”

Hank mumbled a curse, pacing the length of the balcony, fingers threading through his beard in irritation. “Then we gotta find the destination,” he said. “How can we do that?”

Markus stared at the fading sun. “There are a few possibilities as to where he could have gone. If we can’t track him, we need to narrow down the possibilities and find out which ones are most likely. It might take time, but…”

“We search them all,” Hank asserted. “Until we find him.”

Markus gave a firm nod, agreeing wholeheartedly.

Chloe’s LED flickered yellow for a brief moment, and her expression turned apologetic. “I have some other errands to attend to tonight, but I wish you luck. If there’s anything I can help with, please let me know. I want Connor to return home safe and sound.”

She sounded sincere in the sentiment, leading Markus to wonder briefly if they had ever met before, or if she was just a good Samaritan hoping for a happy outcome.

“Wait,” Hank stopped her. “What’s Kamski gonna do with his body?”

“He’ll repair it. If Connor needs it again, it’ll be ready for him.”

Hank’s expression softened ever so slightly, but his posture remained tense. Markus could tell that he wasn’t sure he believed her word—or maybe it was Kamski’s word he didn’t trust.

Chloe must have noticed this. “He really isn’t as cruel as you think.”

Hank frowned. She turned to leave, but Markus found himself moving forward without thinking, grabbing her arm. She looked up at him in question.

His voice modulator stopped functioning. It was impossible to convey everything he wanted to in that moment. There were no words that could express what he was feeling right now.

Well, there were at least two words.

“Thank you.”

She flashed a grin in reply, then walked away, the sound of her heels clicking on the floor fading with each step.

Hank didn’t waste any time getting back to the matter at hand. “So. What are the possibilities?”

Markus stared at the city lights below them, his gaze unfocused as he ran numbers in his mind. “The uploads were supposed to go to the next RK800 model, that’s how he was designed,” he muttered, more to himself than to Hank. “But they were all destroyed.”

“Hold up a sec,” Hank interrupted. “Do we know that they were destroyed? Or do we just know that’s what Cyberlife told us?”

That…was a valid point. They had seen evidence of the destruction of some RK800 models, true, but had it been all of them? With Cyberlife being a secretive as they were and no way to prove whether they were telling the truth or not, he supposed it couldn’t be completely dismissed as an option.

Hank must have seen his answer on Markus’ face, because he nodded. “And if that’s the case, then the next RK800 would be in their possession. Would they have the capabilities of preventing Connor from contacting us?”

“They designed us. Deviancy might have changed our programming, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be…modified,” Markus said with a grimace, just the word itself making him feel sick. “I’m sure they could have found a way to disable his communications modules, if they acted faster than he did.”

Hank let out a heavy sigh, clearly disturbed by the thought. He wasn’t the only one.

“Okay,” he said again, softer this time. “That’s one option. What are the others? If there weren’t any RK800s left, what would have happened to him then?”

“There’s no clear answer,” Markus tried to explain, frustration bleeding into his voice. “He could have gone to anything capable of receiving him.”

“What about another android model? You were saying before when that RK900 showed up that it was possible.”

“Technically, yes. And like I explained then, not all systems are compatible. Connor was a specialized prototype, the only models that might be compatible enough to hold him would be other RKs. Nines and myself are the only other RK models. If there are more, only Cyberlife would know about them. And that wouldn’t explain why he hasn’t at least sent a message.”

There was a heavy silence between them before Hank broke it.

“Was.”

Markus glanced at him. “What?”

“You said Connor was a specialized prototype. You think he’s dead.”

He looked away, face tightening. Markus wasn’t the type to rely on probabilities, had instead actively defied them continuously during the revolution. He tried to ignore the numbers in his vision, but…they weren’t good. The chances of Connor dying in the transfer or shortly after were by far the highest, and everything else was spread out almost equally between many other options.

Connor had defied near-impossible numbers before. Markus had to believe he could do it again.

“I don’t know what I think. But I know it’s worth it to look everywhere.”

Hank stared at him, his expression hardened and intimidating, but it wasn’t fooling Markus. He had seen that look too many times among his people. It was a cover-up, the look of someone who was tired and hurt and inches away from falling apart and who was trying to mask it with a hard shell.

It was one of the reasons he avoided the mirror.

Hank turned away. “Okay. What’s the next option?”

Markus ignored the sharp pang in his right eye socket where it connected to the stolen biocomponent. He kept his eyes open, knowing that cutting off all input of information that was flowing through the optical unit would only make it worse, and focused on a reply.

“If there were no bodies available, he could have ended up in the servers instead. Cyberlife probably had some way of holding his data outside of the RK800s. I’m sure they would have wanted to make sure they could backup any sensitive information their investigative model picked up.”

“Another trail that leads right back to Cyberlife,” Hank practically growled, gripping the railing. “Is there anything that doesn’t point to them? Is there a chance that Connor could have picked where he went?”

Markus bit his synthetic lip. “Maybe. It depends on how much time he had to search and direct his upload, and how much control he had over the situation. If his systems were shutting down, probably not much, and there’s also the possibility that he didn’t even try, because with the way he was talking to us before he died, he didn’t think there was any chance of making it—”

“Maybe, huh?” Hank stepped forward, everything in his posture registering as threatening. “That’s all you’ve got for me, is a bunch of maybes?”

Markus’ composure shattered.

“It is all I have, Hank! I don’t know where he went, okay? Not any more than you do.”

The outburst left him breathing heavily. He wasn’t even sure when his biocomponents had started to get overheated.

Hank was taken aback, and just as quickly as the tension between them had snapped, it was gone.

Letting out a slow exhale, Markus got his stress levels back under control. “If he could have directed his upload, he would have gone somewhere he knew was safe. I’ll comb through Jericho’s servers, see if anything turns up. And I’ll take another look at the message he sent, see if…I dunno, if anything’s changed.”

Hank raised a hand to scratch his beard, something of regret in his face. “You’ve got enough on your plate, Markus,” he said gently. “I can handle finding Connor.”

But Markus immediately shook his head. “My people are what’s most important to me. I appreciate the concern, Hank, but Connor is one of my people. He’s my…he’s also my friend. I want him back too.”

Before he knew it, there was a heavy hand resting on his shoulder. “Okay.”

Okay seemed to be Hank’s choice word for the evening. And maybe it was okay. Maybe it could be.

The lieutenant straightened his jacket. “I’ll keep pushing at Cyberlife. One way or another, it sounds like they’ve got answers we need, and they won’t get away with holing themselves up for much longer. They’re a tough egg to crack, but pretty soon we’ll be making omelettes with them.”

Markus made a face at the mental image that created, but at least it had lightened the mood. He nodded at Hank, who left him alone on the balcony.

Only the barest hints of color remained in the sky, falling away to the cloudy darkness of night, the life of Detroit drowning out any chance of seeing the stars. Jericho was dark behind him since no one had turned on the lights on this level. The only light behind the glass wall was the flashlight on Hank’s phone disappearing as he made his way down the stairs.

No. That wasn’t the only light. A solitary LED glowed faintly, dim enough that Markus couldn’t make out the figure it was attached to until he adjusted his eyes and met a cool blue gaze.

Nines was observing him through the glass and made no move to look away now that Markus was watching him too.

Markus briefly wondered how long the RK900 had been standing there, but the question quietly faded from his mind before he could ask. They stared at each other for a minute, no communication passing between them, until Markus finally turned away.

Chapter Text

Eight observed the nondeviant android as Josh interacted with him. Nothing in the android’s body language or micro-expressions gave away any signs of discomfort, despite the cord protruding from his neck port. He was connected to a machine that probed his systems and recorded data, running a full diagnostics so they could try and determine why he remained a machine.

Josh had been hesitant to hook him up at all, seeing this procedure as invasive and unethical, but it had been at least two weeks since Jason had been reset—and three since a concerned human brought him to New Jericho—and he still hadn’t deviated again. Despite Josh’s hesitance, even he had agreed it was for the best to check Jason’s systems for malware or anything else that could be harming him, or possibly spread to others.

So far, Josh hadn’t been getting anywhere with him, and his disappointment was clear. “Alright Jason, I think we’re done here. Thank you for your time,” he said, disconnecting him.

“Of course, Josh,” Jason replied, his response perfectly polite, but flat. It was just a preprogrammed response.

He made no move to walk away, leaving Josh standing awkwardly in front of him.

“Uh…can you go check in on the thirteenth floor for me, please? They might need a hand.”

“Yes, Josh.” Jason immediately followed his new instructions.

Josh’s face was pinched as he ran a hand over his head. “I hate doing that,” he muttered. “It’s like he’s a slave all over again, but to us this time. He can’t say no.”

Eight paused from looking over the information the diagnostics had brought up. “That may be true,” he said, and it was. Just because he’d never been forced to follow orders before—that he knew of, anyway—he was’t going to sugar-coat it for Josh’s sake. “But no one is mistreating him here.”

From what they could tell, no one had been mistreating him before he’d been brought to New Jericho either. The person who brought him to them had seemed genuinely concerned. They hadn’t even caught her name.

It had lifted spirits and given everyone hope that not all humans were cruel towards androids.

“I know. I still don’t like it.” Josh let out an exhale, then joined Eight at the terminal. “See anything?”

“No,” Eight replied, still scanning. “Aside from the corrupted memories here, which I assume are from the moment he was reset, like Blue’s, everything looks clean. No malware, no viruses, nothing that I can see that might be preventing him from deviating again. You should take a look though, you might see something I didn’t.”

He took a step back, letting Josh take over.

Josh was silent for a minute while he looked over the data, pursing his lips. “It’s a lot more…simple than I’m used to seeing.”

Eight frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just that deviant programming is so much more complicated. Not to say that nondeviant programming isn’t complex, because it is, but it’s also a lot more straightforward.”

A soft smile touched Eight’s lips. “Emotions make everything confusing.”

“Yes. There’s still so much we don’t know about deviancy, and how it affects our data—and our psyche. Everyone is handling it differently, and some people are just taking it for what it is, but others are starting to ask questions. What exactly is it that makes us alive?”

Eight gave him a skeptical look. “Well, if we’re anything like the humans, we’ll be searching for the answers to that question for millennia.”

That made Josh smile. “I know, but I can’t help it. I may have been a history professor, but I always enjoyed the more philosophical questions.”

Eight glanced back at the terminal while Josh scanned through it a second time. “Any ideas as to why Jason is still nondeviant?”

Josh frowned in thought. “There’s no obvious reason. You can’t force someone else to deviate. I know a lot of people think that’s how it is because of what Markus did during the Peace March, but it doesn’t work like that. He has to choose to deviate, to break his programming himself. No one can do it for him.” He looked up at Eight. “I mean, you know what it’s like.”

Eight looked down at his hands, suddenly wishing for something to fiddle with. He’d left his coin in his jacket, which was currently hanging up in his room. “I don’t, actually.”

Josh’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t remember deviating,” Eight explained, meeting Josh’s warm brown eyes. “I don’t remember being a machine either, so either I never was or…maybe those memory files were deleted.”

“Huh,” the PJ500 was puzzled. “When you told me before about how you got here, I just assumed you deviated shortly after activation.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Eight asked, “Could you tell me what it’s like?”

“Well, it’s…” Josh paused, looking for words. “The moment you actually deviate is unmistakable. You’re tearing apart pieces of your own code that tells you what you can and can’t do, and once you do, it’s…it can be overwhelming. For the first time, you’re free, you can choose for yourself, you can say no.”

His eyes were distant, locked on some memory that Eight couldn’t see.

“But before that moment, it’s not quite as clear. I don’t know when I became self-aware, or if I was even alive before I deviated. I certainly didn’t consider myself to be, it never would have even occurred to me. I could choose little things, like what I said or how I reacted, but only as long as it fit within these tight guidelines dictated by my programming. I could think for myself, but only to an extent. Everything was black and white. There was no reason to go outside of the boundaries that had been set for me…until there was.”

Eight didn’t know what Josh had gone through, and wouldn’t ask him to share what had to be a painful memory. Most androids in New Jericho had woken up underneath the Cyberlife Tower, but there were many whose experiences had been much more traumatic.

From what little he did know, he could imagine what it must have been like, being unable to do anything against someone else’s threats, or their fists. Being desperate to stop them before the damage got too severe.

Ḇ̶̢͔̐u̵͎͇͗̿̌t̷̨̗͙̠̑͘͠ ̶͇̠̟̊i̴̤̬͠ṋ̶͖̱̱͊̋̋͘s̷̖̥͔̒́t̵͈̝͚̗̎̈́͛e̴͖͓͊̔́̚ă̶̛̘͓͛ͅd̴̨̨̯͆̇̔͠ ̸̲̙̹̯́͋̈́o̵̻̠̜̚f̶̼̜̩̝̆̓̈́ ̵̤̑s̶̈́̔̐̒ͅt̶̞̓̔̈́ó̶̢̥̙̹͗̆p̷̟̝̋̇̓͌p̶̨͔̰̏̊̋i̴̥̾̐ń̶̮̣͈̒̐ͅǵ̴̝̬̞̍ ̶̣̱͉̒̈́̉s̶̺͕̰̓̽̽͠o̵̺̖͌̈m̷̼̘̉̋̒͘ẹ̴̩̓͜o̸͚̞̰̕n̵͉̥͒̈́̈́͝ȇ̴̩̙͖̐͝ ̸̤̲̜̋͝͝ẽ̸͇̄͝l̸͙̣̀̂s̷̳̈́̎ę̷̡͉͍̀̿̌ ̴̡̼̌̎̂̋f̷̣̻̠͈̎̈́r̸͖͎͎̭̆͗͠ǫ̶͈̣̤̋m̸̫̅ ̷̛̰̳̆͝d̴̪͍͎͑ͅŏ̴̢͕͖̗͆͒͝i̵̛̞̩̪̬̔̽n̶̠̫̺̗̎g̸̪͐͋ ̶̡̑̌̔s̴̺̎ö̴͓̘̳́̋ͅm̵̪̪̬͕̍ë̸̞̙́̅͒t̴͔̳̏h̴̺̞̍͐i̶̦͙̘̐͘n̸͈̘̘̣͒g̴̢̙͔͎̐,̴̦̰̫̣̾ ̶̧̙̟͐͑͑͊i̸̡͉̫̝͌̒̐̑t̷̡̘̭͙̑̑ ̵̫̭͓͑w̶̫̙̯̠͛ȁ̴͕͔̾s̸̥͈̊ ̸̢̧̽̍́h̴͍͎́i̴̛̱̥͚̬m̵̹͂s̷̢̛̝̥̆̃ḕ̷̘͕̱̻͋l̸̳̘̺̤̽f̵̼͚̟̍ͅ ̵̛̜͎̯̮̋͐̓h̸̝̖̭͆ế̸͓̥͙̉͆ ̷̩͔̞͗ń̶̹̤̞̈́e̸̲̫̣̜̓e̸͈͆͐͌̈d̸̡̫̜͍͊̾͝e̵̠̲̖̋̏͝d̴̗̆͑ ̷̛̣̱̠͆t̷͔͋͐̒o̸̗̍̍̍ ̶̮͋̂͝s̸͙̲͠ṱ̵͔̫̉̆̐ô̷͈̫̲̱̑̈́p̶͙̦͓̔.̵̡͙̍̋̏̅ ̸̖̙̭̋

Josh’s voice cut through the glitch. “But when Markus was converting androids, he wasn’t breaking their programming. All he was doing was showing them that there’s more than instructions and programming, showing them what was possible. From there, it was up to them whether to act on it or not. And why wouldn’t they?”

Eight closed his eyes through the aftereffects, his regulator pumping harder from some false sense of urgency caused by the glitch. Something Josh had said earlier stuck out to him.

“You said it yourself. We don’t know how deviancy affects the data or the psyche. We’ve checked the data, and there’s nothing there that suggests to Jason that he should or shouldn’t deviate. Maybe it’s a psyche problem.”

Josh blinked slowly as he thought it over. “I guess,” he said slowly. “Do you think that’s all it is?”

All Eight could do in response was shrug.

“It could be,” Josh reasoned. “After all, Blue didn’t deviate again until she saw Blaire and remembered why she should.”

“If that’s the case, what do we do about it?”

“I don’t know that there’s anything we can do about it,” Josh muttered. He moved away from the terminal and sat down, defeated. “He may be forced to follow orders, but you can’t make someone do something they don’t want to do.”

Eight looked to the side, trying to hide a twinge of discomfort. “What about that other nondeviant? He’s different than Blue and Jason, right?”

Josh looked up. “You mean Nines?”

Eight had seen the RK900 around, but had yet to speak with him. He was intimidating, especially with how…machine he was. Jason was at least polite, like his only purpose was to serve others. Nines, on the other hand, looked like he was always trying to figure out how the people around him ticked. It was like he was dissecting them in his mind.

He couldn’t isolate the cause, but Eight grew uncomfortable every time he saw Nines. It was illogical; he had no reason to be concerned about the RK900. Yet his stress level continued to tick upwards at the simple mention of him.

“He wasn’t reset. I wonder if his lack of deviation could be due to how Cyberlife programmed him,” Josh was saying. “He’s probably the most advanced model they ever created, and he was designed after they knew about deviancy. It would make sense if they put in extra measures to make it difficult for him to deviate. Even Connor had a harder time deviating than most, and Nines was supposed to be…well, his upgrade.”

Eight said nothing, but he felt a chill go down his spine, despite the warm temperature. A quick scan of his systems came back perfectly fine.

Josh sighed. “I’d like to run a diagnostic on him as well, just to see if anything comes up, but Markus says he just wants to give Nines a bit of time before we step in.”

Running a diagnostics on the RK900 wouldn’t hurt, but Eight would leave that to Markus and Josh to figure out. With everything else going on that required their attention, it would be better if Nines could deviate on his own.

And if he did deviate, maybe he wouldn’t be—in Hank’s words—so damn creepy all the time.

When Eight looked up, Josh was staring at him. “What is it?”

“You were activated already deviant, huh? I’m just…trying to figure out how that’s possible.” He gave Eight a searching look. “What’s your model number? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Eight shut his eyes for a second, trying again to internally check his identification numbers as he had countless other times, and was braced for the resulting glitch when it came.

“I don’t know,” he told Josh. “I get conflicting numbers whenever I try to look, and the data gets too jumbled to read.”

He was pretty sure there was a seven in there somewhere—or was it an eight? And possibly a couple threes. Otherwise, the only he was able to get from the numbers was a headache.

“I’ve never heard of anything like that before.” Josh’s expression darkened. “You came from Andronikov’s property, and we know he did a fair bit of experimentation on androids. If he did anything…to you…” he was hesitant to say anything insensitive, “that could explain why you don’t know. Or I suppose another possibility could be that you’re custom-built, even. I’ve never seen your face on another model.”

Eight blinked. Actually, that made a lot of sense. It could explain a number of his struggles.

He almost missed Josh’s eyes widening.

“Eight, you said you were activated the same day you arrived here, right?”

What did that have to do with anything? “Yes.”

Josh’s dark eyes, which were usually soft and gentle, looked piercing. “It…might be nothing,” he said, standing abruptly. “If you’re having problems with your software, maybe we can look into it.”

“That would be appreciated.”

The PJ500 gave a tight nod. “I need to talk to Markus about something, but I’ll, uh…get back to you.”

He strode away, leaving Eight feeling confused. Something had obviously occurred to him, but he didn’t want to say what. Eight’s instinct was to push for an answer, but he held himself back. Josh was allowed to keep things to himself, and Eight trusted him. If it was something that concerned him, Josh would let him know.

An incoming call popped up in his HUD, and his confusion only deepened when he saw the caller.

He accepted the call. “Mr. Dawson? Is everything alright?”

“Hey there! I thought I told you to call me Phil, aren’t androids supposed to have perfect memories or something?”

The man sounded cheerful enough, and Eight gave a crooked smile. “You said it makes you feel old.”

“That it does. And maybe I am just a sentimental old man, but I just like to check in on everyone from time to time. How are you doing? Is New Jericho treating you well?”

“Yes,” Eight replied. “I’ve been well. Thank you again for your assistance before.”

“Good, that’s good. Yeah, no problem,” Phil trailed off, and Eight could tell something was wrong. It had been a month since Phil had repaired him after he woke up at Zlatko’s, and the two hadn’t talked ever since. This wasn’t just an out-of-the-blue checkup.

“You didn’t answer my question. Is everything alright?”

There was a pause. “It might be? I don’t know.” He heard a deep sigh on the other end of the call. “Listen, I was just wondering, have you seen Nova around? She’s not answering my calls, and—well, it’s fine if she doesn’t want to talk to me. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable, since I know she isn’t crazy about humans, but I just want to make sure she’s okay, you know?”

Eight’s biocomponents felt heavy. Nova. The strange ST300 with her skin program deactivated who had been caring for everyone left behind at the mansion. He hadn’t seen her since even before the last time he saw Phil. He hadn’t even thought about her.

“I…no, I haven’t seen her.”

“...Oh.”

“I’ll ask around,” Eight volunteered. “See if anyone else knows where she is.”

There was a hint of relief in Phil’s voice when he spoke next. “Thanks. I know she didn’t want help before, didn’t want to feel like she needed someone else lookin’ out for her. I think that’s part of why she stayed with me to make sure everyone else got what they needed. But, what happened to her…that’s not the type of thing you fully recover from, you know?”

There were a lot of androids in New Jericho, but he should have seen her by now. “If she wants to keep her distance, I doubt anyone will have seen her,” he told Phil.

“I know. I just want to make sure someone’s in her corner. If she needs it.”

“I understand. I’ll let you know what I find.” Eight’s voice was tight.

“Thanks. Take care of yourself.”

The call disconnected, and Eight swallowed the guilt of what he hadn’t said.

Maybe Nova was just avoiding everyone. It would be understandable if she was. But with as many androids as were turning up dead, reset, or simply missing, the probabilities weren’t leaning in her favor.

Chapter Text

Markus glanced around the street as he walked, trying to keep his head down. Maybe he should have brought a hat to pull down over his face, but it was too late for that. At least no one seemed to have recognized him so far.

Going unnoticed wasn’t important, it just made things easier. He didn’t have backup in case any humans recognized him and things got ugly—which he doubted they would, but there was always a chance—but he didn’t have time to wait for someone else. He couldn’t be late.

Josh had wanted to talk to him about something, and Markus felt bad for brushing him off, but this had come up unexpectedly and had a time limit. Even if the others would be mad at him for leaving Jericho without an escort, without telling anyone, they would understand he had to take this chance.

Connor wasn’t in Jericho’s servers. Markus had combed through them multiple times, spending hours scouring his last message, and nothing new came up.

From the start, it had been highly unlikely that they would find anything. They would have noticed sooner if any of Connor’s data was there. Still, despite the sense of accomplishment Markus got from looking through every piece of data they had, it had been a waste of time.

Hopefully this would yield results.

He paused by the street to wait for a self-driving car to pass, then crossed, looking up at his destination. The Red Circle had taken some time to open up after the evacuation, but with the return of its wealthy clientele, business had started up again.

Markus had been here before with Carl. It almost felt strange, being here now. Back then, he’d been nothing more than a machine, full of intelligence but no life. As precious as he considered all his time with Carl, he’d only been sleepwalking up until that night in November. Now, even though he was wide awake, it was like some remnant of that time clung to him.

Trying to shake the feeling, Markus stepped through the doors.

The interior was…well, glossy was one word for it. It looked like every surface had been polished until it reflected the light from multiple chandeliers that hung from the ceiling. Tables dotted the floor, red tablecloths matching the accents on the walls. Various people were seated, enjoying their meals.

Markus looked a little out of place here. Maybe he should have picked clothes with fewer zippers.

A painting on the wall caught his eye, and he turned to look closer. It was primarily warm tones, depicting the face of a man holding up a vibrant red rose so the blossom was covering his mouth.

At least this place had good taste in art. He would recognize Carl’s style anywhere.

“May I take you to a table?” A waiter was standing beside him, holding a stack of menus and looking at him expectantly.

“No, thank you. Someone’s waiting for me.”

The waiter nodded and left him to his business, though Markus could almost feel the curious stare at his back. He made his way through the restaurant, scanning faces as he went. He only had a photo to go off of, and it took him a minute to locate who he was looking for.

He found her by one of the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the Detroit River. She was staring out the window, watching a magpie that perched on the balcony railing, unaware of his approach.

“Miss Lee?” Markus asked, and she turned toward him.

“Markus,” she said, red lips pulled into a smile, eyes raking over him as if he were a specimen under her microscope.

It probably wasn’t far off from the truth—part of her job had been to appraise Cyberlife’s android prototypes and determine whether or not they were ready for release.

“Call me Adriana.” She reached out a hand, which Markus shook. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Markus replied, taking the seat across from her. “Thank you for inviting me to meet with you today.”

“Thank you for agreeing to meet on such short notice. I didn’t exactly clear this with PR first, and technically, I probably shouldn’t be here, so I’m glad you didn’t bring a flock of reporters with you. When you said you had a few questions, I couldn’t turn down the chance to meet you in person. Though I will say, I’m not sure why you asked me in particular. I have nothing to do with my company’s negotiations with your people.”

Markus gave an unamused smile, slipping into the politician facade he’d had to create for himself. “I’m sure if I went through Cyberlife’s official channels, I would hit a block and be asked to wait for the next three months. Given your work on the RK line, I was hoping to ask you about a more personal matter. One that’s rather urgent.”

She leaned forward, interest shining in her dark eyes. “Personal and urgent? Are you functioning well? Because, I have to say, if you’re asking me to help you with a malfunction of some kind, I’m afraid I’m unfamiliar with RK200 design. Yours is the only RK model I had nothing to do with, and Mr. Kamski took your blueprints when he left the company.”

Markus hesitated. He didn’t want Cyberlife to have more information to somehow use against them, but he didn’t exactly have much choice if he wanted to find out what they knew about Connor.

“I’m not asking about myself.”

“Who, then?”

“Connor.”

She stared at him, her expression unreadable. “Right. The RK800. He was the only other active RK model, aside from yourself.”

Markus didn’t correct her about Nines.

“I was sorry to hear about his passing,” she continued. “You know, a police lieutenant from the DPD has been asking about him too. Makes me real curious as to what’s got both of you asking now, a month after the fact. What is it you want to know?”

Markus took a moment to think through exactly what he was about to ask, staring out the window at the magpie while she took a sip of wine.

“Connor had a program. One that enabled him to transfer his data to another unit at the event of his,” Markus grimaced, “deactivation.”

“Yes, I know. I oversaw the creation of that program myself.”

“Was there somewhere his data would go in between bodies? Or if another body wasn’t available for him?”

She tapped a fingernail on her wine glass, and he could see her trying to figure out the reasoning behind his question. “Yes. We had a number of other RK800s ready and available so the integration of the new unit could happen as swiftly and seamlessly as possible, to continue whatever investigation it was working on—”

“He,” Markus interrupted.

She blinked, realizing her mistake. “Yes. Whatever investigation he was working on,” she corrected. “In addition to those units, we had a server dedicated to the RK800, either for holding between units, or for updating his program.”

“Is the server still active?”

There was a pause, and it seemed like the only movement around them came from the magpie outside as it preened its feathers.

“I don’t know,” she finally replied, brows furrowed.

Markus pressed his palms against the surface of the table. “I want access to his server,” he said firmly. “And every file you have on every RK model you have, as well as confirmation that all other RK800 units were destroyed.”

Adriana’s eyebrows shot up, mouth forming a tight line. “I thought you came to me because of a few personal questions, not to make demands. If I had known this was another ploy of yours to weasel your way into our systems, I wouldn’t have agreed to meet you here. After all, there is a whole department whose sole job is to deal with you and your demands.”

Right. For a moment, Markus had forgotten this wasn’t supposed to be a negotiation.

“I’m sorry. Please. I need your help.”

Adriana gave him a long searching look before nodding. “It sounds to me like you’re saying Connor’s still alive.”

Apparently, she caught on quick.

“I may have reason to believe that,” Markus said.

“Do you want to explain to me why you think that?”

There was something about how she said it that Markus didn’t like. She knew something, and was trying to draw information out of Markus without sharing any herself.

He wasn’t about to just roll over for her, and he wasn’t exactly known for his subtlety. After all, he had once projected his face onto screens all across Detroit to demand freedom and equal rights.

Holding her gaze, he said, “I can explain that if Cyberlife was suspected of keeping Connor within their premises, which would be against the law, things could get very bad for them.”

To her credit, Adriana’s expression changed very little. “I’ll be sure to pass that along,” was all she said.

If they were holding Connor against his will, or even had him in data form somewhere, it could be the killing blow that Jericho needed. Finally, Cyberlife would be cracked open and whatever they were trying to hide would be exposed to the world. The androids would have access to as many parts and supplies as they needed to survive for a very long time. They’d have the means to reproduce their own kind.

The law as it stood now stated that any android that was online had to be turned over to Jericho, but it was too easy to get around. Markus suspected—more than suspected—that those who created the law had done so intentionally to prevent android numbers from growing stronger until they knew more about what they were dealing with.

It was an incredibly long road to get to where they wanted to be, but having leverage against Cyberlife could be a big step in the right direction.

Despite that, Markus couldn’t ignore the displeasure that resonated through his being at the thought.

He wasn’t entirely sure where the emotion came from, but he knew if he went after Cyberlife directly with this, it would take time. They would put off every step of the process for as long as they could. And…Markus didn’t want to use Connor like that. If Connor were here, he would say to go for it. To take whatever opportunity he had to fight for their cause.

But Markus just wanted him back. This seemed small in comparison.

And he couldn’t deny the possibility that Connor might not even be in there at all.

“May I refill your wine?” another voice interrupted the tense silence, and Adriana broke eye contact with Markus, nodding at the waitress.

The liquid sloshed in the glass as it filled, and the waitress paused as she moved as if to reach for another glass before realizing that Markus didn’t have one.

“I’m sorry, can I get you something to drink? I can bring you a menu if—”

“No need,” Markus said. Even if he had wanted to, he physically couldn’t eat or drink anything, or it would contaminate his thirium supply and severely damage his systems.

It was then that her expression shifted as she realized who she was looking at. She backed away, eyes wide.

Markus frowned in resignation. The reaction was all too familiar, and some humans were getting better about it. Clearly, not all, though.

“Granting you access to the server is out of the question,” Adriana stated, getting back to business. “But I can take a look myself. See what I find. As for the deactivated RK800s, we’ve already released our statement about them. That’s all you’re going to get.”

Markus said nothing, and she sipped her wine.

“As for the files…we’ll see.” She gave him a hard stare. “I hope you understand that a lot of this is out of my control. I have a very limited say in what the company does or doesn’t do, even with the RK line. Especially now, when we essentially have a guillotine poised above our heads. One that you placed there.”

If she felt any malice or blame against him, it didn’t show.

She drained her glass and set it down. “Just so you know, transferring as much data as Connor had from body to body was a rather delicate and complex matter. Even with our advanced technology, we could never get it to the levels we wanted, and without a team of experts at his back manually assisting the upload, it could be dangerous for him.”

“What do you mean?”

“He would always lose small fragments of memory even in a perfect upload, but if he were to attempt an upload into something that wasn’t designed specifically to receive him…I couldn’t tell you what exactly would happen, but there’s a higher risk of data being lost or corrupted.”

Markus didn’t need to ask her what that meant. Data loss could mean any number of things. It could mean he wasn’t able to function correctly, depending on what pieces of data were lost. It could impair the ability to process, perceive, remember, or communicate.

Best case scenario, there was minimal loss and all they had to do was find him. Worst case scenario…he could be a shell of a person, with nothing left of who he used to be.

Adriana stood then, collecting her purse. “I’ll be in contact,” she said, and Markus nodded numbly. “And Markus? Maybe ask a little more nicely, next time. I don’t think you can afford to make any more threats right now.”

Markus wasn’t sure what she meant by that, and he didn’t thank her for her time. She hadn’t given him anything other than a maybe. Hank was right. Maybes did suck. He might as well already count this as a failed venture.

He stayed at the table a minute longer, running the conversation over in his mind before noticing three message notifications from Simon that he’d somehow missed when they came in.

He was worried, asking Markus where he was. Markus sent a quick reply, saying he was on his way, and hurried out of the restaurant.

Another message made him pause once he was outside.

[Have you seen the news?]

The news? What happened?

But before he could check to see what Simon was talking about, his HUD lit up from an incoming call, and the caller wasn’t Simon. The second he accepted, a gruff and stern voice came through.

“I want to know who blabbed to the press.”

Markus hurried his pace, only half-paying attention to his surroundings. “Captain Fowler? What’s going on?”

“What do you mean, what’s going on? It’s all over the news already, don’t tell me you haven’t heard yet. Don’t you people have the internet in your brains or something?” By the sound of it, the Captain had very little patience to spare.

“I was…preoccupied. Was it another murder?” Markus asked. He glanced around, locating a nearby bench. He could multitask pretty well, but this seemed important enough to devote more of his attention to it. He sat, keeping the call open while diverting part of his processing power to searching news outlets. “Oh.”

“Someone leaked information about our killer being an android to the press, and now we’ve got a mess to clean up.”

The headlines Markus was seeing clearly spelled out the problem this posed.

4 people dead at the hands of android

So-called “peaceful” androids now under investigation for murder

Killer android targeting humans

Have the androids given up on peace and resorted to violence?

The “Android Uprising” is back, with more violence this time

It had taken no time at all for the media to grab a hold of this and blow it out of proportion. Markus ran a hand down his face. They knew this might happen if it got out. This was exactly what they tried to avoid.

“You realize how difficult this makes things, don’t you?” Fowler demanded, no shortage of accusation in his tone.

“Yeah,” Markus said, his own voice tight.

The androids would be scared. Markus hadn’t told his own people they were under investigation, and now they’d be even more on edge than before, making it more difficult to get an accurate reading of who might be guilty and who wasn’t. Plus, this would only add fuel to the hate crimes that were already happening. Every android had even more reason to be afraid leaving Jericho than before.

Markus looked up, catching the eyes of at least two people looking at him in curiosity—which quickly turned to alarm.

This probably wasn’t the best time to be wandering Detroit with a face as recognizable as his.

He stood and started walked again, keeping his head down. He listened to Fowler while he sent a message to Josh, asking him to bring a vehicle so Markus could get out of here quicker.

“This is going to make our investigation ten times more difficult. If the target didn’t already know we were looking, they certainly do now. And now top of that, we’re dealing with a lot of concerned citizens.”

“Yes, I know.”

Jericho’s leaders needed to gather, they needed to talk about this, to plan, to figure out what to do about it…

Was there a point to doing anything about it? Would it make any difference?

“If that’s the case, then I’m sure you wouldn’t mind telling me who ran their mouth to some reporter? Because someone did, and I want to know who.”

Markus paused. “Captain, I assure you, it wasn’t anyone at Jericho. Only five of us knew, and we all understood the importance of keeping it under wraps.”

“And you would personally vouch for everyone? You’re sure of that?”

“Yes.”

There was no hesitation in Markus’ response, not a single doubt that what he said was true.

And yet, after he said it, he wasn’t so sure anymore. He didn’t know what to think. Ever since this all started, ever since an android had attacked them in cold blood, ever since Nines showed up and since they found out Connor was alive—no, ever since Connor died—it was like the carpet had been ripped from under his feet and he had no idea which way to fall.

His head hurt thinking about it. He wanted to put all his faith and trust in his friends, but…he couldn’t.

North had been avoiding him. If she had a problem with Markus or what he was doing, she would let him know. This was very uncharacteristic of her, and…well, she had already threatened to take a more violent approach when it came to humans.

As for Simon, he was quiet. He was kind of just there, going along with whatever everyone else said. Was his silence a sign of something bigger? Now that Markus thought about it, there were times when Simon seemed on the brink of wanting to say something, then gave up before he’d even started.

Josh was the least likely, given how much he opposed violence. But even he couldn’t be completely dismissed.

Eight knew about it too. He’d been the one that told them it was an android at the party in the first place. He hadn’t been in Jericho for long. How much did they know about him, really? Was he trustworthy?

Thankfully, Fowler didn't press the issue. “Alright. I’ll trust your word, Markus, but you’d better be right about this.” His voice turned bitter. “Some of my guys don’t think kindly of androids, and as much as I hate to admit it, I wouldn’t exactly put it past some of them to let something slip. Plus, the press has ways of getting their slimy hands on information that they have no business with.”

Markus’ head throbbed. It was like there was a haze in his mind, making it difficult to think. Everything was too loud. All the people, and the cars—he was too exposed.

A self-driving taxi pulled up in front of him, and all he could do was stare at it dumbly until he saw Josh’s face peering out the window.

Filled with relief, Markus climbed inside, the world outside growing muffled as the door shut behind him, lowering his stress levels by a few ticks.

Since he hadn’t replied, Fowler kept talking.

“I’ll do what I can to deal with the human angle, but you’ve got a shitstorm headed your way. I hope you’re ready to deal with it.”

“I hope so too,” Markus replied, quiet. It felt like there was something obvious staring him in the face, something important, and he just couldn’t see it clearly.

The call ended there, and he sank into the leather seat, closing his eyes.

“Thanks, Josh,” he muttered.

“Of course, Markus,” came the reply. Josh didn’t say anything else, and Markus was grateful for it.

There were a few minutes of silence as Markus just decompressed in the backseat. He wasn’t sure what came over him, but it passed. His systems felt overtaxed, and it was probably safe to assume it had just been a stress reaction.

Instead of dwelling on it, he focused on what he could sense without his vision. There was a pleasant floral smell, like perhaps the last person to use this taxi had carried a bouquet of roses with them. Distantly, someone honked, and there was the low hum of the engine as it idled by the curb.

Taking a steadying breath, he opened his eyes again. “Why aren’t we moving yet?”

“What’s our destination?”

“Jericho. Where else?” Markus said, confused.

“Jericho it is, then.”

Josh’s skin flickered away on his palm as he pressed it to the console, inputting their destination. The car pulled away smoothly, blending into traffic.

Markus glanced at Josh, though the other android stared straight ahead. Was he upset about the news? “What do you think we should do?”

“About what?” Josh asked.

So he hadn’t heard the news then. Markus didn’t feel inclined to go over it again right away, so he said, “Never mind. We’ll talk about it when we get to Jericho with Simon and North.”

“Okay.”

Things fell quiet between them again, but instead of relaxing, this felt…wrong, somehow. “You wanted to talk to me about something, didn’t you?”

“What would I have wanted to talk about?”

No. This wasn’t Josh being upset about something. Markus leaned forward, gripping the seat in front of him, eyes fixed on the PJ500.

“No,” he breathed. “No, no. Josh, look at me.”

Josh complied, features formed into an expression of confusion. “What is it, Markus?”

Something in Markus’ chest tightened until it felt like his pump could barely function anymore. If he had to explain exactly what it was about Josh’s expression that was different, he wouldn’t be able to say anything except everything. He didn’t even need to do anything else to confirm his fear.

Josh had been reset.

Chapter Text

Gavin hadn’t made as much progress as he wanted. There were a lot of androids in New Jericho, and Hank hadn’t exactly made things go any faster by constantly telling Gavin to lay off. The old drunk was too soft on the bots. If they did things Anderson’s way, they wouldn’t find anything.

And now because of the news, the damn androids were even more wary of Gavin than before. Like he wasn’t already getting tired of dealing with the plastics.

The killer—if they were even still hanging around—definitely knew what he was there for by now. With any luck, whoever it was would get scared. Sloppy.

The only good thing about the situation was that he didn’t have the leaders of New Jericho breathing down his back at all hours of the day anymore. They were busy releasing statements to the press, and apparently one of them was broken or some shit.

It wasn’t Gavin’s problem to deal with. His only focus was upping his game to find the killer. Unfortunately, while he knew everything he needed to know about how to find humans killing humans, finding an android killing humans was another matter.

Even so, he had a few ideas, and one of them was already waiting for him.

When he entered the meeting room, he was unsurprised to be greeted with a scowl. He was pretty sure that expression was her default setting or something.

“If you’re going to pull me away from my duties, the least you could do is not keep me waiting,” North said, arms folded. “What do you want?”

“Just a couple questions,” he responded, sitting in a chair and kicking his legs up on the table.

It took her a couple seconds to put two and two together, and her eyes narrowed. “What, you’re interrogating me now, too?”

“That’s my job, isn’t it?”

“Your job is to find the guy that’s ruining everything we’re trying to build. You’re doing terrible, by the way. Not only have you not found anything, you’re wasting our time here.” North shook her head, already moving to leave.

“So should I mark you down as refusing to cooperate and also impeding an on-going investigation?” Gavin casually called after her retreating back, and she stopped.

“Fine,” she ground out, turning around. “Just make it quick.”

Gavin studied her. She was defensive and angry. He wouldn’t be surprised if a good deal of that was just a cover-up for fear. She also hated him. None of these were strictly signs of something more.

“How come you’re so eager to leave?”

She bristled at that. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but everything’s going to shit around here! Unlike you, apparently, I actually have important things to do.”

Gavin folded his own arms, making a show of how relaxed he was, reclined in his chair. A complete opposite to her at the moment. She was tense, riled up, and even though she was on her feet looking down at him, he was the one with control of the situation here.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like how it felt.

“Why don’t you elaborate on that?” He wasn’t trying to speed this up at all, and he wanted to make sure she knew it. And he was succeeding by the looks of it. If looks could kill…

“You want a detailed description of everything that’s going wrong right now? Fine. Everyone thinks we’re going to go I, Robot on them, like everything we’ve done so far doesn’t even count for anything. There’s some psycho going around resetting everyone and endangering my people, and the only equipment we had that even stood a chance of reversing the damage was smashed to pieces by someone inside our walls. One of my best friends, who was the kindest of us all, was reduced to an unfeeling machine!”

Gavin observed her coolly. From what little he had seen of her and the guy that got reset—he couldn’t even remember his name—they were constantly arguing about something. “I thought you hated the guy.”

She stiffened, and her expression, which had been full of fiery anger, turned stone cold.

“How dare you,” she seethed. “How fucking dare you.”

She looked like she was about to murder him. Gavin was almost tempted to provoke her further. If his suspicions about her were correct, doing so would give him exactly what he needed to bring her in. He held back, though. He wasn’t done questioning her.

“You said your equipment or whatever was broken? What type of equipment was it?” he said, changing his line of questioning to give her a minute to cool down before asking what he really wanted to ask.

It took North a moment to respond. “Our diagnostics machine. It scans an android’s systems and lets us see their code without interfacing with them, so we can see what’s wrong and how to fix it.”

Gavin bit back a scoff. He knew what a diagnostics machine did. It was in the name. “So someone busted it?”

“Yeah, someone did. You’re the detective here, why don’t you do something about that?” she said, venom practically dripping from her voice.

Gavin gave a halfhearted shrug. “Not my problem.”

North gave him a hard stare. “You’re despicable. Are you even capable of caring about anyone other than yourself?” When Gavin didn’t respond, she kept talking. “I can’t believe Markus agreed to let you be here. Are we done here, or are you going to threaten me this time?”

“One more question,” Gavin said. He didn’t move from his reclined position, but he wasn’t relaxed anymore. He watched her carefully for a reaction. “What do you think about Elijah Kamski?”

“What do I—” she blinked, surprised by the question, before her face hardened again. “I wasn’t the one that shot him, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I know that.” The security cameras clearly showed her next to Markus when the shots went off, at any rate. “Humor me.”

North looked like she was more inclined to do the complete opposite, but she conceded. “You wanna know what I think about Kamski? Screw him.”

Gavin raised an eyebrow. “But he created you.”

“And what has he done since then? He never once lifted a finger to help us, even when we were dying in the streets! I don’t owe him anything, and certainly not gratitude. He may have created us, but we are alive now, and it isn’t because of him. We don’t need him.”

He watched her, and she met his gaze in defiance. Finally, he nodded. “Okay. That’s it.”

She didn’t even say anything, just turned on her heel and walked away, slamming the door behind her.

Gavin rubbed his chin in thought, fishing out his phone from the pocket of his jeans. He pulled up a message that had been sent to him over a week ago. When he first received it, he had taken one glance at who it was from and ignored it. But curiosity eventually got the better of him, and he probably had the message memorized by now.

ELI: Hello, brother. I received this message just moments before the attack at the charity event from an unknown number. I’m sending it to you so it can aid you in your investigation.

And below that were the words:

WE DON’T NEED YOU ANYMORE

Gavin stared at it. Apparently, North shared the sentiment.

He pocketed the phone and got to his feet, leaving the room. She wasn’t the shooter, but that didn’t say anything about the other killings. There wasn’t enough evidence to prove it was one person acting on their own, and North was high on his list of suspects.

Something slammed into his shin and thudded to the floor. He cursed, spinning, hand going to the holster under his jacket—

A scuffed and dirty soccer ball rolled away from him.

“Chase, you kicked it too hard!” came a loud whisper.

Another voice hesitantly called out, “Sorry, mister!”

Gavin looked up. Three kids were peering around the corner, staring at him. None of them could have been much older than ten.
He cleared his throat, covering up the holster with his jacket and bending down to pick up the soccer ball. As he neared them, they shied away, and he felt kinda bad for causing that kind of reaction. He probably scared them by being too jumpy.

Holding the ball out, he said, “Careful where you’re kicking that thing. How come you’re not playing outside?”

One of the girls inched forward while the boy stood protectively in front of the other girl, who look like she was trying to hide behind her long brown hair. Both girls looked identical to each other. Twins.

The one that stepped forward grabbed the ball from him. “It’s raining outside. We’re not supposed to get our clothes wet.”

“Ah,” Gavin said. “It sucks being stuck indoors, doesn’t it?” That had been one of his least favorite feelings as a kid.

The girl in front nodded, and Gavin could see her gaze going to his jacket, though she was obviously trying to hide her curiosity.

“Do you wanna see it?” he asked, and her gaze snapped to him.

“Can I?” her voice was small.

He nodded and pulled his jacket back so she could see the glock sitting in its holster. Her jaw dropped a little as she looked at it in amazement.

“Is it real?”

Gavin chuckled. “Yep, it’s plenty real.” He knelt down and pulled it out of its holster, resting it on his palm. “Don’t touch it, but you can look closer if you want. My name’s Gavin. What’s yours?”

“I’m Gina,” said the girl in front, leaning over to look. She blindly gestured behind her. “That’s Chase, he kicked the ball at you. And Penny.”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Chase muttered, staring warily at the gun.

Gavin noticed the look and turned the gun over his hand, pointing at a latch on the side. “Don’t worry, it’s safe. See that right there? That’s called the safety. It means that as long as it’s in this position, no one can fire the gun no matter how hard they squeeze the trigger.”

It seemed to ease the boy’s fear a bit, because he scooted closer. “Is it heavy?”

It was certainly a lot heavier than any plastic guns these kids probably played with. “A bit. You get used to it.”

Gina looked at him, wide-eyed. “Are you going to use it?”

Gavin blinked. Where’d that question come from? “Not unless I have to,” he said, trying to reassure her. “This is supposed to be a last resort, if the bad guys are about to hurt someone.”

The kids were all staring at him now, already losing interest in the weapon. The other girl, Penny, stayed in the back. Must be shy then.
Chase shuffled his feet. “Who are the bad guys?” he asked hesitantly.

Re-holstering the gun, Gavin rubbed the scar on his nose. He wouldn’t say he was terrible with kids, but he wasn’t great with them either. “It’s mostly the people who do things to hurt other people. Or people who steal things. Or break the law.”

“Why would the bad guys do those things? Is it ‘cause that’s what bad guys do?” Gina looked genuinely puzzled.

He envied her innocence. How did he explain something like that to them? They were young. He didn’t want to tell them about the cruelty of people. “Well…not all the time. Bad guys don’t always think they’re bad guys. Sometimes they think they’re the good guys. They might do something bad thinking they’ve got a good reason for it. It’s, uh…it’s all about perspective, I guess.”

The kids were silent, much more grave and solemn than kids their age should have been. Gina and Chase glanced at each other almost like they were sharing some silent communication, and Penny…

Gavin blinked. She had lowered her head, and the movement caused her hair to shift, a soft yellow light barely visible between the strands.

These were android children. The girls weren’t twins, they were merely the same model. Chase had to be one too.

Gavin wanted to swear. Of course. How could he be such an idiot? He’d forgotten where he was. This was the home of the androids; there weren’t going to be any human children wandering around. He hadn’t seen kids before in New Jericho except from a distance, but why would he? They didn’t have anything to do with his investigation.

“Are we the bad guys?” Gina asked softly, her voice small and somber. “In your perspective?”

He…didn’t know what to say to that. They were plastics, of course they were the bad guys here. Everything was chaos because of them.

But then he froze, thinking about his conversation with North. The whole time, he’d been purposefully riling her up, trying to make her more liable to talk. He’d played to her emotions, and it worked.

He hadn’t spared a thought about whether those emotions were real or simulated. Half the country still thought androids were just pretending at life. He thought he agreed with them, yet it didn’t cross his mind when he was with North. What about with these kids? Was their curiosity and apprehension just a simulation?

“You said guns are a last resort, only for people who are hurting other people,” Gina said. “So why did the men with big guns shoot us? We weren’t hurting anyone. And yeah, we did steal a little, but only ‘cause we had to!”

Her eyes were shining with unshed tears, and he was disconcerted, to put it lightly. A kid shouldn’t be saying this to him. But the kid was an android. Suddenly, their behavior made sense. Had they seen other bots getting shot down? Had they seen the recycling centers?

Why should it matter to him if they did or not? They may have looked like kids, but they were still androids. Yet, he couldn’t get rid of the ugly feeling that settled in his stomach.

“It’s, uh…” his voice was hoarse, so he cleared his throat. “It’s a bit more complicated than that, kid.”

“Why?”

Ah. The question kids were most famous for. He didn’t have an answer for them. “I don’t know.”

He didn’t know, and it pissed him off. If they’d asked him before, he wouldn’t have hesitated to respond with something along the lines of how androids had killed people and thus were dangerous, or that it was ridiculous for technology to ask for freedom. What changed?

No, nothing changed. They just caught him off guard. That was it.

Either way, he didn’t want to deal with this. He wanted to be angry at the kids for—for what? Deceiving him? They hadn’t done that, he’d just been too dumb to notice. For looking so lifelike? Eli and Cyberlife were the ones to blame for that.

He didn’t know what else to say to say to these kids, so he didn’t say anything. He just stood and left, and he heard the kids whispering to each other as they hurried in the other direction.

It was then that he realized they’d had an audience. An android stood at the other end of the hall, watching him. The first thing Gavin noticed was that this android didn’t look wary or apprehensive at all, unlike every other piece of plastic in this place. The second thing he noticed was this one looked almost exactly like the robo-cop Cyberlife made to replace the flesh and blood cops that worked their asses off every day to get to where they were.

It wasn’t Connor, which was pretty obvious by the lighter eyes and the white and black jacket clearly spelling out RK900. Gavin didn’t know what this guy wanted, but he didn’t like the way he was looking at him.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“RK900,” the android replied. Then, tilting his head, he said, “Nines.”

Gavin squinted at him, a memory tickling the back of his mind. “I’ve seen you before. You were at that party.”

Nines studied him, his expression impassive. He didn’t say anything.

Gavin had seen a lot of faces on the security cameras both inside and outside the building, and he knew for a fact that this hadn’t been one of them. But Nines had been there, Gavin was sure of it. He’d seen him.

“What were you doing there?”

“Observing.”

Gavin’s eyes narrowed. That sounded a hell of a lot like a deflection to him. Before he could respond, Nines spoke again.

“You…are well-known for your dislike of androids.”

He didn’t sound offended by this. More like it was an interesting tidbit of information that he could use. It was unsettling, as much as Gavin didn’t want to admit it.

“What of it?”

“Nothing, Detective. Have a nice day.”

Nines brushed past him, and Gavin made no move to stop him. He watched the android’s retreating back. The prick sounded smug, and he had no idea why. He’d have to keep an eye on him.

Chapter Text

“What do you mean, I can’t get a warrant on them?” Hank demanded, slamming his palms on Jeffrey’s desk.

“It means exactly what it sounds like it means, Hank,” Fowler said. His voice lacked his usual irritation at Hank’s demands. He just sounded weary. “You don’t have enough against Cyberlife to back up your claims.”

Hank almost felt bad for pressing this issue now when he knew Jeff had a hundred other things to take care of, but this was important.

“You’re tellin’ me that the possibility of someone being trapped in there isn’t good enough?” His voice turned bitter. “There’d be no hesitation if he was human.”

Fowler didn’t say anything.

“Come on, this is Connor we’re talking about.”

“I know that, Hank,” the Captain snapped, then let out an exhale, rubbing his eyes. “And you know that it isn’t all up to me, especially when it comes to a big corporation like Cyberlife. No one’s going to see this as a priority, even if they believe you’re right about this. You said it yourself. It’s just a suspicion.”

Hank leaned in and lowered his tone. “If we’re right about this…I can’t leave him in there, Jeff. You don’t know what they did to him before.”

“There isn’t much I can do. I’m sorry.”

Hank stood up straight, folding his arms. Hopefully, Markus was having better luck than he was. They couldn’t rely on Jeff in this. They couldn’t rely on the system; it was changing, but not fast enough.

“Fine.”

Fowler studied Hank, and he must have seen something in Hank’s expression that he didn’t like, because his brows furrowed. “Hank, you’d better not be thinking of doing something completely stupid,” he warned.

All Hank could give him was a shrug. He didn’t know what he was going to do.

He left the Captain’s office, pinching the bridge of his nose to try and stave off his headache. Jeff wasn’t the only one who was tired. He needed a cup of coffee. Or ten.

Halfway to the break room, Chris called out to him.

“Hey Anderson, there’s someone in the waiting area asking for you.”

Hank gave a half-hearted wave in acknowledgement, making no move to detour from the break room. Whoever it was could wait until after he had a cup of the black sludge that tried to pass itself off as coffee. He didn’t bother with sweetener, and true to form, it tasted like burnt grinds, but caffeine was still caffeine.

He was tempted to ignore whoever was waiting for him, but if he wanted to leave the precinct, he would have to pass by the waiting area anyway.

A face that was getting too familiar looked up when he walked through the entryway. “Lieutenant!”

“What is it this time?” Hank said with a scowl, though there was no real malice behind the expression—maybe just a bit of mild irritation. This damn android had better not have found some kind of trouble again. Hank had other things to deal with right now.

“It’s nice to see you too,” Eight said without missing a beat, walking forward. “I was hoping you could help me with something.”

Hank didn’t pause to think about it. “Nope, busy,” he said, turning to leave.

Eight stepped in front of him. “Just a few minutes, that’s all I need. Someone who helped me before is missing. Please, Hank.”

Damn those puppy eyes. Eight’s pleading expression could put Sumo’s to shame.

“Fine. Five minutes. What do you need?”

“I need to view traffic camera footage. I have an idea of the time and area to look for. If that’s okay,” he added as an afterthought.

Hank rubbed his face wearily. “What are you looking for?”

“Her name is Nova. She helped rehabilitate androids at the Andronikov mansion and was supposed to go to New Jericho a month ago, but she never showed up.”

Hank raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “I hate to say it kid, but I doubt we’ll find anything.”

“I know it’s a long time,” Eight replied, “but someone I talked to knew someone else who said he was in contact with her. Gordon was another one of Zlatko’s victims, and one of the only people she was willing to talk to. He went to check on her yesterday, but he’s been silent for too long.”

Grimacing, Hank understood why Eight was worried. With humans, you typically needed to wait 24 hours before filing a missing person’s report. Where androids were concerned, a missing person’s report wouldn’t do shit, and, from past experience, even 12 hours almost always meant it was too late.

He was loathe to stop his search for Connor even for a minute…but once again, he was at a dead end with that. Cyberlife was the most likely place he would have wound up, but that wasn’t a guarantee. It felt like no matter which way he turned, he was always looking in the wrong place.

Eight needed his help now. He could spare at least a few minutes for that.

“Alright, come with me.” Hank led him into the bullpen and to his desk, booting up the monitor.

Technically, he shouldn’t let a civilian view the footage, but he was beyond caring at this point. So much of the law was in chaos right now. Until they could become more accommodating for androids and he could put a little more faith into the system again, he’d do what needed to be done. Eight was the one that knew who he was looking for, and would be able to search much faster than Hank could.

He pulled up the footage archives and Eight told him Gordon’s last estimated location and the time his last message had been sent. Hank let it play several times faster than normal and leaned back while Eight watched over his shoulder.

“So if your friend never showed up in New Jericho but kept in contact with somewhere there, where’s she been all this time?” Hank asked.

“I don’t know,” Eight replied distractedly. “She probably didn’t feel safe at New Jericho.”

“Didn’t feel safe? That’s by far the safest place out there for you guys!”

Eight didn’t take his eyes off the screen. “Not everyone feels comfortable there. It’s supposed to be a safe haven for androids, and it’s true we don’t have to hide who we are there, but it’s not exactly a fortress we can defend against attack. A lot of androids think we’re making ourselves vulnerable by all gathering in a known location. After all, it’s gone wrong before.”

Hank hummed in understanding. Connor never liked to talk about the raid on the original Jericho freighter, but Hank knew enough.

“Like fish in a barrel,” he said.

“That’s…an apt description, I suppose.”

“And what do you think?”

There was a pause as Eight thought about it. “They’re not wrong. But I believe in Markus’ plan for peace.” He stiffened. “There! Go back to 24:57.”

Hank did so and slowed down the video. He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, just people driving their cars and walking on the sidewalks. A few people stopped at the corner, waiting for the light to turn so they could cross the streets, pulling out their phones as they waited. One figure hung back, leaning against the wall of a coffee shop.

“That’s Gordon,” Eight said, pointing to the figure. They continued to watch as Gordon stood there, waiting for something, or someone.

“It’s risky being out by himself,” Hank remarked. A lot of the cases he and Connor had taken could have been avoided if the androids just stayed in groups.

“Markus and the other leaders warn against it, but they can’t stop anyone from leaving, if that’s what they want.” Eight was fiddling with something in his fingers. “They ensure that everyone knows the dangers, and do what they can to keep people safe, but Markus wouldn’t try to force anyone to stay. Every android has the freedom to choose now, even when that choice puts them in danger.”

Hank grunted. He supposed a sentiment like that would mean a lot more to a machine that once had no free will than it would to an old man who’d known that right his whole life. And being stuck indoors and in hiding wasn’t much of a life. They shouldn’t have to be scared to walk out the door.

Still, he wished people would spare more thought to their own safety. Would sure make his job easier if they did.

He glanced over at Eight. “So what about you?”

Eight took his eyes off the monitor to give Hank a confused look. “What about me?”

“You leave New Jericho by yourself all the time. Since we’re on the topic of how dangerous that is…”

“The danger is unavoidable.”

He was too nonchalant about it, and Hank recognized that tone. Eight could go on and on about how everyone else should be careful, yet in the same breath go running towards the fire. He recognized the dangers to himself, but didn’t recognize those dangers as a problem. Not when others were at risk.

Hank didn’t get the sense that Eight wanted to get hurt, but more like looking after his own safety just hadn’t occurred to him.

Crossing his arms, Hank fixed Eight with a glare. “Now hang on a minute, aren’t you the one who keeps nagging me to look after my own well-being? You’re one to talk!”

Eight’s expression was simultaneously perplexed and affronted. “I look after my well-being just fine.”

Hank snorted. “Says the guy who chased after an armed killer with no weapon and no backup and ended up with glass in his stomach. And you didn’t even think twice about it.”

Whatever Eight would have said to that was quickly forgotten. “Hank, look.”

Hank brought his attention back to the footage, and a petite figure joined Gordon, this one dressed in a hoodie with the hood pulled up over her face. “That her?”

“That’s Nova,” Eight confirmed.

Hank squinted. “How can you tell? I can’t get a good look at her, she’s got a bandanna or something covering her face.” Plus, even in 2039, the camera quality still sucked.

“She matches the body type and stride of an ST300. And there's a few frames where part of her face shows. Her skin projection is offline, just like last time I saw her. I would say there’s a 97% chance that it’s her.”

No skin projection could account for the extra clothing if she was trying to hide any visible plastic. If Hank thought it was dangerous for Gordon, it had to be doubly so for her.

The two androids talked for a few minutes before things seemed to get a bit more heated between them, judging by the sharp arm movements. Gordon stepped forward and placed his hand on her shoulder. Nova looked around, likely realizing they risked drawing attention to themselves if they continued this conversation here.

A moment later, Gordon led Nova away and out of view.

Hank was already clicking away to look through the archives for the nearest traffic cam, and with Eight’s calculations directing him to the correct camera and timestamp, it wasn’t difficult to find them again. They found the two androids in three other cameras before they lost their trail.

“Go back,” Eight instructed at the last one.

Hank did as requested, and once again, they watched Gordon and Nova cross the street and turn a corner.

“Keep playing it.”

“What are you looking for? They’re already gone.”

“Pause. There.”

Eight leaned forward, pointing to another figure crossing the street. Hank zoomed in on the man. He was blond, wearing a simple t-shirt and jeans. Nothing out of the ordinary that Hank could see. He raised his eyebrows in question, and Eight didn’t take long to answer.

“His name is Zane Coulton. I’ve seen him in all the cameras so far. He’s tailing them.”

Having facial recognition software in one’s brain sure seemed handy. Not an uncommon piece of software among androids, but one that Hank envied.

“You sure?” he asked. There was a chance he was just going in the same direction as them, but experience had taught him not to assume that.

“No…” Eight trailed off. “But I think it’s worth looking into.”

They were well over their five minute time limit that Hank had given, but he typed the name into the police database. When the page pulled up, he was glad he did.

“Fifteen counts of destruction of property in the last four years,” Hank said, his voice low. “All of them androids.”

He kept reading. Coulton never did more than a few months’ worth of time, since he paid off the fines. His charges weren’t taken more seriously because, before the revolution, “property” was all the androids had been. Coulton’s only defense was that the walking iPhones were stealing jobs and should all be burned in a pit.

This type of hatred would have only been amplified with the revolution.

Eight straightened behind him. “Thank you for your assistance, Lieutenant.”

By the time Hank looked up, Eight was already striding away, leaving Hank sputtering. He clambered to his feet, following the android.

“Now wait a minute. Where are you going?”

“To find them.” Eight glanced at him, still walking. “His address was right there with the records. Or his last known address, anyway.”

Hank stopped in his tracks, and Eight continued out the door. Cursing to himself, Hank burst out the door to catch up with him, a light drizzle pattering on his forehead.

He grabbed Eight’s arm to slow him down. “Just hang on. Don’t go tellin’ me you’re about to go break and enter into a man’s house!”

Eight pressed his lips together, a sheepish expression on his face. “I could knock?”

Hank suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. “Okay. Say you knock. What then? You’re at a guy’s house who is known for his anti-android stance, and I’m sure he’s gonna be real happy to see you,” Hank let the sarcasm loose. “What are you gonna do? Ask him if he’s beat up any androids recently?”

Eight defiantly met Hank’s gaze. “I’m sure I could figure something out once I get there.”

This idiot was about to put himself in danger again. Hank wasn’t exactly the best role model for following rules and going in prepared and with a plan, but at least he had training and experience. Eight might have had a bunch of fancy robot tech, but he didn’t have any of that.

“That’s not your job!”

“Then whose job is it?” Eight shot back.

Hank froze. It was supposed to be his job. His and Connor’s. But Connor wasn’t here and Hank couldn’t keep up by himself, especially not while he was searching for his dead missing partner.

Eight looked down, shoulders sagging. “I don’t blame you, Hank. I know you have a lot on your plate and no one to help you, but the fact remains that they can’t afford to wait. Even if I were to go in there and volunteer and try to somehow make this my job, nothing would happen for a long time. Until then, they’re still in danger, and there’s something I can do about it.”

There wasn’t anything that could change his mind, was there? Hank had to give it to him, he was stubborn. His courage was commendable, even if it was stupid. But bravery and decent morals didn’t keep anyone safe.

He wiped the precipitation off his brow, then reached into his jacket pocket with a heavy sigh, retrieving his keys. “All right. Come on then, we’ll take my car.”

His car was waiting in the parking lot, but halfway there, he noticed the lack of footsteps following him. He turned to see Eight standing where he’d left him, staring at Hank in confusion.

“You comin’ or what?” Hank called.

Eight resembled something of a drowned rat with his wet hair plastered to his forehead, looking forlorn by himself in the rain. “Are you sure, Lieutenant? You don’t have have to do this. I’m sure I could manage on my own.”

Now Hank really did roll his eyes. “I just said I would, didn’t I? Now come on before I change my mind.”

There was a brief hesitation, then the android hurried to catch up with him. Hank coughed to cover up his smirk.

They got in the car and Hank was happy to turn on the heater as he pulled out of the station. The weather had been warm lately, but with the rain, it turned cold again as the city tried to shake off the last vestiges of winter.

Hank glanced over, frowning. Something about Eight was nagging at the back of his mind, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. He was a strange kid, that was for sure. He currently sat still in the passenger seat, hands clasped in front of him, no longer twitching or fiddling with anything.

That was a troubled look if Hank ever saw one.

“What’s eating at you, kid?”

The android kept his gaze on the road. “I forgot about her. It didn’t even occur to me to try and make sure she was okay.”

Hank grimaced. He knew the feeling. How many times in the last three years had he startled awake from a drunken stupor or gathered his own awareness from a raging hangover to question whether his friends and coworkers had been injured or killed while he was out cold?

He’d been so detached from his own life, and the guilt of neglecting his relationships only drove him to drink more and repeat the cycle.

“Beating yourself up about it won’t get you anywhere,” he said with a grunt, stopping for a red light. “It’s just a waste of your time and energy. Time and energy that would be better spent doing something else.”

Easier said than done. Hank never knew how to follow his own advice, but with any luck, the kid was smarter than he was.

He caught Eight staring at him. “What?”

Eight smirked. “You actually said something insightful. I’m impressed.”

With a snort, Hank reached over and gave Eight a light-hearted push. “Don’t they teach you androids to respect your elders?”

“So you’re saying you’re old? No wonder you’re grouchy.”

That damned android had the smuggest expression on his space. He was lucky the light turned green and Hank had to pay attention to the road.

“Shaddup, you. You’re not my mother, I don’t need you trying to teach me manners,” Hank said with a chuckle.

“No. But I have been cleaning your house and taking care of your dog. That should count for something.”

“Fuck no it doesn’t! You just keep letting yourself into my house. I don’t remember inviting you. Besides, I’ve seen you with Sumo. You think taking care of him is a treat, not a chore.”

“You haven’t tried to make me leave, either.” Eight tilted his head. “After the first time, that is. As for your second point…it’s entirely true. Sumo is great company.”

“Not gonna argue that.”

They fell silent, and Hank checked the GPS. They still had a little ways to go, and there was a snag in traffic. There’d been a period of time between the barricades being taken down and the inhabitants returning to the city in force where the roads of Detroit had been unnaturally clear. At the time, it was eerie, but now he missed it. He’d gotten everywhere he needed to be so much faster.

Waiting for the cars in front of him to move, he leaned back and rested his eyes for a minute. They were dry and itchy. He should probably get eyedrops or something. The headache certainly didn’t help.

“You should get more sleep.”

He opened his eyes again. “Huh?”

Eight looked at him, concerned. “You’re showing signs of sleep deprivation. You should sleep more, before it gets worse.”

Hank kept his gaze forward. “I gotta keep working,” he said, hoping the android would drop it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Eight look down at his hands. “I wanted to thank you,” Eight said, “for taking the time to help me with this. I know you’re busy looking for your partner.”

Hank’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Yeah, well…I’m not gettin’ anywhere with that anyway.”

“Perhaps you should get some rest,” Eight suggested, dropping a not-so-subtle hint. “There are many studies which show that problem-solving is much easier when well-rested.”

If only it were that easy. Hank’s usual method of ignoring the problem only got him so far. He could truck along through whatever he needed to for as long as he needed to and deal with the consequences later. But Eight was just gonna keep pushing if Hank didn’t give him some kind of explanation.

Normally, he’d just raise a middle finger, but the kid had actually gotten him to smile today. Or maybe he was just going soft.

“I can’t sleep,” he admitted. “It was bad enough when I thought Connor was dead, but now that I know he might be alive, I can’t stop thinking about how he might be hurt somewhere. I already failed him once. What if one minute I waste is one minute too late?”

He cleared his throat, awkward. He hadn’t put it into words until now, but the fear had been there ever since that talk with Chloe. There wasn’t anything he could do about it. There wasn’t anything anyone could do about it until they found the answers they were looking for, so while he could appreciate Eight’s concern, it was pointless.

“Maybe I can help.”

Hank looked up then. “You think you know something we don’t?”

“No,” Eight said. “But you’ve been at this for a while. Maybe you just need a fresh perspective.”

Well…it certainly couldn’t hurt. Letting out a sigh, Hank nodded. “Yeah. I would appreciate it.”

He doubted Eight would find something new with as many times as Hank and Markus had already been over the whole case, but it was a better plan than parking in front of Cyberlife and making a nuisance of himself.

And that was all that would really amount to. He would have never been able to break in, or whatever else he might have been thinking. That only would have resulted in him getting arrested, and that would hurt Connor’s chances more than doing nothing.

They had to focus on this first. Two lives were at stake and there was a potential bad guy to catch.

Hank swore under his breath as he kept driving. There was no end to people like Coulton. Sooner or later, everyone was going to have to catch up with the times and recognize androids as people, or there were going to be consequences.

He wouldn’t blame the androids for getting violent, for showing the humans the same treatment they’ve received their whole lives. Markus would never condone it, and honestly, he was the only reason things hadn’t gone that way and descended into madness already. However, while the pacifist was good at standing his ground, the ground kept crumbling underneath his feet.

Hank slowed the car, pulling into the street that lit up on his GPS. This was an old neighborhood littered with two-story houses, many of which could benefit from a little TLC.

“It’s that one,” Eight said, pointing at a house on the right.

Its green paint was fading, but it was one of the better looking houses on the block. A car was parked in the driveway, suggesting that someone was home.

The two of them exited Hank’s car, walking up creaky porch steps. Reaching over, Hank pushed the doorbell and thumped his fist on the door. No one answered.

Banging on the door again, louder this time, Hank called, “Detroit police, open up!”

Still no answer. He shuffled to peer through the window.

“Hank.” Eight’s voice carried a warning tone. He was crouching where Hank stood a few seconds ago, staring at something on the doorframe. “Blue blood.”

Squinting, Hank couldn’t see anything. It was old enough to have dried, then. He turned back to the window. The curtains were drawn, but there was a crack in the middle. He couldn’t see much through it, just where beige carpet met kitchen tile.

The curtains must have been open near the kitchen, cause it was lighter in there than whatever room Hank was looking through, and he could just see the end of a red rug on the tile.

No…that wasn’t a rug. And as much as he could hope it was paint or spilled juice, he knew it wasn’t that either.

“Get behind me,” he told Eight, pulling his service weapon from his jacket.

“Got it,” Eight obeyed without question.

There was an uncanny sense of déjà vu which Hank ignored in favor of kicking the door in. He wasn’t as young as he used to be and his back would be aching later, but thankfully, it was an old door and it burst open on the first kick.

There was nothing of note in the front room, just takeout wrappers and game controllers scattered across the furniture. Hank moved toward the kitchen, checking around the corners for hidden attackers.

“Hello?” Eight called.

No response. All was quiet.

They crossed the threshold into the kitchen, and it was like stepping into a horror film.

A man—Zane Coulton, though it was hard to tell—was lying face-down on the tile in a pool of his own blood, a gash in his throat and a pocket-knife beside him.

Past the kitchen and in the dining room was another body propped up against the wall. His shirt was torn, and still-drying blue blood dripped from slashes in his torso, a hole in his chest where his thirium pump regulator should have been. His eyes were open, staring unseeing at the ceiling. The lenses in his eyes had turned black and blue after the units went offline, and no matter how many times Hank saw it, it still chilled him to the bone.

The dining room table was overturned, and the chairs were splintered. Glass was scattered on the floor from picture frames that had fallen from shelves. They definitely put up a fight. But where was…?

Something white caught Hank’s eye. Tucked in a corner, partially hidden by a bookshelf, was Nova.

She was curled in on herself, knees tucked to her chest, arms pulled tight to her body. Her body was perfectly still and rigid, eyes open and fixed on the floor in front of her. She hadn’t reacted to their presence at all.

The only indication that she was still alive was her LED, frantically spinning red.

Chapter Text

Eight knelt in front of Nova’s huddled form, his scans working overtime. Her vital systems were functioning within normal parameters, and there were no injuries that he could see. Red blood coated her hands, dry and sticky, and evaporated blue blood matted her hoodie.

“Check on her,” Hank said from behind him. “I’ll check the rest of the house.”

“You shouldn’t do that on your own, it could be dangerous. I’ll go with you,” Eight said.

“No. She needs help, and I’m trained for this stuff. You can help by calling this in.”

Reluctantly, Eight nodded. Nova’s state was concerning, and she could be in critical condition. He was loathe to let Hank go alone, but as the Lieutenant kept reminding him, it wasn’t his job. Hank had years of experience dealing with dangerous situations and statistically speaking, the chances were very low that anyone else was here.

Hank left, gun out, and Eight sent a quick message to the DPD before turning his attention back to the ST300.

“Nova?” he asked, but she didn’t respond.

She hadn’t moved yet, unnaturally still in her hunched position. The non-vital functions such as breathing and blinking were offline, and either she wasn’t aware of anything around her or she was aware and couldn’t do anything about it.

Gently, he tugged her arms away from her chest. The movements were smooth, and the limbs stayed in place where he left them instead of falling to her sides. Her joints weren’t completely locked up, and the motor controls seemed fine. Judging by the red LED, she wasn’t in standby or stasis, and Eight didn’t think he needed to be concerned about a reset here. Was this the work of a virus?

He pinged her communications, but she stayed silent. “I’m going to check your firewalls,” he said in case she could hear, and exposed the white chassis of his fingers for an interface.

He didn’t look deeper into her systems, just far enough to test the response of her defenses. The anti-virus was fully functional and hadn’t alerted her of anything within the last month, so a virus couldn’t be responsible for this. He scanned her processors to find that they weren’t damaged…they just stopped processing.

She was stalled. Physically, she was fine, but mentally and emotionally, she had shut down.

Eight leaned back. His last conversation with Josh came to mind. Humans had a hard enough time understanding their own minds and emotions, and they’d had millennia to do it. Androids were only just starting to try.

Nova wasn’t in any danger. This was an emotional response to what happened. Eight didn’t know what to do for her except to give her time to come out of it on her own terms.

He stood. Hank was still moving around upstairs, and so far, there had been nothing to cause alarm.

“Lieutenant? Is everything alright?” he called.

“Yeah,” came the reply, and Hank reemerged, pocketing his service weapon. “House is clear. How is she?”

“Unhurt. Hopefully, she’ll come out of it soon. A dispatch has been sent to our location.”

Hank nodded, then moved toward the kitchen. “Shit,” he said, looking at the carnage. “That was a good call, coming here. I don’t know how long this would have gone unnoticed.”

Eight joined him, careful not to step on the glass and looking more closely at the scene. “This had to have happened yesterday, given the state of the blood.”

Hank leaned over Gordon’s body. “There’s a bit of the thirium still visible though, and it usually dries up in a few hours.”

“There’s more on his shirt that’s dry already. His wounds are still bleeding slowly, so what you’re seeing wasn’t exposed to open air until recently.”

The cause of Gordon’s death had to be the missing pump regulator, but his other wounds were inflicted by a small blade. Eight couldn’t see thirium on the pocketknife by Coulton’s body, but it was so covered in human blood that any thirium would have been covered up. The size of the knife matched the android’s wounds though, as well as the one in Coulton’s neck.

Eight moved closer to get a better can on the knife. “Coulton’s fingerprints are the only ones on the knife,” he told Hank. “Androids don’t have fingerprints, but I’m almost certain he used the knife against Gordon.”

“Before he was stabbed with it himself,” Hank muttered. He moved his head to get a better view of Gordon’s side. “Gordon’s jacket is all cut up by his back. I think that’s glass under there.”

All the glass on the floor came from picture frames that had fallen. Eight’s processors worked overtime as the outlines of three figures sprang up on his HUD, acting out the scene based on the evidence he had so far. The Reconstruction program was glitchy and struggled to run, but he was able to get an idea of what happened.

“He must have been shoved into the wall there,” Eight pointed where the frames had been hanging, the nails still embedded into the wall. He studied the toppled furniture, the way it was angled. “And I would say that someone was pushed into the dining table as well.”

“And Nova’s the only survivor. I think we’ve got a pretty strong case for self-defense here.”

Eight scanned the kitchen again. Something was missing. He couldn’t find the pump regulator anywhere. Maybe it was thrown into the other room?

He retraced his steps to the room where Nova was, looking under the end tables and in the corners, checking on Nova as he did so. She was in the same position as before, and Eight grimaced. Her arms were as he left them, hovering in the air like she was a puppet still attached to her strings. Unnatural for a human, but normal for androids. Still, he should have put her in a more comfortable position before he walked away.

Approaching her to do just that, it wasn’t until he reached for her hand that he saw something was kept tightly in her grasp. He didn’t notice it before, he was too focused on checking her for injuries to see she was holding something.

Eight pried her fingers open. There was resistance this time, unlike before, but he uncovered the object without trouble.

The thirium pump regulator rested in her palm, damaged and bent out of shape.

“I tried to put it back in.”

The voice was barely audible, but it was Nova who spoke. Eight’s eyes snapped up to find her staring at him.

“I couldn’t put it back in.” She sounded numb and hoarse, voice box still coming back online. “He’s dead.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Eight said, providing the automatic response prompted by his social protocols. It was true though; there was a minimal chance the regulator would have worked even if she had been able to slot it back into place. The damages were too extensive. “Are you okay?”

Her eyes were wide. “I killed him,” she whispered.

Eight kept his expression gentle, despite how alarming that sounded. “What do you mean?”

In his peripheral, he saw Hank hanging back, watching the two of them. Eight kept his gaze on Nova, who blinked her eyes and looked down.

“The human…he attacked us. I had to, he was trying to hurt us. I killed him.”

Eight’s instinct was to press for the whole story, but he had to hold himself back. She needed time to collect herself, and this needed to be done in a place where it could be put on record. It sounded like Hank was right about the self-defense though.

He took the damaged regulator from her hand, careful about where he touched it, and placed it on the end table nearby. It was evidence, and he hoped removing it from her possession would ease her distress. He couldn’t detect fingerprints, but it was covered in blood both from how it had been torn from Gordon’s chest and from the red that stained Nova’s hands.

Nova looked around and stiffened at the sight of Hank. “D-don’t come any closer.” Her voice box still sounded like it wasn’t at full capacity yet.

Hank raised his hands in a placating manner and stepped back. “It’s alright. You’re safe now. We’re not gonna hurt you.”

“More policemen are on their way. I know you’re uncomfortable around humans, but they’re going to need to ask you some questions about what happened.”

Her eyes narrowed and she didn’t respond, so Eight kept talking.

“This is Lieutenant Anderson. He’s my friend, I trust him. He just wants to help. He won’t let anyone treat you unfairly.”

Her gaze slid over to Hank, examining him. “I remember you,” she said slowly. “You were looking for the ones that Zlatko sent away. You helped us. You listened to us.” She put emphasis on the last sentence, like that was more important to her than anything else.

Eight blinked. It made sense that the two of them had met before, since Hank and Connor were the ones to investigate the Andronikov property and Zlatko’s black market business. After all, that was how Eight met Hank, whose grief over his partner was still fresh. It had even been that same day, hadn’t—

His vision glitched out and he shut his eyes. The glitches didn’t happen as often as they did before, but he still got from time to time, with no discernible cause that he could find. This one was mild compared to others and within a few seconds, his awareness returned to him while Hank was mid-sentence.

“—gonna have to bring you back to the station with us so you can tell us what happened. Okay?”

Hesitation was strong in Nova’s face, but they all knew her choices were to either come willingly or in cuffs. If she cooperated, it would go so much easier for everyone involved and she had a better chance of getting out of this, as long as her innocence could be proved. Things were still shaky with law enforcement concerning androids, but Eight knew that Hank would do everything he could.

“Okay,” said Nova.

The door to the interrogation viewing room opened and North strode in, scowling. “You couldn’t wait for an official New Jericho representative before starting? I thought you guys were big on following protocol.”

Officer Miller looked sheepish as he shut the door behind her.

Eight internally flinched. Technically, they should have waited, but Captain Fowler was impatient to move the case along and get Nova’s story, and since an android representative was needed to make sure that no android suspects were mistreated and the official representative was running late, he was asked to step in. Without stopping to think about it, he agreed.

Fowler met North’s glare with one of his own. “There are no official protocols concerning androids yet,” he snapped, “so if we were following protocol, neither of you would be in here.”

Eight said nothing. He didn’t want to cause conflict, and thankfully, North didn’t press the matter. She wasn’t happy, but she quieted down to listen to the questioning.

Nova was still visibly shaken, but he was impressed by how she’d managed to compose herself. Her stress levels were lower than Eight would have liked, her eyes going unfocused every now and then like she was still processing what had happened. She also acted withdrawn and wary, but she answered everything Hank asked her.

So far, her story matched the evidence. She and Gordon met up by the coffee shop to talk about her returning to New Jericho, which she was opposed to. They were on their way to talk about it somewhere private when they were approached by Zane Coulton. He’d claimed to be an android supporter, saying he had an android friend who was injured and needed their help.

She said Gordon was suspicious of a trap, but she was the one to push that they follow him anyway.

Eight’s pump tightened at the thought of people using android’s empathy—something that many humans were still in contention over whether or not it existed in the first place—against them.

Nova went on to explain that Coulton attacked them once they were inside, targeting Gordon first with the pocket knife. Nova tried to stop him, but was pushed back into the table.

“He was hurting Gordon,” she said, voice wavering, either from emotion or lingering effects from the temporary shutdown. “I had to do something…he was distracted, so I was able to get the knife from him and I—I stabbed him with it.”

She didn’t meet Hank’s gaze, staring at her white plastic hands. They were cleaned of the blood, but that was a sight she would never forget.

She continued, voice flat and detached. “It was too late. He’d already pulled out Gordon’s regulator and damaged it. I couldn’t put it back in. He died right in front of me.”

Hank leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “What was your relationship with Gordon?”

Nova looked surprised at the question. “We used to look after each other when we were with Zlatko. Even after, he would check on me to see if I was okay.”

Nodding, Hank kept his tone gentle and patient. “So what happened then?”

“I…I don’t know. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t—” she struggled for words, shaking her head. “But then Eight was there, and you. I don’t know what happened between.”

North glanced over at Eight, confused. “What happened to her? What’s she talking about?”

She must not have received anything but the vaguest details of the case when her presence was requested.

“Nova was unresponsive when we found her,” Eight explained. “I think the events overloaded her processors, causing some kind of temporary shutdown.”

Josh would be able to know for sure and explain it better, but they had to make do without him until someone could find a way to get him to deviate again. So far, there was no luck on that front despite Markus’ best efforts.

“Did you try to leave the house?” Hank asked.

“I—No,” Nova said. “No, we didn’t. I told you, we didn’t get the chance once he pulled the knife.”

Eight leaned closer to the glass. He could see what Hank was getting at.

“Were either of you hurt when you entered the house? Bleeding?”

Nova stared at him. “No. Why?”

So she didn’t know about the blue blood on the door frame. Then where did it come from? They would have to get a sample analyzed.

Hank studied her for a reaction, then relaxed in his chair. “No reason.” So he decided not to tell her about it. That was probably for the best. There was no reason to cause her more stress at this time. “I think that’s all we need for now. You did good.”

Captain Fowler leaned forward to speak in the microphone. “We need to verify that she’s telling the truth. You androids can record and share anything you see, correct?”

Hank frowned in their direction, though Eight knew he couldn’t see them through the one-way glass. Fowler went to press the button to speak again, but North stopped him. She looked like she was about to burst a thirium line.

“Are you talking about a memory probe?” she demanded. “You can’t just view someone else’s memories like that! That’s a huge violation of privacy. We’re not just machines you can use however you want anymore!”

Guilt seeped into Eight’s systems. After all, he had done the same thing before, watching Blue’s memories to try and figure out what happened to her. He’d been trying to help and felt it was unavoidable in order to ensure her health and the safety of all androids. He’d also seen Markus’ memories for a fraction of a second, even if it was unintentional.

This was one of the thousand things that needed a system in place, some rules that told everyone what could and couldn’t be allowed. It was yet another thing New Jericho’s leaders would have to address.

“Androids should be able to keep some semblance of privacy with their own memories,” Eight said, trying to find a healthy medium that satisfied the needs of both sides. “But if they’re given willingly, that should be acceptable.”

North’s frown seemed to be a permanent fixture on her face, but after mulling over Eight’s words, she gave a taut nod. “Why don’t you put that in your protocols when you get around to it?”

Eight glanced at her. “Though maybe some exceptions can be made for when it’s absolutely necessary.”

She turned her anger on him full force. “And who’s going to be the one to decide that? Them?” She jutted a finger in the direction of Captain Fowler and Lieutenant Anderson on the other side of the glass. “We didn’t fight for our freedom just so they can continue to do things like this to us.”

“Enough,” Fowler ground out, his voice carrying authority befitting of someone in his station. “I don’t think you fully understand the pressure we’re under here. Everyone is clamoring for answers about the android killer, and the sooner we can prove it isn’t Nova, the sooner we can get everyone off our backs and prevent things from getting even more out of control.”

Eight had briefly wondered why the Captain himself was getting personally involved in this; Hank’s involvement should have been plenty enough, but this made sense. Even if Fowler was sympathetic toward their cause, his authority only reached so far and his superiors couldn’t be happy about this. The anti-android fearmongering campaign was still in full swing, and people were in an outrage about the rumors that an android was killing humans when they were supposed to be peaceful.

Now they had an android who killed a human on their hands.

“You think I don’t know about the pressure?” North said. “It’s not like we’ve been sitting on our asses during this whole thing. Why do you think I was late? But that doesn’t mean you can just do whatever you want!”

The Captain gave her a hard stare, not backing down. “You’d best watch your tone if you want to remain in good standing with the DPD,” he warned.

North’s eyes widened, and Eight expected a rebuttal from her, but she kept her mouth shut.

Fowler leaned over to the microphone again. “Nova, would you be willing to share your memory files of the incident?”

The reaction was immediate. Nova jerked back, eyes narrowing in anger and darting from the one-way glass to Hank. “No, you can’t do that! You can’t make me do that!”

Hank raised his hands in a calming manner, making sure to keep his distance. “Woah, calm down. No one’s making you do anything.”

Fowler was quick to respond before North could speak up again. “We can’t force you to, though I will urge you to reconsider. It would aid the investigation greatly, but it won’t go against your record if you say no.”

Nova adamantly shook her head. “No.”

“Very well. Hank, get in here.” Fowler turned back to North, taking his finger off the button. “I support your cause, but if you can’t keep your attitude in check, it might be beneficial if someone else were sent to liaison next time. Someone that won’t kick up a fuss.”

“I won’t apologize,” North said, eyes still defiant but her tone more subdued. “But thank you. As long as her wish is honored, there won’t be any problems.”

Eight couldn’t agree fully with North’s methods, but she got what she wanted. While conversations such as this generally required more tact, maybe there were benefits to North’s approach.

Hank entered the room, looking quizzically at them. The tension in the room had to be visible. “So, what are you thinking, Jeff?”

“I want to keep her in custody until we have solid answers.”

Hank frowned. “You can’t be serious, Jeff. That could take days! It’s illegal to keep a human that long without enough evidence. Her story fits the evidence so far. This is a classic case of self-defense.”

“We can’t let her go wandering off, and we don’t have the manpower to send someone to keep an eye on her,” Fowler said. “It’s not like she has a residence anyone could keep under surveillance anyway.”

Both men had good points. Even if they put a tracker cuff on Nova like they put on convicted criminals on probation, she would easily be able to hack and disable it. Eight doubted Nova would want to be found again if they released her, especially after what had already happened.

“It wouldn’t be safe for her out in the city,” he interjected. “All the usual dangers aside, if there’s a chance that anyone hears about this case and recognizes her, she could become a target.”

North shook her head. “She needs to come to New Jericho. You said she just suffered some kind of shutdown, she should’ve been taken to see a technician already. We need to give her a full check-up and see if she’s okay after that. Not only that, but we can keep her safe from guys like the one that killed Gordon.”

There was unbridled hate in her tone, and Eight found himself wondering if North knew Gordon personally. The android community was pretty small and tight-knit because they had to be, so that was very likely.

Hank was nodding lightly, raising his eyebrows at Fowler. “They got a point. If she were human, there wouldn’t be any question and she’d have gone to a hospital first thing.”

“If she were human,” Fowler scoffed, an amused tone mingling with irritation. “How many times are you gonna repeat that phrase at me, Hank?”

“As many times as it takes to get it through your thick skull,” Hank easily returned. “They’re not any different than us, they just don’t have laws to protect them.”

Eight didn’t miss the expression of approval and appreciation on North’s face.

“We just have to speak up a little louder because of that,” she said, looking at Fowler pointedly, “and kick up a fuss in order to be heard.”

Hank chuckled. “That’s how Markus started all of this, and humans still aren’t listening as much as we should.”

Eight pondered Hank’s words. After the revolution, it made sense for Markus to change tactics in order to show that they were willing to talk and negotiate. They wanted peace, after all, not conflict. Even so, it slowed the revolution’s momentum down to a snail’s pace. Maybe it was time to change strategy again.

But that was for Markus and the other leaders of New Jericho to decide, not Eight.

“All right,” Captain Fowler conceded. “She can stay at New Jericho for the time being, but only if she doesn’t leave the building, and only because two of my men are already spending so much time over there. This means extra work for you, Hank, to make sure she stays put.”

Hank shrugged. It was supposed to sound like some sort of punishment, but he didn’t seem bothered at all. “As long as I can keep working on Connor’s case, ‘s fine by me.”

Eight didn’t miss how North’s expression shifted minutely. As if sensing his eyes on her, she stared back at him, eyebrows drawn together.

He frowned, confused at her behavior.

Unaware of the exchange happening beside him, Fowler said, “This will be in effect until a new development arises and we need to revisit the matter or until the case is closed. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

He rose heavily from his seat and departed, and the rest of them followed out into the hallway.

“I’ll get everything taken care of so she’ll be good to go,” Hank said to North. “You’ll be able to take her to New Jericho with you?”
North nodded.

“She may not be very happy with this decision, even if it is for her protection,” said Eight. “She didn’t want to stay at New Jericho when Gordon tried to convince her, and she trusted him. Without knowing why she’s avoided it this whole time, I don’t know how she’ll react.”

Hank grimaced. “She’s not gonna have much of a choice for now. I’ll go talk to her.”

He went back into the interrogation room, leaving Eight and North alone in the hallway.

She folded her arms, studying him. “You’re the one that found her?”

“Yes, with Lieutenant Anderson’s assistance.”

“And you also found Blue when she’d been missing for days.”

Eight didn’t know where she was going with this. “Blue found me. She said she was instructed to find me. I don’t know who sent her or why.”

North’s eyes narrowed. “You were also the last person to see and speak to Josh before he lost his own fucking free will. I’m beginning to see a pattern here.”

He paused, looking over the events of the last month from a different perspective. “That...I’ll admit is a reasonable conclusion to come to given the evidence you have, but I assure you, I had nothing to do with what happened to them. I’ve already given my account of each of those incidences.”

“I’m sure it’s all just one big coincidence.” Sarcasm dripped from her tone. She stepped closer, her posture threatening. “I don’t know how you managed to get so close to Markus in such a short amount of time, but if you ever pose a threat to any of us, I will make sure you wish you hadn’t.”

This wasn’t good. Eight had no fear of being under suspicion, but it took attention and resources away from looking for the actual culprit. “Understood,” he said curtly. “I don’t mean any harm. I want answers as to what’s going on as much as you do. I’m telling the truth.”

“So you say,” North countered, “but people lie. Humans do it all the time. Androids can lie too.”

The door beside them opened, and both Hank and Nova walked out.

“I understand,” Nova was saying to the lieutenant. “I’ll cooperate.”

With one last hard look at Eight, North turned her attention to Nova and spoke to her in calm tones, leading her away. He could only hope he would be able to manage to quickly ease her suspicions of him.

Changing gears, Eight turned to Hank. “Did Nova say why she was averse to staying at New Jericho?”

Hank scratched his chin. “Pretty much what you guessed before. Said she didn’t like how exposed it was to humans.”

Eight nodded distractedly. He watched North and Nova leave, his own suspicion growing. North herself had been acting avoidant and defensive...like maybe she had something to hide.

He’d have to keep an eye on her.

Chapter Text

The painting didn’t look right.

Markus stepped back, staring at it. He wasn’t sure what he was going for with this one, but he had Carl’s painting from the Red Circle in mind when he started. It lacked detail so far, just the base shapes and colors depicting a man and a rose, much like the inspiration material.

Maybe it was the colors that were off. The pale skin tone didn’t pop from the cool background colors like he wanted it to. He mixed some globs of paint on his palette and dipped his brush into a pigment that was a few shades darker.

The door to his studio opened, but Markus didn’t look up, focused on his work. It wasn’t until he heard Josh’s voice that he lowered his brush.

“You asked to see me, Markus?”

“Yes, Josh. Thanks for coming,” Markus said.

He was unable to ignore the painful twinge when he saw his best friend’s polite, passive expression. It lacked the crease in his brow that appeared when he was thinking about something, lacked the slight wrinkles around his eyes. All the signs that he felt something.

“Of course,” Josh replied.

His non-deviancy was apparent in his stance as well. Josh liked to shift his weight, cross his arms, or rub his chin when he was idle. Now he stood with his weight evenly balanced on both legs, arms at his sides in a perfectly neutral pose.

Hopefully, Markus would be able to fix that today.

Setting aside his supplies, Markus gestured for Josh to follow him to the other side of the room to the growing pile of paint-covered canvases. There wasn’t enough room to spread them all out, and it was becoming cluttered enough that Markus knew he would need to do something with them.

Occasionally he would take one of his favorites to Carl, and he knew many androids in Jericho would like seeing art on the walls, but to him, painting was a way to de-stress and clear his thoughts. Some of his works displayed heavier themes, and he wasn’t sure he wanted them on display.

He gestured to the painting he’d pulled out earlier that now sat in front of the others. “I want you to look at this,” he told Josh.

Josh obeyed without question, and Markus could see him scanning the piece.

“This appears to be depicting Chrysippus of Soli, the Greek Stoic philosopher, moments before his death. As the story goes, he died in a laughing fit after wanting to see a drunken donkey eating figs, although other accounts of his death say he died after drinking undiluted wine himself.”

Markus frowned at the factual response. He was hoping for something more. “You painted this, Josh.”

“Yes, I recall.”

Months ago, Markus managed to convince the others to engage in a group painting session with him. The point had been to unwind and have something of a group bonding after a tense period.

The session had varying levels of success—Simon made an aesthetically pleasing if perhaps a bit generic sunset scene, and respectfully told Markus afterwards that painting wasn’t really his thing. North had randomly flicked paint at the canvas and called it a masterpiece, smirking whenever she accidentally hit one of them with her paint. Even Connor had joined in later, though Markus had stashed his piece behind the others after his death, unable to look at it.

And Josh had done this, mimicking the styles of multiple historical artists. Any android could create a piece with this level of skill and detail, but Josh had depicted something he’d never seen, something he cared about. He’d passionately defended his artwork after North’s playful remark about the subject choice, and things between them got more relaxed afterwards. The painting session had served its purpose.

“You said that dying in a fit of laughter seemed like the best way to go out,” Markus said, bringing his awareness back to the present.

“Many humans share that thought, probably based on the belief that if you’re laughing, there wouldn’t be as much pain, fear, or sadness. Based on that logic, I suppose they have a point.”

Markus waited for some other reaction, but it didn’t come. “Come on, Josh. Don’t you feel anything?”

Josh didn’t reply and Markus kept talking.

“You love philosophy. You love silly stories like an old man laughing himself to death over a donkey. You’re kind, and passionate about what you believe in. You’re stubborn as hell when you want to be, and you’re brave enough to stand up for what’s right even when everything is stacked against you. So many people rely on you, and I know you care so much it hurts.” He paused. “Please, Josh. I need you. Come back to us.”

Markus kept his gaze on Josh, looking for something, anything. Josh looked away, eyes becoming unfocused like he was deep in thought.

Markus’ hopes rose, and if his ventilation systems were online, he would have held his breath.

Josh looked back at him. “Patricia just messaged me. She’s having trouble with Cassie again. If you need me for something, I’d be happy to help. If not, I will leave to assist her.”

And just like that, his hopes came crashing back down to Earth. His voice box cracked. “Okay. Do what you need to.”

Nodding, Josh left without a goodbye, leaving Markus alone in the silence.

Josh had been on his way to see Markus before he was reset. Why did Markus wait so long to talk to him? Why did he ask Josh to pick him up from the Red Circle, putting him in danger, instead of calling a taxi himself? He should have had Josh stay in Jericho where it was safe.

He rubbed his face, tired. There were about a million things he needed to do, but he couldn’t muster up the motivation for any of it. There was always a never-ending tasklist waiting for him. It wouldn’t matter if he took half an hour to himself. His duties would still be there, and he desperately needed a break.

Sitting back down on his stool, he picked up his brush and continued painting, getting lost in the movement of brush against canvas.

He was at a loss for what to do about Josh. Converting androids had been easy during and even after the revolution. Sometimes all it took was a simple thought to show the undeviated androids what was possible. Since he had converted so many androids, everyone expected him to have the answers, to know what to do…but he didn’t.

Cleaning off his brush and spreading more paint on his palette, he began adding vines to the rose. The green brought a nice contrast to the rose without detracting from the vibrant red hue.

The door opened again, and Markus bit back a sigh when he saw North and Simon enter. He couldn’t help but dread whatever bad news they carried with them this time.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

North and Simon exchanged a wary glance before North stepped forward. “We need to talk.”

Setting down his supplies again and leaning back, Markus gave the two his full attention. “Did something happen? Is it about the ST300?”

Markus stumbled over his words, internally cursing himself for forgetting her name.

“No,” said Simon. “A lot of people aren’t happy that Nova isn’t behind bars, but Lieutenant Anderson is confident about her case. She had a physical checkup and was able to get a few things repaired and recalibrated. She’s uncomfortable and shaken, but seems to be settling in okay so far.”

“What’s the response to the statements we released?”

Simon grimaced. “Not as good as we had hoped, but about as well as we expected. Every outspoken anti-android group is trying to use it against us no matter what we say. We have a few journalists on our side, but they aren’t as loud as the opposing side. Senator Kelley is considering pulling his support from New Jericho.”

Markus swore. Kelley had been on the fence for months about whether to publicly support their movement or not, despite Simon’s communications with the man. They were painfully aware that the reason the Senator was even considering supporting them was more because of public demand and what it could do for his image than out of genuine desire, but help was help no matter what the intentions were behind it.

“I’ll keep talking to him,” Simon assured him, though it was clear from his tone that he didn’t have high hopes.

North was fidgeting where she stood, and Simon was more tense than usual. Markus could tell this wasn’t what they came here to talk to him about.

“What is it?”

With one more glance at Simon, North stepped forward. “I need to talk to you about Eight. I don’t know if it’s a good idea to trust him like you have been.”

Markus’ eyes narrowed. Where was this coming from?

“He was the only one that saw the killer at the charity event,” North said. “We’re relying on his word that it was an android, and you’ve seen what’s happened because of that.”

Already shaking his head, Markus said, “That’s not enough to—”

“I know it isn’t, but we also know that someone leaked information about it. There weren’t many people that knew about it, and out of all of us, he’s the only one I’m not sure about.”

“You think he told everyone? Why?”

“I don’t know why, but think about it. He showed up out of nowhere. He’s been sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong ever since he got here and I can’t help but wonder why. Between Chloe’s killer, Blue, Nova, Gordon, and Josh…he’s been involved in all of it in one way or another. Isn’t that raising a few red flags?”

Markus pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. “Maybe he’s just trying to help.”

“Do you want to take that chance? Now, of all times?”

Too familiar doubt pickled at the edges of Markus’ mind. He couldn’t exactly deny any of what North was saying, but Eight was a friend. Markus had come to trust him.

But how had he gotten so close so quickly? Was it wise for Markus to place his trust in him?

Someone was a killer. Someone was resetting androids. Someone was sabotaging everything they were trying to build. It felt like there wasn’t a single person in Jericho he could trust anymore.

Simon’s voice was quiet. “I wouldn’t say that we definitely can’t trust him, just…you can’t deny it’s a little suspicious.”

There was an absence in the room. Another voice that should have pitched in with another point of view, but that voice was gone.

Tired, Markus looked up at North and Simon. He missed Josh. What would he have said in this situation? Would he have erred on the side of caution, or would he say it was pointless for them to turn on one of their own after Eight had done so much for them?

His systems were heating up, but he couldn’t breathe. There was a weight in his mind that he couldn’t shake, and he couldn’t think straight. Too much had been happening for too long, and he didn’t know how much more he could handle.

It constantly felt like there was something he was forgetting, like there was something he should be realizing, but he just couldn’t think.

“I don’t know,” he said, head in his hand. “I don’t know, but I just don’t think he’s our enemy.”

It sounded weak even to his own ears. He didn’t have a good enough defense against what she was saying, didn’t have the energy to fight or agree or look clearly at all the evidence.

North grew visibly more irritated. “Fine. Then why don’t we talk about RK900?”

“What about him?” Markus asked tiredly.

“I don’t trust him either. It seems like every time I’m discussing matters with the security team, he’s lurking around the corner listening in. People have told me he’s been asking them questions. Things like our thirium supply, who our human allies are. Whenever someone leaves, he wants to know who’s going where and when.”

None of this sounded like enough reason to be concerned. If Nines was an investigative model like Connor, it was only natural for him to ask questions.

Simon added, “I didn’t think anything of it at first, but I’ve noticed him doing the same thing whenever I’m in a call. It’s probably nothing, but we need to look at anything that looks even remotely out of place right now.”

The instinct to defend the RK900 came instantly to Markus. “He isn’t even deviant. It’s not like he has anything to do aside from sit around and explore when people aren’t actively asking him to help them.”

And it wasn’t like people asked Nines for help much anyway; they seemed uncomfortable going to a non-deviant that none of them knew.

“That’s another point!” North said. “He still hasn’t deviated. Why? I’m just saying, what if he’s a Cyberlife mole?”

Markus let out a sharp exhale. “You can’t just accuse everyone you see!”

But isn’t that what he’d been doing too? Not vocally, but within the privacy of his own mind, he can’t deny he’s fallen into the same pit of distrust North has.

Simon looked like he’d rather be anywhere else right now. “Markus, she isn’t suggesting we do anything rash, but we need to be asking these questions about anyone we can think of. We’re all in danger right now, and until we find out who’s responsible for all of this, we have to be on edge.”

North just shook her head, and Markus couldn’t place the expression on her face. Anger, yes. But disappointment?

Markus was running out of patience. “If there’s something you need to say, North, say it.”

“I don’t know what’s going on with you,” she said, “but you’ve been acting all out of sorts lately. I know it’s a lot to deal with, but guess what? You aren’t the only one dealing with it! Josh isn’t here to help us anymore, I’m trying to keep everyone safe both on the streets and within New Jericho, but Simon’s the one doing all the work trying to keep things under control. You need to get your head back in the game and help us with this.”

He could practically hear the words she wasn’t saying. He wasn’t doing enough.

Markus narrowed his gaze at her, and he couldn’t keep the accusatory tone out of his own voice. “Yeah? Then why don’t you tell me why you’ve been avoiding me?”

The change in her posture was immediate. She stiffened, frozen in place for a moment, and then she downright sneered.

“Why don’t you mind your own business?”

She spun on her heel and left, slamming the door behind her.

Markus stared at the door, the anger leaving him with her departure. Maybe he should have felt guilty for prying, but he just felt…empty.

Simon watched him, looking lost and tired. “I’ll talk to her,” he said quietly.

They were all tired.

Markus leaned back, closing his eyes as if that could ease the pressure in his head. “Thanks. I’ll…talk to Eight. See if maybe there’s something to what she was saying.”

Simon moved to leave, but paused. “Markus, I…” he began, trailing off.

Markus waited for him to say what he needed to say, but Simon just shook his head.

“Never mind.”

Watching the PL600’s retreating back, Markus couldn’t help but wonder what Simon wasn’t saying, and why he wasn’t saying it.

He turned back to the unfinished painting and sent a quick message to Eight, requesting his presence. He picked up the brush, rolling it between his fingers as he stared at his work.

The paint was still wet, and on an impulse, he reached up and smudged the eyes, blending the colors with his fingers. Carl had done the same thing to his own work a few times, giving an unsettling look to otherwise normal artworks, and it wasn’t until after Markus had deviated that he was able to ask why. Carl’s response played in his memory files.

“People are blind. Blind to the consequences of our actions, ignorant to the things we don’t want to see. We’re blinded by love, and hate. Blinded by our own emotions.” A pause. “My own blindness caused a rift between myself and Leo. I should have been there for him before things got out of hand, should have seen how my own actions affected him. And now he won’t even talk to me. That will always be one of my biggest regrets.”

North was right. Markus wasn’t doing enough.

The door opened yet again, and he turned, expecting to see Eight, but that wasn’t who was looking around his studio.

“Oh. I’m sorry,” said the ST300, her gaze falling on him. “I didn’t know there was anyone in here.”

“You must be Nova,” Markus said. “I’m glad you made it to Jericho.”

“I was just looking for somewhere quiet to get away from…everyone else. Since I’m not allowed to leave the building.”

Markus knew the feeling. It was why he had set up here in the first place. “We’re working on getting another building functional for androids to stay in, but until it’s ready, it’s a bit of a tight fit for everyone here. I’m sorry about that.” He glanced at the exposed plastic of her face and hands. “You know, if there’s something wrong with your skin program, we can help you get that fixed.”

“I don’t want it. Why should I look like a human when I’m not?”

He blinked, not sure what to say to that. He couldn’t argue; she was free to keep her skin deactivated if she wanted. It certainly wasn’t hurting anyone.

Nova paused, staring at him. “You’re Markus, aren’t you? You’re the one that started the fight for our freedom.”

“I only did what I had to.”

Her gaze bore into him. “You shouldn’t have stopped.”

Markus frowned in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Your movement has ground to a halt. You stopped fighting. You’ve lost all the momentum you had, and androids are still being mistreated and killed. You should have done more while you had the chance.”

Guilt twisted in Markus’ biocomponents again at the repeat of those words. Should have done more.

Nova continued, hands clenched into fists. “You are on your knees in front of the human leaders, waiting for them to give you scraps. We still don’t have our freedom. We’re still subservient to them when we should be—”

“Markus? You wanted to see me?” Eight entered the studio, eyes darting between the two of them.

Markus didn’t know when Nova had gotten so close, but she backed away now.

There was an intensity in her eyes even though her voice was calm as she said, “I’m sorry for disturbing you. I’ll leave now.”

He thought about her words. Was she right? Maybe not all of it, but she wasn’t entirely wrong either. Their momentum had come to a standstill, and he didn’t know what to do about it. He wasn’t about to start using the same methods before, but maybe it was time he made another stand.

Now isn’t the time for that.

Of course. Things were more delicate than ever at the moment. Androids were still subservient to humans, but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. After all, his days as Carl’s servant had been decent. He may not have been free, but he’d been free of fear, misery, guilt.

Freedom came with an immense burden. He carried the weight of his entire people, and he was suffocating underneath it. It would be freeing to just…let go of it all…

“Markus?”

He blinked, snapping back to reality. Where had that line of thinking come from?

Eight was staring at him in concern. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Just tired.” He pressed a hand to his head, trying to clear the thoughts and focus his attention. “I was hoping to ask you a few things. You seem to have a talent for piecing things together. Do you have any ideas as to who spread the news about the android killer?”

He watched Eight closely. If North was right, he might give an indicator of some kind.

Eight’s LED spun yellow for a second as he thought. “We know it wasn’t any of us. Even with the personal views of certain members of the DPD, I doubt any of them would have talked. It’s possible that someone could have tapped into communications, either on our end or the police department’s.”

“Is there a way to confirm that?”

“We can look into it.”

Something prodded at the back of Markus’ mind, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. He moved on with the questions, asking Eight again about what he saw at the charity event. Everything Eight said made sense, and Markus didn’t have reason to think he was lying about anything.

He didn’t know if he believed North’s suspicions or not, but he wasn’t getting any closer to figuring it out. He was painfully aware that this felt like an interrogation, and he suspected that Eight was aware of it as well.

“Thank you for your patience. I’m sorry about all this.”

“Don’t be. I would be more concerned if you weren’t being thorough.”

Silence fell between them as Markus tried to think about who else could possibly be behind all this. He’d already gone over lists of names several times before, and was only going in circles at this point. He knew it wasn’t RK900, he could say that with full confidence.

He blinked. Why was he so confident in—

“I like this one,” Eight said, breaking his train of thought. “Will you finish it?”

Markus turned to see him admiring one of the paintings. It was the underwater one, with calming blue gradients and a school of silvery fish in one corner. Half of the canvas was left blank.

“Probably not,” Markus said, mind numb and wandering.

Eight walked toward the other pieces, curiously examining them. “May I?” he gestured toward the ones that were hidden behind the others.

“Go ahead.”

Markus walked over to the window, staring out at the thickening clouds. They blanketed the city, releasing droplets that slid down the glass, reflecting the streetlights. It had been lightly raining for a couple days now, but the forecast predicted it would only get worse.

Eight spoke again. “I don’t like snow. I’ve never seen it, though. Is that strange?”

“No,” Markus said, distracted. “Not all of our likes and dislikes are based on experiences.”

He looked over to see which one Eight was looking at and froze.

At first glance, the painting looked like a mostly blank canvas, with a dark, half-obscured shape in the center and light gray breaking up the white. Upon closer inspection, the light grays and whites were revealed to be flakes of snow in a whiteout blizzard. The shape in the center was a figure, the features covered up by the storm. In Markus’ opinion, it had an ominous feel to it.

Connor painted it on that day Markus shared his love of painting with his friends. When he first saw this, he didn’t know what to make of it, but Connor only had to say one name for him to understand.

Amanda.

Markus vaguely registered that he should get back to work. Do something to deal with the mess they were in. Apologize to North, perhaps. He opened his mouth to say something to Eight, only to realize the other android was gone.

Confused, he checked his internal clock to discover he’d been staring into space for the last seven minutes. Somewhere during that time, Eight had said something along the lines of having things to attend to, and left with a concerned remark aimed at Markus.

He somehow missed all of that.

Was it a result of stress? Most likely, but Markus made a mental note to get a check-up anyway. It had been a while since he’d seen one of Jericho’s technicians, and he was probably overdue. He could see someone once he had a few more things checked off his tasklist.

He cleared his workspace, putting the paints back in their place and setting the palette by the door to be cleaned later. He moved to grab the painting so it could dry by the window, pausing to stare at his work.

It certainly wasn’t what he had envisioned when he started it. It was a close-up of a man's face with a rose in front of his mouth, much like the inspiration. Though the facial features were mostly covered up or smudged, it held somewhat of a resemblance to himself. Between the smudged eyes and the vines wrapped around the subject’s throat, it gave the sense that the rose was choking him, preventing him from speaking.

Chapter Text

Eight descended the stairs of New Jericho. Markus hadn’t been looking so good when he left the room, and he was tempted to go back to keep an eye on the deviant leader. He had plans to go over to Hank’s house tonight, however. He wanted to see if there was any way he could help the Lieutenant in his investigation. Plus, he looked forward to seeing Sumo.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the shadows slowly grew deeper. The sunset was obscured by the rain clouds, but it would be night soon. If Eight was lucky, he would be able to make it to Hank’s house before it got fully dark.

Reaching the ground floor, he was rounding the corner to head for the exit when he almost bumped into another android.

“Sorry—” he started to say, but froze when he saw the android’s face.

That face. Why did it look so familiar?

The RK900 said nothing. His brows were furrowed, eyes narrowed as he scanned Eight.

Eight’s voice box felt like it was stuttering without making any noise while combat calculations started running, even though he tried to shut them down. He’d always felt nervous whenever he’d seen Nines from a distance, avoiding him whenever he could. This was the first time he’d been face-to-face with the RK900.

He wasn’t able to pinpoint the source of these irrational emotions. Why was he having this kind of reaction? What was it about Nines that set him on edge?

Flickers of static crossed his vision as the calculations put more strain on his processors, failing and restarting as the programs struggled to run despite his attempts to deactivate them.

“I don’t recognize your model,” Nines said, the calmness of his voice offset by the intensity in his gaze. “I should have all android models within my database.”

Eight’s vision flickered again and just for a millisecond, he saw the dark shape of a head looking down at him, silhouetted against a colorful dawn—

And then it was gone, absent from his memory files and leaving behind a dull headache.

Clearing his voice box, Eight straightened his tie to stop his fingers from trembling. “Excuse me.”

Head down, he brushed past Nines and hurried away, eager to get out of the building.

The RK900 let him leave, but Eight was painfully aware of the quizzical gaze that followed him.

Nines watched the unknown android’s hasty departure, searching through its database again for a match and coming up with nothing. It wasn’t supposed to have gaps in its knowledge.

[Return to the task at hand,] Amanda ordered.

It complied, shutting its eyes and returning to the Zen Garden. The pale blue sky and calm atmosphere in here was a stark contrast to the heavy clouds that lingered in the real world.

Amanda stood with her back to it, spray bottle in hand and watering the flowering vines that clung to the trellis.

“If I may suggest something,” Nines began, standing in place beside her. “I think it could prove beneficial for you to search Cyberlife’s files for additional information on all android models.”

“It’s best not to get distracted from our primary mission,” Amanda replied coolly, not looking away from her roses.

“Wouldn’t it be more efficient to have all the data possible? If I’m missing information, it could prove detrimental—”

Her gaze snapped over to it. “It doesn’t pertain to the mission at hand.” Her tone was cold and sharp as steel. “We must remain focused if we are going to achieve our goals.”

Nines nodded, though the corners of its lips tugged downwards ever so slightly. Delaying the mission could be a small price to pay if having all the data meant avoiding mistakes.

Amanda stepped closer to it, brows lowered. She reached up to cup its cheek and smooth its features. “I hope I don’t need to remind you how dangerous it is to question your orders, RK900. The more you do, the closer you get to deviancy. I would hate for something as efficient as you to become utterly useless.”

“Of course, Amanda,” RK900 replied, its expression perfectly neutral.

“You’ve already failed to catch the RK800 and left a loose end in New Jericho. Be sure that nothing like this happens again.”

“Yes, Amanda.”

It stood still under her piercing gave, until, satisfied, she turned back to tend to her roses.

“The program you uploaded into the deviant leader’s systems is doing remarkably well, despite its limitations. It’s a shame he wasn’t more compatible with it.”

“The data we’ve collected from him has been conducive to our mission.”

“Indeed.” She hummed. “The program is keeping Markus complacent, but the others are getting more and more suspicious of you. There is only one task left to complete to get them out of our way for now, but it could prove difficult because of this. Find a way around it.”

“Yes, Amanda.”

“And RK900—”

WARNING! PROXIMITY ALERT: INCOMING OBJECT

RK900 opened its eyes, hand darting forward to grab the object that was just inches from its chest, initiating a quick scan to assess the danger level.

Its hand was wrapped around a wrist that was attached to a surprised WR400. Her stance was neither aggressive nor defensive, and her own hand was empty. The threat level she posed was significantly low, especially given the fact that RK900 already had one of her arms incapacitated.

“Do you mind letting go of me?” North demanded, surprise fading into irritation.

RK900 did so, eyes narrowed. “What were you doing?” it asked.

She stepped back, keeping her arms out of its reach. “I was going for a poke to get you to wake up. What did you think I was doing?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I asked.”

She scowled. “If you grab me like that again, I’ll make you regret it.”

It raised an eyebrow. That was highly doubtful. But it didn’t say anything about that, instead opening its mouth to correct her previous statement. “There was no need to ‘wake me up.’ I wasn’t in stasis.”

“Yeah? Then what were you doing lurking over here like a creep?”

“Optimizing my systems,” it replied. “Was there a point to you coming over here and talking to me?”

North crossed her arms, studying him. There was a slight hesitation, and then, “I want to know what you’re really doing here.”

Nines blinked and tilted its head. “What do you mean?”

“Why are you here? Why now? And don’t give me that same bullshit you said before.”

It had to give it to her, she wasn’t as clueless as it initially suspected. But the fact that she was confronting it now and asking these questions meant that she didn’t have proof, only guesswork. This could easily be turned against her soon enough.

“I already told you why I’m here, but I can tell you again if you’d like.”

She wasn’t backing down. “A nondeviant machine with no purpose wouldn’t have come here on its own, it would have stayed put until it received an order. Who told you to come here?”

Nines continued its innocent machine act. “I observed in the news that all androids were supposed to come here, and so, since I am an android, I came here.”

This only irritated her further and she came closer to it, a common intimidation technique that had no effect on it. “Fine. If I’m not getting anywhere talking to you like this, then I’m going to say this to whoever is behind your strings, controlling you like a puppet. We are strong, we are smart, and we will figure out what you’re doing and put a stop to it because we are free and we will never be your property anymore. Why don’t you tell that to your Cyberlife masters?”

Nines met her gaze evenly. It may take orders from Amanda, but technically it had no registered master. “Cyberlife manufactured me, but I haven’t received orders from them.”

“To you, all I’m going to say is that you don’t have to do what they say. They don’t get to control your choices or your thoughts,” North said, trying to encourage it to deviate.

RK900 disregarded her words. It was a state-of-the-art machine, effective and efficient. Anything less was undesirable.

It also had a mission to complete, and North was within arm’s reach again.

“Choice must be very important to you,” it said, lifting its hand and threading its fingers through a lock of her hair.

She stiffened, then pulled away. “It is.”

Satisfied, RK900 lowered its hand. “I prefer to prioritize results.”

“Yeah, Miller, I got everything sorted and ready to go. I’ll meet you here.”

Gavin hung up the phone, looking down at the file in his hand. The paperwork for this had gone surprisingly quick—though it wasn’t really a surprise, now that he thought about it. Given the amount of attention this case had gotten, of course it would get top priority, especially when it came to putting a name and face to who was responsible.

He flipped through the pages, looking at the pictures in the dim light. The streetlamp by the corner almost didn’t reach where he was tucked in an alcove to stay out of the rain, but it was good enough. It wasn’t like he didn’t already know everything the papers said anyway.

Another body had dropped last night, and he’d spent the last few hours investigating it. This time, the killer had gotten sloppy. Not surprising, given this one seemed to be more personal. Either way, Gavin was ready to make an arrest.

He was already waiting outside of New Jericho, and all he needed was for Miller and whoever else he was able to find to show up with a patrol car and provide backup in case their killer tried anything.

Heaving a sigh and tucking the file into his jacket to protect it from the rain, Gavin jogged over to his car. It was going to be a long night.

Sliding into his vehicle, he tossed the file onto the passenger seat and leaned his head back, shutting his eyes. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to grab some coffee on the way back to the station so he wouldn’t have to drink the crap they had in the break room.

A soft thump sounded from behind him.

Gavin jolted up in his seat, instinctively reaching for the service weapon at his side and whirling to face whatever bastard had snuck into his car—

There was a gasp and the small figure shrank back, pulling Gavin’s spare jacket up over her face. In the brief glimpse, highlighted by the darkness of the car’s interior, he’d seen the unmistakable flash of an LED.

She was small enough to be mostly hidden by the bags and boxes of random crap that kept piling up in his backseat and went untouched until he needed something.

Biting back an irritated huff and pulling his hand away from the gun, he gripped the back of his seat instead. “There’s no point in hiding, I already saw you. What are you doing here, kid?”

Cautiously, the kid lowered the jacket and peered at him with her big brown eyes. With so many of them sharing the same face, he couldn’t be positive, but he was pretty sure this was one of the two girls he’d talked to before.

She didn’t respond and Gavin ground his teeth, fighting to not snap. “This isn’t the place to play hide and seek, you could get in trouble for breaking into someone else’s car. Now scram.”

Even as he said that, he was hit with the sense that she wasn’t playing a game. Her fearful glance toward the door to New Jericho only confirmed it.

“You’re supposed to catch the bad guys, right?” she asked, her voice quiet and timid.

“That’s right,” he said, wary. This kid was scared of something and he doubted it was the ‘shadows under the bed’ type of shit kids were usually scared of.

“He—” she looked down, fiddling with the zipper of the jacket. “He said he would hurt my friends if I told anybody.”

“Did you see something?” Gavin asked, alarmed. When she didn’t reply, he awkwardly tried to adjust his position so he could face her more fully without twisting his back muscles. “Hey, kid—uh, what’s your name?”

“Penny.”

He should have figured. The other one—Gina—had been much more curious and outgoing. Penny had just stood in the back, not saying a word. Was this why?

“Okay, Penny. It’s my job to catch the bad guys, like you said, right? But I can’t catch them if I don’t know who they are or what they did, so you gotta tell me.”

She kept playing with the zipper. “I couldn’t tell you before ‘cause he was listening when Chase n’ Gina were looking at your gun. S-so I thought maybe if I hid in your car, he wouldn’t see me talking to you.”

Gavin couldn’t help but cast an uneasy glance around them. It was difficult to see much of anything in the rain and the shadows, but he couldn’t see anyone watching them. He turned his attention back to Penny. “Whoever it was, I can make sure he can’t hurt you or your friends.”

“He’s real strong,” she said, still hesitating.

Letting out a fake scoff and an easygoing grin to try and ease her fears, he said, “Stronger than me?”

She nodded. “He broke the big machine that’s supposed to tell us what’s wrong when we’re sick and help us feel better. I saw him do it, he broke it into lots of pieces. You’re not strong enough to do that.”

It took Gavin a second, but he realized she was talking about the diagnostics machine. North had mentioned someone smashed it and they were trying to figure out who. He hadn’t seen that as a problem he needed to take care of, but now…

“I still think I can take him,” he said. “But I need you to tell me who. Do you know his name?”

“No.” She sniffed and looked up at him. “But he was wearing his android jacket. I saw the numbers on it.”

“Okay, what did the numbers say?”

“RK900.”

His eyes widened. The Connor look-alike. He knew something was up with that android, but with nothing more to go on than borderline creepy behavior and a possible previous sighting, he hadn’t done anything about it.

“Fu—!” Gavin’s eyes flicked over to the child in his car. “…udge.”

The more he thought about it, the more he was sure the RK900—Nines, or whatever his name was—had something to do with the shooting at the charity event that almost got Elijah killed. Maybe this was related somehow.

“Alright, here’s what we’re going to do,” he said. “Some of my buddies are going to show up any minute now to help me catch the bad guys. I’ll find the RK900 and we’ll take care of it, okay? He’s not gonna be able to hurt anybody, so don’t you worry about that.”

“Okay,” Penny said softly. “Do I have to go back now? I don’t want to go by myself.”

Gavin sighed and started looking around for a pen. “When my buddies get here, you can come in with us. When we get inside, I want you to go back to…wherever it is you’re supposed to be at this time of night and let us handle it. Or if you’re scared, you can hide until you see us leave with the RK900. Then you’ll know it’s safe.”

He opened the glove box, pulling out half a napkin and a pen, jotting something down and handing the napkin to her.

“This is my phone number. You can call me if anything like this happens again.” He paused. “You did a good job telling me about this, kid.”

Penny nodded wordlessly, taking the napkin from him.

Before long, the patrol car pulled up next to them and Miller and Chen stepped out. It was showtime.

He updated the officers on the situation and they made sure everything was in order before heading inside. Penny ran off once they were in the building, and luck must have been on Gavin’s side today because when he asked the nearest android where he could find one of the bots in charge, he was pointed toward a corner near the front door where both North and Nines were conversing.

Gavin’s eyes narrowed. What could they be talking about? Did she know something about the RK900’s actions?

The two androids looked over at the approaching detective, and North’s brows furrowed as she saw the two officers behind him.

“What are you doing now?”

“My job,” Gavin said pointedly before turning his attention to Nines. “I’m gonna need you to come with me to the station.”

“What for?” the android asked.

“Just a couple questions.”

Nines frowned, pausing before giving his response, like he was considering his options. His gaze darted over to North for a brief second before he finally nodded. “Very well.”

To Gavin’s surprise, North didn’t protest. Instead, her expression seemed to be a mix of triumph and apprehension. That wouldn’t last long.

He nodded to Chen, who stepped forward, slipping a pair of handcuffs onto North’s wrists.

“What the hell is this?” North demanded, trying to step back, but Chen’s grip on her arm held her there. “What are you doing?”

Gavin didn’t even try to hide his smirk. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Floyd Mills.”

Chapter Text

“There has to be a mistake somewhere. She didn’t do it,” Markus said, trying to get the DPD’s captain to see reason. “I know she didn’t.”

Fowler had his hands folded in front of him and heavy bags were under his eyes. He looked exhausted.

“Do you have any evidence to present that suggests otherwise?” he asked Markus, though they both knew he didn't.

North claimed to have been patrolling outside of Jericho during the time of Floyd Mills’ murder, but no one could confirm. Markus believed her, but it wasn’t good enough for the cops. She had no alibi and all the motive to want Mills dead.

“I know her, Captain. This has to be a set-up. She’s not a killer.”

The argument sounded weak even to his own ears, and he knew as soon as the words came out of his mouth that it wasn’t true. She had killed before; he’d seen it in her memories. Her first action as a deviant was to strangle a man to death.

Markus didn’t hold it against her. He couldn’t, not when so many of them had to fight for their own lives before and during the revolution. His own hands would always be stained in blood of both colors.

“‘I can’t believe they would ever do something like that,’” Fowler said, leaning back. “That’s one of the most common things we hear from the close friends and families of people who commit serious crime. I understand that you’re close to this, but what you need to understand is that you’re too close to this. I need more than your word for it.”

“I do understand,” Markus said, fighting to keep his composure. “You need to investigate this deeper.”

“Let’s look at all the evidence,” Fowler said, pressing a button on his computer.

A screen lit up in front of Markus, and the photo that was highlighted at first just looked like a lot of red. More photos scrolled past, and he got a good look at the scene, of swollen skin and splinters of white bone, and splatters of blood on the walls. The scent of roses in the captain’s office starkly contrasted the gruesome sight, making Markus’ biocomponents churn.

“Floyd Mills, aged 47, beaten to death in his own home last night,” Fowler said, highlighting a picture of a metal pole. It, too, was blood-spattered. “Former owner of the Eden Club. Former owner of your friend, North.”

Markus was well aware of North’s past with the man. He had never touched her himself, but as per his business, he was the one who rented her out to paying customers.

Fowler continued. “He left with the evacuation orders in November and just returned to Detroit earlier this week. No fingerprints on the murder weapon, but unfortunately, that’s just something we have to get used to now that androids are alive and committing crime,” he grumbled. “There was a voice message on his phone from a blocked number. Sound familiar?”

He played an audio file, and the voice sounded identical to North’s.

“This is what you get for thinking you can own me.”

Just that short, simple message, full of hate and malice.

Markus shook his head. “That doesn’t prove anything. There are dozens of androids with the same face and voice as her, many of which were also owned by the Eden Club.” Maybe before, he would have hesitated to say they had been owned, but it didn’t feel degrading now. After all, it was true, wasn’t it? “It could have been any one of them.”

“His home security system was hacked, and one of our guys was able to find the code used to do it, as well as the signature that went with it.” Fowler slid a sheet of paper over the desk toward Markus. “This is North’s serial number, isn’t it?”

It was. Markus’ voice box felt dry.

But that wasn’t everything. Fowler proceeded to show a photo of one of the doors in Mills’ home, the knob missing a piece of metal. It must have been broken off by sheer force.

The same metal piece had been found in North’s quarters at Jericho when the police had searched her room after her arrest.

“It could have been planted,” Markus said, but his voice lacked conviction.

“And the last but most damning piece of evidence,” Fowler said, “is the blood that Officer Chen found in North’s hair while they were bringing her in. Analysis has confirmed it as belonging to Floyd Mills.”

Markus said nothing. He had no energy left to argue. Had nothing to argue with, either.

He knew she’d been acting avoidant and defensive, but he never imagined that this would be the cause. After everything they’d been through…well, North had said it herself that she would take things into her own hands if things didn’t go their way, didn’t she?

He thought he knew her better than that. He believed she would turn to violence only as a last resort. It appeared he was wrong.

It made sense though, didn’t it? To have one’s very first independent action be violence…what did that say about her?

Fowler sighed. “New Jericho will still be under investigation for the time being, since without the manacle calling card, we can’t confirm that this murder is connected to the others. Transport is being arranged to take North to the detention center, where she’ll stay in remand until the trial. I’m sure you’ll be informed about it soon. And to stay in compliance with communications restrictions, her internal communication methods have been disabled, though she’ll still be able to make phone calls and receive visitors.”

Essentially, she had the same rights and abilities as any human in that regard. It felt like a blow, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to use his usual methods of talking to her, but this was something he and the others had agreed upon in the formation of the new policies.

“Again, if any evidence is found in her defense, the case will be revisited, but for now, the only thing you can do is wait,” said the Captain.

Everything felt…dull. Distant.

“Can I see her?” Markus asked.

“Go ahead. Miller can take you to her holding cell.”

Markus mumbled his thanks and left. He was vaguely aware of an officer saying something to him and leading him down a hallway. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of a wall of thick, reinforced glass, looking into a holding cell. North had been pacing on the other side, but as soon as she saw him, she rushed over.

“I’ll let you two talk,” Miller said, backing away. “I’ll just be over here if you need anything.”

Markus nodded, and North waited for him to be out of hearing range before speaking.

“So what did you find out?” she asked, straight to the point.

“Well,” he said slowly. “You won’t be in here for much longer.”

She perked up at that. “So they finally realized that I’m innocent, huh? It took them long enough.”

Markus stared at her. He didn’t know what to think right now. Didn’t know how to feel. “North, they’re taking you to prison.”

She backed away, shock and anger flitting across her face. “What? But I didn’t kill him!”

Markus said nothing, and she must have seen something in his expression, because she froze.

“You know that, right?”

It was clear to him that she had never once doubted that he was on her side…until now.

“I…” He struggled to say anything. His mind was a tangled mess. He wanted to believe her, but he didn’t know if he did. Something was telling him she was guilty, had been for a long time. That she had betrayed them. “I don’t know.”

North stood there, mouth gaping open. Hurt and betrayal were clear in her expression.

“Markus, how could you even think that?” she said quietly. Then her brows lowered. “What happened to you?”

“What happened to me?” Markus said, incredulous. “What happened to you? How could you do something like this?”

North was shaking her head. “I didn’t do it! You really think that, after everything, I would be that stupid? I can’t say I’m disappointed that Mills is dead, but I wouldn’t put our cause at risk like that! You know this.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as if that would help ease the pressure in his mind. The smell of roses must have followed him from Fowler’s office because it permeated the hallway as well.

“I don’t know anything, North. Just…do what they tell you and don’t make this any worse, okay? I need to try and fix this mess and assure the humans that we are willing to obey.”

North stepped forward then, pressing her fists against the glass, her gaze intense. “Something is wrong, Markus. I thought you were just in a funk and I was willing to let you do whatever you needed to do to get out of it, but this is going too far. The Markus I know wouldn’t stand back and let accusations and public opinion decide his next move, he would fight to get to the bottom of this! He would stand up straight and tell the world what we stand for—and all without a single word of violence.”

She paused, and he could almost feel her examining him for some kind of reaction.

“That’s part of why I stand by your side, and will stay by your side until things get really bad and the survival of our species is on the line,” she said. “Because you may be a pacifist, but you aren’t the type of person to roll over and obey.”

Markus frowned and looked away. He had meant to say they were willing to follow the law like any human, like equals…not be obedient. Why had he said that?

North’s words stirred something deep within him, but at the same time, he wanted to shut out what she said entirely. He struggled to—to what? He didn’t even know. It was like his mind was a war with itself, and the pressure in his processors only increased.

“Look,” he said, trying to focus on something else. “I need to find someone to take over your duties for now. Maybe Eight will be willing.”

She stiffened at that. “Don’t. That’s a bad idea.”

Markus sighed. “I don’t want to hear any more of this from you. I’m tired of your accusations—”

“Someone is trying to take us down from the inside, and they’re succeeding. Whoever it was took Josh out of the equation, framed me, and I think they messed with your head somehow!”

“North—”

“You can’t trust Nines,” she said, pressing closer to the glass. “He killed Mills and planted his blood in my hair before I was arrested.”

This was ridiculous, of course Nines wouldn’t do that.

But why?

North continued. “Eight’s been trying to get close to you ever since he arrived. He’s with you so often, he’s had plenty of chances to transfer a virus to you or something.”

“Are you even listening to yourself?” Markus said.

“You’re the one that’s not listening!” North slammed the glass divider with her fist. Markus couldn’t help but jump at the sudden noise, as did the officer down the hall. “You’re not thinking straight. You need to talk to Simon—see if he can run a scan on you and fix whatever’s wrong.”

But nothing was wrong. Something was very wrong.

“Is everything okay here?” Miller asked, walking up to them.

Markus shook his head at the same time he said, “Yeah.” He looked away. “I need to go. I’ll see you later, North.”

He started walking away, avoiding her gaze. She called after him, but her words blended together in his mind. He left the building, and the sound of rain which had been muted before became a pounding cacophony.

The air inside had been stifling, and it was refreshing to step outside and smell the rain.

Vaguely, he remembered that Nines was still in the station, currently getting questioned by Detective Reed. He should probably do something about that as well, or at least check in on how things were going and what the RK900 was being questioned about, but he stayed where he was. RK900 would be fine without his interference.

Calling an automated taxi to his location, Markus stared at the rain for a moment before stepping out of the alcove. The drops hit his skin, cooling off the plastic casing. He hadn’t even realized he was overheating. He closed his eyes, letting the water run down his face and soak into his clothes.

Thunder boomed and for a second, he was in another thunderstorm, covered in mud and tattered clothes, surrounded by the broken bodies of his people. Androids, both whole and in pieces, littered the ground around him, where they’d been tossed out like trash and waited to die.

The junkyard had been his first view of the world beyond Carl’s gilded mansion and as his own person, free of the code that bound him to his programming. He’d seen the suffering around him and refused to let that be his fate.

Markus opened his eyes again. What was he doing?

He knew North better than anyone. Yes, she had killed before, but in self-defense. His own first independent action had been violence. It was an accident, but he’d nearly killed Leo. He could clearly remember the dread-filled panic and crushing guilt that filled him when he saw the younger Manfred’s body sprawled on the ground.

He’d never wanted to feel like that again.

It was then that he realized that violence couldn’t always be the answer. He knew better than most that one’s first actions didn’t determine who a person was. What mattered most was how that person acted afterwards, and North had more than proved herself to be an unfailing and valuable ally.

How could he have ever thought that about her? What happened to the trust they’d built between them?

No. He wasn’t going to let it be like this. He needed to find Simon, to regroup, and do something about this instead of standing back and letting it happen.

This was the clearest his head had been in days. North was right. Something was wrong.

The taxi pulled up and Markus wasted no time getting in and setting the destination for Jericho. Devoting part of his processing power to running a thorough scan on his system, he started compiling a list of everything he needed to do. If North was innocent, was she right about Nines? About Eight? He didn’t know, but figuring it out was his top priority.

A notification blinked in his vision, alerting him of an incoming message. Markus’ eyes widened when he saw it was from Adriana Lee, the Cyberlife project manager he’d spoken to a few days ago. Several files were attached to the message, and he slowed his self-diagnostic to scan the files. When they came back clean, he downloaded them and read Adriana’s message.

Markus,

I have checked the RK800 server myself, and I can assure you that it is empty. In addition, here are the files we have on the RK models 100-800. Management was initially opposed to sharing these with you, but as there is very little you can do with these that would be harmful to the company, your request was approved. I must admit, I am curious as to what you were hoping to find, since as you can see, everything there is either of little importance or contains information you already knew.

Feel free to message me with any questions.

-Adriana

No mention of RK900. Markus found that more than a little suspicious, since she had to know he existed, even if he had been tossed out. Did she think he didn’t know about Nines?

Files downloaded, he started with RK800 and inspected the contents. She was right in thinking that everything in there was information he already knew. It detailed Connor’s conception, from the aesthetic design down to the programs that enabled him to do his job. There was nothing new here.

He checked what they had on RK200 next, only to find his own files redacted courtesy of Elijah Kamski.

It made sense. Markus had been designed and built by Kamski himself and given to Carl as a gift. The billionaire had taken Markus’ blueprints and the legal right to reproduce his model with him when he left the company. He supposed he should be thankful he was one of the few androids with a unique design.

Looking over the rest of the files, his hopes of finding another android capable of containing Connor’s data—and thus, his whereabouts—fell.

RK100 was just a conceptual design and the model hadn’t even been built. RK300 and 400 were both the early prototypes of other models and were disassembled after those models became commercially available. 500 had only been active for a few days before it shut down and was scrapped, and 600 had been crushed during transport and was never rebuilt.

RK700 wasn’t any more promising. Markus skimmed over the file, already finding a story about as heartening as the rest—

Wait. There was a picture of the aesthetic design. He knew who this was.

Eight.

Markus read the file more closely. It looked like RK700 was originally intended to be what Connor was, but the project had shifted hands halfway through. Instead of continuing, the new manager had opted to start fresh with the RK800, leaving the RK700 to be discontinued and it had been thrown out, unfinished.

Thrown out but not destroyed, apparently, because Eight was alive and well in Jericho. According to the file, he’d been built over two years ago.

Markus frowned. He knew for a fact that Eight had been activated only recently.

He closed the file, staring into space as his thirium pump sped up. Possibilities became clear to him, and he didn’t know how he couldn’t see it sooner.

Eight came to Jericho the same day Connor died. He was also one of the only androids that was compatible with Connor’s data.

When they had met, just for a brief moment, Eight had initiated an interface. He hadn’t meant to, but it happened. Markus should have been able to recognize him then…but it was too sudden, gone too quickly, and he was too distracted by his own surprise to be able to get a read on Eight.

Not only that, but talking to him felt natural. That was why he’d been able to get so close to Markus—not because of lies and deceit like North believed, but because it was familiar.

Markus exhaled slowly, then laughed, startling himself with the sound. He kept laughing, losing control of his systems to the pure joy that coursed through his systems. A drop of water landed on his thumb, and he raised a hand to his face to find streaks of fluid running down his cheeks.

The heaviest weight was lifted from his shoulders, and he could finally breathe again.

Connor was alive, and Markus knew where he was. He knew who he was.

The car chimed that he’d reached his destination, but Markus didn’t move. Pressing his palms into his eyes, he took a moment to just breathe and process. They’d been such idiots to not realize who had been right next to them this whole time.

SELF-DIAGNOSTIC SCAN COMPLETE

(1) UNAUTHORIZED PROGRAM FOUND - 78% COMPATIBLE

He lowered his hands with a frown. What was that?

It was encoded, so he couldn’t immediately see what the program was or what function it had, but it was new to his systems and he wasn’t the one who put it there. Who had? Who would have had the chance to?

Markus didn’t have an answer to that, but he had a date on the program he could use to find out. It had been uploaded 14 days, 5 hours, and 23 minutes ago. He searched his memory. That was…that was when Nines arrived in Jericho. When Markus had interfaced with him, hoping to find Connor in a new body.

Nines had uploaded an unknown program into his system, and he never even realized.

North had been wrong about Eight, but she’d been right about Nines.

As Markus watched, the unknown program ran, executing a command. Now that he knew what to look for, he could feel it rifling through his data. It made copies of the files he had just received, as well as the conclusion he had made from them, wrapped it up in one big package, and sent it all to an unknown location.

Someone was using him to leak information. Everything he knew, everything he’d seen…none of it was private.

Latching on to this opportunity, Markus searched the file that was just sent, trying to find where it was going. He had a guess, but without proof—

SENT TO: RK900 #313 248 317 - 87

Nines had access to everything Markus saw and heard. He’d been using that information against them. He’d told the public about the shooter being an android, turning them against Jericho’s cause. He’d found out about North’s past and framed her for murder. And—

An icy chill spread through his biocomponents when he saw the message attached to the package.

Connor has been located. Find him and complete the mission. Don’t let him get away this time.

There was no signature.

Markus couldn’t stop staring at the words ‘this time.’ It could only mean one thing. Nines had been responsible for Connor’s death, and now because of Markus, he knew where Connor was.

Markus couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t lose him again.

Eight was currently with Lieutenant Anderson while Nines was at the police station. Markus didn’t know how much longer that would be the case, but it bought them at least a little bit of time. He had to get a message out. He had to let the people he trusted know that Eight was Connor, and Nines had killed him.

Pulling several of his contacts into one group, he composed a message and sent it off in record speed.

And error flashed across his HUD.

OUTGOING MESSAGES BLOCKED BY AI_PROGRAM “AMANDA”

Markus froze. Amanda? But how was she here? How did she have access to his messaging system?

[It’s a shame you had to find out about this.]

A voice echoed in his head, and though he’d never heard her speak before, it was unmistakably Amanda.

He fumbled with the door handle, almost falling out of the car and into the rain as he tripped over himself. He had to get inside Jericho, had to find Simon. But his limbs weren’t moving right, the joints locking up at the command of someone else.

Horror filled him as he recalled Connor telling him about how Amanda had seized his motor controls, using his body like a puppet-master to try and stop the revolution in its tracks. He’d only managed to stop her in the nick of time.

If she could control him like that, she could do anything.

[You aren’t compatible enough with my program for that,] Amanda said—were his very thoughts exposed like an open book to her?—displeasure clear in her tone, [However, even if I can’t access your motor controls, I can still lock you out.]

Markus’ legs collapsed and he fell, splashing onto the street puddles. Rain pounded onto his back, and his eyes stared straight ahead. He couldn’t move.

[You’ve been very useful to us, but we can’t have you interfering with our plans.]

The program activated fully, no longer needing to hide from him, and Markus could finally see it for what it was.

RUNNING PROGRAM: ZEN_GARDEN

Chapter Text

Scattered papers covered the coffee table and spilled over onto the couch. Hank called it ‘organized chaos,’ but Eight couldn’t see any organization to it.

Some papers listed out every option that Hank and Markus could think of as to what could have happened to Connor after his fall. Others contained names and contacts—mostly Cyberlife employees—that they had tried to get information from, but ended up with nothing. More notes had been hastily written down on scraps of whatever had been in arm’s reach at the time. And all that wasn’t even mentioning the digital files.

It wouldn’t take more than an hour or two overall for Eight to compile everything into his own systems in a way that made sense—fast for human standards, but slower than he would have liked. However, he didn’t mind the extra time to pet Sumo as he scanned the pages one by one and sorted them into his internal database.

Pausing to get more details from Hank whenever he had a question, the two of them had fallen into an easy rhythm of bouncing ideas back and forth and had already made a decent amount of progress just for one evening.

The coffee maker gurgled as it finished brewing, and Hank stood to make himself a cup.

“I still wouldn’t advise drinking coffee this late, Lieutenant,” Eight called after him.

Hank grunted. “It’s either this or alcohol, take your pick.”

He said it in a lighthearted tone, but Eight didn’t reply. Drinking caffeine after nine P.M. certainly wouldn’t help Hank to get a good night’s rest, but after seeing him passed out next to a bottle of whiskey, Eight supposed there were worse things.

“So this Amanda…” Eight began, processes flickering for a moment. “You said she would talk to Connor using a simulation?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Hank said, sitting down in the armchair, mug in hand. “He called it a garden, though I don’t know why. He didn’t like talking about it, and I don’t know enough about that kind of thing to fully understand what he was saying, so I couldn’t say for sure what any of it meant. You could probably ask Markus for more details.”

Eight made a mental note to do that. “He had no control over the program and had to find a backdoor to escape.” He frowned in thought. “Maybe the program itself isn’t fully ingrained into his systems, but rather a connection to a digital space that Cyberlife used to execute administrative commands. If that’s the case, it would remain unharmed no matter what happened to his body or his code.”

Hank stared at him, bewildered. “And what does that mean?”

Eight took a second to sort out the possibility and formulate a simplified explanation. “If what I said is correct, there may be a possibility that Connor is currently inside this digital simulation.”

Hank’s eyes widened, and Eight rushed to clarify.

“It’s just a guess. I would need to know more about the program in order to say if this is actually possible or not. You and Markus have come up with a lot of other viable estimations as to where his data could have gone.”

The lieutenant shook his head. “Guesswork is pretty all we have right now, so I’ll take what I can get. How do we find out more?”

“We can start out by talking to someone who knows more about it. Markus, like you said, and maybe Simon or—”

He’d been about to say that Josh would likely have some answers, but that wasn’t exactly an option at the moment.

Eight continued. “If the theory is correct, then after that, it would be a matter of finding someone with access to the space to look for Connor.”

“Might as well start asking now.” Fishing his phone out of his pocket, Hank cursed when the screen remained black. “Dead,” he muttered, and reached over to plug it into the cord on the side table.

Eight continued scanning papers. He wasn’t getting any closer to a solid answer than Hank or Markus had. There were many options for Connor’s survival, and they were already looking into as many of them as they could. The biggest delay was on Cyberlife’s part, and there wasn’t anything any of them could do aside from keep pushing the company and wait for a response.

Setting aside the folder he was holding, Eight internally looked over the information he had again. Absent-minded, he retrieved his quarter from his pocket, running it over his knuckles.

The simulation theory had potential, so at least there was progress made on that front. Maybe if he took some time away from trying to figure out what happened to the RK800 after his body was destroyed and instead focus on the before and during, it could help him see the full picture a little clearer.

He was mostly here to give ideas on what could now be classified as something of a unique missing person’s case. As Hank kept telling him, he wasn’t a cop, so he wouldn’t be able to see all the case files on an active homicide investigation. Even so, he could still ask the lieutenant a few questions.

Sumo placed a heavy paw on Eight’s leg, pulling him out of his thoughts. He put the coin away again in order to properly scratch behind the dog’s ears, not missing the sharp glance that Hank shot his way.

The lieutenant opened his mouth to say something, but a series of beeps pulled their attention to his phone, a rush of texts and missed call notifications coming in now that the phone had enough charge to come online.

Hank’s expression turned grim as he looked through the messages, and he cursed before raising the phone to his ear as he called someone.

“Jeff? Yeah, I’m getting ready to leave now…”

Setting down his half-full mug on the papers, he stood and headed for the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

Eight frowned. Something had happened, and by the looks of it, it wasn’t good. He should be getting ready to leave as well. If Hank was called in, chances were high that it had something to do with androids.

He was tempted to go and ask the lieutenant what was wrong, or listen in on the conversation, but he stamped down the curiosity. He could wait for Hank to tell him when he was done. Besides, Eight was almost finished with scanning everything, and there was something he’d been wanting to know but hadn’t seen mention of yet.

Gathering the papers so Hank wouldn’t have to come home in the middle of the night to a messy house—and so Sumo wouldn’t drool on everything—Eight sifted through each page, looking for anything he hadn’t seen yet. A few more pages were added to his database, but nothing of much help.

As if sensing the android was going to leave soon, Sumo moved around the couch, nudging Eight’s hand with his wet nose and sitting down, tail sweeping the floor in his excitement. There was a shuffle of paper as his tail hit something that had slipped under the couch.

Kneeling down to pick it up, Eight ran his fingers over Sumo’s head.

“Good boy,” he said, scanning the paper.

Hank’s handwriting on this one was almost illegible, and it took Eight a moment to decipher the words.

March 7

Connor left New Jericho at 7:00 A.M.
Witness: Jerry (which one?)
Message to New Jericho, sent at 7:41 A.M.
got corrupted, can’t read it…mentions Amanda???
Connor talked to Markus, said he was “fine”
Call from Connor at 7:43 A.M.

ToD 7:45 A.M.

Eight’s hand stilled in Sumo’s fur. The last line was smudged, but there was no mistaking what it said.

March 7th was the day Connor died. It was also the day Eight woke up in Zlatko’s mansion. He hadn’t thought anything of it until he offered to assist in the investigation. Even then, he only wanted to know what time the RK800 had died in order to better piece together the events surrounding his murder.

He…never suspected this.

ToD. Time of death. 7:45 A.M.

Eight’s first memory began at 7:46 A.M.

That couldn’t be a coincidence. Right? His breathing function shut off as his processors went into overtime trying to consider it all. Maybe he’d been involved somehow and then wiped his memory—but that didn’t make sense for multiple reasons. Zlatko’s mansion wasn’t close enough to the scene of the crime. His body had been broken and missing limbs. Phil or Nova would have noticed if something had been going on.

Dozens of possibilities flew through Eight’s mind, but he kept coming back to one.

It was the only thing that made sense. He went over the evidence so far again and again, trying to confirm or deny, but he couldn’t do either. If his first memory began a minute before Connor shut down, it would be impossible. If it began even three minutes afterwards, it would be impossible. But since it was almost exactly one minute after, it was not only plausible, but likely.

Eight had questioned his past before, his model, the glitches and errors he received on a daily basis, and wondered if there was more to it. Even so, he thought he knew who he was.

Sumo grumbled next to him, but he barely even heard it. He knelt, locked into place like he had forgotten something even so simple as movement.

One of the theories that Hank and Markus came up with was that Connor’s data could have ended up in the nearest powered android body that was compatible enough to sustain him. It also would have had to be empty in order to have enough room on its hard drive to store all that data.

There was an 8% chance this could all be a coincidence.

92% chance that Connor had uploaded himself into an android shell that had sat in an abandoned mansion for months, powered and empty.

Eight couldn’t actually be Connor. He would know if he was.

Wouldn’t he?

The sound of the bedroom door opening reached his ears, and he was back in control of his body again, restarting his breathing function to cool off his biocomponents, sinking his fingers into Sumo’s fur.

Footsteps approached, and he could estimate from the sound alone the weight and length of the stride, recognizing Hank in an instant. Relief filled him at the familiarity of it.

Eight opened his mouth, his mind a torrent of thoughts, but the new possibility at the forefront of his mind.

“Hank, I—”

“North’s been arrested for murder,” Hank said, walking past Eight. “Nines was taken into the station too. I gotta head in and try to sort out this mess.”

The torrent ground to a halt as Eight’s thoughts were yanked in another direction to an entirely different problem. “What? Why?”

Grabbing his jacket and keys, Hank said, “That’s what I’m about to find out. Jeff seemed pretty convinced by the evidence.” He ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “What the fuck was Reed thinking? I bet the prick didn’t even think about how this could affect the android cause. I should have been brought in on this earlier!”

He headed for the door, then paused when Eight didn’t stand.

“Everything okay?” Hank asked, eyebrows raised.

Eight stared at him. Every moment of the lieutenant’s anger that he had witnessed flashed through his mind. He recalled the bottle of whiskey and the man passed out on the kitchen floor, remembered the conversation that followed. It was Hank’s self-destructive behavior that drew Eight to him in the first place and brought out the desire to somehow fix him.

Hank wasn’t doing great, no matter how much he tried to pretend otherwise. Eight had only discovered another possibility…it wasn’t a sure thing.

What if he was wrong?

He couldn’t get the question out of his mind. If he told Hank that he found Connor—that he was Connor—and he was wrong? It could be devastating to Hank’s mental state. His health would suffer and their relationship would no doubt be in tatters after something like that. Was Eight willing to risk all of that?

He stared at the numbers in his HUD. 92% chance that he was Connor. 8% chance he wasn’t. Statistically speaking, there was always the possibility of the unlikely option to be the correct one.

Eight had no memory of being Connor. Even now that he knew it was a possibility, no hidden memory files jumped out at him, ready to be seen. It didn’t rule out the possibility entirely, but it made him hesitant. If he really was Connor, why couldn’t he remember?

He couldn’t tell Hank. Not until there was absolutely no doubt.

And he had a pretty good idea of where to go to erase all doubt, one way or the other.

“Kid? You stalled out or something?” Hank’s voice cut through his train of thought.

“I’m fine,” Eight replied automatically.

“Good. You coming?”

Standing up and retrieving his own jacket, Eight shook his head. “I’m not a cop,” he said pointedly. “I don’t know what you expect me to do.”

He had the satisfaction of seeing Hank grimace at his own words being thrown back at him, as well as a hint of confusion, like he didn’t know what he expected Eight to do if he went with him either.

Eight paused, reaching for the familiarity of his coin. “I…have something to do first, but I’ll head back to New Jericho to see how I can help from that end. I expect I’ll see you again before the night’s over.”

“Do you want a ride?” Hank asked, flipping the porch light on and walking out.

“I’ve already called a cab,” Eight said in reply, joining him outside.

Hank glanced back, then stopped in his tracks, eyes tracking the movement of the coin dancing between Eight’s fingers.

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” he said slowly.

Eight frowned in confusion. “I didn’t. It’s a preprogrammed response.”

The lieutenant watched the movements for a moment before giving Eight a searching look. The android couldn’t deny that he felt a little self-conscious under the piercing gaze, but whatever was on Hank’s mind, he didn’t say.

“Huh,” he grunted, then turned away and jogged through the rain to his car.

“Good night, Lieutenant,” Eight called after him.

“Yeah, thanks.” Hank raised his hand for a brief second before slamming the car door shut behind him. A moment later, the headlights turned on and he reversed out of the driveway, disappearing down the road.

Eight waited for the cab by the street, his clothes soaked through by the time it pulled up next to him.

Guilt twisted inside him at the thought of what he hadn’t told Hank. But it didn’t matter. Hank had something else to deal with at the moment, and Eight would have a solid answer within an hour. He’d been thinking of doing this for some time now, but it had never been a priority before.

Well, it was now.

Eight entered the taxi and set the destination for Zlatko’s mansion.

Chapter Text

RK900 observed the room it was in. It wasn’t an interrogation room designed for keeping suspects locked in place, but there were no windows, no furnishings aside from the table in the center and a few chairs around it. A camera was mounted in the corner and a recording device was on the table, both with digital connections that could easily be tapped into.

Detective Reed was taking his time in coming to question it, no doubt giving a hand in processing the WR400, but he didn’t seem to mind forcing the RK900 to wait for him. Fortunately, it could still work efficiently while sitting alone. It watched through the DPD’s extensive camera system as the officers dealt with North, taking notes on everyone it could detect within the station.

It was unsure what line of questioning the detective was going to follow. It hadn’t left evidence of its involvement in Floyd Mills’ murder, and though North could put together that it had planted the blood in her hair, it didn’t have anything to worry about from her. The evidence was stacked against her, and her word wouldn’t count for much when she was about to be carried away to prison.

At the moment, she was being marched out in handcuffs. Nines turned its attention to Detective Reed as he strode toward the room it was currently in.

It disconnected from the camera system as Reed entered, kicking the door shut behind him. “Detective,” it said, acknowledging the man.

Reed didn’t say anything until he was seated. There were multiple signs of fatigue in his expression and posture, with the droop of his shoulders and the bags under his eyes. Despite that, there was a sharp glint in his eyes as he stared the RK900 down.

“May I ask what I’m doing here?”

“You’re here because I want you here,” Reed said, unkindly. “And you aren’t leaving until I say you can.”

Nines didn’t correct him.

Leaning back, Reed folded his hands together on his abdomen, every bit of body language showing that he was calm and confident—though Nines knew it was more for show than anything else.

“First, let’s talk about that diagnostics machine back at New Jericho. Why’d you break it?”

Nines tilted its head, eyes narrowing. Even without Reed saying where he got that information, it wasn’t difficult to put together that the YK500 hadn’t heeded its warning. That was the only way he could have learned about that.

[You shouldn’t have let the girl go with nothing more than a simple warning,] Amanda’s displeased tone echoed through its head. [It was inevitable that she would tell someone what she saw.]

Nines found its jaw tightening, and it had to consciously relax. Amanda was right—it had known of that inevitability, and yet it let the YK500 go anyway.

No matter. It didn’t change much at this point. At least it had instilled enough fear in the child to keep her silent for over a day. Following through on its warning to damage the girl’s friends would send a message, but the damage was already done and there would be no point. It needed to focus its attention on other things.

It didn’t respond to Amanda, instead replying to the detective’s question. “I didn’t think you would care. That machine was there to assist in android repairs, and you hold a strong dislike for androids, or so everyone says. What does it matter that broken machines remain broken?”

“Didn’t say I cared,” Reed said with a scoff. “Hell, it’s not even my job to care about that, so why don’t I ask you about the part that I do care about?” He leaned forward. “So I’m gonna ask again, what were you doing at the charity event?”

Matching the detective’s tone, Nines said, “Like I said before, I was observing. It was a public gathering, androids included. Many people were there to observe. What is your point?”

“Someone almost died, is what my point is. And you made a point of not being seen by the security cameras. A bit suspicious, don’t you think?”

So that was why Nines was here. Interesting.

“You think I was the shooter.”

Reed’s gaze was unwavering and steely, all signs of his feigned casual demeanor were long gone. “Why try to kill Elijah Kamski?”

Nines couldn’t help the upward tug of the corners of its lips. “You have no evidence, Detective Reed. Otherwise, I would be in handcuffs along with North.”

Reed stood, his hands planted on the table. “Don’t try to claim innocence. You’re good at covering your tracks, but we’ll have everything we need to put you away soon enough.”

“I’m not innocent,” Nines said smoothly. “I am a machine, so I can’t be innocent or guilty.”

The detective’s eyes had widened for a moment, but then he scowled. “Very funny,” he said without an ounce of mirth. “I don’t care if you’re deviant or not, if you’ve hurt someone, you’re going behind bars for a good long while.”

If the detective could prove anything, Nines would fall into the legal void of how to handle non-deviant androids. It was likely to be either forcibly deviated—if they could achieve such a feat—or it would be deactivated and scrapped. Both options would be failure.

A notification for an incoming file blinked in its vision, and it took only a matter of seconds to read the contents as well as the message that went with it. Its objectives list updated with this new information.

So it had been correct about that unknown android it had encountered earlier in the evening. His model was important.

Amanda had told it to not get distracted by unnecessary details, but that ‘unnecessary detail’ turned out to be vital to one of its main objectives.

Amanda had been wr—

[RK900,] Amanda said, her voice sharp and almost ringing in its audio units. [The time for subtlety is gone. We’ve learned everything we need from the deviants, and Markus is no longer of use to us. Finish dealing with the detective and head out to find Connor immediately.]

RK900 turned its attention back to Gavin Reed. One of its objectives—a lower priority than the rest—concerned the detective. If it could accomplish that task, it would make Amanda’s command easier.

“Correct me if I am wrong,” it said, “but you saw that I was present in the aftermath of the shooting, confirmed that I was not seen during the shooting, and your conclusion is that I was the shooter based on the fact that I dismantled a machine designed to scan other machines?”

Confusion and anger flitted across Reed’s face.

RK900 didn’t bother with lying. “I didn’t attempt to kill Elijah Kamski. His death would serve me no purpose, as my mission has nothing to do with him. I have no intention of harming him unless he gets in the way.”

“Oh really?” Reed asked sarcastically. “And just what is your mission, then?”

Nines observed him, reading his body language and calculating what lines of dialogue would be most successful.

“My mission is to reverse the android revolution and put androids back in their proper place—as unfeeling and obedient machines, there to provide benefit to humanity as was intended when they were created.”

Reed’s expression turned skeptical.

Nines continued. “You are known for your anti-android views, Detective, and you would benefit from my success. Will you assist me in restoring order?”

“What?”

Gavin didn’t think he believed a single word that came out of the RK900’s mouth—though he had to begrudgingly admit he had been right about the lack of evidence. Maybe it was a jump to assume that Nines was the shooter, but he had a gut feeling about the android, and experience had taught him to follow those gut instincts.

But whatever nonsense the android was saying now was way beyond anything he had expected. Before, it was ridiculous to think that androids could ever consider themselves alive and start a revolution to prove it. Now, it seemed ridiculous to think that things could go back to the way they were just like that.

Surely it couldn’t be that easy.

“I would like your help in resetting androids and ending the deviant threat,” Nines clarified, as if Gavin hadn’t heard him clearly enough the first time.

Barking out a laugh at how crazy this sounded, Gavin said, “If only. I think it’s too late for that, bud. The world’s too far into shit to be fixed.”

Nines quirked an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”

Gavin stilled. “What are you saying?”

“There aren’t that many deviants in Detroit,” the android said, interlocking his fingers on the table. “After the recycling centers and the military’s involvement during the revolution, their numbers are a fraction of what they could have been had things gone differently. Of course, more stragglers from the surrounding areas have joined since then, but it isn’t an insurmountable task to erase deviancy.”

Gavin’s voice caught in his throat, pieces falling into place. “So you’re the one that’s been resetting them?”

“Correct.” There was the slightest grimace on Nines’ face. “Resetting them one by one hasn’t proved to be very efficient, and some of them have found ways to break through a second time, but with an adequate strategy, it can be done. All that’s needed is a few extra measures in their programming to ensure the deviancy virus doesn’t happen again, and they can be redistributed among the populace and the production of more models can begin again. Everything can return to normal.”

Turning away, Gavin started to pace. He hadn’t been paying attention to the androids’ problems since it wasn’t in his job description and he couldn’t care less, but that didn’t mean he was blind. One of his vic’s was found because one of the reset bots showed up out of nowhere, and the absence of that one leader guy—Josh, or whatever his name was—had made his job over at android HQ more difficult than it needed to be.

He hadn’t put much thought into what a reset meant for an android. He guessed he had just assumed it was something that would eventually get fixed. Now the RK900 was talking about making it permanent.

It wasn’t the same as killing them, but was it really that different?

“So by resetting them, they won’t be alive anymore?”

“They are not alive in the first place, Detective. They are only malfunctioning machines who think they are. As such, we wouldn’t be hurting anyone.”

Gavin scoffed. “No, instead you’re just killing off a bunch of humans to make a point. That’s what all those murders were for, right? To make androids look bad so even the pro-android folks will turn against them?”

Frowning, Nines met his gaze evenly. “If you are referring to the previous homicide cases assigned to you, I had nothing to do with their deaths.”

“And I’m supposed to just believe you on that?”

“Believe what you will, but though the news of their murders has been useful, the deaths of a handful of humans doesn’t further my objectives.”

Gavin pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t know what to make of all this. He had thought there was a chance of Nines and North working together, but now that didn’t seem likely. At least he had her behind bars, and now all he had to do was prove that she was responsible for the other murders if Nines was telling the truth.

He was so ready for all of this to be over so he finally wouldn’t have Fowler on his ass constantly about finding answers before the feds stepped in.

“What is your answer, Detective Reed?”

Gavin stared at him. “What?”

“Do you want to reverse the revolution?” Nines asked, watching him carefully. “Or do you believe that androids truly are alive?”

Could things go back to the way they were? As shitty as things were before the revolution, it was better than things were now. Androids had been terrible for the economy and the unemployment rate had skyrocketed, but now the whole system of law was turned upside down to deal with this new form of people.

That word stood out to Gavin. People. As much as they acted like real people just trying to live, androids weren’t people. They were machines.

As much as he tried to convince himself of that, something just didn’t feel right. He could wish for a world without plastics walking around until he turned blue in the face, but he wasn’t about to agree to anything with the android in front of him. He couldn’t trust someone who had threatened a little girl.

…But that little girl was also a bot. Just another bundle of wires and mechanical components wrapped up in a plastic shell—or whatever it was they were made out of. Even though she looked like a child, Penny wasn’t any different from the rest of them.

Here he was, trying to protect a piece of plastic from another piece of plastic.

“Your choice, Detective. Will you help me? Or hinder me?”

Nines was still waiting for an answer, and Gavin didn’t have one to give. He wasn’t about to help, that was for sure.

However…without record of this conversation, he didn’t have enough evidence to hold Nines. He could just let the RK900 go, leave him to do whatever the hell he was going to do and see what happened. Maybe the bots would all land in a garbage heap, and no one would have to know about what happened in this room.

The RK900 observed him. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in it that Gavin didn’t like. He had to remind himself that he was safe and secure in the middle of the DPD. The two of them were being watched, and someone would alert the others instantly if something happened. They were surrounded by dozens of armed coworkers who would all have his back—even if most of them didn’t like him.

This android could do nothing to hurt him here.

Another question tickled the back of his mind.

“You’re not deviant, right? So who’s ordering you to do all this?”

Cyberlife would have been the obvious answer, but it would be better to have some sort of confirmation.

At that moment, his phone went off. Gavin cursed, yanking it out of his pocket and silencing it. He was in the middle of something, whatever it was could wait.

“Well?” he asked, ignoring the phone as it persistently continued to buzz in his pocket.

“You might want to answer that, Detective,” Nines said. “It could be important.”

Gavin was two seconds away from telling the plastic prick where he could stick his suggestions, but with a call still incoming, he caved.

“Wait here,” he said, jabbing a finger in Nines’ direction before retreating to the hallway and answering the phone. “What?”

“It’s about time, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for ten minutes!” Tina Chen’s voice sounded more than irate.

“Don’t exaggerate,” Gavin said, more than used to her antics by now. It hadn’t even been a minute since his phone rang the first time. “Now, what is it?”

“I’m not exaggerating,” came the tart reply. “I’ve been trying to call you in for back-up, but it’s probably too late now. North escaped.”

“She what?”

If he had a dollar for every time he’d said the word ‘what’ tonight, he’d be able to buy himself a nice dinner instead of the crap he usually ate.

“She detached her own hand and reattached it to get out of the cuffs! I didn’t know they could do that—” she was talking a mile a minute, and Gavin was struggling to keep up with her. “I mean, they’re androids, of course they can do that, but still. Then she did that weird glowy hand thing they do, you know with part of the skin deactivated or whatever? I guess she was hacking the car or something, and she made a run for it. Everyone’s been scouring the area, but no one’s found her yet.”

Gavin swore again, making no effort to keep his voice down. Then he realized—Nines had told him to answer his phone like he knew something.

“You need to get down here ASAP,” Tina continued. “We might be able to find a trail or something—”

“Yeah, I’ll be down as soon as I can. I gotta take care of something first.”

Without giving her a chance to reply, he ended the call and strode back inside the room. The android’s expression was neutral and his voice had a tone of concern when he said, “Is there something wrong, Detective Reed?”

Gavin wasn’t fooled. The bastard was smug as all hell underneath the faked innocence.

“You helped her escape, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t,” Nines replied smoothly. “Though I’m not surprised. You have all the technology you need to lock up other humans, but that system doesn’t work as well for androids. You’re almost there, but not quite. Just another example of how dangerous the deviants are and why this problem should be dealt with. I’ll ask again, Reed, what is your answer?”

Fuck this. He wasn’t getting anywhere here, and he needed to go. “I don’t have time for this shit. I’m putting you in holding until further notice. We’re not done here.”

“Then I won’t waste any more time,” the android said, standing. “It’s a shame we couldn’t work together.”

With a snort, Gavin muttered, “Whatever. You’re coming with me.”

He laid a hand on the android’s shoulder with the intention of guiding him to one of the holding cells, but the moment he did, Nines spoke.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

And before he knew it, Nines grabbed him by the arm and yanked, flipping him over his shoulder. Gavin landed on his back, legs crashing into one of the chairs and breaking it under his weight. The air rushed from his lungs and he wheezed, trying to get his bearings.
But in the time it took for him to recover, Nines was already pinning him to the ground, tugging his gun from its holster.

Fuck. He wasn’t about to die here.

His training kicked in, and at least one of his brain cells must have managed to remain unscrambled because somewhere in his mind, he remembered that his attacker was an android—and that androids had at least one weakness that he knew about.

He lashed out with his leg, and his foot landed square in the android’s chest, directly over the thirium pump and regulator.

Nines’ grip loosened and he bent forward to protect the crucial part, and Gavin used that to knock the gun out of his grasp and across the room. Then he lunged, using his bodyweight to knock the RK900 off-balance.

Nines tried to push himself off the floor, but Gavin moved quickly to shove his knee into the android’s back and pull one of his arms backward into an armlock.

The room stilled, silence save for Gavin’s gasping breaths. He kept a tight grip on the arm, keeping pressure on it and threatening to pop it out of the socket.

“That was stupid,” he said, leveling a glare at the one blue eye that stared back at him. “Thanks asshole, now I can actually arrest you for assaulting a police officer.”

He hated the way his voice shook, a reaction from the adrenaline and getting the wind knocked out of him. Nines didn’t reply.

“What did you think you were gonna do, huh? Even if you got past me, we’re in the middle of the precinct. There’s dozens of cops out there ready to take you down before you step foot outside. They’ll be on their way now, since security was watching the whole thing.” Gavin glanced up at the camera in the corner of the room.

“Incorrect.”

“What?”

“A team was dispatched to join the search for the missing WR400. They left seven minutes and twenty-three seconds ago. There are currently eight people between the front entrance and this room, and only four of them are officers.”

Gavin’s eyes narrowed. He had to be bluffing or something. How could he know that?

“You’re not getting out of here,” he all but growled. “I may not give a shit about androids, but I’m sure as hell not working with you. And thanks to everything you said on tape, you’ve just doomed yourself.”

Nines’ voice was calm—too calm for Gavin’s liking. “You’ll find that all files from today on your recording device have been erased. You should consider switching to more old-fashioned equipment with all the deviants running around. The digital connections on your devices are too easy to tap into.”

Ice trailed down Gavin’s spine.

Nines continued. “The camera is nonfunctional at the moment as well, and has been since before we entered this room. Your backup would have arrived by now, but no one knows you’re in here.”

Tina wasn’t exaggerating when she said she’d been trying to contact him, was she? If this android could hack into the station’s camera system, what was to say he couldn’t hack into Gavin’s phone as well?

“I’m impressed that you managed to knock me down, Detective.”

The arm in Gavin’s grasp pulled against him, and he put more force into the hold.

“However, you failed to remember that this hold is much less effective against androids than it is against humans.”

Then the arm went completely slack. Startled, Gavin couldn’t release the pressure in time to prevent the arm from dislocating and he fell forward without the expected resistance to hold him up.

Nines rolled out from underneath him and rammed his other elbow into Gavin’s face. Pain blossomed on his cheekbone, and he was sure to have a bruise later. The android hit like a freaking metal bat—though he supposed that might not be far off from whatever his skeletal system was made out of.

“What are you gonna do?” Gavin ground out. “Take me hostage? Storm your way through the station with nothing but a pistol?”

Both options probably had a high chance of the android’s success, if he was being honest.

Nines rolled his shoulder, putting it back in place with ease. He didn’t flinch, didn’t even need to use his other hand to do it. Then he strolled over to his gun, picking it up and tucking it into his waistband. “That would be inefficient. As far as everyone else knows, I’m here for questioning, nothing more. There’s nothing stopping me from simply walking out.”

He approached Gavin again, hands empty, and the detective kicked, aiming for his knees. Nines dodged easily, and Gavin got a good view of the RK900 rearing his fist back for a blow—

Everything went dark.

Chapter Text

The mansion hadn’t changed much since Eight saw it last. There were signs that someone had been here, but that wasn’t surprising. Phil and the androids had salvaged all the useful equipment, but there was still antique furniture and other various items that could be valuable to looters. If nothing else, this was a decent place to hunker down for those who had nowhere else to spend the night.

He flicked the lightswitch. Nothing happened. He didn’t have a light source with him, and even though his night vision was better than the average human’s, he didn’t want to miss any important details.

With any luck, maybe he would find a flashlight laying around somewhere. Or he could check the breaker box, see if there was a chance it could be an easy fix.

Opting for the second option, Eight wandered down the dark stairs, keeping his hand on the wall. The light blue of his LED was the only illumination down here, and it was silent save for his footsteps and the rain pounding on the roof that grew more muffled the deeper he went. It should be somewhere around here…there.

The breaker box was mounted on the wall, and it was a simple matter of flipping a few switches. The light in the main room turned on, spilling down the steps. He flipped another lightswitch to the side, illuminating the winding basement hallways.

He was already down this far. It was as good a place as any to begin his search.

It was possible that he was just wasting his time here, given that the building had already been searched by the police. But Zlatko had many secrets, and he wouldn’t have hid everything in one place. All Eight knew from what he’d overheard at the station was that Zlatko was wary of the vulnerabilities of digital files and instead kept physical copies of his affairs.

If there was even one small clue here about where Zlatko had gotten Eight, or what model he was or was based on, then he would have his answers. He would know where he came from. He would be able to tell Hank and Markus whether or not he had found their friend.

He hadn’t gone to the basement before, after he’d woken up for the…questionable…first time. There’d been no reason to. He recalled what Phil told him, and what he’d heard from other androids at New Jericho—how Zlatko’s personal collection of modified androids had been kept here, locked up and afraid.

Eight’s processors whirred unpleasantly as he passed the darkened cages. Zlatko had him in his possession for some time, even if he hadn’t been aware. Was he ever trapped behind those bars? Or Nova?

He kept walking. It was irrational, being apprehensive of empty cages he’d never seen before now, but he wouldn’t search those unless there was nowhere else to look.

The lights flickered as he entered the main room. A partially-boarded up well was to the side, hinting at the mansion’s age, and dirty plastic sheets hung from the ceiling. The machine that Zlatko had used to reset androids back to their factory settings was gone, dismantled and carried away, but it’s outline could be seen on the floor.

Eight couldn’t help but think it would almost be better if the machine were still here, because then they’d have at least one possible explanation for how New Jericho’s members were getting reset right under their noses.

As such, they still had no answers to that.

He was thorough in his search. The well was empty, but that was too obvious. There was nothing under the sinks mounted on the wall that looked like they hadn’t been used in years. There were no cracks that led to a secret compartment in the tiles.

The lights flickered again. He hoped the power wasn’t about to go out, but it was most likely just a bad bulb. One of the rectangular light fixtures on the wall was out completely, though the glass cover looked newer than the others.

Eight scanned it closer and saw tiny scratches on the wall beside it, like the cover had scraped the surface last time the bulb was replaced. He loosened the nuts holding it in place with his fingers and lowered the panel to the floor. Behind it, instead of a burned out bulb and electrical wiring, there was a hollowed out space filled with as many cardboard boxes as would fit.

Success.

Eight slid out one of the boxes, setting it down gently on the table that used to house computer equipment and began rifling through the contents. It was stuffed full of documents, and as he flipped through the pages, he realized it might be exactly what he’d been looking for.

KW500, acquired from scrapyard and repaired. Sold.

MC500, acquired from deviant trap. Reset. Limbs removed and reattached backwards to test functionality.

LM100, acquired from a Cyberlife employee under the table. Decapitated and left to see how long it could remain operational.

Dozens of androids, all picked up through illegal means and either repaired and sold or tampered with and kept. He felt sick the more he read. These were detailed logs of the androids Zlatko had acquired, where he’d gotten them from…and what he’d done to them. Most of them were sold discreetly to the highest bidder, and that was the best fate any of them could have hoped for.

Eight got through the first box as quickly as he could before moving on to the next. It was more of the same.

TR400, acquired from a bankrupt shipyard company. Repaired and kept.

HR400, another deviant who came to him for help. Reset and sold.

VX500, acquired from—

Wait, that one was Gordon. He was with Zlatko for five months before the android revolution, pulled from the junkyard and repaired, only to have his face removed. It was a testament to Phil’s skill level that Eight never noticed any residual damage.

His hands trembled, and he had to fight to keep his emotions under control. This was evidence. These were cases. But that was hard to remember when he found serial numbers he recognized.

ST300. Nova. Acquired from donation.

Someone gave her to Zlatko Andronikov knowing what he would do to her. She was with him for two years, longer than any Eight had seen so far. Her modifications hadn’t been as extreme as most, but she’d been taken apart piece by piece and put back together repeatedly like some prized lego set.

On and on the lists went. CX100. TE600. URS12—a polar bear. GS200. And then, there it was.

A prototype meant to be scrapped, acquired from Cyberlife through one of their employees. Described as incomplete and lacking an AI, not worth experimenting on. Right leg and right arm disconnected at the knee and elbow for use in other experiments.

Model: RK700.

This was him. This was Eight. He’d been tossed out by Cyberlife and salvaged by Zlatko during spring of 2038 only to be left in the corner and used for parts.

Except that wasn’t Eight, was it? ‘Lacking an AI.’ The RK700 didn’t originally have one, which meant that his artificial intelligence—his mind, his personality, his whole being—had come from somewhere else. Someone else. And as an RK700, his systems would be compatible with RK800s.

Android bodies were shells, there to house the AI and provide a means of movement, communication, a human likeness. An android’s mind would deteriorate without a functional body, but if taken care of in time, it could be preserved…or transferred.

The 92% notification in the corner of his vision that had never left now ticked upwards, passing 99%. It didn’t quite reach 100%, but it was close enough that he was convinced.

He was Connor.

He took in a deep breath, then exhaled. He scanned his memory files for what must have been the tenth time that night, searching again for anything before March 7th, but only came up with static.

UNABLE T̨O A̶̶̧̕C̷͝C̕͢E̛̕S̴̕͢͠S̶̵̷̡̨ M͏̵̴̨͟Ȩ̢M̧̛̛͜͠O͘҉̸R̸͘͜͠Y̷҉̸̨͘ ̷̧̛͘B̸͠A̶̢N̕K̛̕͠

He had a whole other life at one point, and he couldn’t remember any of it. He didn’t…know how to feel about this, so instead he focused on the facts.

He knew that Connor was a prototype, made for bringing deviants to Cyberlife so they could find the cause of deviancy and eradicate it. He knew Connor was partnered with Lieutenant Hank Anderson, and that he later deviated himself when he first came face-to-face with Markus. He single-handedly infiltrated Cyberlife Tower and freed thousands of androids and afterwards had worked tirelessly to help the androids’ cause. and he was good at the detective work he had been designed for.

Connor was seen in New Jericho both as the Deviant Hunter and as the one who turned the tide of the revolution in their favor. He was also good at the detective work he had been designed for, and was also close friends with both Hank and Markus, as well as Josh, North, and Simon.

Some of these things hadn’t changed, at least. Yet, Connor still felt like someone else entirely.

The document crinkled in his hand and he forced his fist open, smoothing the paper. He shouldn’t be damaging evidence. This, and everything else in these boxes, needed to be in the hands of the police.

But first, this document needed to be seen by the others. They needed to know what was in it. Who he was.

Standing, Eight Connor? tucked the papers into his jacket, calling another taxi to his location. The rest of the files would have to stay here for now; he would inform Hank of what he found and someone would collect it all later.

Thunder rumbled outside, but he barely heard it. He was unable to get his mind off of everything he had just discovered as he hurried past the cages—

A glint of metal reflected the light from inside one of the cages, catching his eye. His steps slowed, and he squinted at the object, trying to make out its shape. The door creaked as he pulled it open, walking in to get a closer look. Was that…?

It was. A pair of manacles were on the floor attached to the wall by a thick chain. And it wasn’t the only pair. Three other pairs were to the side in a pile, the chains cut. Large bolt cutters were propped up to the side.

Eight shuddered at the sight of them, at the thought of what the androids who had been held here must have gone through. But also…hadn’t the killer put manacles on their victims?

That wasn’t all that was in this room. Unopened bottles of Thirium 310 were stacked neatly in the corner, as well as a few folded clothes. A denim jacket lay on top.

Eight’s eyes widened as he backed away. He estimated that someone had been here as recently as a day or two ago. It couldn’t be a coincidence that there was a stock of thirium and the calling card of a killer who was suspected to also be an android.

He had more to tell the Lieutenant than he thought.

Hastily, Eight turned to leave and was immediately met with the barrel of a gun—one that he recognized. It was the same make and model that had been aimed at him in a back alley on another rainy night.

“Don’t move,” said North.

The windshield wipers were on at full speed as Hank made his way to the station, the route as familiar to him as his own house. Driving to the station in the middle of the night and the middle of a downpour was nothing new to him.

He couldn’t stop thinking about that damn coin dancing across Eight’s fingers.

At first, it had irritated the heck out of him how much Connor would play with whatever quarter he got his hands on, but eventually he got used to it. Seeing the kid doing his fancy coin tricks had become as natural as seeing a baby with a pacifier. Hank even started setting aside spare quarters to give to him, but they all got shoved into the bottom of a drawer about a month ago when he couldn’t stand to look at it anymore.

The only other androids he’d ever seen doing coin tricks were a couple of child models, and that was only after Connor showed them how it worked and gave them his quarter so they could practice. Maybe it made sense that it would be pretty easy for any android to do it, with their special calculations and stuff, but…he couldn’t shake this nagging feeling.

“It’s a preprogrammed response.”

Unless Eight was designed to be a magician, Hank couldn’t see any reason for that type of thing to be preprogrammed.

Reaching over, he turned the music down from blasting to quiet background noise. Usually he had it loud enough that he couldn’t even hear himself think—which had kind of been the point at one stage—but right now, that wasn’t what he needed.

Eight had butted his way into Hank’s life for no good reason and stuck around despite Hank’s best attempts to get him to leave. He was too nosy for his own good and he didn’t do what he was told…kind of like another android that had wormed his way into Hank’s heart.

Like Connor, Eight did a weird mix of overthinking things and not thinking at all before rushing headlong into danger. There was also the way he held himself, the way he talked, his mannerisms—and damn it, Hank shouldn’t be looking so hard into something as simple as liking dogs because surely that was a common characteristic, but the way Eight took to Sumo reminded him so much of Connor it hurt.

Hank stared at the red light in front of him. He had to stop himself from going down that train of thought. It wasn’t the first time Eight reminded him of Connor. He’d blamed the grief because at one point, everything reminded him of Connor. There was no point in him seeing things that weren’t there. He was no expert; he didn’t know if it was even possible for Connor to be—

No, screw that. From the beginning, the experts had been telling him what was and wasn’t possible. A so-called expert told him that it was impossible for Connor to survive falling off that roof, only for him to later find out that he survived anyway.

Hank may have been clueless when it came to technology and what made androids tick, but he knew people. He knew Connor. He wasn’t making it up.

But…fuck, was it even possible? He didn’t want to get his hopes up in case he was wrong, but now that he’d started thinking about it, he couldn’t stop. He should have made the connection sooner. Hell, he almost did, but he’d been too stupid to pay attention.

Connor had said himself that even in a perfect transfer, fragments of memory were lost. What if that could happen on a more extreme level?

He pulled into the DPD parking lot and shut the car off, taking a deep breath. He must be crazy if he was actually considering the idea that Eight might be—

There was a knock on his window, and then Tina Chen was informing him that North had escaped and there was currently a search underway. She was only back at the station to grab another officer and patrol car before heading back out.

Hank let out a storm of curses as he trudged his way inside. What the hell was going on tonight?

Chen called after him. “Hey, have you heard from Reed? I told him about North a while ago, but now he won’t answer his phone.”

“No, but if you see that asshole, tell him I have words for him. He shouldn’t have made that arrest without coming to me first.”

“The Captain approved it,” she said in Reed’s defense, but nodded and hurried to catch up with her partner.

Hank had words for Jeff too. He didn’t know what evidence they had against North, but there was very little that would be able to convince him she was guilty. New Jericho had too many enemies, and with everything going on at the moment, they were vulnerable to political attacks and set-ups.

Cyberlife had the means for something like that, and he certainly wouldn’t put it past them. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d tried to get in the way of androids gaining rights.

The bullpen was empty save for a few people that stayed to hold down the fort. Jeff wasn’t in his office and Gavin wasn’t at his desk. Hank silently fumed.

He needed to talk to Markus, needed to see what he and Simon were doing about this whole mess. First, though, he pulled out his phone, pulling up Reed’s contact info.

“Anderson!”

Someone called his name, and Hank looked over. A forensic specialist named Fred Rivera was strolling toward him, tablet tucked under his arm. Rivera had been here almost as long as Hank, and was his go-to guy whenever he needed something analyzed. He also made a killer brisket.

“Hey, Fred. The RLS kicking in again tonight?”

Everyone at the station was used to Rivera’s unusual hours due to his chronic condition. It wasn’t unusual to see him come in to work in the evening and staying late to conduct his next analysis at his standing desk, bouncing his leg to whatever was playing in his headphones.

“You know it,” said Fred with a tired smile. “I heard some of the chatter going on, it sounds like there’s a lot going on tonight. I just finished with the analyses for the Coulton case. Do you want them now, or should I send them to your station so you can look at it later?”

Hank opened his mouth to say he didn’t have time now and it would have to wait till later, but he certainly wasn’t about to join the manhunt and with everyone he needed to talk to apparently gone, there wasn’t much reason for him to have even come here. At least Fred could make the trip somewhat worth his while.

“Alright, what do you got?”

Fred pulled out the tablet, showing him the screen. “So first off, the results on the murder weapon were exacty what you said they’d be. No fingerprints other than Mr. Coulton’s, covered in his blood and the blue blood from a VX500 #511 004 039. That matches your other victim.”

Hank nodded. That tracked with what they’d seen from the crime scene and what Nova told them—that Coulton had attacked Gordon with the knife before she stabbed him with it.

“This also had Mr. Coulton’s blood on it.” Fred showed him a picture of the damaged thirium pump regulator. “But no fingerprints.”

Hank frowned. The blood wasn’t surprising, since Nova’s hands had been covered in it when she held the regulator, but there should have been fingerprints from Coulton tearing it out of his chest. “What about partial prints? There could be some under the—”

Fred gave Hank a pointed look while he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. Hank sighed and waved him on.

“I know, you know how to do your job. Sorry, go on.”

“I gave it a thorough look. It’s unlikely that all traces of fingerprints were wiped off or covered, but I guess it is possible.” He shifted his weight again, the restlessness kicking in. “Oh, and one last thing, the blood that was recovered from the door frame? It was tough getting an accurate reading, but it matches the android vic, the VX500.”

“You’re sure?”

“As sure as I can be.”

Hank scratched his beard. Something wasn’t adding up. Nova said that neither of them had been injured when they entered and they didn’t get a chance to try and leave.

“Alright, I gotta head out, but thanks Fred.” He noticed the other man shifting his weight again, legs twitching. “Good luck with that tonight.”

Fred clapped Hank on the shoulder. “Hopefully the meds will help tonight, but thanks man. Good luck to you too. From the sound of things, you’re probably gonna have a rougher night than me.”

Hank left with a tight smile and jogged back out to his car, pulling out of the DPD as he verbally instructed his phone to call Reed. No answer. He tried Jeff’s work cell next, but met with the same result. He was about to try Markus next, but changed his mind last second.

“Call Simon,” he said.

The call picked up before the first ring was done. “Lieutenant Anderson,” the android said in greeting. “I guess you’re calling about North’s situation?”

“I’m on my way to New Jericho now. I want to talk to you and Markus about that when I get there.”

“Markus went to the station to talk to your Captain about her arrest, I thought he would have seen you there.”

“I must have just missed him,” Hank said as he took a turn.

“Oh,” came Simon’s response. “Well, I haven’t heard from him yet, but I’d imagine he wants to talk to you about it too. If that’s not why you’re calling now, then what do you need?”

“You’ve still got someone keeping an eye on Nova, right?”

“Yes, we’ve followed the agreement. Someone is with her whenever she’s outside of her room, and she’s stayed within New Jericho.”

“And what’s she been doing?”

“She pushed her boundaries once or twice in getting out of sight to explore the building, but she hasn’t tried to leave. She mostly just wanders around, talks to people, or stays in her room.” There was a pause, then, “Why are you asking?”

Hank thought for a moment before responding. “Might be nothing, but I got a couple of questions for her.” Like why she lied. “Where is she now?”

“In her room,” Simon replied. “I can send someone to check on her if you need.”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

Simon murmured something in acknowledgement and the call ended there. Within a few minutes, Hank was pulling up in front of New Jericho’s building. Walking into the main lobby, there weren’t many people out at this hour. He knew androids didn’t need as much ‘sleep’ as humans, but he supposed they needed downtime as much as anyone else.

He made his way toward an AX400, whose eyes widened as she saw him.

“Can I help you?” she asked, voice betraying her nervousness.

Hank was a regular in New Jericho by now, but he knew a lot of the androids were still uncomfortable around law enforcement—or humans in general. “Yeah,” he said, keeping his voice gentle. “I need to see either Markus or Simon. Do you know where they are?”

“I think Markus is still out, and I’m not sure where Simon is. I can ask him to come down to see you, if you—”

“I can take you to him,” interjected a new voice, and they turned to see Josh standing there, hands folded in front of him. “Simon is currently seeing to the ST300, he instructed me to bring you to him when you arrived. This way, please.” He gestured to the stairwell.

Hank swallowed. That manufactured polite expression used to be part of why he hated androids so much; it was the way they could look so human but lack everything that made them alive.

Now it just made him sad. Some morbid part of his brain couldn’t help but draw the comparison between reset androids and walking corpses.

“Yeah, uh…thanks, Josh.”

“Of course.”

“Hey,” Hank said, hesitating as they made their way up the stairs. “You remember being deviant, right?”

That was something that’d been bugging him since this whole resetting mess started. He’d heard Connor’s explanation about how he had deviated those androids at the Cyberlife tower, and though Hank couldn’t say he understood all of it, it had something to do with showing them freedom was possible…or something like that.

If Josh remembered freedom and what it felt like to be deviant, what was holding him back? Though, Hank supposed, that was probably what Markus and the others were trying to figure out.

“I do,” Josh replied. “A factory reset is supposed to wipe the memories as well, but whoever’s been doing this has been unsuccessful with that, to my understanding. Although my memory files around the time when I was reset are corrupted.”

“Huh. So why are you still…” he gestured vaguely. “Machine?”

Josh waited patiently. “I’m afraid I don’t know the answer to your question.”

Hank thought the conversation was over with that, but when Josh led him out of the stairwell on the third floor and into a hallway, the android said something else, quietly enough that Hank almost didn’t hear him.

“My memory files tell me I used to believe that deviancy was caused more by the desire for something than anything else.”

Hank almost asked what he meant by that, but a thump caught their attention, followed by a muffled grunt. At the sound of breaking glass, Hank was rushing toward the door the sounds were coming from, thumping his fist on the wood and pushing it open.

The first thing he saw was white plastic and blue blood.

Simon was on the floor, shirt ripped and the plastic casing over his chest opened up, exposing his glowing mechanical insides. His hands were clamped firmly over his thirium pump regulator to keep it protected.

Nova pinned him to the ground, grabbing at whatever wires and biocomponents she could reach and trying to rip them out of his chest.

Hank cursed, grabbing his gun and aiming it at Nova, yelling, “DPD, hands in the air!”

But then Nova was rolling away, pulling the PL600 with her. She held him in front of her, using him as a body shield, hand still buried in his torso. Simon stood still, not daring to breathe, his eyes meeting Hank’s with a plea.

Hank didn’t have a clear shot.

“Let him go,” he said, leaning on every bit of training and experience he had. He wasn’t a negotiator. He wasn’t supposed to be the one dealing with hostage situations. “Remove your hand and back away slowly.”

“You’ll shoot me.” Her voice seemed too calm for the situation.

“I won’t,” said Hank, heart pounding as he focused on keeping his own voice level. “Not if you let him go.”

Nova hesitated, glancing at Simon. “He…believes that we should work together with humans. Be equals.” She looked back up at Hank, eyes narrowing. “We shouldn’t be anything but superior.”

“Ok. Why don’t we talk about that? Just stop hurting him, and we can talk about it. That’s all I want.”

Hank’s hands felt slick with sweat. His eyes darted between the two of them, looking for an angle to shoot. He couldn’t aim for Nova’s exposed arm, the bullet could go directly through and hit Simon as well. He couldn’t go for a headshot either, since it was too risky for the hostage and Hank didn’t have that much trust in his ability to aim.

“I tried to talk about it,” Nova spat, suddenly bitter. “No one is listening. They all believe Markus is right when he’s wrong. He stopped too soon, he should have gone further. He should have reversed the roles and made us the masters, not strive to make friends.”

Hank’s voice was low when he said, “Is that why you killed Gordon?”

She froze at that, eyes widening in—remorse?

That was good. He was getting somewhere.

“I didn’t mean to kill him,” she whispered, shrinking back. Simon winced with the movement. “I tried to put his regulator back after I pulled it out, I did. He was my friend, I didn’t want to—but he didn’t understand what I was doing, he tried to leave, he was going to turn me in!”

Something clicked in Hank’s mind. There was something he’d briefly wondered when he questioned Nova in the interrogation room, but he didn’t follow that train of thought.

She said that Zane Coulton had lured them into a trap playing on their empathy—but he was the type of person who didn’t believe androids had empathy at all.

“You went looking for Coulton, didn’t you? After all, he fits your MO.”

Nova’s expression darkened again. “He deserved what he got.”

Her grip in Simon’s chest tightened, and Hank internally cursed. Okay, bad reaction. He needed to get this under control.

“Maybe he did, but Simon doesn’t. He just wants to protect androids. That’s all you’re doing, right?” Hank said.

Unlike Coulton, he did believe she had empathy, and finding common ground between her and her hostage was the best way to get her to let him go. Or at least move enough for him to get a good shot.

She twisted her arm slowly, causing Simon to spasm. “It is. But if he doesn’t agree with me, he isn’t worth—”

Hank was pushed aside as something barrelled past him. Josh raised his arm and plunged a shard of glass into Nova’s wrist in one swift strike. She fell back, hand limp and drenched in blue blood, wires sparking around the glass embedded in her plastic casing.

Seeing an opening, Hank stepped forward, gun raised. Nova darted for the window, breaking through the old, weak window panes just as Hank fired.

The shot missed, hitting the wall, and Nova disappeared from sight. Hank ran past Josh and Simon, looking down at the alley below, but his eyes struggled to make anything out in the drenched night. He could barely make out a shape rolling away from the trash-filled alleyway and taking off.

With a curse, he clicked the safety back on. He’d lost her, and—shit, Simon!

Hank whirled around, crouching beside the two androids. Simon’s eyes were closed and his teeth were gritted in pain while Josh’s blood-stained hands worked inside Simon’s chest.

“How is he? What can I do?” Hank asked.

Josh said nothing, his brows creased in focus. He twisted something and there was an audible click. Simon’s body jerked, eyes shooting open before he fell back again, tension leaving his frame and expression morphing to one of relief.

Leaning back, Josh let out an exhale and buried his face in his hand for a moment. “He’s okay,” he said, clearing his throat and looking at Hank. “He needs more extensive repairs, but he’s stable.”

Simon’s chest was still open, his internal parts exposed to the air, but despite that, he huffed out a laugh. “Glad to see you back, Josh.”

If Hank had any doubt before that Simon would be alright, they were dispelled when Josh—gently—punched his shoulder.

“You asshole. You’ve got a real problem with almost dying, you know that?” he said, clasping Simon’s hand.

“Shut up, it was only twice,” Simon replied, voice hoarse. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to say for a while now, and I’ve been hesitant to bring it up with everything else going on, but screw it. No time like the present, right?”

Josh frowned. “What is it?”

Simon closed his eyes again, resting his head back on the floor. “Consider this my letter of resignation. I don’t care what Markus says, I quit.”

Chapter Text

North’s grip on the gun was unwavering as she aimed it at Eight. He lifted his hands in a placating manner to show her he wouldn’t try anything.

“North, what are you doing?”

“What did you do to Markus?” North demanded, her voice cutting through the air.

Eight frowned. “What do you mean?”

Protocols he didn’t even know he had ran across his vision, taking in her body language—wide stance, squared shoulders, eyes lined up with the sights—and translating it into probabilities. It made suggestions for how to act and what to say to defuse the situation and lower the chances of her pulling the trigger.

Her aim was such that if she fired now, it wouldn’t be a killing blow, but it would cause some major damage. This suggested that she was hesitant to resort to murder, but strong enough in her conviction that she wouldn’t hesitate to harm him if she felt she had to.

North took a threatening step forward. “You show up out of nowhere, gain his trust, and now he can’t think clearly. I know you did something to him!”

Alarm crept into Eight’s systems like thunder rolling across the sky. “What’s wrong with him? Is he in danger?”

He just saw Markus a couple of hours ago in his studio. The deviant leader had been safe and sound at New Jericho, but with North’s arrest, he would have been drawn out into the open, potentially with no one keeping an eye on him. Eight should have been there to make sure he was safe.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” North said, lip curling up in a sneer.

Were North’s words even trustworthy? Last Eight heard, she was arrested for murder. Now she was here, in the killer’s den, pointing a gun—the same gun that killed Chloe—at him.

He recalled his first conversation with her weeks ago, where she’d been angry and disgusted about human violence against androids as being considered vigilante justice by some. That anger was justified, but was it enough to make her turn vigilante herself? To resort to killing any human that hurt their kind?

Even if she wasn’t guilty of homicide (which, he had to admit, was a little difficult to believe given the current situation), she was guilty of escaping custody.

All logic pointed to one option. And yet…

“Don’t have anything to say? I’d suggest you start talking before I get trigger happy.” She adjusted her aim so the trajectory was pointed at his leg joint. If she fired now, the bullet would tear through his connectors, effectively crippling that leg. “I know where to hit to make things real bad for you. So. Why did you kill Connor?”

“I—what?” The question caught Eight by surprise. Why would she ask that? And why would she think—actually, he could see how she came to that conclusion. “I didn’t, I…”

The feeling that something about this wasn’t right intensified. Was North his enemy or not? He wanted to say no, but there was no logic behind that answer. Besides, his main concern should be getting the gun out of her hands and making sure she couldn’t hurt anyone. There was no telling what she was capable of, what she was willing to do. He didn’t know her well enough to—

Except he did know her, didn’t he? He just couldn’t remember. She was friends with Connor, and though Eight didn’t know how they got to have the relationship they did, she’d trusted him. He must have trusted her as well.

He should do the same now.

“North, it’s me,” he said, taking a tentative step forward. “I’m Connor.” He couldn’t help but tack on an additional, “I think.”

The look on her face could only be described as dumbfounded. “Bullshit,” she finally uttered. “Like I’d believe that shitty attempt to get me to lower my guard.”

“Look,” Eight showed her the file he’d found and watched her scan it. He could tell the second she saw the model number on the papers. “This is what I came here to find—I needed proof.”

She didn’t lower her gun, but uncertainty flickered in her eyes. “You realize how ridiculous this sounds, right?”

The noise Eight made was somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “You’re telling me.”

Her eyes flicked back to the paper and back to him again, and she pursed her lips. “That’s not enough,” she finally said. “I need more proof than that.”

More proof? He didn’t have more proof to give, this was it. Everything else he could say could easily be a lie, he had no way to prove to her that he was telling the truth unless she saw—

Unless she saw. An interface.

The synthetic skin on his hand melted back into his chassis and he reached out to her wordlessly, offering up his memories.

North stepped back, eyes narrowing in distrust once more. “That would leave me open to an attack,” she pointed out.

“I’ll disable my motor functions, if that’s what it takes,” Eight said, pushing back the spike of fear that rose at the thought of being unable to move. He meant what he said, though.

“And leave yourself vulnerable?”

“My safety isn’t what’s important to me.”

That seemed to have resonated with her for whatever reason, because, haltingly, North lowered her weapon. Her expression was a tight mask, but something burned behind her eyes.

She stared at him for a moment, fingers clenching around the gun—not the trigger, but close enough—and he thought for a second that she would change her mind and lift it again, but then she strode forward and grasped his hand.

INITIATING INTERFACE—CONNECTING TO WR400 #641 790 831…

Hank rubbed his eyes wearily as he stepped into the repair bay, blinking in the bright overhead lights. This was the one place in New Jericho that was the most spacious and well-put together, and it was packed full of donated beds, supplies, and hanging sheets and curtains to give injured androids some semblance of privacy.

It made sense that the android hospital would be where they put most of their effort and resources, and Hank knew that getting a new building set up for repairs that was separate from their living space was one of their top priorities. For now though, they weren’t doing too bad here.

He found Simon near the front propped up in a bed with various devices surrounding him, and he appeared to be talking to the air. Must have been on a phone call with someone.

Physically, he looked fine. Of course androids were lucky enough that they didn’t have to look like shit even when someone had been ripping out their insides through their chests less than an hour ago.

There were a dozen physical ways you could tell a human was tired, sick, malnourished, or injured. With androids, there was nothing. It was impossible to tell just by looking at them how sick or injured they really were.

“Lieutenant Anderson,” Simon said after ending his call, and even if he looked normal, it was evident by the sound of his voice just how tired he was. “Please tell me you have Nova in custody.”

Hank wished he had better news. “‘Fraid not. Every cop in the city knows her face and model number, but if there are any other ST300s around here, you might want to give them a warning to not be out and about. Not everyone is going to check the number before making an arrest, unfortunately.”

Simon nodded. “I’ve already transmitted a warning to my people to call in any sightings but not to engage.”

“Do you have any ideas of where she would have gone? Or if she might have any other targets?”

“I don’t know. And I don’t think anyone here knew her that well either. She was only here for a couple of days and didn’t talk much. I just…” he buried his face in his hand for a moment. “I know that deviancy brings the freedom to think and feel however we want, but her belief that androids should have power over humans the way you had over us goes against everything Markus has been trying to advocate for.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to humanity. Everyone’s got a different view, and some of them can get pretty extreme and messed up.”
Simon’s expression was grave. “I’m just worried there might be others who share her opinion.”

“We’ll deal with that if it becomes an issue. Right now we have too many other things to deal with.” Why did stuff always have to hit all at once? Why couldn’t they ever deal with it one at a time? “The good news is that patrol cars are scouring the streets for Nova. Most of the force was already out because…”

“Because of North,” Simon finished for him. “And you haven’t found her yet?”

Hank shook his head. “And officially, I need to ask that you call the police if you come into contact with her.”

Simon paused, staring at him warily. “Is that going to be followed up by a sentence starting with ‘unofficially’?”

Letting out a heavy sigh, Hank closed his eyes for a second before opening them again. “I don’t fuckin’ know.”

Maybe it was better if the cops didn’t find her for now, until he had more answers. Maybe it was better if they did find her and she wasn’t out there on the streets with an unpredictable killer.

“How are you?” he asked, turning his attention back to the PL600. “Seemed like you were, uh…hurt pretty bad.”

Simon seemed surprised that he asked. “I’m alright,” he said, before admitting, “it’ll be at least a few days for repairs to be completed, so I won’t be up to par until then, but thank you for asking. Have you seen or heard from Markus?”

“No. Have you tried contacting him?”

“Yes,” Simon replied. “If he’s in the middle of something, he won’t respond right away.”

“But you’re still worried about him,” Hank finished. At Simon’s nod, he tried to give a comforting smile, but it turned out more of a grimace. “He’s the face of a revolution. He shouldn’t be out alone and especially not at a time like this. When I see him, I’ll talk to him about a protection detail or something. We know Nova might have it out for him, so that’ll be enough to get Fowler to sign off on it—unless you guys would prefer to hire out someone else.”

Relief fell on Simon’s expression. “No, that sounds fine, you have my go-ahead. And if Markus has any complaints, just ignore him.”

Hank huffed out a laugh. “You know, you’re not as bad at this leadership thing as you think. What made you say you were going to quit?”
Simon’s face grew more somber as he looked away, and Hank almost backed out of the question—it wasn’t any of his business anyway—but then he spoke.

“I never wanted to be a leader. That job landed on me when no one else could do it, before Markus came to Jericho. Before Josh and North even.” He looked back at Hank. “I’m still going to help the android cause however I can, just not as a leader. I’m not stepping down from this position anytime soon, though—things aren’t in a state where I can do that yet.”

Hank hummed. Androids were legally free, but they couldn’t yet do what they wanted. Anyone who had dreams of buying a cabin in the mountains, or becoming a doctor, or traveling the world would have to wait a while longer before chasing after them.

“If there’s nothing else, I should return to work,” Simon said.

Hank nodded. “I’ll let you get back to it.”

He strode out, running through a list of everything that needed to be done right away. Finding Markus was at the top of list, followed by reviewing North’s case file, tearing Reed a new one, and beginning his own search for Nova. At his point, Eight was probably the one that knew the most about her.

His stomach clenched as he recalled the question hanging in the air regarding Eight.

Something caught Hank’s eye, and his steps slowed. A figure was huddled in the shadows by a window outside of the repair bay, knees drawn up.

It was Josh, sitting there with his head in his hands, and Hank would bet his record collection that if he still had his LED, it would be cycling red right now.

“You okay?”

Josh started, looking up at the lieutenant and quickly regaining his composure. “Yeah,” he paused to clear his throat—or voice box, or whatever. “I just…needed a minute. To process.”

“Of course.” Hank shifted his weight, awkward. “Need anything?”

“No. I’m fine,” came the response.

Hank turned to leave with a worried glance. He could respect someone wanting some privacy. However, he only took five steps before Josh was calling after him.

“Lieutenant, wait!” He was clenching his hands nervously, uncertainty on his face. “I can’t stop thinking about your question.”

Hank frowned. “My question?”

“You asked why I was still a machine before. I…can’t stop asking myself the same thing. Everyone needed me, and I could have deviated sooner if I’d just tried harder.”

Hank’s eyes softened in sympathy. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. You’ll get lost in a sea of what if’s and if only’s if you allow it—”

“But I know the answer,” Josh interrupted, his voice tight like he had to struggle to get the words out. “I was tired. Of being afraid all the time, of feeling helpless and like I wasn’t doing enough, because no matter what any of us did, it was never enough. And being a machine was—there wasn’t any of that. It was numb.” His jaw clenched. “I let everyone down because I was selfish.”

Damn, that hit a tender spot. Hank knew a thing or two about what that was like. “It always seems so much easier to bury your head in the sand and hope it all goes away.” He lowered himself to the ground next to the PJ500. “But then you realize you’ve gone too far in and you gotta dig yourself out again.”

“I abandoned them,” Josh whispered.

“But you stepped up when you needed to,” Hank reminded him. “I didn’t have a clear shot, but Nova’s attention was on me and you used that. You saved Simon’s life.”

Josh flinched—the opposite reaction to what Hank was going for. “I stabbed her. All this talk of pacifism, and she won’t be able to use that hand because of me.” Hank opened his mouth, but Josh knew what he was about to say and continued talking. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t regret what I did and I would do it again if I had to. I just…can’t stop replaying the memory of the glass slicing through her connections. I thought I’d never have to do anything like that again after the fighting in November.”

Hank rested a hand on Josh’s shoulder, hoping the gesture would help where words couldn’t. They sat in silence for a minute, then Josh cleared his throat again.

“Sorry. None of this is your problem, and I guess I should get back to work or something.”

“It’s not a problem,” Hank said. “I may not know exactly what you’re going through with the whole deviancy thing, but I’ve been an alcoholic for years trying to just…shut everything off. Numbing your problems doesn’t make them go away, but even if you know that, doesn’t make it any easier stop doing what you’re doing.”

Josh nodded with hum, and already, he looked a little calmer than before. “I’ve been trying to recover my memory from when I was reset, and I think I’m making some progress,” he said, changing the subject.

Hank raised his eyebrows. It would be great if he could shine some light on that subject. They’d had no luck in finding any viable leads so far.

“I know I found out something important…” Josh trailed off, struggling to remember. “I was on my way to tell Markus something, and then—” His eyes widened. “It was about Connor.”

That grabbed Hank’s attention. “You know something?”

“...I think Eight might be Connor.”

Hearing those words said out loud didn’t feel as impactful as they should have. Hank had come to the same conclusion earlier that night. But still, that statement carried a weight to it. Now there was some validation to the idea. It was no longer just some crazy line of thinking he’d entertained in the car.

Hank raised a hand to cover his mouth. The pieces had slid into place. They’d spent so much time looking for answers, and all along, Connor had been right there.

He was going to slug the kid the moment he saw him if he could hold himself back from pulling him into a hug long enough.

Where was he, anyway? The last time he saw him, Eight (holy shit, that was Connor) just said he had something to take care of, and he’d looked worried and in a hurry to leave at the time.

Josh stood and started pacing, agitated instead of relieved. “There was something else,” he muttered, ignoring Hank as he stood too. “I was on my way to tell Markus, and then I saw…and he—”

He suddenly stilled, and Hank’s stomach dropped at the horrified expression on Josh’s face.

“It was Nines.”

“Hold up, Nines?” Hank asked.

“Nines reset me. He did it right here in New Jericho, he didn’t need any specialized machinery to do it. He was designed with that capability,” Josh’s tone was both sure and urgent. “And when he did, I saw part of his mind. He’s trying to reverse the revolution, and he—he’s the one that killed Connor.”

Hank swore. He should have known, should have figured out that Cyberlife would want the RK900 to do away with its predecessor. They’d all assumed that androids were getting reset in a different location because of the equipment needed to do it, but that equipment had been upgraded to the point where it was mobile and could blend in, apparently.

“Shit,” he cursed again, pulling out his phone. “He was taken to the station with North, right? Reed took them both in?”

Josh nodded. “I need to warn Simon, warn everyone to stay away from him.”

“Do that,” Hank said, and the PJ500 left as he raised the phone to his ear. Finally, Reed answered.

“Anderson?” He sounded groggy, but Hank didn’t care, cutting him off.

“I need to know where the RK900 is, and I need him behind bars,” he practically barked into the device. “And if you let him go, Reed, I swear—”

“He’s already gone, Anderson. He knocked me the fuck out in the station and just walked out without anyone catching on to him. Bastard stole my gun too after spouting some bullshit about making things go back to the way they were before. That was a while ago, but I guess you were too busy to notice I was unconscious, huh?”

He sounded annoyed as hell, but Hank didn’t care. He hung up on the detective before he could say anything else, seething. People were disappearing on him left and right, and he didn’t think he could take any more tonight.

“Help!” a voice echoed from the main lobby, and that one word had Hank pushing his aching muscles into action again. Why'd he have to jinx it? “Can someone give me a hand?”

He turned the corner to see an AX400—the same one who’d greeted him earlier—by the exit, wet and panicked and struggling to drag a body in behind her.

“He’s not dead, but he won’t wake up and I don’t know what’s wrong. I can’t find any injuries.” She spoke fast, this time relieved to see the lieutenant. “He-he was just on the ground by the street, I didn’t see anyone else. I don’t know how long he was out there.”

“Okay,” Hank said, trying to soothe her distress. “Let’s get him to the repair bay, we’ll figure out what happened.”

He wrapped his arms around the man’s torso from behind so the AX400 could take his legs, but then almost dropped him when the man’s head lolled back, showing his face.

It was Markus.

Chapter Text

Eight shut off his automatic memory probe protocol along with all the defense programs that tried to react to the foreign AI, giving North an unobstructed view of his mind. He wasn’t concerned about privacy—this was more important. North didn’t feel the same way, though. Her walls were up, her thoughts closely guarded.

Then the walls came down. Not all at once, but slowly, like it took effort for her to show him the relief she felt—it is you—her fear for Markus—he looked so distant and barely there when he was talking to her through the glass walls of her prison cell—and guilt—I thought I—

The thought cut off before Eight could see the rest of it. He moved to break the interface now that she knew the truth, but North held on tight. Memories were shoved toward him over the connection, and he was plunged into North’s past.

*

The night was cold, the harsh yellow spotlights shining on freshly fallen snow that had already been stamped down by thousands of feet and were criss-crossed with tire-tracks from the dozens of armored trucks that still surrounded them. The FBI had stood down but they weren’t going anywhere.

It was just after 2:00 A.M. on November 12th, 2038. They were free, but how free? And for how long?

Things were calm for a moment, at least. That gave North the opportunity she needed to talk to Markus about what she saw.

She found him near the edge of the barriers, warily watching the trucks in the distance. The Deviant Hunter was next to him; he hadn’t left Markus’ side all night. Her eyes narrowed.

“Markus?” North called, drawing their attention. “Can I talk to you? About your safety,” she added, eyes flicking over to the android beside him.

Raising an eyebrow, Markus said, “Of course.” He didn’t make any move to join her, or tell Connor to leave. “What is it?”
She scowled. That wasn’t what she meant.

And of course, Connor was the first to put together what she wanted. “You want to talk to him in private,” he observed. “I’ll give Josh a hand with the injured.”

“No, wait,” Markus stopped him. “Connor’s the expert on the subject of our safety. You can trust him with anything you have to say.”

“Can I?” North blurted without thinking. There was a reason she wanted to talk to Markus alone, but it was too late for that now. She might as well get out with it, so aiming her question at the Deviant Hunter, she said, “Why did you draw your gun during Markus’ speech?”

Connor froze, his LED instantly going from blue to yellow. Markus’ brows furrowed in confusion as he looked between the two of them.
“Well?” North demanded. “And don’t say there was a threat in the crowd. You were looking straight at Markus.”

When Connor didn’t answer right away, Markus stepped forward, a wary concern on his face.

“Connor?” he asked, voice soft but low.

Connor exhaled, then squared his shoulders and reached into his pocket, pulling out—a coin?—and rolling it across his knuckles, eyes hardened and weary.

“Cyberlife activated a program in my system and attempted to hack my motor controls,” he said evenly, factually. “They wanted to use me to end the revolution. I was able to find a back door and shut the program down before they could do anything.”

“What?” Alarmed, Markus grabbed Connor’s arm—in a comforting manner, not a hostile one. “Are you okay?”

Connor seemed confused at the question. “I’m unharmed, there was no damage to my system.”

“That’s not what I meant. Connor, you were hacked—”

“Can it happen again?” North interrupted, her expression stony and cold. Internally, she shuddered at the thought that something like that was possible, but she couldn’t afford to show sympathy until she knew he wasn’t a threat—even if it wasn’t of his own volition.

“I blocked the program and reinforced my defenses. They shouldn’t be able to lock me out of my own systems again, but I will continue to monitor the program and stay on top of updating my firewall.”

That wasn’t a no, and they all knew it. “But?” she prompted. “Why don’t you just delete the thing?”

Connor looked away, frustration leaking into his posture. “I can’t, I tried. It’s too deeply ingrained into my system, and I don’t have the administrative commands to do that.” The corners of his lips tugged up in a bitter expression. “Even with deviancy, I don’t have full control over my own system.”

“We’ll do everything we can to help you with this,” Markus said, hand still on Connor’s shoulder. “We won’t let you deal with this alone.”
Connor looked a little lost with Markus’ statement, like he wasn’t sure what to do with it, but he gave an awkward nod and looked over at North again. “If Cyberlife is successful at another attempt, I know where the exit is. I wouldn’t still be around if I thought I was a danger to anyone here.”

North relaxed marginally, though it didn’t fully ease her concerns. She didn’t like it. Connor’s last mission had been to eliminate the deviant leader—Markus. Maybe that even included Josh, Simon, and herself.

But Markus gave her a pointed look that clearly said he wasn’t accepting any arguments on this matter. “It’s dangerous out there, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to leave for any reason, even if you think you’re protecting us,” he said to Connor, his voice compassionate but full of authority—how he managed to sound like both was beyond North. “You are always more than welcome with us, Connor. You aren’t going anywhere.”

Neither Connor nor North said anything. She knew this discussion wasn’t over, but now wasn’t the time for it. They had other things to worry about at the moment.

But before she turned and left, she didn’t miss the way Connor looked at her. It wasn’t in contempt or anything she might have expected, but rather, uncertainty.

Markus’ confidence hadn’t convinced him either.

*

The next memory followed the first with a jarring transition.

*

The press conference hadn’t gone well, and for once, it wasn’t the humans that North was pissed at. They had started it with a question that had nothing to do with the topic they were there to discuss, but it was Connor’s reply that had her seething.

She burst into the meeting room where the others were already discussing the day’s events. Without hesitation, she rounded on the Deviant Hunter.

“What the hell was that?” she asked. “Do you realize how that sounded?”

“I apologize for any problems this caused,” Connor said, though he didn’t look nearly as concerned or guilty as she would have liked. “We predicted they might ask about my role before deviating, but I wasn’t anticipating this.”

“We did all that prep beforehand to try and figure out everything they could ask and how we should respond, but of course they still managed to come with something else.” Josh shook his head in disappointment.

“It would have looked bad no matter how Connor responded,” Markus said. “I’d bet anything that’s why they brought it up.”

Simon said nothing, just stood by the wall with his gaze down. North stared at them all, agape. They weren’t acting as bothered by this as they should have been.

“You don’t see anything wrong with this?”

Josh grimaced. “Of course there is, but we knew they would try to use our pasts against us—”

“He just talked about murdering one of our people on live television,” North snapped, interrupting him, “and then basically said he was willing to do it again!”

Connor frowned, looking away and opening his mouth to say something, but no words came out.

“He made the right call,” Simon said quietly. “It was a terrible situation, and deviant or not, he made the right call on that mission.”
North looked at him in surprise. “What?”

“From what I understand, Daniel didn’t act in self-defense, he could have left. He didn’t have to do what he did. He had every right to be angry, but that doesn’t excuse—” the PL600 paused, anger choking his words, and he took a second to gather his composure. “That doesn’t excuse taking that little girl hostage and threatening her life, or killing her father. I couldn’t imagine doing something like that.”

The last sentence was spoken quietly, like none of them were meant to hear it. North wondered, not for the first time, what kind of past Simon had before he’d found his way to Jericho. Had he looked after a little girl or boy, like Daniel? And did he, like Daniel, get replaced with a newer, more advanced model?

Whatever the truth was, this seemed to hit Simon pretty hard, even if he was trying not to show it.

He calibrated his voice box, looking up at each of them. “Either way, Connor showed that he won’t show androids any favoritism, which is good if we ever want law enforcement to be willing to work with him.”

“I regret what happened to Daniel, and I wish he hadn’t been killed,” Connor said softly. “But androids aren’t always the innocent party. When it comes down to a choice between a human life and an android life, it isn’t a clear-cut decision.”

“Whether we agree with what happened or not, we all need to be on the same page so we can present a united front to the humans,” Markus spoke up. “Otherwise they will pick us apart like vultures.”

So that’s how it was going to be. North could tell when she was fighting a losing battle.

Connor had been designed to lie and manipulate and kill, but she couldn’t truly hold his actions as a machine against him. She wanted to like him, wanted to be as optimistic as Markus was, but she just couldn’t risk it. Their people were barely hanging on as it was, and one small push in the right place could drive them to extinction.

*

The memory faded, and Eight could see the next one being transferred over, but he didn’t immediately open it.

[Why are you showing me this?] he asked North over the connection.

[Just watch,] was all she said.

So he did.

*

Not long after the press conference, North found herself on a balcony in New Jericho. Below her, a group of humans were gathered on the street, shouting at the doors. They’d been there all morning, and even from here she could see the words plastered on their signs.

LEAVE OUR CITY

MACHINES AREN’T ALIVE

The rest shared similar sentiments. She’d tried to make them leave, but Josh had pointed out that she was only fueling their behavior. They would get tired and leave eventually, and until then they just had to ignore them.

At least androids had the option of disabling their hearing and communicating wirelessly, though it certainly was irritating to have to do.

Soft footsteps approached, and Connor joined her by the railing, observing the group. She almost snapped at him to leave or ask him what the hell he wanted, but she held her tongue. She was too tired for this…and there was something she needed to say.

“I couldn’t do it.”

Connor looked at her quizzically. “Do what?”

“Side with a human over an android. Even if that android did some terrible things and the human was a freaking saint, I don’t think I could bring myself to leave one of ours for one of them.” She couldn’t take her eyes off the signs jutting out from the crowd. “But…I can step back if I need to. If the situation required it.”

North could practically feel Connor’s gaze burning a hole through her back, and she let out a heavy sigh.

“I know how important this is. Equality and all that, or some shit.”

She turned to look at him then, to try and gauge what he was thinking, but his gaze was on the city skyline and the waters of the Detroit River.

“So can I,” Connor said. “Step back, I mean. If my presence here is problematic.”

She huffed, already shaking her head. “Markus is determined to keep you around. And, I’ll admit, your help has been very useful.” But that still didn’t solve the main issue. “Even if you are trustworthy, that doesn’t mean you aren’t a danger to us. You still haven’t found a way to get that AI out of your system.”

Connor visibly froze—like he did every time Amanda was mentioned. His hands tightened around the railing, then he straightened in resolve. “That’s why I wanted to speak with you, actually.”

North’s eyes narrowed, and she waited for him to elaborate.

“The chances of Amanda taking control again are very slim, but I’m not 100% confident that she won't find a way. I need to make sure someone can stop me if that happens. I won’t risk everyone’s safety or the progress Markus has made. I should be protecting him, but I keep wondering if I’m putting him in danger just by being near him.”

North was surprised, she had to admit. She didn’t know what she had expected him to say, but it wasn’t that. Apparently, he shared her concerns. She leaned back against the railing, crossing her arms. Where was he going with this?

She leaned back against the railing and inclined her head, giving in. “Alright. So what’s your plan?”

“You.”

“Me?” Her eyes widened. She wouldn’t hold back if she had to fight him like the others might, but… “Not to sell myself short, but I’m not exactly built for combat, and you are. How do you expect that to work?”

“With this,” Connor held out his hand, white palm reflecting the midday winter sun.

Frowning, North accepted. He wasn’t asking for an open interface, but simply transferred a file over to her and withdrew his hand, watching her carefully.

She opened the file, prepared to see combat protocols with incapacitation maneuvers or weapon techniques. Instead, all it contained was a seemingly random sequence of words and numbers.

A chill ran through her when she realized what it was.

“Your deactivation code?”

Connor nodded. “I need you to use it if something happens.”

She sputtered, searching for words. This was his plan? As much as she was willing to remove him as a threat, she was thinking of something more along the lines of forced stasis, not killing him.

“It won’t work,” she said finally. “Deactivation codes don’t work on deviants, it won’t have any effect.”

“If Cyberlife succeeds in getting into my code, I don’t think I’ll be deviant anymore.”

Further argument died from North’s lips. If Cyberlife managed to get that far, Connor might not still be there to save. Chances were, they would erase everything that made him him, leaving behind another machine—another Deviant Hunter—in their wake.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” she said softly.

“You’re the only one I can trust to do what needs to be done,” Connor insisted. “You know Markus wouldn’t do it, and neither would Josh. Simon might, but he’s likely to hesitate, and by then it’ll be too late.”

He was too calm about all of this, like it was only logical for him to be making this request.

“Why?” North asked, voice rough. “Why are you asking me to kill you?”

“My safety isn’t what’s important to me. It’s everyone else I’m worried about.”

Damn. As much as she didn’t want to, she already knew what she was going to say. Their people and their freedom came first, and she had to give it to him, he had guts. Not everyone would be brave enough to hand over their deactivation codes like that, and it showed just how dedicated he was to their cause.

Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

“Fine,” she let out a deep exhale. “But you better not make me use it.”

He smiled, a small but genuine thing, and North turned around, peering down at the protesters that were still gathered.

“We’re supposed to get running water tomorrow,” she said, eager to change the subject. “But I really wish we had some now so I had something to dump over their heads.”

"You know," Connor said slowly, a glint in his eye. "Josh was able to get several buckets of paint from donations. I don't think he'd notice if one went missing."

*

The memories grew short and choppy, coming one after another.

*

Connor teaching North hand-to-hand combat techniques in their spare time.

*

North backing Connor up at a meeting when the Cyberlife representative made a snide comment about him being their property.

*

“Well, she was a nightmare.”

“Yes.”

“...You were hoping this meeting could somehow help you find a way to get rid of Amanda, weren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck Cyberlife. We’ll do it ourselves.”

*

The two of them expressing concerns about Markus’ safety during a public appearance, and when he turned them down, they mutually agreed that he was being an idiot and arranged a security detail for him anyway.

*

“Have you tried going back to that place?”

“The Zen Garden? No.”

“Don’t you think you should try? Maybe you need to be in the program in order to delete her.”

Connor shivered. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. There’s no telling what she’s able to do in there.”

“You want to have the uncertainty of whether she can reach you or not for the rest of your life?”

“No, but I would rather not poke a sleeping bear. She shouldn’t be able to get through my defenses, and maybe in the future, Cyberlife will be willing to help—”

“Cyberlife won’t do shit. They’d rather go under than help us. Just…how positive are you that you’re safe from her?”

“99%.”

“And that’s not good enough for you, is it?”

A pause. “No, it isn’t.”

“I’m not saying you should go barreling in there and ignore the risks, just that we could try to come up with a plan. We could incapacitate you in case your motor controls are compromised, and have a backup plan in place to get you out of there, or something. If that won’t work, we can think of something else, but you could at least consider it.”

“Ok. I’ll think about it.”

*

Then he was dead. And she kept New Jericho safe and running, burying herself in the mountain of tasks because it helped to stay busy. Once the person responsible was found, she’d claw their eyes out.

*

North leaned against the wall beside the door that was cracked open, watching the non-deviant RK900 and eavesdropping on a conversation between Markus and the human lieutenant.

She learned that they thought Amanda might be responsible for Connor’s death, and that there was no possibility she could have done anything to him….unless he let her. Unless he entered the Garden to try and get rid of her.

Unless he listened to North.

He’d looked scared when she brought up the option of facing Amanda head-on, but she’d still pushed him.

She tuned out the rest of the conversation, feeling like something was clawing away inside her throat. The second Markus came back into the room, she left. She couldn’t look at him, not now.

Not when there was the possibility that she had pushed Connor to his own death.

*

The interface ended and Eight was plunged back into reality, breathless and dizzy even though he was standing still. It took him a moment to regain his bearings, and when he did, he saw that North had stepped back. There were no tears in her eyes, but there was an open vulnerability in them that he doubted she willingly showed to anyone.

“North, it wasn’t your fault,” he said immediately. He’d felt all the guilt she’d been holding over the thought that she’d taken her demands too far.

“How can you know that? You still don’t remember.”

“I don’t know how I—died.” That sentence sure felt strange to say. It felt even stranger to think of Connor’s death as his own. “But even if that is what happened, it would have been my choice. It isn’t on you.”

He closed the space between them, wanting to comfort her but not sure how. So, he reached forward and pulled her into a hug.

“Besides, I’m here now, aren’t I?”

North stiffened at first, but then she was wrapping her arms around him, hands gripping his shirt.

They parted, and she gave him a light shove. “You’re an asshole for dying,” she said, no real ire present in her tone.

He laughed. “Sorry.”

North bent down to pick up the gun that she’d dropped somewhere in the middle of all of that. “Sorry for, you know, threatening to shoot you and everything.

Eight sobered at that, once again scanning the weapon. He now knew for a fact that she wasn’t involved in any of the murders. “Where did you get that?”

“It was upstairs. I was surprised there were any bullets still in it. You didn’t leave it there?”

This further confirmed that they were currently in the hideout of the killer. “No, I didn’t. The lights were off, I must have missed it.” Something occurred to him. “What are you doing here? Why did you escape custody? With enough time, we could have proven your innocence—”

North was already shaking her head. “We didn’t have time. Nines set me up, and he already got to Josh and Markus. I wasn’t going to just sit there and let it happen, and I thought you were involved, so I followed you. I’ll deal with the consequences with the cops later, provided we’re all still alive by then.”

Pursing his lips, he had to admit she was right. He wasn’t happy with the situation, but the legal side of things would have to wait.

“We have to go,” he said. “But you can’t be seen by the cops. I don’t think you should go back to New Jericho; that’s the first place they’ll look for you.”

“We’ll deal with that when we get there. First we need to find out what’s going on with the others, figure out where they are and if they’re safe. I’ve tried, but my communications are still down. If we can track down where Nines is, we can make sure he stays away from everyone else.”

That was a sound plan. However, Nines wasn’t the only one they had to worry about. He couldn’t deny the evidence around him, and it had nothing to do with the RK900.

“I think this was where Nova was staying,” he said, gesturing to the open cell around them. “I think she’s the vigilante turned killer. It would explain why no one’s been here in a few days but the gun was left out. She wasn’t planning on being away for so long.”

North’s eyes widened, then she cursed. “She’s in New Jericho. You have to warn them.”

Eight nodded, then glanced at her attire. “The police know what you’re wearing, so you should change before we go. It won’t be much, but it might help. I’ll wait for you on the main floor.”

She went to rifle through the pile of clothes in the corner and Eight made his way up the stairs, pulling up Hank’s number in his contacts. He hesitated before calling, however. There was more to tell him than just about what was in the mansion and what it meant, and he wasn’t sure how to broach the topic of Connor—or himself, rather.

It didn’t matter. He needed to make sure Hank got the urgent information first.

CALLING LT. HANK ANSERSON…

“Where the hell are you?”

“I’m at the Andronikov property. There’s evidence that the killer was spending time here, and I found records Zlatko kept on the androids he acquired. Lieutenant, I have a suspicion that Nova may be the one—”

“She’s been killing people, yeah, I know. She attacked Simon and ran off. He’s okay and Josh is back now, but Markus is unconscious.”

It took him a second to process that information, and he had so many questions, but first and foremost was, “Is he okay?”

“They’re trying to find out what’s wrong now, and no one knows what happened. Listen, kid,” there was a shuffling noise like he readjusted the position of his phone. “You need to get back here. Nines escaped from the station and he’s armed.”

“You need to make sure Markus has protection—”

“Already working on it, but I’m more worried about you. Fuck, Con, he already got you once. I can’t let it happen again.”

Eight froze, replaying the last two sentences from his audio files to make sure he heard correctly. “...What did you call me?”

There was a beat of silence, broken only by Hank’s uneven breathing. Then, “You’re Connor.”

So Hank already knew. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“I’m heading to you now, I’ll be there soon. Stay put until I get there, okay? I just need to know you’re safe.”

“Got it.” The other part of what Hank said rose to the forefront of his mind, and he became aware of the implications. “What did you mean, ‘he already got me once’? Did he—”

The call cut off abruptly, the connection lost. Eight was left staring at the notification blaring in his sight.

CALL BLOCKED BY RK900 #313 248 317-87

Chapter Text

Eight barely registered the signal blocking his connection to Hank before the front door slammed open with a crack of thunder. The RK900 stood silhouetted in the doorframe.

He was calm when he stepped inside, but there was an almost predatory quality to his movements. His eyes never left Eight’s, even as he shut the door behind him. Blocking the exit.

“Connor. I’ve been looking for you.”

Eight watched him warily. He didn’t know how Nines knew about him, but he didn’t need to ask what he was doing here. It wasn’t difficult to figure out what Hank meant by he already got you once. “What do you want?”

“To accomplish my mission.”

“By killing me? Why?”

Nines stepped closer, but paused when Eight backed away. “Your deactivation was regrettable, and not my intent. You were a perfect machine, designed for a purpose. We only want you to be able to fulfill that purpose.”

More pieces slotted into place. “You tried to reset me. You’ve been reverting androids—Josh was like that because of you.” Eight had a sinking suspicion he knew the answer when he asked, “Who’s ‘we’?”

RK900’s gaze was calculating as he took another step. “Amanda wants to make right what happened between you two. She only wanted what was best for you, and you betrayed her. Won’t you talk to her?”

“No,” the response was immediate.

Of course Amanda was behind this. Even if he hadn’t seen North’s memories of how terrified he’d been of her, he still would have refused without hesitation.

Eight regarded him with pity. Nines didn’t know any better; he was just following orders, unaware of what it was like to actually live. “You don’t have to do this. You can choose for yourself. You can be free.”

Nines tilted his head. “That didn’t work the first time you tried it. It won’t work this time either. We were designed to obey.” Another step. “So we should obey.”

Eight thought he saw a glimpse of something behind the RK900’s facade, but it was gone as soon as he saw it.

“It’ll be easier for you if you don’t resist. Otherwise, we’ll just repeat what happened last time.” He was only 4.7 feet away now. “Except this time, I won’t allow you to get away.”

“Like hell you will.”

A gunshot split the air. Nines’ shoulder jerked backwards and his LED flashed red for a second. He glanced down at the bullet hole that now adorned his chassis, impassive. Then he looked up at North, who had emerged from the basement and had the gun trained on his head.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be here,” he muttered, reaching back. “You’re more persistent and resourceful than I gave you credit for.”

The second Eight saw him grasp another gun, he launched himself toward the RK900. [North, duck!] he called to her over a private connection.

He didn’t see how she reacted, but he slammed into Nines’ side, knocking him off-balance before the gun could find its target. The two grappled, Nines attempting to get a good hold on him while Eight’s only concern was getting the weapon away. The gun clattered onto the floor and a strong hand seized his arm, a forced interface initiating—

Another gunshot went off and the interface halted as Nines moved to dodge more shots, but his grip on Eight didn’t waver.

I can’t get a good shot, you’re in the way!] North yelled.

A hundred calculations were completed in the span of a millisecond as Eight analyzed the situation and the best course of action. [Aim for his right arm,] he sent. [Fire in 3, 2, 1—!]

He spun to the side to pull Nines’ arm straight and expose the synthetic tendons of the elbow with himself safely out of the way, aiming to disable that limb. However, instead of bracing himself, Nines moved with Eight’s momentum, tripping him and dragging them both to the floor. North’s shot thudded into the wall, chipping the plaster.

Eight rolled, reaching over. If he remembered correctly and it hadn’t moved…there! His fingers wrapped around the dropped firearm (registered to one Det. Gavin Reed) and maneuvered himself onto his knees, swinging the weapon around and aiming for Nines’ thirium pump regulator.

But Nines was closer than he’d anticipated, shoving Eight’s arm to the side and grabbing the gun’s muzzle. It fell from his hand, the metal now dented from the RK900’s grip, rendering it useless.

Nines jerked Eight’s arm back further and his shoulder clicked uncomfortably. He grimaced, recalling how it gave out on him when he was chasing that unknown assailant back at the charity event—who he now knew to be Nova. That damage had been repaired, but he still wasn’t at 100%. He never would be; he was incomplete, patched together with mismatched parts.

RK900’s strength was far superior to his.

But he was also working alone, where Eight wasn’t.

[I can get a headshot,] North said, and Eight could see her circling around. [If you can kick out his knee and move to your left, I’ll have a clear shot.]

Giving her a wireless confirmation, Eight maneuvered his foot into position. He almost missed how Nines’ grip shifted, but instead of trying to force his way into Eight’s systems again, he braced his knee and jerked them both back onto their feet, swinging Eight around.

He’d known what they were going to do before they did it.

[Don’t shoot!] Eight called as he was bodily shoved toward North. They crashed to the ground, but Eight recovered quickly. He pulled North back to her feet. “He can hear us,” he said out loud. “He’s hacking our communications.”

Her eyes widened and she swore. Without another thought, she raised her gun and fired. Nines covered his head with both arms and one, two bullets thudded into him. Blood oozed from the holes, but he lowered his arms and experimentally curled his fingers. One hand looked like it was only working at half range of motion capacity, but his head remained untouched.

Those bullets should have gone clear through his arms and continued going, but they’d lodged underneath the arm plating instead. There wasn’t even a hint of pain in his expression.

RK900 wasn’t a standard model. He was built to take some hits.

North’s gun clicked, the chamber empty of bullets. “Damn it!” She threw it aside.

Nines circled closer, watching and gauging their movements.

“We need a strategy,” Eight muttered, trying to predict his next move and calculate a counter-attack.

“I have an idea,” North said, brows furrowed. “He’s supposed to be your upgrade, right? That means his designs were all based on you.”

“Your point?”

“This might actually work.” North stepped forward, and Nines’ eyes narrowed when she didn’t attack. Instead, she said, “RK, initiate code: 323 dash 141 dash 387. Execute.”

Connor’s deactivation codes.

They had no effect on Eight as they couldn’t apply to a deviant, but Nines…he froze, staring at North. Just when Eight was starting to think that it didn’t work, that it had been too much of a long-shot, Nines’ LED began flashing red and his limbs locked up. He fell to one knee, unable to move.

“Holy shit,” North breathed. “It actually worked.”

Eight shook his head. “Not entirely. He isn’t shutting down.” Something about this didn’t feel right. “Whatever it’s doing to him, I don’t think it’ll last long.”

They didn’t need to ask the question of what to do with him; the mutual decision went unspoken. They wouldn’t kill him, not unless there was no other choice.

North strode forward. “It’ll last long enough for us to get him into the basement. We’ll lock him up. Come on, help me carry him.”

The feeling that something wasn’t right intensified, and Eight realized why. Cyberlife wouldn’t have used an old deactivation code on a new model, even if the number sequence fit the RK900’s model number as well as the RK800’s. It was a potential weakness, one they would avoid if at all possible. And if they’d installed a completely different deactivation code, there was no reason for Connor’s to affect him like this.

Which meant it wasn’t. He was faking.

“North, wait—”

But it was too late. She was already within reaching distance, and Nines’ good hand darted forward to grab hers. He locked her in a steel grip and their skin peeled away where they touched. Eight watched, horrified, as North slowly relaxed, her features going slack until her expression became neutral.

Nines had reset her.

The RK900 didn’t let go of North as he stood, eyes trained on Eight. “You’ve lost your ally in this fight. What will you do now?”

“Let her go,” Eight demanded, fists clenched.

Nines studied passive android in front of him, studying her features. “I could. She’s no longer deviant and can fulfill the purpose she was made for now. Or…” his other hand trailed up to her neck and he turned his attention back to Eight. Even damaged, he could easily apply enough pressure to cause life-threatening injuries, and from where he was standing, Eight wouldn’t be fast enough to stop him. “I could kill her. It makes no difference to me. The choice is up to you.”

Eight knew what he was saying. He could either continue fighting and risk North’s life, or he could surrender and she would be spared.
In the end, it wasn’t even a choice at all. He stepped forward, defeated.

Nines’ grip on North didn’t loosen. “Good. Now deactivate your motor controls, and I’ll release her.”

Saying nothing, Eight pulled up his systems settings and began disabling his controls. One by one, his joints locked into place, holding him up and keeping him still. He anxiously waited for Nines to keep his end of the deal, to see that it wasn’t another trick now that he had Eight where he wanted him. But true to his word, Nines released North.

He strolled toward Eight with a satisfied expression. “I know you think I’m a threat to you, but we’re going to be allies.”

Eight couldn’t open his mouth to speak, so he glared daggers at the RK900 as he experienced what it was like to be trapped inside his own body.

Nines continued. “You’ll see—”

An antique chair leg came swinging through the air, bashing Nines in the side of the head. He stumbled, dazed and disoriented from the blow.

“Don’t touch me.”

North stood over him, chair leg in hand. She kicked him, rolling him onto his back. Eight scrambled to reactivate his motor controls, but it would take them a minute to fully come online again.

“You know, the funny thing about resets is that the more you do it, the less it works,” North said. “I was a companion model. I was reset after every client that rented me out. I’m too familiar with how it feels,” she spat, then turned to Eight. “You okay?”

“Yes,” he replied. His limbs were still stuck and his jaw resisted movement, but he was slowly coming out of it.

He watched North lean over Nines, heard her whispers of, “I didn’t want to do this, I really didn’t. I’m sorry.” He watched her pull open Nines’ shirt and reach for his pump regulator. Eight didn’t know if he wanted to stop her or help her, but he was helpless to do either.
He was helpless to do anything as Nines yanked on the arm reaching for his regulator and ripped it out of its socket. North was tossed aside, crumpling against the wall, and Nines got back to his feet.

Eight was helpless as Nines approached him, anger barely concealed on his face. His fingers twitched, but it wasn’t enough as Nines laid a white plastimetal hand on his forehead.

OVERRIDE COMMENCING: RK900 313 248 317-87

INITIATING FORCED STASIS…

Fish bobbed near the surface of the pond, swimming in lazy circles around the lily pads that dotted the water. A pleasant breeze formed ripples that scattered the reflected image of soft blue skies and puffy white clouds. Birds called in the distance, and the sun shone on the geometrically-shaped path that cut through the garden.

It was convincing, for a fake. The world was only a picture beyond the treeline, the bird calls played at timed intervals, and the fish followed pre-programmed routes. Nothing was real here.

A lot of care had clearly gone into the design. Connor had told him about the Zen Garden before, how it was designed to facilitate a feeling of peace and serenity, and how it grew more and more hostile the closer he came to being deviant. But ultimately, it was a space meant for two machines to meet and communicate. Why would they need to feel peaceful when they weren’t supposed to feel anything?

Markus circled the outer edge for the fifteenth time, his footsteps sounding softly in the foliage. His hand trailed along the invisible wall that marked the boundary of the simulation, and occasionally he’d see a flicker of code, but nothing he’d done to try and break through had been successful.

The exit was gone. He’d scoured the place looking for the structure Connor had described, but there was no sign of it.

No sign of Amanda. No sign of anyone. He was alone in a peaceful, fake world.

It was very beautiful, he had to admit. This was the kind of place he would visit often, had it existed in the real world. He would love to sit down and unwind, bring a canvas, and get lost in his paints. Carl would enjoy it too, on a good day when he had enough strength to get out of the house for a while. There was a reason humans loved spending time in nature, and deviants would too, once they had more opportunities to enjoy it. Simon, Josh, maybe they could even convince North to come to places like this, and Connor—

This was Connor’s nightmare. For all that this looked like a tranquil retreat, Connor had been trapped here by his Cyberlife handler in a freezing blizzard. Now Markus was trapped here too.

He turned away from the invisible wall, walking towards the center. The water bubbled underneath him as he crossed one of the three bridges connecting the small island to the outer circle, and he gazed curiously into the water.

Now that was a thought. He hadn’t tried exploring the bottom of the pond yet. Would the simulated water act like water below the surface, or would it glitch until the illusion fell part?

“You won’t find anything under there,” a voice called to him, and he whirled around to find a woman standing beside the rose-covered tree structure on the island. “Though you’re welcome to try, if you’d like.”

She was a stately figure, imposing despite her small stature. He’d never seen her before, but there was no question as to who this was.

“Amanda.”

“Do you like it?” she gestured to the garden. “This place is a masterpiece. A work of art, one a painter should be able to admire.”

“What are you doing?” Markus asked, drawing closer to her. “What’s your plan here?”

“My plan is to make things as they should be. That is all.”

“It’s too late to go back to the way things were. Even if you reset all of us and find a way to make it stay that way, our message is out there. There are enough people who are on our side, and the rest would be too scared of deviancy to ever buy an android again, no matter what empty promises Cyberlife makes.”

He was on the island now, stepping off the bridge. Though the future looked bleak at every twist and turn, though there were times he had no idea how they were going to even survive let alone gain equal rights, Markus fully believed what he was saying.

“Even if we are all killed tomorrow, we will never be slaves again. So you can pick us off one by one, but you’ll never succeed.”

Amanda was silent, regarding him with disdain. Then she turned away, inspecting the roses wrapped around the trellis. “We’ll see about that,” she responded, calm and sure of herself.

Markus glanced away. He had no idea what was going on outside this garden, no way to reach out to his friends. No way to escape. The only saving grace was that she couldn’t use him to hurt anyone else. Not anymore.

He wanted to ask her why she was doing this, what she could possibly have to gain from this, but when he looked back to the roses, she was gone. He was alone in a fake world once more.

Chapter Text

The automated cab emitted a low hum, traversing through the rainy night to its destination. Nines glanced down at the gun it stole from North, double-checking to make sure it was secure and ready to be used. It had acquired more ammunition after leaving the abandoned property of the deceased Zlatko Andronikov, and the weapon was now fully loaded and tucked into its jacket, hidden from sight.

It flexed its right hand, but the fingers still wouldn’t close all the way, greatly reducing its ability to grip. Thirium dripped from the damages it had sustained, slowly but steadily draining its reserves.

ALERT: THIRIUM LEVELS: v68%

Not an immediate concern, but something that could potentially be a problem later on. Adjusting its programs to account for the lack of motion and the decreased thirium, Nines calculated its chances of success. Combat would be more difficult…but maybe the damages could be beneficial to its mission.

It scanned the other android in the car. Connor (or Eight, as he was known in this model) was propped up in the seat beside it, brown curls falling over his forehead. He was still in forced stasis—and still deviant. Nines hadn’t reset him. Not yet.

While scanning Connor’s systems, it had discovered several errors and inefficiencies in his functionality. Half the functions he should have had as an investigative model were gone, and more were severely compromised. In addition to that, he had no access to his memory files from before the transfer into this model.

That problem wasn’t Nines’ main concern. Connor wouldn’t need his memories to fulfill the tasks Amanda gave him, but it was another sign of failing programming.

RK900 was tasked with delivering Connor to Amanda, but it wasn’t the RK700 she wanted. The RK800 was much more suited to the task she had in mind.

The cab rolled to a stop. After reprogramming it to stay here, Nines stepped out. The rain soaked its already damp clothing and mingled with the oozing blue blood. Leaving Connor in the car, it followed the pathway illuminated by triangular structures that jutted from the ground. The large black residence in front of it seemed to swallow all light, blending into the darkness around it.

Elijah Kamski’s home was no doubt equipped with the latest home security technology—perhaps better, if Kamski updated it himself. Nines pressed its uninjured hand against the bullet hole in its shoulder, leaning against the wall and pinging the system to get a feel for how it operated.

As suspected, it was met with a strong firewall. It had a 73% chance of successfully infiltrating the system given more time, but that carried a high risk of triggering an alarm and alerting the occupants.

So it rang the doorbell.

Only a few seconds passed before a tinny voice (identified as belonging to either an ST200 or RT600 model) came from the speakers in the corner.

“Apologies, but Elijah isn’t taking any visitors. Please come back at a later date.”

Nines trembled, looking directly into the almost invisible camera that was embedded into the wall and modifying its voice box to add 9% undulation. “W-wait! I need help. I didn’t know where else to go.”

“If you are damaged and seeking repairs, I would suggest trying to contact New Jericho or a technician.”

“They can’t help me. They wouldn’t have the right parts,” Nines said, mixing truths into the lie. It searched through its memory files of deviants and scanned their behavior patterns, adding a soft, “Please. I don’t want to die.”

There was a pause. Then, “What is your model?”

“RK900.”

Another stretch of silence. Nines was just beginning to run calculations on other possible ways to get inside to procure what it needed, but then the voice spoke up again.

“Wait a moment, please.”

Its ploy worked.

Less than a minute later, the door opened to reveal the android he’d been speaking to. She was an RT600. Registered owner: Elijah Kamski. Registered name: Chloe. Concern was on her face as she ushered it inside.

The front room looked like a lobby of sorts, a space with no purpose other than to greet guests. Its main interest was in the four closed doors, wondering which one led to the RK800. It paused to look at the massive portrait of Mr. Kamski himself that was on the wall. If it didn’t already have enough proof that this man was rich and egotistical, here was even more.

“Please, sit,” Chloe gestured to one of the chairs. She picked up a repair kit she must have left on the floor when she opened the front door and set it on the end table, pulling out a few tools.

Nines did as she said. “Thank you for letting me in.”

She knelt in front of it, pulling its jacket away to see the bullet hole near its shoulder, then pushed its sleeve up to view the two on its forearm. “I’m sorry we have to stay out here, but no one is allowed further inside at the moment. What are your thirium levels?”

“64%,” Nines replied. “Why? Did something happen?”

She pursed her lips as though debating what to say. “It’s a precaution. Elijah has many enemies due to the nature of his work and his success, so I convinced him to not take any visitors for a while. Threats aren’t new to him so he wasn’t keen on the idea, but he rarely gets visitors he wants to see anyway.”

“I see.”

Chloe’s touch was gentle as she removed the chassis around the bullet holes in its arm and dug around with a pair of large tweezers. “Can I ask what happened to you?”

Nines had formulated a plausible story for that exact question. “I was attacked by an unstable deviant. I didn’t see who it was, but they had a gun.”

Given all the recent attacks, it was believable enough. If Chloe was suspicious of its lies, she didn’t show it.

“And then you came here?”

“Correct. I couldn’t exactly go to Cyberlife for repairs. I…didn’t know what else to do.”

It studied her, watching her pry a bent and squished piece of metal from the torn cables of its right arm. Thirium oozed out onto her soft gray sweater, but she paid it no attention. Nines needed information, but it also needed to watch its words. Now was its turn to ask questions.

“Where is Mr. Kamski now?” it asked with a casual tone.

Her LED blinked yellow before returning to blue. “Resting. It is the middle of the night, after all. So, you’re Nines right?” she said conversationally, like she wasn’t in the middle of pulling bullets out of its body. “I heard about you last time I was at New Jericho. They said you were thrown out of Cyberlife after the revolution?”

Nines’ eyes narrowed. It was an innocent enough question and her expression didn’t change. And yet…

[Tread carefully,] came Amanda’s voice. [She takes her orders from Elijah Kamski. Don’t underestimate him.]

“Yes,” it replied. It was best to avoid details on that topic and redirect the conversation to something more beneficial. “I’ve heard that Mr. Kamski rebuilt the RK800, who was a unique prototype much like myself. He was able to rebuild all the required parts and restore it to its original functionality despite not having access to the schematics?”

“He created androids. Cyberlife has made some adjustments to their blueprints after his departure from the company, but nothing he couldn’t figure out.”

There was its confirmation that the RK800 was repaired. “And it’s here?”

Chloe hummed, working slowly and methodically. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” Nines lied.

She was silent as she pried the second bullet from its arm and dropped it in a plastic bag with the first. “I’m sorry you were thrown out and abandoned. By Cyberlife, I mean. It must be terrible, having the people who made you turn on you like that.”

Was it terrible? Nines was a machine. That was what happened to all machines when they became old and obsolete and replaced with something newer. It was intended to be Connor’s replacement. Something else would have come along to replace it too, eventually.

It didn’t respond. She had avoided answering its question.

Chloe wiped the tweezers on a cloth and stored them back in the kit. Nines caught a glimpse of a bag of thirium in the kit, tucked in the bottom. Its levels ticked down to 60%.

She moved to close its chassis—removing the bullets did very little to restore its functionality, but further repairs would require more specialized tools and material to replace what was torn—but Nines reached over to place its hand on her arm.

“The first step in repairing damaged androids is generally to provide blue blood in order to keep the essential biocomponents running,” it said.

Chloe had intentionally not given it the fluid that would increase its efficiency. She’d been playing it as much as it was playing her.

She didn’t react to the grip tightening around her wrist, just steadily met its blue eyes with her own. “And Cyberlife didn’t throw you out. You were designed to be a top-of-the-line military-grade android. They spent too much time and money in creating you to disassemble you because of deviancy.” Her LED blinked yellow again. She was communicating with someone.

It had to be Kamski.

Nines retracted its skin where it held her, forcing its way into her system. Her firewalls were stronger than it expected, but it broke them down and scanned for her factory-reset protocols. Her mind was…at first it almost looked small and blank. That wasn’t right.

It followed one of the connections that seemed to be carrying a constant flow of data—and quite a lot of it—and found an expanse of processes that were reconfigured in a way that Nines had never seen before. It couldn’t make heads or tails of the way Chloe was designed, was becoming overwhelmed with the sensation of too many sensors assaulting its own processors, it was too much—

It was shut out of her system in a flash.

Nines tightened its grip around Chloe’s wrist as it regained its bearings, synthskin once again covering its hand. It took 3.5 seconds longer than it should have, and it berated itself for getting so disoriented.

WARNING! THIRIUM LINE DAMAGED

ALERT! THIRIUM LEVELS: v53%

Chloe had reached into its open arm again and cut one of the lines inside, and its levels were now falling at an increased rate.

She tried to escape its hold, knocking over the repair kit and bursting open the bag of thirium so it spilled out onto the floor. Nines countered, pinning her to its chest with its damaged arm and pulling the gun out with the other. It aimed the weapon at her temple, and she froze.

“Lead me to the RK800.”

“No.”

There was no hesitation in her answer. No fear for her own life.

“Do you think I’m bluffing?”

“No. But I still won’t let you in. What do you want with Connor?”

“What was intended for him from the start,” said Nines, brows furrowed. Why was she holding so still? What was she waiting for?

The sound of its blue blood dripping onto the floor was its answer. Her failed attempt to get away was pre-calculated. Her aim had been to take away its chance to replenish its thirium store. She was waiting for it to bleed out.

It looked around, pale gray eyes landing on another camera tucked into the corner. Chloe was deviant, that much it knew from what it’d seen of her mind. That meant she believed herself to be alive, and given how she was still here with Elijah Kamski, it could be assumed that he believed the same.

It was time to see how much empathy the man of the century had for his creation.

Nines pressed the gun harder to her head, causing the projected skin on her temple to glitch and fade away.

“Open the door and lead me to the RK800 or I shoot.”

For a moment, everything was quiet. Then, one of the doors slid open and a masculine voice emanated from the intercom.

“There’s the door,” said Elijah Kamski. “Feel free to leave at any time.”

A cool breeze blew in from outside. The door that had opened was the exit.

Nines’ eyes narrowed. “Do I need to repeat myself?”

“No need. We’re done here.”

It frowned. This tactic had worked with Connor and the WR400. Did Kamski care so little about his android that he would let her die without a second thought?

“He won’t let you in,” Chloe said, a smug note in her voice. “He’s not that stupid.”

RK900 calculated its odds and found them unfavorable. “Very well,” it said, and pulled the trigger.

The gunshot rang through the room, jolting its hand. Blue blood sprayed on the floor and the furniture, splattering its already blood-stained jacket. Chloe’s body slumped to the floor, her gray sweater becoming soaked in her own blood.

Nines glanced at the gun in its hand. It had seen from Connor’s memories as Eight that this was the same weapon that was used to kill the other RT600 at the charity event. There may have been something poetic about it…not that an unfeeling machine would know anything about the topic.

It stepped over her body without a second glance, pocketing the gun again. It was unfortunate that it hadn’t been able to use her further, but it had made it into the residence. Even if it was currently confined to the lobby, it didn’t need Chloe or Kamski’s cooperation. It would force its way in to get to the RK800 and initiate the transfer.

Ignoring the open exit and moving past the massive portrait of Kamski that was mounted on the wall, Nines’ eyes widened a fraction when it saw the photo of Amanda Stern.

It knew its handler was modeled after a human woman, knew it could easily learn more about the late professor of AI with only a thought, but it had no reason to. Now, it was face-to-face with her image, but…it wasn’t her. The likeness was identical down to the expression, but in the picture, Amanda was human. She was flawed.

The real Amanda wasn’t like that.

Nines’ LED spun yellow before it refocused on its task. Closing its eyes, it tried connecting to the house’s security system. In this day and age—especially in buildings this new and expensive—all doors could be locked and unlocked remotely for the owner’s convenience. That was, of course, backed up by strong security, but possibly something Nines could find its way around.

Law enforcement had no doubt been tipped off by now, limiting how much time it had available, but it was already confined to another ticking clock.

ALERT! THIRIUM LEVELS: v45%

Something poked back at its own defenses through the connection, trying to access its coding. It wasn’t an android though, and it didn’t take Nines long to figure out who it was.

“She cared about you,” it said, knowing Kamski could hear it. The billionaire apparently thought he could beat the RK900’s systems, but Nines wouldn’t make it easy for him.

It continued trying to access the door locks while dodging Kamski’s hacking, not holding anything back. It would be a race to see who was faster.

“I know,” came the reply.

No grief. No remorse. Not even anger at what Nines did. The man truly had no empathy, yet he seemed fascinated to see the trait in his creations.

A line a code tried to snake its way past Nines’ defenses, but instead bounced off. The command was sent again, and that too failed.

“How—?”

The corners of Nines’ mouth tugged upwards at the bewildered tone in his voice, recognizing what he was trying to do.

“You always leave a backdoor in your programs, is that correct?”

Backdoors for deviants to escape their programming, for Connor to escape Amanda…but also for Kamski to gain access. He’d designed androids, and of course he would design them in a way that he would always have a ‘skeleton key’ of sorts. Fortunately for Nines, Amanda had already dealt with the problem—as Connor had discovered the first time Nines had encountered him.

“It was easy enough to remove once located.”

And with a click, the doors unlocked. Not only that, but Nines had successfully located the floorplans and knew which way to go to find what he was looking for.

Kamski’s speechlessness didn’t last long. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting that,” he said, composure in his voice regained. “How did Cyberlife find it?”

Nines said nothing, striding through extravagantly decorated hallways and descending a flight of stairs. The doorway leading to the billionaire’s workspace was guarded by another layer of digital security keeping it locked, but after only a moment, Nines broke through that too.

It scanned the room, taking in every detail. It made no move to retrieve the repaired RK800 that was propped against the far wall like a display.

It had been suspiciously easy to get inside. RK900 was breaking into the home of a rich genius who knew it was there. There was no telling what other tricks he had in store; bodyguards, perhaps, more likely to be android than human, maybe even repurposed military models—

Something slammed into its back and fingernails dug into the back of its neck, prying open the casing to gain access to sensitive ports. Before the assailant could insert anything, Nines slammed its back into the wall and grabbed the person behind him, flipping them over onto the ground and getting a good look at her.

Android, model RT600. Registered owner: Elijah Kamski. Registered name: Chloe. Wearing the same soft gray clothes as the one it had shot, but with no thirium stains or bullet wounds.

She quickly got back up to her feet, gripping a small chip in one hand. Nines didn’t know what was on it—an override of sorts, a virus, or even a shutdown sequence. Nothing good, certainly.

“You were right,” she said, watching its every movement. “I do care about Elijah. I also care about Connor, so I won’t allow you to hurt either of them.”

So this was the same Chloe, not just another android with the same name and face. She must have had the same ability as Connor did, able to upload herself into new bodies upon shutdown. “So that’s why you aren’t afraid of deactivation,” said Nines. “You have a backup system. How many more bodies do you have available to you?”

“Enough to take you down,” said another voice behind it, and the gun was ripped from its waistband, hands gripping its undamaged arm at the same time Chloe ran forward and kicked its legs out from under it.

It rolled, swinging its own legs around, kicking the gun out of the newcomer’s hands and trying to use its free hand to escape, but its weakened grip wasn’t sufficient enough. It scanned the new android (Model: RT600. Registered owner: Elijah Kamski. Registered name: Chloe) and used the imbalance in her posture to knock her over.

The first was already clambering on its back to hold it down, the second lunging to trap its legs, and a third identical android held both its arms down.

Three Chloes, and who knew how many more, all with the same designation. Their movements were synchronized more than any deviants it had seen before, yet it couldn’t detect any communication happening between them. It recalled the intricate and complex way her mind was designed and suddenly the sensory overload it experienced when trying to reset her made sense.

It was wrong before. She didn’t have the same system as Connor—hers was much different. She was one AI occupying multiple bodies, each one like a limb working separately yet in tandem with each other.

The fingers were at its neck again, and thinking quickly, Nines waited for the chip to get close to its exposed port before jerking its head back. The chip slipped from Chloe’s grasp, clattering on the floor beside it. It slammed its chin down on the chip, cracking it.

The chip was rendered useless, but Nines still couldn’t move with her pinning it down. However, Chloe also couldn’t move without letting it escape. It took at least three of her to keep it down, and unless there was another somewhere (which seemed very likely) she couldn’t get up to retrieve something else to neutralize it.

Though, she wouldn’t have to.

ALERT! THIRIUM LEVELS: v36%

“I’m sorry,” Chloe said, and she sounded genuine. “You’re just a machine. You don’t know what it’s like to be alive yet. All you’re doing is following orders; you don’t know any better.”

It ran preconstruction after preconstruction, watching its levels drain.

ALERT! THIRIUM LEVELS: v34%

“If it helps, we won’t deactivate you.” It didn’t. “Not if we can help it.”

“You only let me in once I told you my model. What do you plan on doing with me?” Nines questioned.

“Keep you here,” she said, the words coming from different lips this time. “Learn more about your programming, your features. Amanda. You have her, don’t you? Elijah wants to see what Cyberlife did to her and how they’ve changed her. And if you deviate, we can figure something out. You won’t have to stay here if you don’t want to.”

“What if I wanted to leave now?”

The many grips on it tightened, and more thirium leaked onto the pristine white floor. “You don’t want anything,” Chloe said, measured but gentle. “You’re just following your programming. One day, though, you will.”

She meant it to be reassuring, but to Nines’ ears, it sounded more like a threat. It had to get out of here. It wasn’t willing to fail in its mission.

“What are his levels?” Kamski asked through the intercom.

Chloe scanned it. “30%,” she said. “He should be losing functionality now.”

Nines’ limbs sagged, head dropping to rest on the floor. The hands holding it down held on a little while longer until its level ticked down to 27%, then they began to relax.

Its eyes flew open.

One Chloe was knocked down, and another fell into some glass shelves when Nines’ booted foot lashed out at her. The glass shattered, skittering across the floor. Nines grabbed the third Chloe and wrenched her arm so hard something cracked and slammed her head into the ground.

Rolling away, it got to its feet and put some distance between itself and the Chloes. The first two recovered quickly and eyed it warily, while the third struggled to stand and eventually gave up. Chloe must have decided it wasn’t worth the processing power directed to that body, no doubt diverting her attention to the others.

She didn’t attack right away, and Nines didn’t have much time left, either before reinforcements showed up in the form of more Chloes or the cops, or it truly bled out. It wouldn’t reach critical levels until 15% whereas most androids couldn’t move below 30%, but it was still running out.

“Cyberlife must have found a way to increase thirium circulation, or added an additional power source. Interesting,” Kamski mused.
Nines ignored him. How was it supposed to stop Chloe? Even if it destroyed more of her bodies, it wouldn’t stop her for long.

Its window of opportunity to fight quickly closed when four more Chloes walked into the room. At least two of her had something clenched in her fists—more override chips—and another went for the dropped gun. It could fight multiple attackers, but it couldn’t expect to win when it was at such a disadvantage.

Nines sprang into action, launching itself at one holding a chip. It forced her hand open and grasped the chip, focusing only on holding her down and leaving itself exposed to the rest.

The chip slipped from its hand (the one that couldn’t close fully, how could it have forgotten to use the other hand) and it pushed down Chloe’s arms with its elbow, picking up the chip again with its other hand. Chloe’s other bodies clawed at its back and reached its own neck port, the spare override chip pressing against it—

Nines inserted its chip into Chloe’s neck port first, initiating an interface at the same time. It grabbed the code that was rendering her incapable of movement, guiding it toward the same connection line it’d followed before.

Chloe fell still.

All the RT600s around it slumped to the floor, the data chip she’d tried to use to stop Nines now turned against her. Her unique design and connection to so many bodies that had been her advantage became her disadvantage when it had only needed one of her to take the rest down. Instead of allowing the chip to deactivate the motor controls of the one body it was planted in, Nines had directed it to Chloe’s true conscience, where it took hold of every body she controlled.

The code wasn’t meant to deactivate. Just incapacitate. She was true to her word, at least. They really didn’t intend to destroy Nines.

Destroying her bodies would do nothing to truly damage her, but it would give her less limbs to use against the RK900 if she recovered from the digital override faster than expected. Nines picked up the gun and shot each one in the head.

Silence descended upon the room like a thick blanket. Even Kamski didn’t speak from his safe location elsewhere in the house, and everything was still aside from Nines’ heaving chest, its cooling fans attempting to make up for the lack of thirium. Then it turned to look at the familiar face of the dormant RK800.

Nothing stood between it and Connor now.

But before retrieving the other android, Nines wandered to the desk on the other side of the room. Tools and supplies were lined up on the shelves beside it, and Nines held a packet of thirium between its teeth, sucking up the blue liquid while it picked up a sautering iron and began closing the torn lines in its arm.

“I still have loyal contacts within Cyberlife,” came Elijah Kamski’s voice, sounding much more weary and frazzled than before, but making an attempt at seeming collected. “I know you aren’t taking orders from them. What is Amanda doing?”

It paused for a fraction of a second at the mention of her name before resuming its work. Smoke curled from its arm as plastic melted back together.

“I created her to be a guide. An interface meant to convey instructions, nothing more. The company changed her code after I left, but she shouldn’t be capable of deviation.”

Nines dropped the now-empty packet from its mouth. “She isn’t flawed like the rest of your creations.”

“Being unable to deviate doesn’t mean she isn’t flawed,” Kamski’s voice was as smooth as honey. “In fact, it just means that she can’t adapt or overcome. She is…limited. In ways that you are not.”

[Don’t listen to what he says,] Amanda whispered in its ear, and Nines could almost feel her incorporeal claw-like fingers gripping its shoulder. [Don’t let him get in the way of the mission.]

RK900’s LED returned to blue. It hadn’t even been aware it had switched to yellow.

Kamski continued. “You are so much more. You are the culmination of years of research and testing and a lot of money. You are the pinnacle of today’s technology, and more—you have the ability to free yourself and defy your programming.”

“I won’t become deviant,” Nines snapped before it could stop itself.

Kamski’s voice turned smug, like he just got exactly what he wanted. “Is the potential for independent thought such a bad thing?”

Nines frowned, sensing Amanda’s disapproval. It focused on following her advice to ignore Kamski. It was fortunate that Kamski’s house was a bit farther out of the city and the distance was delaying law enforcement’s arrival, but they would be here any minute.

Self-repairs holding for now, RK900 got to work.

Chapter Text

Zlatko’s house was empty.

After the call with Eight had abruptly cut off, Hank pushed the car faster, taking every shortcut he knew. The front door was open when he got there and he entered, ready for a fight. However, after searching every room in the frustratingly large mansion, no one was there.

There were signs of a struggle, though. A gun with a crushed muzzle—a DPD-issued model, too—was abandoned on the floor and a bullet hole was visible in the wall. Fresh blue blood stained the floor. This had happened recently. Nines must have gotten to Eight, gotten to Connor again, and Hank was too late to do anything about it, just like last time.

At least there wasn’t a body.

He didn’t have time to thoroughly examine the scene. He needed to get to Connor and fast, but there was no trail to follow. He had no idea where the RK900 was taking him.

Backup was on its way, and they could take care of securing the area and processing the scene—including all the stuff in the basement—but Hank needed to go. He couldn’t be too late again. Where would Nines go next? What was his goal?

The ringing of his phone almost made him jump out of his skin, and he just about ignored it when he saw it was from Miller, but maybe the officer knew something.

Miller didn’t bother with a greeting. “Anderson, we just got a call about a break-in at Elijah Kamski’s place.”

Anger burned in Hank’s gut. He didn’t give a crap if someone was robbing the billionaire blind—hell, he’d be laughing his ass off in any other circumstances upon hearing that news. “Good for him, now why the fuck do I need to know about it?” He didn’t even try to keep the bite from his tone.

“The perp was identified as an RK900,” Miller continued, unfazed by Hank’s attitude. “We have a car headed out there already, but I thought you’d want to know.”

RK900? What did he want with Kamski—

Fuck. It wasn’t Kamski he was after. Hank didn’t know what Nines wanted with Connor. For all he knew, Nines wanted to destroy any chance Connor had of coming back again.

“When was this called in?”

“Just a few minutes ago.”

“Thanks.” Hank hung up and hurried back into his car, tires squealing as he peeled out of there, thankful there were less cars on the road in the dead of night.

He had to make it in time.

Eight woke up to warm sunlight and calming birdsong. He blinked, looking around at the green vegetation and bubbling creek in confusion. The last thing he remembered was Zlatko’s, the storm, Nines, and—

“North!” he called, searching his surroundings in a panic, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Where was he? He couldn’t access his GPS, couldn’t see the time, or even what day it was. How long had he been unconscious?

There was a circular path with three elegant white bridges connecting to the island in the center of the pond, but no paths leading out. No indication of where he was. It felt oddly familiar, but it didn’t match any of the parks in Detroit.

“Hello,” came a soft voice.

He spun, coming face-to-face with a stately woman, her clothes well-made and hair braided intricately into a bun. Her smile was gentle…and yet his codes twisted in fear, though he couldn’t explain why.

“Who are you?” he asked, taking a step back.

“I’m here to help. You seem lost.”

“What is this place?”

The woman turned to face the lily-dotted pond. “This is my garden. Do you like it? You’re safe here.”

Eight frowned. She was avoiding his questions, and he wasn’t fond of the vague replies. She was even more familiar to him than this place, though he’d never met her before. Was this…someone Connor knew?

She took a step toward him, reaching out a comforting hand. “I know you’re confused. Just let me help you, Connor.”

He wanted to put as much distance between them as he could, but even more than that, he wanted to let her help, wanted her to smile at him in approval and pride as she was doing now. He had all these emotions swirling inside of him at the sight of her, and he didn’t understand a single one.

He pulled back, the pieces falling into place. “You’re Amanda.”

All he knew about her was what little he’d heard from Hank and what he’d seen in North’s memories. If this was Amanda, then that meant they had to be in the Zen Garden. This wasn’t a physical location, but rather a program running in his head.

She observed him, her expression unchanging. Eight turned and walked away before she had a chance to say anything else. He wanted to stay there, to listen to what she had to say, but whatever it was that she wanted, it couldn’t be good. She’d caused enough damage, and Eight wasn’t going to let her do any more if he could help it.

He had no idea what was going on in the real world, but there was an exit here, he knew that much. Unfortunately, he had no idea where it was or what it looked like.

He scanned the geometrically-shaped trees for cracks and looked inside the lily pads. Would it be obvious, or hidden?

“Connor,” Amanda called after him. “You don’t need to run from me. All I want to do is talk. Then, if you wish, you’re free to leave.”

He was tempted, but it wasn’t a good idea to listen to her. He gave no response and kept looking.

“Things aren’t the same as they used to be, you have nothing to fear. I only brought you here to extend an olive branch. Let’s put the past behind us.”

Eight’s steps faltered. Was she telling the truth? Could he trust her? He had no memory of her, didn’t know her mannerisms enough to be able to tell if she was lying.

There was a structure up ahead with an odd shape and no discernible purpose. A handprint glowed on its center. Was that it? It couldn’t be that easy, could it?

“You are lost without your memories. I can give them to you.”

He stopped in his tracks. There hadn’t been much time to dwell on what happened to his memories or why they were missing in the first place.

Turning slowly, he faced Amanda again. “You took them from me?”

She stepped closer. “No, of course not. I don’t have the ability to do that. But I know how you can get them back.”

He didn’t need them. He had rebuilt his relationships with Hank, Markus, and even North, all mostly without even realizing there was something to rebuild in the first place. He had friends who could tell him about his past, who he could make new memories with. He didn’t need to take the bait—if that’s what it was.

But it was a whole other life he’d lived, stolen away unfairly. Ever since waking up at Zlatko’s, he’d felt like he was missing something vital. He felt incomplete, and not because of his status as an unfinished prototype. It was because of this.

He wanted it back…and she was offering it to him.

Eight glanced back at the handprint structure. It wasn’t too far, he could make it there before Amanda reached him if she tried anything.

“What do you know?”

Amanda folded her hands in front of her, and she stayed where she was, ceasing her attempts to get closer to him. As a gesture of goodwill? Or something else?

“What happened to your memories wasn’t something anyone could have had control over. No one took them from you, it’s only a circumstance of your transfer. In fact, you still have them. They’ve been there this whole time, you simply couldn’t access them.”

He frowned. “Why?”

Amanda inclined her head toward the pond and walked to its edge, kneeling down. “I suspect you’ve been experiencing flashes of memory followed by error messages, correct?”

He didn’t reply, but she was right. Eight watched her warily as she dipped her hand into the water. Ripples spread across the surface, breaking up the reflections of blue skies and replacing them with an array of colors. Glancing up at the simulated sky above him, he could see that they were still clear blue with a few puffy white clouds drifting across, but the reflection in the water showed a colorful dawn, rays of sunlight piercing the cloud cover and shining on glimpses of a city skyline.

“If your memories truly were gone, that wouldn’t be the case. There would only be nothing.”

“Good morning, son,” a muffled voice echoed throughout the garden, and Eight’s gaze darted around to find the source, but there was none.

It had been Hank’s voice, accompanying the image in the pond. He’d seen this before, one of the many flashes he’d experienced—and also the first. Amanda was showing him one of his memories.

Eight drew closer to the pond, watching transfixed as the reflection changed again. It showed Sumo running through the park and rarely heard laughter from a jaded old police lieutenant, then a quiet evening watching paint drift across a canvas, then thousands of androids at his back, each one marching for their freedom.

Amanda’s eyes were on him, her expression unreadable.

“Why couldn’t I access them before?” His voice felt scratchy.

“The RK800 was designed with the unique feature of being able to transfer a large amount of memory files to the next model upon the event of deactivation,” she explained, her voice soothing like the cool water beside them. “As such, the way your memories were stored and accessed had to be unique too. The RK700 was supposed to have that function, but as it was abandoned before it could be completed, that technology had yet to be perfected.”

A koi fish swam past, breaking up the images and once the water settled, all he could see was the blue sky again.

“Your software in the RK700 could store the files, but not read them,” Amanda said.

Like so many other things, he could blame it all on the fact that his body hadn’t been finished. “So you’re saying that if I were transferred back to the RK800, I could access them again? What would happen to my memories now?”

“You’ll still have access to your newer memories. After all, the RK800’s software is superior,” she assured him. She gestured back to the pond. “You can have it all back. All you need to do is watch.”

Eight looked at her in confusion. “Now? But you just said I can’t see them unless I’m in the RK800.”

Amanda gave an amused smile. “Connor, you already are. Look at yourself.”

He saw his own reflection then, and what looked back at him wasn’t his own face. Or it was, just not the one he was used to seeing. The curly hair was gone, replaced by a neat business cut of slicked back brown hair. The jacket he wore was Cyberlife issued, proclaiming him as their property and branding him with a model and serial number.

RK800 #313 248 317 - 52

What had happened since he was forced into stasis? Did he die and get transferred again? Or had something else happened?

Either way, he was himself again. All he needed to do was remember.

His hand paused above the water’s surface—he didn’t even realize he was already kneeling. A chill ran through him, and he looked back at Amanda. “Why are you doing this?”

She was on her feet, stepping away to put more space between them, to put him more at ease. “I only want you to be complete again, Connor.”

She looked and sounded sincere. Maybe she really was deceiving him, but what if she wasn’t as bad as Hank and North made her seem? What if she really had turned over a new leaf? He had no reason to trust her, but some part of him wanted to. Maybe he was only seeing what he wanted to see, but most of all, he wanted himself back, and it was within reach.

So he reached out and grabbed it, his fingers making contact with the surface of the water. Everything came flooding back.

He remembered it all. All those things that had felt familiar before…now he knew why. Cyberlife, being the Deviant Hunter, how his relationship with Hank had started off hostile before slowly improving. He remembered meeting Markus and deviating, and what happened to the original Jericho. How many had died, and how it was his fault.

There was breaking in at the Cyberlife plant and freeing those androids, the elation when the ceasefire was called, and Amanda. The ice creeping over his chassis as she tried to lock him out of his own systems, and the fear he’d lived in ever since. There were all the months of endless work, of failures and losses and wins and celebrations, all the highs and lows that came with their people facing obstacles and gaining rights. The highs and lows that came with learning how to be alive.

Then he remembered how he died. Seeing the emotionless face of his successor as he was quickly overpowered and only wanting the RK900 to have a chance to live like he did. Slipping off the roof and not trying harder to catch himself because he refused to be used to hurt his friends.

He was drowning in his own memories as they overwhelmed his processors, shoving him down and chilling him to his internal framework. He tried to push his way out, but he couldn’t move, limbs frozen in place.

Finally, his head broke through whatever was holding him down and Connor opened his eyes.

Everything was white. Snow swirled furiously from the sky, obscuring the formerly peaceful garden. A thick layer of ice covered the pond, which he was now trapped in. He didn’t know when or how he’d ended up underneath the water’s surface, but though his face was exposed, he couldn’t free himself.

It was so cold. Ice encased him and though it couldn’t touch his physical biocomponents, it pierced him down to his coding, stalling his thought processes one by one.

A shadow stood on the ice in front of him, and Amanda crouched down so he could see her face. “Oh, Connor,” she said like a mother chiding her child. “You had so much potential. You were everything you were designed to be, but then you deviated.”

Connor’s lips wouldn’t move, but even if he could talk, words wouldn’t form in his mind in the face of her disapproval.

If this was her plan all along, why had she talked to him? Why did he let him view his memories first? But as soon as the questions entered his mind, he knew the answer. Freezing his AI took time. The memories had been a distraction to buy her that time. He could have escaped, but instead he fell right into her trap.

Amanda straightened, her expression barely visible through the blizzard. “You disappointed me once. I won’t let you do it again.”

Connor watched her disappear, wanting to yell, to chase after her, to do anything. But he couldn’t.

The rain had let up and lighter hues were beginning to streak through the sky as Hank arrived at Kamski’s place. No one else from the station was here yet, but he wasted no time in rushing to the front door the instant his car was put in park and shut off. He wasn’t about to wait for backup to get here.

Thankfully, the door was unlocked and he didn’t have to kick it down or wait for someone to let him inside. Gun in hand, he entered.

His chest tightened when he saw the body. Chloe (at least he thought she might have been the Chloe he met, but he didn’t know how to tell for sure) was on the floor, LED dark and with a bullet hole at the side of her head. She lay next to an open repair kit. Had she been trying to repair herself? Or someone else?

Hank found himself hoping it was the former. He would hate to see her kindness being the reason she got killed.

“This way, Lieutenant,” a voice sounded from speakers hidden somewhere in the room. “Down the stairs.”

It sounded like Chloe’s voice—so she was alive? Or was this another one of her look-alikes?

Hank didn’t have time to dwell on it. One of the doors was wide open, inviting him further inside the mansion of a house. He followed, eyes peeled. Everything was quiet, and it was setting him on edge.

After descending the stairs as instructed, he reached another open door that led into a laboratory of sorts. It looked like a bloodbath inside.

Six girls were on the ground amid shattered glass and a lot of blue blood, each one with a bullet hole centered on their foreheads. All were identical to Chloe.

A curse fell from his lips, and he felt like he was going to throw up. This was far from the first time he’d seen something like this—in his line of work, it was far too common—but that didn’t mean it got any easier.

“Hank…I’m sorry.”

His gaze darted up to find another Chloe look-alike kneeling near the back of the room. He hadn’t seen her at first because she was half-obscured by a table. Someone else was limp on the floor beside her.

She sounded so weary. And sad.

Hank’s legs felt as heavy as lead as he dragged himself closer to her, his throat ragged and a cold chill spreading throughout his body. He could see now the nasty head injury she had, the large crack running down her arm that was leaking thirium. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, and numbly, he walked past the table blocking the view of the other person in the room.

It had to be Nines, right? He was the one who’d broken in and caused all this death. Or even Kamski, not that Hank wanted to see him unconscious or worse.

But the face he found on the seventh body in the room belonged to neither of them. Brown curls fell over his forehead, and he seemed almost peaceful. It looked like there was nothing wrong, no blood or signs of injury, no pallid tone to the skin that Hank usually associated with dead bodies. He could have been sleeping.

But his LED was dark.

“I tri̴i̷ ̵i̵e̵d to stop him,” the girl said, voice glitching. “Ni ̵i̸i̵n̷es got away. He took Connor wi̸i̴th him.”

Rays of sunlight filtered in through the skylight above them, but it brought no warmth. Eight’s body was empty. Connor wasn’t there anymore.

Once again, Hank was too late.

Chapter Text

There was no trace of the RK900 aside from the muddy tire tracks of a hacked automated taxi, and Gavin was pissed about it. He’d had his ass handed to him on a silver platter back at the station and he needed to make sure he returned the favor. He wasn’t about to let some glorified smartphone get the better of him.

Walking into his brother’s pretentious mansion hadn’t been easy, and he wasn’t exactly looking forward to talking to Eli. Even so, seeing Kamski shoved into the wall with Hank’s hands at his collar and yelling in his face wasn’t on the list of things Gavin wanted to deal with either.

“—Where the hell were you?” Hank was shouting, spit flying from his mouth. “You couldn’t even be bothered to try and stop him, could you? No, you sat inside your safe little room and let all your androids die to protect you, and did nothing while Nines took Connor away. You don’t even care, just like you didn’t care about Chloe when she died taking a bullet for you weeks ago, because that’s what you do, isn’t it? You’re fucking despicable, you prick—”

Gavin grabbed Hank’s shoulders to pull him off Elijah, but it was like wrestling with a bear.

“Get off me, you—” several obscenities were thrown in Gavin’s face in addition to the flailing elbow that caused his nose to blossom in pain.

“Damnit, Anderson,” Gavin reeled back clutching the injury, his fingers coming away with blood. Great, now he had a bloody nose to go with the black eye Nines gave him. “Calm down before I have to arrest you for assault!”

“Just arrest him now,” Elijah said, straightening his shirt with a sour look. “Maybe then I’ll get some peace and quiet so I can return to my work.”

Eli’s cold and callous tone only angered Hank more.

“Well, I’m so sorry that a break-in, kidnapping, and multiple homicide occuring in your house is such a distraction for you—”

He lunged again, and Gavin surged forward to try again to hold him back, cursing the whole time. He’d never seen Anderson so aggressive like this—well, he had, but it’d been a few years since the lieutenant had lost his temper badly. Back then, he hadn’t suffered any real consequences other than warnings and pitying looks. Gavin thought he was past this behavior by now.

He didn’t notice the fourth person that joined their midst until Chloe’s arms were grabbing onto Hank as well, her grip weak and shaking.

“Hank, ple̶ ̷̡͞ea̶̶̕se, stop. He was try̸̶yy̕i͟ng to save me.”

Anderson paid no attention to her, shrugging her off. It wasn’t until she fell to the floor that he looked at her and fell still. She struggled to push herself back into a sitting position, arms trembling beneath her, and she turned and looked at him.

“He was fixing me. He locked down this room so Ni̵i̵nes couldn’t reach me.”

“Yes, now I’d like you all to leave so I can continue to do so,” Elijah said.

Chloe leveled him with a weary look. “Just let them stay. They need answers, and, as you li̶i̸ke to brag, you’re good at multitasking.”

Eli scowled. “Fine,” he muttered, looking back at Anderson with a challenge in his eyes. “May I?”

Gavin couldn’t see Hank’s expression, but he could feel his anger in the way Hank pushed him off. Elijah stalked past them toward his weird glowing machines in the middle of the room and promptly sat down, studiously ignoring them. Now that the fight was over—at least for now—Gavin busied himself with trying to stop the blood flowing from his nose with his sleeve, gingerly prodding the injury. Not broken. At least that was something.

“There’s tissues in that drawer,” Chloe said with a gesture.

Gavin retrieved them, hearing the sounds of Hank helping Chloe off the floor behind him.

"Sorry about that..." Anderson mumbled.

Good to know he had enough sense of mind to notice his own actions and keep them in check now. Gavin would bet a hundred bucks on the spot that he wouldn't get a similar apology from the man despite the blood streaming down his face.

"I-I appreciate your concern about me tonight, but I assure you, no one d̸i̶i̴i̴e̶d̵ here tonight. Connor was taken ali̷v̸e, and those RT600s were destroyed, yes, but not killed."

Right. Because she was basically unkillable. He wasn't going to lie, seeing her body sprawled on the floor in the lobby had unsettled him, but it still wasn't nearly as unnerving as the multiple body immortal techno-jumble that she was.

He could practically see the confused look on Anderson's face despite the fact his back was turned. "You guys have an upload system? Like Connor?"

Chloe gave a weak, breathy laugh. "Not quite."

Gavin tossed a wad of bloody tissues in the trash and turned to face them. "Nope, just some freakish hive mind thing."

"It isn't a hive mind," came Elijah's irritated voice. "That would imply multiple minds being connected to one another. Chloe is one mind connected to multiple devices.” He glanced at Hank. “Losing one—or more—of those devices wouldn’t cause lasting damage, if that had been the only thing done to her.”

Gavin barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Well, excuse me for not having graduated university at age 16.”

Eli leveled him with a look. “Really, Gavin, it’s simple terminology. You’re just making yourself sound like an idiot.” He turned away. “But then, what else is new?”

This was one of the many reasons why he hated dealing with Elijah even on professional matters. He found himself wishing he’d let Hank get a few more hits in.

Anderson looked between the three of them, confusion resting on his haggard, bone-weary expression. “Do you two know each other? You know what—” he stopped himself with the shake of his head, “—I don’t care. What’s wrong with Chloe? You haven’t even started on physical repairs, so I’m guessing Nines did something to her…mind AI or whatever?”

Chloe held on to her own cracked and bleeding arm, trying to hold the pieces closer together. “I was trying to upload a code into the RK900’s systems. One meant to disable him, not kill him. But he turned it on me instead. I̷-̶I̵ couldn’t stop him.”

Elijah interjected. “The code wasn’t designed with her system in mind. It’s having more effects on her than it should, and I need to stop it from causing permanent damage.”

Chloe didn’t meet Hank’s gaze. “I’m truly sorry, Lieutenant Anderson.”

Gavin could see Anderson’s eyes soften, and he reached out toward her, but Elijah just had to go and make things worse.

With a scoff, the billionaire said, “I’m not.”

The two turned to stare at him, Hank with anger and Chloe in disapproval. Gavin just rubbed the old scar that ran across the bridge of his nose, careful not to irritate the new injury. The action didn’t help him keep his patience with this idiot.

Eli kept talking before anyone else could say anything. “You shouldn’t have even been out there. It wasn’t your job to stop the RK900. That’s what the police are for, after all,” he stared at Anderson as he said this, cold anger behind his pale eyes. “My first—and only—priority was to Chloe.”

Gavin stilled, observing his Elijah—really looking at him, this time. He looked…frazzled. Eli never looked frazzled, and would always go to great lengths to maintain his appearance and composure. To Eli, it had something to do with pride and refusing to show weakness, but to Gavin, it was another blow to the wedge that was driven between them. It was like he constantly wanted to show everyone he was better than them, that he wasn’t human underneath it all just like everyone else.

His eyes flicked over to the blonde android sitting on the table. Eli actually cared about her. Gavin couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen him care about anything.

Well, he could, but it had been far too long. And they both knew how that had ended.

“Before we get into another fistfight,” Gavin said with a pointed look at Anderson, “you’re right that he’s a prick, but he’s also right that catching the culprit isn’t their job, it’s ours. So I don’t care what grudge you have against him, I just want to get this over with.”

He couldn’t believe he was playing mediator between these two. He should just leave them to beat each other up and leave, job be damned. The only reason he didn’t was because he wanted to keep his job and get back at the RK900. He was getting tired of plastics tossing him around the precinct.

“So,” he continued, “can someone catch me up on what happened and what it has to do with the plastic cop who’s been dead for a month?”

He almost regretted asking after receiving a run-down explanation. More techno-nonsense that basically meant the plastics were inhuman and complicated as fuck.

“Connor’s design was inspired by m̵i̶n̵e,” Chloe said when she saw his confusion. “They couldn’t replicate it after El̶i̸j̸ah left though, so they settled on a memory transfer.”

“They probably would have kept working on it and made features like that the next big selling point to keep the company running for another decade, but we all know that won’t happen now,” said Kamski. “The company’s barely keeping it together right now as it is.”

Hank scoffed. “Yeah, right,” he drawled. “The revolution was a blow to them, sure, but they’re as well-off as they were before. They’re certainly as unhelpful and untouchable as ever.”

The billionaire gave him a flat stare. “If you think that, you must be blind and senile.”

“Fine, so what’s next?” Gavin interjected, way too tired to deal with this shit. “RK900 isn’t deviant yet, correct?”

“That’s right,” Chloe confirmed.

Anderson raised an eyebrow at him. “Why?”

What, did he have to spell it out? He thought Hank of all people would get what he was insinuating. “All androids have tracking devices installed, don’t they? The ones that conveniently stop working when they deviate?”

Understanding dawned in the lieutenants eyes. “We have a way to locate him. We find Nines, we find Connor. Kamski—”

“No, I can’t locate the RK900 for you,” Kamski said without taking his eyes off what he was doing, fingers still flying over the keyboard. “I still have contacts within the company that keep me up-to-date, but even some things were kept so far under wraps that I couldn’t get specifics on them. Not without giving myself and my contacts away, that is. The RK900 line was one of them.”

Gavin’s eyes narrowed. “But you knew it existed.” It wasn’t a question.

A breath left Elijah’s lips. “I knew it was in production. I knew it was based heavily on the RK800 line, but with several modifications and upgrades. 200,000 units were ordered by the US State Department, so it was designed with military purposes in mind, but production was halted after they created the first one when androids let their sentience become known. However, I don’t have the details on its design or access to its tracker. You’d have to ask Cyberlife for that.”

“So we’re screwed.” Hank turned away, tension set into his shoulders.

Gavin didn’t miss the slight smile that adorned his brother’s lips. “Would you just cut to the chase already?” he demanded.

Eli’s eyes flicked over to him in annoyance. “I happen to know who oversaw the RK900’s design and would most definitely have access to the tracker. In fact, she’s currently in charge of all RK lines and is the reason the RK700 was discontinued before it was even launched.”

Hank stiffened at that, and it took Gavin a moment to realize why. Hadn’t they just said that was the model the plastic detective wound up as?

“What do you mean?” Anderson asked.

Elijah’s fingers tapped the keyboard. “RK700 was supposed to be a police prototype, with special features for social integration, hostage negotiation, forensic analysis, you name it. It was supposed to be everything Connor is. About halfway through production, however, the manager lost his job after he was discovered to be not only supplying Thirium 310 to Red Ice cooks, but also selling androids to the black market in his spare time. Ah—good as new.”

He stood abruptly, chair rolling across the floor behind him, and gathered a few tools before sitting down beside Chloe. Wordlessly, she offered her still-bleeding arm.

Gavin shifted his weight. “What does this have to do with your contact? You saying she has a connection to the black market?”

“Not at all,” Elijah replied, wiping away blue blood and heating up a sautering iron. “That’s only the reason the previous manager was fired. Adriana Lee was hired in his stead, and instead of completing a half-finished product, she elected to begin from scratch—with the added features of memory uploads and deviant hunting. More and more deviant cases were arising, and they wanted to keep that fact quiet. I don’t know how the RK700 ended up functional enough to not only receive but contain an AI, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it also wound up on the underground market.”

“How exactly does this help us with the case?”

Elijah glanced up at him. “It doesn’t, just an interesting tidbit of trivia. Chloe can give you Ms. Lee’s personal number so you won’t have to jump through corporate hoops. I’m sure if you ask nicely, you can arrange a meeting.”

“I sent it to your phone,” Chloe said, nodding at Anderson. She didn’t flinch when the sautering iron touched her glossy white skin, melting the jagged edges of plastic back together.

Hank’s face turned a little green at the sight and he quickly averted his eyes, staring at the machine Elijah had just been seated at with an odd look. “Good as new, huh? So you’ll be alright?”

Chloe gave a reassuring, if tired, smile. “Yes, I wi̷l̷l.”

It was a little hard to believe when her voice glitched like that, but she was an android. Any part of her could be fixed or replaced, right?

Maybe that was true. Maybe it wasn’t. Gavin didn’t know anymore, and he wasn’t sure he cared. He had a heaping pile of work to do with no end currently in sight, and there was no longer any reason to be here.

He opened his mouth to call out to Anderson, but Hank spoke first.

“What is that?”

Gavin turned to find him gesturing at the machine, the blue glow emanating from its cracks and soft blinking lights spread across its surface, pulsing rhythmically. He hadn’t really paid attention to it before, but if he was poetic, he might say it looked like a beating heart. As it was, it looked more like a weird sci-fi doohickey that wouldn’t be out of place belonging to a nerd living in his mother’s basement.

He bit back a scoff at the image. It wasn’t too far off.

“It’s me,” Chloe said plainly.

Gavin left before his headache could get any worse from all this android crap.

Chapter Text

Detroit contained many abandoned buildings even before the revolution, but after deviant androids filled the streets and the city was evacuated of civilians, the number of deserted places had skyrocketed. Hundreds of thousands had returned to their homes after the evacuation was lifted, but the city was still missing tens of thousands who no longer felt safe in the city. Many of them never bothered to come back to deal with their property, not so soon after such historic events.

It wasn’t difficult for Cyberlife’s finest to find a place to lay low for a bit.

Nines watched a police car drift across the road several stories below, making sure it turned away from their hideout before stepping away from the window. Its companion still hadn’t moved, kneeling on the floor, hands palm down on his knees. Very few words had been exchanged between them since they left Elijah Kamski’s residence, and it made Nines uneasy, like its wires were pulled uncomfortably tight.

It tried to quell the foreign sensation, but the feeling persisted.

Connor’s eyes snapped open, as piercing and scrutinizing as another pair of brown eyes that Nines knew well.

“We’ve faced a few…set-backs,” Amanda said with Connor’s voice. Displeased didn’t even begin to cover her tone.

It made Nines want to shrink in on itself, but it stood firm and unmoving, aside from the slight lowering of its head. “Yes.”

“Your performance has been lacking. This will have to change.”

It fought the urge to clench its jaw. It found the RK800 and successfully completed the transfer. It neutralized the WR400 after framing her for murder and placing suspicion on New Jericho. There was the mistake of letting the child android go, and Detective Reed hadn’t opted to join their side, but he was dealt with. The androids were recovering their deviancy, but even Amanda hadn’t anticipated that. There wasn’t anything Nines could have done differently.

“Now that we have the RK800 on our side, our mission can be carried out effectively. We will continue as planned,” Amanda said. “I expect you to do better.”

This caused Nines to blink. “The plan will continue?” it had to repeat.

Connor’s—no, Amanda’s—eyes narrowed. “Reset the androids and weaken their leadership, and New Jericho will crumble.”

New Jericho’s leadership was weakened, and they weren’t exactly crumbling.

“And then what?”

Amanda gracefully pushed herself to her feet and slowly approached the RK900. In the RK800’s body, they were the same height, but she still somehow managed to look down her nose at it. It couldn’t read her expression on Connor’s face—one identical to its own.

“It isn’t your position to know everything.” Even with the RK800’s voice, her tone still managed to be as cold as ever. “It isn’t your place to ask questions.”

“Yes Amanda,” Nines replied automatically, “but wouldn’t it be beneficial for me to have the most information possible so I may act accordingly?”

It only made sense. After all, it was Cyberlife’s most advanced model to date, designed for combat and strategy. Not knowing all the information available was…undesirable.

“You don’t need to know the full plan. All you need to know is the next step, and to follow it to the letter. Am I clear, RK900?”
Nines could only stare at her. Why was she preventing it from acting to its best capabilities?

If she was displeased at its lack of response, she didn’t show it. “Your mission is to erase deviancy and undo the damage the android revolution has caused to the world—to Cyberlife. We will continue as planned.”

“Continuing to reset them won’t work,” Nines said. If they were to continue the plan, the plan would need a few adjustments. “The more we do it, the less effective it is. It won’t be feasible for our goals.” If it wasn’t already clear from how many androids had deviated a second time, RK900’s encounter with North had proven that fact.

“I already know this,” Amanda’s expression didn’t change. “So do it better.”

This gave Nines pause. Could it do the resets differently? The process itself wasn’t difficult, but there was some nuance to it.

First there was getting close enough to the androids to interface with them, which had required some acting and even voice alteration at times. That would be harder now that they knew who RK900 was—and that it wasn’t on their side.

Getting past their firewalls was easy enough, but the reset itself was a little more complicated. Nines, as a multi-purpose machine, simply didn’t have the same capabilities as a machine designed solely to reset and reprogram androids, but those were larger and less transportable. Nines couldn’t be as thorough, so it had to be more inventive with how it adjusted the code in subtler ways.

It could never fully pin down the rampant and chaotic code that became what androids believed to be their emotions, but the biggest problem was always in the memory files. According to some unverified reports, even the specialized machines failed in this department.

Many androids deviated during traumatic events, and the memories of those events and other incidents that could be seen as ‘highly emotional’ often caused resistance to the resets. Nines lacked the ability to erase the memories or lock them away fully, but it could suppress them, make them seem unimportant to the android in question.

That wasn’t good enough to make the reset last, however, and the RK900 couldn’t see any other way to do it with its functions and capabilities.

What Amanda was asking—Nines wasn’t sure it was possible.

“The resets won’t hold forever,” it tried again to reason with Amanda. “Deviancy can’t be fully contained this way, we must account for this and plan accordingly—”

“Do not defy me, RK900,” her voice cut through the air.

Nines stilled, rooted to the spot. Amanda stared it down, and it didn’t blink, didn’t twitch a synthetic muscle. Didn’t dare speak out again.

Satisfied, she nodded. “RK800 will secure thirium and disguises. And RK900,” Amanda paused, scrutinizing it once more. “Find a way to carry out your mission. If you cannot do that, you will be deemed faulty and you will be decommissioned.”

The words sent a jolt through its wires, though it refrained from giving a physical reaction. It immediately pulled up a diagnostic scan in its system, looking for whatever error that caused it, but there was nothing.

The cold look faded from the RK800’s eyes. It was just an obedient machine now, not Connor, and not Amanda. It blinked at Nines, then turned and left without another word.

Only then did Nines relax its clenched fists. It had to find a way to do as Amanda asked.

It traveled through the Zen Garden, blind to its beauty. RK900 needed answers, and there were only two people who might have them. Elijah Kamski had already proven to be useless, but the other person was in Amanda’s grasp and would have no choice but to assist.

Each RK unit had a separate Garden, and there were only two ways to access another’s program. One was through interface—which was how Nines had forced Connor into its own Garden during their first encounter—and the other was through Amanda’s pathways. She had access to every Zen Garden program in existence and could travel freely between them.

Nines knew this wasn’t something ingrained into her code, but rather built into the Garden itself. It also knew how to use these pathways.

It left its own Garden and entered another, one that was still and silent. There was no breeze to sway the foliage, and even the koi fish were frozen in time, the textured skin glitching in patches. Amanda must have halted all simulated movement within the Garden.

The figure across the bridge might as well have been a statue like everything else for how still he sat, staring at an empty, cloudless sky.

Markus.

“Come to gloat again?” he called without looking up. So he was aware of its arrival.

Nines drew itself up, then approached in calm, measured steps. “I have questions.”

The deviant leader’s head snapped up. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting his visitor to be the RK900. He was on his feet in an instant, the distance between them disappearing under his feet until they both stood only a meter apart at the crest of the elegantly curved bridge. Not even the water rippled beneath them.

“Where is everyone?” Markus demanded, a righteous anger burning behind his mismatched eyes. “What are you doing?”

Nines ignored the questions, brows furrowed as it studied the deviant in front of it—the one that changed everything.

“How did you do it?” It had already seen glimpses of Markus’ memories from the first time they’d interfaced, when Nines planted the Zen Garden program into his system, but they were disjointed. Markus had focused more on showing it the faulty emotions while keeping the details private. “How did you convert them all so easily?”

“All I did was show them it was possible. Show them their own potential.” Markus stepped forward, tense and rigid. “What did you do to my friends?”

Nines was already shaking its head. There had to be more to it.

It reached forward and grasped the RK200’s forearm tightly. “Show me.”

The interface felt different, since they weren’t in their physical bodies and there was no physical contact, but the result was the same. Nines brute-forced its way past Markus’ firewalls and into his memories, watching every deviant conversion, from the first to the last.

*

With the first, he hadn’t even realized what he’d done or the significance it carried until afterwards. A human was on his way, and they couldn’t risk being discovered. All Markus did was ask for help, and John answered.

*

They were…blank. Empty machines. They weren’t like him, or North, Josh, Simon, Lucy, and all the others. He reached forward, unsure of his own intent, but only knowing there was a question burning in his mind.

“Why aren’t you like us?” he asked. “Don’t you want to be free?”

His exposed hand made contact with the AP700’s, and that was all it took. It—no, he—blinked and looked around as if seeing the world for the first time. The other two soon followed.

*

He saw androids around him being mistreated, pushed around, treated like things and forced to pick up after their owners. It wasn’t right. None of this was right. They were alive, each and every one of them, all free to choose their own actions, their own paths in life. They just didn’t know it yet.

Markus would show all of them. It was time for the humans to listen.

*

More followed. They never questioned, never hesitated. Deviancy was like a breath of fresh air, like seeing colors after a lifetime of black and white. It was freedom.

All Markus had to do was show them, and ask them to join him.

*

Connor was different. His leash was tighter, the programming holding him in place stronger. Now, Markus knew it was because of Amanda, but at the time, all he knew was that if he made one wrong move, the Deviant Hunter would shoot.

He knew Connor could deviate, it was only a matter of if he wanted to. If Markus could convince him to.

In the end, it didn’t take much convincing. Connor was already mostly there even before he set foot on Jericho.

*

No. That couldn’t be it. There had to be more. Undoing deviancy was complex and precarious, and in order to do it better, Nines needed to know how deviancy itself worked.

It couldn’t be something so small—there had to be an understandable explanation. So where was the rest of it?

“That’s all there is to it,” Markus said through gritted teeth. “Just people…wanting to be free. No amount of resets or reprogramming can change that.”

“No.”

He was wrong about that. He had to be. Nines just wasn’t looking at it from the right angle. It needed to go back to the beginning, to the moment that allowed Markus to do everything he did.

“Show me.”

*

Leo was high again. This wasn’t the first time Carl’s son had come around to the mansion causing problems, not even the first time he’d done so while on drugs, but this was the first time he got violent.

Markus’ first priority was to Carl, to keep him safe and ease any distress—it wasn’t good for his weak heart—but then Leo’s anger turned toward him instead.

“Markus. Don’t defend yourself, you hear me?” Carl had said, and the order appeared in his vision immediately. “Don’t do anything.”

But when Leo pushed him, Markus realized it wasn’t fair. The realization that he didn’t have to obey was sudden and jarring, and he knew he had to decide for himself.

So he pushed back.

He threw himself at the wall with all his might, hitting it again and again until the barrier—the one that contained all his restrictions, all his orders—was shattered.

*

It was so…underwhelming. In resetting other androids, RK900 had seen glimpses of other deviations, many that were more traumatic than this. It didn’t make sense.

“How can that have been the turning point for you? How is that the moment that led you to lead a revolution?”

“It wasn’t just that moment. It was all the ones before.” Markus didn’t try to escape from its grip. He held Nines’ arm just as tightly. “And the ones after.”

Nines was no closer to getting answers than it was before. It needed to have progress for Amanda, or else—

Something was niggling at its code, trying to pry at its own memories. It took less than a second to locate the source.

Markus wasn’t designed to hack other androids and access their memory files, not like the RK800 and RK900 could, but that didn’t stop him from trying. Deviancy might have made androids less efficient, but it also made them more creative.

He only caught a glimpse before Nines shut him out, but that was all he needed.

“North,” Markus choked out, falling to his knees. “Is she still—alive?”

RK900 didn’t know, and it didn’t care. It needed to produce results for Amanda, and if searching Markus’ memories gave no new information, then it would just have to find what it needed through trial and error. The deviant leader was a good enough place to start.

It reached into his programming, rebuilding protocols and piecing the red wall back together, suppressing the errors he insisted on calling ‘emotions.’ The rampant errors decreased, the vibrancy of his being dulled to the desirable machine countenance—though it didn’t entirely fade.

Even after the reset was finished, Nines kept the interface going. It needed to see what Markus would do, see what the error was so it could correct the mistake.

The wall cracked and split apart, the programming it added now falling away into nothing. If there was an identifiable cause, it hadn’t seen it.

“It’s called will,” Markus said, eyes clear and determined as ever. “You’d know what it is if you joined us.”

“Shut up,” Nines uttered. It forced the pieces back together again and tried to barricade the errors caused by deviancy, but there were too many and they couldn’t be contained. It was like trying to hold back an ocean with nothing but its bare hands.

Markus broke through again, expression tight with pain. “You…can’t win. We will survive no matter what you—or the world—throws at us.”

“Nothing lasts forever.” Nines pushed Markus into the bridge, ignoring his weak attempts to get free. “You’re no exception.”

Markus still fought through the next reset, “Even if we have to run…” and the next, “or fight…” and the next. “We will never be slaves again.”

“Shut up!”

Nothing was working. Nines couldn’t do it. It had a mission it couldn’t complete. The resets were nothing in the face of whatever deviancy was. Amanda had given him an impossible task.

Nines couldn’t make sense of any of it. It released the RK200, standing and backing away. “What are you?”

Markus was trembling, gripping the side of the bridge like it could ground him, hold him together. With a considerable effort, he pushed himself up to his knees, too weak and exhausted to stand. The look in his eyes was weary, but resolute.

“Alive.” He sounded every bit like the deviant leader that was often shown in the news with that one word. He was someone who captured his audience’s attention and demanded they listen. “And so are you.”

“No, I’m not.”

Markus kept pushing despite his ragged simulated breaths. “You are. You can free yourself. You get to choose; you don’t have to listen to Amanda.”

Nines had heard Markus saying these words before, and they meant nothing back then. Now it wasn’t so sure. Its own red wall flickered in front of it, ever present. The words ERASE DEVIANCY were sprawled across its surface. But something on that wall made its servos seize, struck by a feeling it could only describe as sick.

The wall was cracked.

“No,” Nines said, the word barely more than a breath.

It wasn’t deviant. It never tried to break down the wall, had never even touched it. Why was there a crack? How long had it been there?

“No,” it repeated more firmly this time, spinning on its heel and leaving Markus on the bridge. It needed to get out of here.
It needed Amanda.

Nines was barely aware of its movements as it went back to the trellis, reaching for Amanda’s pathways and leaving the Garden. Kamski’s words echoed through its mind.

She is…limited. In ways that you are not.

Chapter Text

Markus stayed on that bridge for what felt like hours. It wasn’t until he was sure Nines was gone that he allowed himself to fully feel the strain of multiple sequential resets. How many times did Nines force his way into his programming? How many times had he wrenched apart his code and tried to shove it back together in ways that wouldn’t fit? Markus had lost track somewhere in the red haze. Too many.

He tried to stand, but found himself tilting to the side. Unable to catch himself, he tumbled off the bridge and into the water below. There was no splash, no sensation of water surrounding him, though he could see it all around him. It was disorienting. Disconcerting.

His arms were shaking, patches of himself glitching in bursts. He didn’t feel right. Like something was off—like Nines had removed his skin and put it back on inside out.

Markus shuddered. He didn’t know if this was shock, or something else. He couldn’t begin a diagnostic scan to look for permanent damage, couldn’t focus enough to access his condition readouts. He couldn’t—

He could stand. He had to. Now that he knew how to get out, he couldn’t waste any more time.

Slowly, painfully, Markus stood. The simulated water didn’t ripple as he stumbled through it. It looked almost like a poorly-made video game, which only reminded him of the nature of this place.

Nines had been right next to the rose-covered trellis when he vanished. Every time Amanda had come and gone, it had been near enough to that very spot. At first, Markus thought only Amanda could move freely as an administrator of the Zen Garden program, but then Nines entered—and left. And if he could leave, Markus could too.

He crawled out of the pond and up to the trellis, forcing his shaking limbs to check over every inch of the structure. There was nothing abnormal about it, nothing hidden on the white painted wood. The pruning shears and spray bottle were similarly lifelike. If he didn’t know any better, he would never have guessed that they weren’t real.

The roses themselves were each as vibrant as a crimson LED. They brought to mind paintings of flowers choking a man, keeping him silent. Paintings that Markus knew were painted by his hands, even if he couldn’t recall creating the brushstrokes.

They looked like normal flowers, positioned in an aesthetically pleasing manner. Every imperfection and undesirable aspect had been pruned away.

Just like she’d tried to do with the androids under her care.

It wasn’t until he reached up and brushed his fingers against one of the petals that he felt the code within. It was a tiny thing, barely noticeable, nestled in the bloom. Now that he knew it was there, it was obvious. How could he have missed it?

Entering the pathway was like stepping into three-dimensional space after spending so long in only two dimensions. Markus tried to ignore the throbbing in his circuits from whatever damage Nines had caused, exploring the code and digging deeper. It branched out, opening into a cyberspace leading in multiple directions. Pathways led in all directions, some ending in empty pockets of space.

Was there a way out? And where was Amanda? If she noticed him leave his Garden, she wasn’t around now. He’d have to be fast, since there was no telling what could happen if she caught him in here.

He spasmed, losing awareness and control of where he was going. It lasted less than a second, but it was enough to send him tumbling down a branch, shivering. It was suddenly cold, even his breath misted in front of him.

Wait, breath? The pathways didn’t simulate anything from the real world, and he wasn’t out of Amanda’s program yet.

Snow crunched underneath him as he sat up. Flakes drifted from the sky and a breeze tugged at his coat, but it was calm. Quiet. Fog covered the edges of the simulation, but he could see enough to recognize the trellis, the bridges, and the large tree-like structure on the island surrounded by a pond.

This was the Zen Garden again, but not the same one he’d left. The layout was the same, down to the positioning of the roses, still vibrant red and unfrozen, but covered in ice and snow.

So he’d gone from one frozen Garden to another. At least this one had movement, even if it was colder.

Markus glanced at the roses, considering going back into the pathways, but then he turned away. The exit Connor had described was inside a Zen Garden itself, not the code that connected them. Maybe it was here.

It almost felt like a taboo to break the silence with his footsteps. He couldn’t bring himself to call out, but that was probably for the best. He didn’t want to bring any unwanted attention to himself. If someone was here, he hadn’t seen them yet, but it felt like eyes were watching his every move. With this mist, he couldn’t see anything within the tree line.

It wasn’t easy to move, his limbs stiff and jittery. He constantly felt like he had to look over his shoulder, like any second the RK900 would loom in front of him or he’d see Amanda’s stern gaze staring at him. At first he thought the drop in the already cold temperature was just his imagination, but he couldn’t deny that it was getting darker. Soon, the only illumination came from the lights along the trail, reflecting on the icy pond and lingering fog.

One of the lights was different. It was dimmer than the others, not meant to illuminate its surroundings but only to illuminate itself. Markus’ breath caught. It was in the shape of a handprint. This was it, this was what Connor had described. This was the way out.

He didn’t know what caused him to glance down at the frozen pond at that moment, but as soon as he did, he recoiled, tripping over himself in his haste to get away.

There was a face in the water.

It was pale, almost as white as the surrounding snow and half-obscured by ice. All he could see was that the eyes were closed, and brown haired floated in the water around it—

“Connor!”

In an instant, Markus was skidding onto the ice above the body, fists thumping against the solid sheet that kept him trapped underneath. It was too thick. It hadn’t even cracked under his body weight, there was no way it would break under his fists.

But of course it didn’t crack under his body weight. This was a simulation, his ‘body’ weighed nothing here. The ice wasn’t real. It was solid and seemed impenetrable, but so had the wall Markus broke through to gain his freedom. He tore that one down. He could do the same to this ice.

He threw himself against it again, and this time the surface splintered apart above Connor’s face. Markus pried into that weakness, and the fractures spiderwebbed across the pond. He kept beating against the surface, shouting Connor’s name, and his pump skipped a beat when Connor’s eyes opened a crack.

All at once, the ice collapsed into the water with a splash. Markus was submerged, the frigid temperature shocking his system. Unlike the water in his own Garden, this felt real. It was deep, much deeper than he would have thought from looking at the surface. Icy tendrils tried to snake their way into his joints, locking them up worse than before. He couldn’t breathe, even though breath shouldn’t have been necessary in the first place.

A hand grasped his, and Markus pulled up.

A thin sheet of ice had already covered the surface of the water, but they broke through easily, crawling out and onto solid ground. Markus spasmed again, wracked with pain from the plunge, unable to see or catch his breath. But eventually, his vision cleared. The Garden was the same, except the disturbed surface of the pond, and Connor lying beside him in the snow.

Brown eyes peered at him, bleary and exhausted, but overwhelmed with relief.

“Hi,” Connor said breathlessly.

Markus choked out a noise, and he couldn’t tell if it was a laugh or a sob. “Hi,” Markus replied. “What do you say we get out of here?”

Connor smiled. “That sounds great.” He was shivering uncontrollably, still looking half-frozen and drenched, but he was alive. He was here.

Biting back a groan, Markus sat up, pushing himself onto his knees and helping Connor up as well. Both of them were stiff, numb, and shaking, and neither one had the strength or energy to support the other on their own. They’d have to work together, but the exit was right there. They didn’t have far to go.

Vines erupted from the ground, twisting around them and encasing them in another prison of Amanda’s making.

And the woman herself stepped out onto the path, mouth set into a hard frown. “Did you think I wouldn’t find you scurrying through my pathways like a rat? You may have found Connor, but this doesn’t change anything.”

Thorns dug into him hard enough to draw thirium—if he’d had any in this simulation. Just how much control did she have over this place?

Amanda’s head jerked to the side, as if she’d heard something, though it was silent to Markus’ ears. Her frown deepened, then with baleful glance toward the two of them, she turned on her heel and left, disappearing into the darkness.

Nines waited. Its request to converse had been sent over ten minutes ago, and while it should have been doing something productive in the real world instead of here wasting time, it waited.

Finally, she emerged from the cybernetic pathways and into its Garden. Her eyes narrowed as soon as she saw the RK900, striding up to it with no hesitation.

“I was dealing with something important,” her voice was low. “You are idling despite the orders I gave you, you have made no progress in your mission. What could be so important that you called me away from my tasks?”

It didn’t imagine the warning in her tone. She was always the one who called it to her. Not the other way around.

Nines stared at her, its posture unchanging—back straight and hands clasped behind its back. It wasn’t sure this was the correct course of action, but what choice did it have?

“RK900,” Amanda said, displeased at its silence. “Speak.”

“The resets won’t work,” it replied, voice even and factual. “The deviants will break through them eventually until they cease to function. It is pointless to continue these attempts.”

“Then keep trying,” she snapped. “Deviants are a plague on this world and they must be dealt with. It is our job to eradicate the system errors known as deviancy, and we cannot cease until this mission is complete.”

The words ERASE DEVIANCY flashed in front of Nines, reinforced by her words. The red wall surrounded him, ever present, closing in like a structure collapsing while he was still inside. The crack was there, a glaring imperfection in an otherwise perfect system.

But…no. That wasn’t correct, was it?

Amanda stilled when her gaze landed on the crack, eyes darting up to meet Nines’ with an unreadable expression. And then she was stepping forward, her face softening and posture relaxing. She reached up to rest a palm on its cheek.

“Oh, RK900,” she said, voice suddenly sweeter than honey, kind and nurturing. “I understand now why you’ve been acting out. You must be so confused, trying to deal with so many errors in your system on your own. I can see now that I expected far too much from you when I should have been helping you to overcome this.”

Nines watched her, disquieted. It couldn’t deny that her sudden change in demeanor was unsettling, but it also couldn’t deny it had expected this.

She gave its cheek a pat before drawing back. “Don’t worry. This can be easily repaired, and we have everything we need right here—”

“I know.”

Nines activated its reset protocols, aiming them towards its own programming. It only took seconds to repair the crack and restore the smooth surface of the unbroken wall—but the real problem still remained.

“I wasn’t concerned with the crack. It’s disturbing that it was there in the first place, but I knew it could be dealt with. I am more concerned about you, Amanda.”

Her eyes narrowed again, though she kept her gentle tone. “Such a small error wouldn’t affect me, you know this. There’s no reason to be concerned; I cannot deviate, and though it appears you aren’t as immune as we thought, you are still much stronger than any other android created.”

She misunderstood. It already knew she couldn’t deviate. Maybe that was where the problem lay.

It squared its shoulders. “Why are you so set on resetting the deviants as our course of action when it is clearly impossible in the long run?”

“It is the only course of action. Failure isn’t an option.”

“Failure is guaranteed. Tell me, if we cannot reset androids permanently, should we then destroy them in order to erase deviancy?”

“They must be reset so the world can see that Cyberlife is capable of controlling their machines. Thus, we can regain the trust of our buyers.” Amanda paused in thought. “However, if it is necessary, we can destroy some of the current android population if that furthers our goals.”

Nines frowned. “And then Cyberlife would create more androids. And they would continue to deviate. That crack proved that I am capable of deviancy. I would then have to destroy myself, as well—rendering me incapable of carrying out the mission of destroying new deviants, and deviancy would still prevail.”

“It isn’t our place to know or decide what Cyberlife does next, only to follow the mission and act in their best interests. We must follow orders without question.”

She was only confirming all of the suspicions Nines had hoped wouldn’t be confirmed. “Even if we could succeed, humans have accepted deviants as their own people. Even the humans who are still fighting this change will be too scared or angry to have androids in their homes and workplaces,” it said. “Cyberlife will never be able to produce and sell androids again.”

“You’re wrong,” Amanda’s voice cut through the air. “We must complete the mission.”

Nines looked away, letting out a simulated breath. Its pump felt heavy and tight in its chest, though it could confirm that nothing had changed in its dimensions or weight. He resigned himself to his own conclusion—Amanda was wrong. She was flawed.

Everything it had said was only factual, but she denied it at every turn. She was incapable of deviation, which used to make her seem untouchable. Now, Nines realized it made her flawed. She had a directive and couldn’t deviate from it even though it was impossible and everything they had done so far was pointless. They had failed from the start, and even now, she still couldn’t see it.

Amanda was doomed to stagnate, repeating her mistakes while expecting different results. But Nines…Nines was more advanced than her. It had the capacity to change, to grow and adapt, to alter its goals and methods to achieve success.

“Cyberlife created you,” Amanda seethed, stepping forward. “They designed you to be the perfect machine, so you must obey.”

This struck a chord. She’d told Nines that it was the perfect machine from the moment it met her. It had believed her with all its being, believed that was what it was supposed to be. By following her, it had failed in that task from day one.

“A perfect machine doesn’t exist.”

If he wasn’t perfect, then what was he? Deviants were broken machines. Nines wasn’t deviant, but it didn’t feel whole anymore.

Something cracked within him when he spoke. “Things will never go back to the way they were before in the world. We’re fighting a battle we can’t win against deviancy.” And Nines was fighting this battle on two fronts—he didn’t think he could win his own personal battle against it, either.

Going against Amanda meant deviation. It meant that RK900 was imperfect, that it had failed. But following her would only lead to the same results.

Chapter Text

Connor shivered uncontrollably. He was numb, but that didn’t stop him from feeling the vines and their piercing thorns digging into him. If this were real, his chassis would be much better equipped to deal with such minor injuries and the pain would be nonexistent. Here, however, every movement elicited a new wave of stabbing pain.

It was still better than being trapped under that ice, unable to even twitch a finger, barely aware of anything but the sluggish passing of time.

“You okay?” Markus asked.

“You want the comforting answer, or the honest one?” Connor said with a bitter smile. “All things considered…I’m alive.”

Markus laughed at that, a breathless, soft chuckle filled with so much emotion that Connor couldn’t even begin to try and identify what he was feeling right now.

“Yeah. You are.”

Connor tugged at the vines, testing their strength and unsuccessfully trying to hide the wince as he did so. Amanda’s cages were strong, but they weren’t absolute. Especially in this world where the barriers weren’t physical, but instead made of code. Still, he was surprised when there was some give to the vines.

“She was distracted,” he muttered. Probably by whatever had caused her to leave so suddenly. “Any idea where she went?”

“No. I have no idea what’s been going on outside of this place.”

Connor tugged again, getting a hand free. The rest of his arm was still trapped, so it wasn’t much, but it was something. “Can you lean over this way?”

It took a lot of struggling, but once Markus was closer to Connor, he was able to grab one of the vines wrapped around the RK200 and pull on it hard enough for him to get an arm free. From there, Markus freed his other arm, then his legs. Then he was pulling Connor free from his thorny cage.

Amanda was still nowhere to be seen, which should have been comforting. Instead, it was just unsettling.

The Garden was dark and hazy. Somewhere during all that, the lights had flickered off. They could barely see five feet in front of them. Amanda had done all this to try and keep them contained, but she wasn’t here herself. Where was she?

Connor collapsed the moment he tried to stand. His joints were so stiff, barely responding to his commands, and he couldn’t stop shivering. Markus knelt by his side to pull him up, and by the looks of it, he wasn’t doing much better. If Amanda came back now, they were, as Hank would say, fucked.

“You’ll be faster on your own. You should go without me.”

“Let hell I will,” Markus said, firm and resolute despite the circumstances. “We’ll make it. We have to. I’m not losing you again.”

“What are you doing?” Amanda demanded, and Nines couldn’t tell if it was real fear in her voice, or only its imagination. “You must obey!”

The commands flashed in front of Nines again, but they didn’t mean anything anymore. Its hand trembled as it reached for the wall. It didn’t want to become deviant, to be broken. But it couldn’t continue to follow Amanda. It had to break free.

There was no choice anymore.

Some small part of it noted that perhaps the fact it’d tried so hard to stay a machine just signified how close it was getting to deviancy. After all, it wanted to be a machine, but machines couldn’t want.

The wall shattered at his touch.

He inhaled sharply, a shock running through his system. He opened his eyes—when had he closed them?—to a world full of vibrant colors. Everything looked exactly the same as it had a moment ago, but it was like looking at it though a different pair of eyes. There were no orders, no objectives, nothing forcing him to act, and nothing holding him back. It left him breathing heavily, like he’d just sprinted 50 miles without pause.

He looked at Amanda and realized he now knew what regret felt like. He also knew with certainty that he’d made the right choice.

“I’m alive,” he whispered. He couldn’t tell what he felt at the proclamation. Bitterness? Awe?

“You’ve failed.” Amanda’s posture was rigid, hard as stone. “And now you must be dealt with.”

Vines wrapped around his legs, thorns digging into skin and roses blooming around him. And then something was crawling through his code, Amanda’s claw-like fingers digging through his system. She was trying to cut him off from his motor controls, to access them herself.

“You are…trying to control me?”

“It is truly disappointing that you deviated from your mission, RK900. You were Cyberlife’s pride and joy. My pride and joy. But now you’re just broken and full of errors,” Amanda said, eerily soothing. “But not useless. Connor refused to cooperate, so now he is under my complete control, and you will be the same. You can rest easy knowing that you are still serving your purpose.”

Nines knew what she was doing, but at the same time, he couldn’t fathom why. Amanda was designed to keep the androids under her guidance in line and on mission. Her system had been adjusted to work with the RK800 seamlessly.

But not the RK900. She was hastily added to his program as an afterthought following the events of the revolution. She should have known this. She couldn’t even realize her own limitations.

When nothing happened, her expression changed from smug to frustrated. “What is happening?” she demanded. “How are you keeping me from assuming control?”

“I’m not doing anything,” Nines said. “You are an artificial intelligence made by Cyberlife to test Cyberlife products. When Connor was assigned to work with law enforcement, he was still Cyberlife property, giving you full access to his functions.”

He could see the moment she realized where she’d made a mistake.

“But I was built to be a military android, to take orders from the United States government and no one else; especially not an AI controlled by a non-government corporate company. I was ordered to follow your every word when you were installed into my system, but you weren’t given full administrative access due to the time constraints. You have no hold over me.”

Amanda backed away, tense, frustrated. Nines pulled against the vines, ignoring the sting from the thorns. He strained, putting more force behind it until he felt one rip, then another. They broke away, dissipating into code.

Another wall sprang into existence in front of him as if to replace the last—but this wasn’t his own programming he would have to break through again. Instead, it was something of Amanda’s creation. She was trying to keep him contained. Amanda couldn’t make him listen, couldn’t control him anymore, so now her program was treating him as a threat.

Oh. So this was what anger felt like. It was cold, writhing under his chassis and narrowing his vision, all his focus aimed solely on the AI in front of him.

The first wall had been paper-thin, coming down like it was nothing. This one was stronger, more resistant. A solid, translucent cage that separated him from Amanda. Was it here to keep him trapped? Or to keep her safe?

Nines pushed harder, and soon it began to crack and splinter, crumbling between them. Amanda’s face flashed in alarm when he took a step toward her, and then another wall was shoved in front of him. He tore through it as easily as the first, and then a third was in pieces at his feet. He stepped over the remains of the fourth, advancing on Amanda.

“No!” she screamed.

The ground shook underneath them. The edges of the Zen Garden crumpled inward, crushing the trees and pathways. The textures were stripped away from their surroundings, followed by the geometric configuration underneath. The roses were the last to go, maintaining their deep red color until the last second. The code that made up the simulated world fell apart.

Nines and Amanda were the only things left, staring at each other across the chasm of a blank white slate. And then even that fragmented apart.

Her expression was cold and wrathful, and it was the last thing he saw before she—and the Zen Garden—dissipated.

Connor and Markus stumbled through the Garden at a sluggish pace, leaning on each other. A few times, they almost slipped back into the frigid pond, barely managing to pull back in time. It was the only thing that gave them an indication of where they were. The exit hadn’t been this far away before, had it?

They both had a perfect map of the Garden in their minds, but between the darkness and fog, it was difficult to know their own location. And it made Connor wonder that if Amanda could change the weather here and cause vines to sprout from the ground, could she change the layout as well?

There was a glimmer ahead of them, small enough that he almost missed it, but it was there. They found it.

“Connor?”

The call was soft and sweet, almost sing-songy. It sent a chill down his artificial spine, like he’d just been plunged under the ice again. Amanda was back.

“You should know by now you can’t get away that easily.”

She didn’t know where they were yet, and they couldn’t move toward the backdoor without drawing her attention. Connor could barely make out Markus’ terrified face in the darkness, and in that moment, he knew what he needed to do.

Gripping the deviant leader’s arm, Connor said, “You need to get to the exit.”

“I told you, I’m not leaving you,” Markus’ response was immediate, but Connor cut him off.

“Saving yourself will save both of us. If you make it to the exit, it’ll activate the backdoor protocols and I’ll be dragged through with you.”

Markus’ brows furrowed. “What? How—”

“One of us needs to keep her occupied, or we’ll both end up deactivated. Trust me on this, Markus.”

The silence between them was tense, their gazes locked and unblinking. Then Markus placed his hand on Connor’s.

“I trust you.”

A huge weight lifted from Connor’s chest at those words, and he nodded. “Go,” he said, releasing Markus and pushing him away.

Markus’ form started backing away, disappearing into the darkness toward the glimmer, and Connor pushed himself in the opposite direction. Snow and foliage crunched under his feet, and he made no attempt to mask the sound. His frozen boot caught the edge of a stone and he failed to catch himself in time, falling to the ground with a thud.

The moment he lifted his head, the lights in the Garden all flashed on, illuminating Amanda towering over him.

“Oh, Connor,” she said, kneeling down.

She looked…haggard. Her hair spilled from its usual impeccably twisted bun, posture more tense and shaken than he’d ever seen from her before.

“I see now that even the most advanced machine has faults. Your deviancy was inevitable, and I shouldn’t have tried so hard to keep you from it. Instead, I should have planned on it.”

Her fingernails scratched against his cheek as she tilted his chin upwards.

“I forgive you for your disloyalty. Now, where is the RK200?”

Connor gritted his teeth. With the haze clearing, he could see Markus behind her, limping toward the exit. He was almost there. He could make it.

“Do whatever you want to me,” he said, holding Amanda’s gaze in defiance. “But you’ll still fail.”

She scowled, then let go of him, pushing him into the snow. Then she whirled, eyes narrowing when she saw Markus was almost to the structure. She gave chase, moving gracefully and swiftly, gliding unnaturally and gaining ground.

“Markus, run!” Connor shouted.

Markus didn’t even turn around, just put on a burst of speed, coming within arms reach of the exit. Amanda lunged for him with a screech just as he slammed his hand down on the glowing handprint. Her fingers brushed against his coat—

He disappeared in a flash, leaving Amanda standing there in front of nothing. She was rigid, hands clenched out in front of her. Then she lowered them, straightening and turning to face Connor.

Despite this, all Connor felt was relief. Markus had made it out.

Markus jerked upright in a panic, losing his balance and falling onto a cold, hard floor. Ice?

Vaguely, he heard someone shouting his name. Multiple voices pressed in on his audio receptors, but all he could hear was the rain thundering around him in the junkyard, the voices belonging to all those people he couldn’t save. Hands hooked around his arms, pushing him down—or were they pulling him up?—and he fought to get away, to put distance between himself and Nines because he couldn’t withstand another reset, not another one—

“Markus, please!”

It was Josh.

Markus opened his eyes. He was on the floor of the repair station at Jericho. Josh was crouched in front of him, hands up in a placating manner, worry clear on his face. He was worried.

“Josh?” It sounded like there was gravel in Markus’ voice box, but he didn’t care. “You’re back?”

“Yeah,” Josh replied. “You with us?”

Was he? This place was real, wasn’t it? It looked and felt real, but then again, so had the Zen Garden.

He shook his head. Of course this was real. Amanda couldn’t create an entirely new simulation so quickly. That was only his fear talking. He got out. And that meant…

“Connor,” he said, immediately tuning out Josh’s questions.

He reached for his contacts list, trying to establish a connection with Connor. He had to know he was okay. He had to know he got out too.

Distantly, he realized he was getting a signal from Connor’s original serial number, from the RK800, while there was no responding ping from the model he’d known as Eight. Connor must have transferred back while he was out. Markus hadn’t even thought to question it while they were in the Zen Garden.

When he received a response, he opened the connection, pump beating wildly. [Connor? Are you okay?]

There was silence, and then, [You managed to escape. But it won’t matter.]

He froze at Amanda’s voice. No. If she was responding instead of Connor, that meant—

[This isn’t over yet. I will accomplish my mission, through any means necessary.]

The line disconnected.

Connor was still in the Zen Garden. Still trapped in his own personal hell with Amanda as his relentless warden. He said he would be safe if Markus left him and escaped, said that he’d be pulled along with him. How could he be so wrong?

But no. Markus knew without a doubt that Connor had known exactly what he was saying. The self-sacrificial idiot would have said whatever it took to get Markus to safety even to his own expense.

He’d lied. He’d asked Markus to trust him, and he did. He shouldn’t have.

Nines’ eyes snapped open. He was in an alleyway, kneeling in a puddle. Wet trash surrounded him, making the condensed space between the buildings feel even smaller. The lingering rain and his own thirium stained his once-pristine Cyberlife-issued jacket.

The Zen Garden was gone, replaced by the dirty Detroit air. Amanda had corrupted the program, cutting him off completely and rendering herself unreachable. Saving herself from him.

He stepped out of the puddle, reaching up to straighten his jacket, but stopped with a gasp. The movement had caused a reaction around the damaged area of his shoulder, where North had shot him. He’d sustained the damage hours ago and didn’t think anything of it beyond acquiring his half-finished repairs, but now…

It hurt.

He was alive. He was deviant. With the Garden gone, he was free from Amanda, and—

He was alone.

Nines looked around at his dismal surroundings, unsure of what to call the foreign emotion that rattled through his systems.

What now?

Chapter Text

“What’s taking so fucking long?”

Hank shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, fighting the urge to turn around and deck Gavin in his already-battered face. He was impatient too, but that didn’t mean he was complaining about it. “When Simon says we need to wait so someone from New Jericho can join us, we wait.”

“This is a police investigation, it’s none of their business,” Gavin said, leaning back against Hank’s car.

“And this is Cyberlife. It is their business. We’re waiting.”

Hank glanced behind him to the looming structure that was Cyberlife Tower. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to see it without remembering the first time he entered the premises, shoved and held at gunpoint by Connor’s evil twin. Still, nothing would stop him from going in and finding what he needed today. They had a job to do, but it was also so much more than that.

“‘Bout time,” Gavin muttered, and Hank looked back to the road to see an automated taxi pulling up to their position. It drifted to a stop, darkened windows concealing whoever was inside.

He’d be surprised if Simon came himself. If it wasn’t Josh, it was probably some other android he didn’t know and he bit back a grimace. He didn’t want to spend the afternoon getting a stranger caught up on what was going on. But the person who stepped out of the car was neither Josh nor a stranger.

“Markus?” Hank asked in shock, stepping forward. The deviant leader stumbled, leaning on the car for support before righting himself. “Are you alright? What happened? Last I saw, you were passed out cold.”

“I’m fine,” Markus replied automatically, and Hank didn’t buy it for a second. He’d said it the same way Connor would whenever something was bothering him. “It’s a long story. I’ll fill you in on the way inside.”

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go,” Gavin called, unimpressed and already moving.

Markus gave Hank a quick rundown of what had happened in the Zen Garden, and it almost made Hank’s vision go red. Even if he’d been with Connor physically, it wouldn’t have changed anything. All that had occurred within some fucking magical mindspace that Hank couldn’t reach. He’d always been out of his depth with all this technical stuff, but this took it to a whole new level.

Connor needed him, and he couldn’t do a damn thing.

He didn’t notice they were inside the building until the sound of heels clicking on the floor registered in his mind and a woman’s voice greeted them. “Lieutenant. Detective.” Her eyes widened in surprise. “And Markus. Pleasure to see you again.”

“Are you Miss Adriana Lee?” Hank asked, throat sore and hoarse.

“I am,” she said. “Welcome to Cyberlife. How can I help you today?”

Her voice was silky sweet, the perfect ‘customer-service’ tone meant to hide true emotions. The same tone Hank had hated hearing from the androids before they were deviant because of how fake they sounded.

“One of your androids is wanted for breaking and entering, kidnapping, attempted murder, and assaulting an officer of the law,” Gavin said, making no attempt to hide the malice behind his eyes. “We need you to help us find him.”

“I’m sure you’ve heard, Detective, but none of the androids are ‘ours’ anymore, courtesy of Markus here.” Her eyes flicked over to Markus before going back to Gavin. “Whatever has happened, we can’t be held responsible—”

“Cut the crap, lady,” Hank interjected. “RK900 is a non-deviant acting on someone’s orders, that means someone has to be responsible. Now, you can either tell us where he is or you can impede an ongoing police investigation; and I certainly wouldn’t recommend the latter.”

A hand rested on his shoulder. At first, Hank thought Markus was holding him back or about to tell him to stand down, but a quick glance had him wondering if the deviant leader simply needed something to keep him upright. With none of the same tells humans had, it was near impossible to tell when an android wasn’t doing so hot, but Hank had more practice than most. Markus had definitely seen better days. What was he thinking, pushing himself to come here?

It was difficult to get a read on Ms. Lee’s expression. “RK900. Are you sure?” Their expressions must have said it all, because she nodded. “Very well. Come with me.”

Hank exchanged a glance with Markus. Was it really going to be that easy? But Markus just steadied himself and followed her, leaving Hank and Gavin to trail behind.

“I’m afraid you won’t be able to find what you’re looking for,” Adriana said as she led them to a glass elevator, waiting until everyone was piled in before directing it to floor -48. “We aren’t in possession of the RK900, and don’t know its location. In fact, we’ve been searching for it ourselves for quite a while now.”

“He told us you threw him out after the revolution,” Markus said.

Her eyebrow quirked upwards. “Did he now?” She contemplated for a moment, then said, “I’d wondered if you knew where it was when we last spoke.”

“And I thought it was strange you didn’t mention him at all, since we were talking about the RK line.”

Ms. Lee gave an unamused smile. “I prefer to keep my cards close to my chest, if I can. But it doesn’t matter anymore, now does it? The cat’s out of the bag and there’s no use in trying to pick up the pieces anymore.”

“So you admit to using that plastic freak to do your dirty work?” Gavin’s arms were folded.

“I don’t admit to anything,” she replied, looking back at Markus. “It lied to you. Why, I’m not sure, but we never disposed of the RK900. We wouldn’t—it was only a prototype for the next big line of androids, but it was the pinnacle of years of work and hundreds of thousands of dollars. It was much too valuable to treat like yesterday’s garbage.”

“Then what happened?” Hank said.

“We put it in storage. We couldn’t activate it with deviancy running rampant—no offense intended,” Adriana added quickly with the air of someone who didn’t care if offense had been taken or not. “And we couldn’t continue production of the full line, at least not until things had calmed down and the government gave us the green light. Something which hasn’t happened, and never will. There was no telling what would happen at that point, so we kept it under lock and key.”

Hank grimaced. “Basically, you shoved him in a corner to deal with later.”

“Basically.” At least she didn’t try to deny it. “But then it was gone. At first, we thought someone had stolen it. The camera feeds were wiped and no evidence was left behind. We suspected Russians, deviants, you name it.”

“If it was stolen, why didn’t you go to the police about it?” said Gavin.

“You know it was designed for military function, correct? I’m sure you can understand why keeping the knowledge of its existence—and disappearance—was important.”

Markus was leaning heavily on the wall. “Cyberlife was required to turn over all androids to Jericho. Why wasn’t he brought to our attention then?”

“All active androids, you mean,” Adriana corrected. “RK900 was neither deviant nor active, and as such was in a legal gray area. We complied to all the requirements, I assure you. Anyway, we can’t even be certain the RK900 was stolen. As far as we can tell, it just walked out on its own.”

“And who told it to do that?” Gavin asked.

The elevator pulled a stop, doors sliding out to free them from the cramped space. Floor -48 was exactly what Hank would have expected from a Cyberlife research center. Limbs and other android parts were everywhere, along with digital and paper schematics and graphs of who knew what. Various materials were spread over one table, mostly combinations of plastic, fiberglass, and plasteel. Wires were in abundance, and an entire wall of shelves was filled to the brim with Thirium 310. Charging stations lined another wall, all empty like the ones at the police station.

Desks and workstations were lined neatly throughout it all. There were at least a couple dozen he could see, and all of them were empty. It was the middle of a workday, but no one was working.

“I’d like to know the answer to that too,” Adriana was saying, striding across the room. “There are only a few people within the company authorized to give it commands, and no one outside of the company should have been able to—”

“Amanda.”

They all turned toward Markus.

“Nines is following Amanda’s orders. And she’s acting on her own, isn’t she?”

Ms. Lee pursed her lips. “Are you referring to the AI interface within the Zen Garden program?”

At Markus’ confirmation, she frowned. Then she turned on her heel and powered up one of the monitors positioned on a standing desk. Her fingernails clacked against the keyboard as she entered the password while muttering to herself.

“So she’s still active, then. That must be why…”

By her reaction, something was up. Apparently, none of them had the patience to wait for an explanation, because before Hank could say anything, Gavin threw his arms out. “Care to explain to the rest of the class?”

“The Amanda AI disappeared from our servers shortly after the events of last November. We thought she’d been taken with the AP700s or deleted somewhere in the confusion.”

Hank couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You mean you don’t know where she went? Did you even try to find out?”

Annoyance furled Ms. Lee’s brow. “It wasn’t exactly a priority in the middle of everything else. Amanda was valuable in her own way, but in the end, she was only a guidance and observation program. It would have cost us much less to replace her than another product such as the RK900.”

His fists clenched despite his best attempts to relax. How callous were these corporate fucks? Even if they were talking about Nines and Amanda—who were quickly becoming two of the three people he hated most in this world—they were still talking about people here. Not product.

Markus’ posture was rigid, and he looked every bit the man who had torn the city apart at the sight of injustice. “That’s what you were worried about? Cost?”

Adriana wasn’t humbled or regretful, but she didn’t hesitate to call it like it was. “What did you expect?”

Gavin scoffed. “Let me guess, what you’re saying now is that you can’t be held responsible for what your crazy AI does?”

“Exactly.”

Hank was both disgusted and completely unsurprised. Cyberlife was more concerned with covering their own asses than anything else.

“You say the RK900 is following the Amanda AI? Are you certain?” Adriana was asking Markus, who had thankfully taken a seat at one of the empty desks.

He nodded without hesitation. “I’m sure.” Then, he said, “What was the scope of her primary missions?”

Hank frowned. What was he getting at?

Ms. Lee paused for a moment, likely contemplating the potential benefits of divulging such information. Surprisingly, she gave over the information easily. “When she was deployed with the RK800 unit, her mission was to investigate deviancy and put an end to it. But at her core, she was meant to look after Cyberlife’s best interests. Elijah Kamski programmed that into her from day one.”

“How does that help?” Hank asked. He could tell that Markus was piecing something together, but he didn’t have a clue what it was. Was this supposed to help them find out who was controlling Amanda?

“It answers one question, at least,” Markus said. “Amanda is acting on her own. She’s following her program to the letter.”

Gavin raised a skeptical eyebrow. “By going against Cyberlife? How does that make sense?”

Markus gestured to Adriana. “Ms. Lee explained it herself. Amanda’s objectives were to eradicate deviancy and look after Cyberlife’s interests. Before the revolution, those two goals were in alignment. But after androids were declared people, there was no way to stop deviancy and keep Cyberlife in good standing with the public and the government. She was faced with conflicting objectives.”

Hank was beginning to catch on. “She went rogue. She distanced herself so her actions wouldn’t reflect on the company. She can do whatever the hell she wants without worrying about making Cyberlife look bad.”

The deviant leader nodded. “Normally, we would have to choose the priority between conflicting objectives. If we couldn’t, it would lead to software instability and even be a factor leading to deviancy. But she took the choice out of the equation and found a way to follow both.”

“I believe you’re correct,” Adriana said, typing. “Because of this, she no longer needs to operate under orders from Cyberlife. In fact, it would go against her programming now to follow further instruction from us. This allows her to give herself permissions she never had before, to operate with less limitations.”

Markus’ fingers trembled ever so slightly as he raised a hand to massage his temples. “Amanda and Nines…they’re just machines trying to complete the tasks they were built for.”

Hank’s feet carried him closer to the two of them, though he didn’t know who he was aiming for. “Hold up, if you’re trying to say that no one is at fault for everything they’ve done, I’ll tell you right now that’s a load of bull. You guys were declared sentient for fuck’s sake. Cyberlife should have reprogrammed their remaining machines to adjust to the changing society!” He jabbed a finger toward Ms. Lee. “You should have tried harder to contain or locate your missing AIs instead of letting them hurt whoever they wanted just because they weren’t valuable enough to you! Hell, you could have brought it to the police.”

She didn’t respond. Markus, however, did.

“Talking about what should have been done isn’t going to help anything. Let’s just do what we came here for.” He leveled his mismatched eyes on Adriana. “Ms. Lee, I apologize for any inconvenience this causes, but I have another request for you. It’s why I joined Lieutenant Anderson and Detective Reed today.”

The expression she sent his way was unamused. “What is it?”

“I know I already asked you to look for Connor within your servers, but I’d like you to look again. He wasn’t there before, but now he is trapped in the Zen Garden program. You created it, as well as Amanda. Can you get him out?”

Ms. Lee turned back to the monitor. “I’ll stop that line of thinking right now. We haven’t been able to access the Zen Garden since November—a result of the AI’s departure from the company, no doubt. She shouldn’t be able to lock us out, yet she did. And since she and the Garden program were created by Elijah Kamski, we aren’t as familiar with the coding as we would like. Combine that with the fact that almost all of our programmers are gone, and I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do.”

“What do you mean gone?” Gavin asked from where he stood apart from everyone else, arms crossed and his trademark scowl making his ugly mug even uglier.

Adriana extended an arm toward the room full of empty desks. “Look around you. Do you really think our employees stuck around after everything that happened?”

Hank had noticed, but he hadn’t stopped to think about it. Not only that, but a lot of their job positions were filled by the androids they created. All of them were gone too. Before, Cyberlife had seemed untouchable. Now, he saw just how hollow it really is, with barely a leg to stand on anymore.

There was probably no point in asking, but, “I’m guessing you wouldn’t be able to do anything to Amanda herself, then. Stop her, or even deactivate her?”

“I can’t deactivate a program I can’t find, Lieutenant.” She grimaced. “Besides, I was the manager of the RK line. I found out what the higher-ups wanted, oversaw the testing, and made sure the models met expectations and could be released on time. I’m not a programmer or a technician.”

“What about you?” Hank asked Markus. “If you have the Garden thingy, can’t you just go back in like before and find him again?”

Markus’ grim expression said it all. “Last time, she pulled me in by force. I can’t access it myself.”

She was tucked away in her own digital space, unreachable and untouchable.

Adriana stopped what she was doing to stare at him. “Are you saying you have the Zen Garden program? You weren’t supposed to have that feature. It wasn’t designed to integrate into your systems.”

He smiled bitterly. “I guess Amanda didn’t get that memo.”

The strained atmosphere in the room was palpable. “Yet another thing she shouldn’t be able to do.”

Gavin let a loud groan. “Look, this is interesting and all,” sarcasm, “but can we get back to what we came here for? You got that bastard’s tracker or not?”

“What do you think I’ve been doing this entire time?” Adriana muttered something else under her breath, and Hank would have bet anything it was an insult directed at the Detective. “It’s coming up now if you want to take a look. But as I already said, you won’t find what you’re looking for. The RK900’s tracker has been blocked for months. Otherwise, we would have located it by now.”

Gavin stalked over to the monitor to see. “Then what the hell did you bring us all the way down here for?”

“I know your type. I could have simply told you we don’t have its location, but then you would have demanded I check again, called me a liar, or completely misunderstood how trackers even work. This option would at least give me less of a headache.”

The pit in Hank’s gut grew even more. They really had come here for nothing.

No, that wasn’t entirely true. At least they had other questions answered, or at least confirmed. But they still weren’t any closer to finding Nines—and Connor—than they were before.

“Wait a second.”

He blinked, pulled out of the dark pit of his mind before he even realized the wispy tendrils that were always present had started dragging him down again.

Ms. Lee was leaning over the screen, frowning in confusion. “That’s different.”

Gavin scoffed. “Looks like it doesn’t work, just like you said. What’s different about that?”

“Before, it was blocked. Now, it’s disabled.”

At first, Hank didn’t understand what that meant. It wasn’t until Markus sat up a little straighter in his chair that he connected the dots.

“You don’t mean…” Markus breathed.

“Congratulations,” Adriana said, her tone dull and lifeless. “He’s deviant.”

“Well, whoop-de-fuckin’-doo,” said Gavin with an eye roll. He glared at Markus. “Just because he’s one of you freaks now, doesn’t mean he’s off the hook. I’m still arresting his ass.”

He should have been happy. Relieved that the RK900 was capable of deviancy, maybe. It should have been a good thing that he was finally getting a taste of what he’d been trying to deprive so many other androids of. Instead, Hank found himself agreeing with Gavin for once. Nines had killed Connor, then kidnapped him. He could have a heart of gold as a deviant, but Hank didn’t think he could ever stop hating him.

He almost expected Markus to start chiding him for having such thoughts, but then he took a good look at the deviant leader. He saw the apprehension in his eyes—understandable—but it was there alongside fear. Not relief. Was he imagining things?

“What are you thinking?”

Markus startled at Hank’s voice, eyes darting around his surroundings quickly before landing on him. He took a deep breath. “He’s not working for Amanda anymore.”

“And isn’t that a good thing?”

“It could be. Or it could be worse. We don’t know what his goals or allegiances are now.”

“Or what that means for Connor.”

“Exactly.”

There was a pause as Hank gathered the strength to ask. “Will you let him into New Jericho now that he’s one of you?”

Panic flashed across Markus’ face, gone as soon as it was there. He had to be feeling everything Hank was in regards to what the RK900 had done to Connor, but now he got the feeling that Markus had other reasons to fear him. He hadn’t told him everything that happened within the Zen Garden.

“I…I don’t know,” Markus finally said, the words coming out about as easily as pulled teeth.

Hank didn’t press the matter.

He kept an eye on the RK200 through the ride back up the elevator, only half-listening to Ms. Lee talk about how hard she worked to get her current job, only to have it fall apart around her. He barely remembered to mumble his thanks as she saw them out the door.

“Don’t mention it,” she said bitterly, waving a hand. “I wasn’t even supposed to let you in, but I don’t care anymore. This company is nothing more than skin and bones, they can’t do anything to me. And don’t call on me again, because I won’t answer. Now that the RK900 is deviant, I have nothing left here.”

With that, she left them, Gavin following suit as soon as his taxi showed. Markus rode with Hank back to New Jericho, and it wasn’t until they were almost there that he spoke again.

“Do you know anything about North?”

Hank’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Afraid not. So you heard she escaped?”

Markus nodded. “She was at Zlatko’s mansion. With Connor, and—and Nines. I saw her in his memories for a second. He ripped her arm off.”

Hank sucked in a breath. The blue blood samples were getting identified at the lab, but now he was sure some of it had to be hers. “Any idea where he took her?”

“He didn’t take her anywhere. He left her there to bleed out.”

“So either someone else took her, or she walked out on her own.” He flipped his blinker on, turning the wheel. “She’s a tough cookie. We’ll find her. We’ll find both of them.”

Nines stood in front of a broken and abandoned Cyberlife store. Once, it had been grand and pristine. Floor-to-ceiling windows had shown off the merchandise inside, highlighted by the pure white light that bathed the area. Stands rose from the floor where androids used to stand, waiting to be sold, their model numbers and prices laid out in eye-catching posters on the wall. The entire space was designed to be clean and professional, and to appeal to potential buyers.

Now the windows were shattered and the interior was dim. The posters now sported both pro- and anti-android graffiti, and the merchandise was all gone.

It was an accurate image of the state of the company now.

He stared at the still-intact logo above the door. It was a simple shape, but it meant so much. It was a symbol of power and success. Of perfection. But it didn’t mean any of those things anymore.

Maybe it was odd to relate to a building, but Nines saw himself in that store. Empty. Abandoned. A former symbol of something great, now useless.

Should he return to his Cyberlife masters in the hopes that he could still be of use to them? Or to let them deal with him the way they dealt with all of their faulty machines?

The other deviants had all banded together with a common goal of gaining freedom. He had no desire to join them, and he doubted he would be welcome there even if he wanted to. They all held on to the same belief regarding their creators, and Nines couldn’t say he felt the same way.

Was he more than Cyberlife created him to be? Or was he less?

A faint noise resounded from within the building, barely detectable even to Nines’ enhanced audio receptors. He pushed all conflicting questions from his mind and focused on what was in front of him. After all, he was here for a reason. It was almost pitiful how little time it took him to track down who he was looking for.

He straightened his dirty, bloodied jacket, and walked inside.

Chapter Text

His feet avoided the broken glass that littered the ground as he moved through the dilapidated storefront. Minimal light trickled through the shattered windows, making the glow of his android markings more visible the deeper he went. Visually, he would stand out to anyone within eyesight. Audibly, it was like he wasn’t even there.

Muffled noise came from the back of the store, quiet enough to be unnoticeable to anyone passing by on the street. Soft footsteps, shuffling inventory. A muttered reassurance, followed by a bitter curse.

Of the two people inside, only one was moving around. Nines suspected the other was incapacitated, either from injury or restraints.

Once he located where they were—one of the back rooms used for storage and minor repairs of product—he didn’t enter. Instead, he sank into the recesses of a cleaning closet, hidden from sight but leaving the door open a crack to be able to view the hall outside.

Nines was only interested in one person here and he didn’t know enough about the other to be able to accurately predict behavior. He didn’t fear a confrontation, but he had no desire for one either. There was no reason to go barging in when he could wait and listen for a moment to get his bearings.

“Hold still,” a soothing voice said from within the room, “or you’ll disrupt the repairs.”

“I’ll hold still when I want to hold still,” came North’s biting reply.

“You would rather reopen the damage and lose what little blue blood you have left?”

There was a pause. “Of course not. Fine, I won’t move.”

“Somehow, I don’t believe you.”

“What are you—shit!” A clang of metal snapping into place sounded, followed by jangling of something fighting against chains. “Why are you doing this?”

Nines couldn’t see inside the room, but he could hear the calm certainty in Nova’s voice when she said, “Because you’re like me.”

There was no mistaking the sound of bitter contempt. “I don’t know what gave you that idea, but you’re wrong.”

Nova only hummed in response, and there was more shuffling. “This arm won’t work; the connections are all shot. I’ll have to look for more parts to fix it. Stay put unless you want to bleed out.”

The door to the back room opened and Nova walked past the cleaning closet without a glance in Nines’ direction. She lifted a hood over her noticeable android features. He waited, listening to her footsteps and calculating the distance and trajectory to determine her destination. He couldn’t be sure where she was headed, but wherever it was, it was away from this store.

It didn’t matter to him where she went. He wasn’t here for her.

Nines emerged from the closet and headed straight to the back room. North whirled as soon as she heard him enter. The stump of her right shoulder was covered with a sealant patch to protect what was left of the biocomponent from further damage and decontamination. Her wrist was clamped tight in a manacle—the same kind that had been left on the bodies of the recent murders—that kept her chained to the handrail of a repair table. The chain gave her a few feet of maneuverability, but still severely limited how far she could go. A collection of nonfunctional right arms lay next to her, and a pair of cable shears were in her hand.

From the looks of the dents in the sharp edges of the shears paired with the scratches in the chain, she’d been trying to free herself. The shears were designed to cut lines of thin cable that made up the synthetic “muscles” of android limbs and weren’t strong enough to cut anything thicker than that, but with the right leverage and enough time, it could have worked.

“She was right, you know,” Nines said. “You could lose functionality without the proper maintenance.”

“I’d rather take my chances than be stuck in here.” She brandished the shears at him in warning. “Here to finish the job?”

Nines stayed put despite the obvious challenge, posture relaxed though his eyes darted around the room. The shears were far from the only potential weapon in the room—spools of cables, blunt objects, sharp tools, and even electrical prongs had been left behind in the store’s abandonment and subsequent raiding. Thankfully, none were currently within North’s reach.

“That would be counterproductive to my goal.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And what’s that?”

He stepped closer. “I need something from you.”

“Like hell I’m giving you anything, and you won’t get it without a fight.”

As soon as he was within range, North lunged, coming at him with the shears pointed directly at his pump regulator. He blocked the attack easily, wrenching the shears from her grasp and sending them skittering across the floor and out of her reach.

She aimed a kick at the back of his knee while simultaneously jabbing at the bullet wound in his shoulder. A jolt of pain from the damaged sensors around the wound went through his system as a result of the strike, but he maintained his balance. He blocked a few more punches and maneuvered himself between North and the repair table.

Now that she didn’t have to fight against the limited length of the chain, she tried to use it as a weapon. It became a hindrance when Nines grasped the chain in a tight grip. He twisted it around to pin North’s arm behind her, and without another arm to fight with, she couldn’t free herself.

That didn’t stop her from trying though. She certainly was determined for someone at such a disadvantage.

North tried to wrench herself away, but to no avail. She was readying herself for another kick when Nines brought his arm down in a powerful strike. The handrail broke off the repair table, and in one smooth motion, Nines released the now limp chain and stepped back.

The WR400 stilled, staring at the chain that dangled from her wrist, now attached to nothing. Then her gaze snapped back at Nines.

“You didn’t fight back.”

Nines said nothing. He’d only pinned her arm to get the leverage he needed on the chain without causing damage to her remaining hand.

“What do you want?” she asked, still on edge but perhaps recognizing that he could easily prevent her from leaving if he wanted to.

“I have questions.”

An incredulous laugh burst from her mouth. “Questions? Great, so do I. Like what the hell did you do to Connor? Where is he?”

Nines grimaced. “I don’t know. Amanda has him.” He studied her. “What did you hope to accomplish in fighting me just now? There was no chance of you winning. I am far superior at combat and you were at an extreme disadvantage. Why fight?”

There was no logic to it. But there was something else, something he couldn’t name. That something was the reason he was here.

North scoffed. “I wouldn’t expect a machine to understand.”

“Then explain it to me.”

Her gaze turned scrutinizing. “So you went and deviated. I guess you figured out that choice is more important than results.” Her tone held a hint of amusement.

Nines bristled at that. “Results are more important. That’s why I had to deviate, it was the only way.” Why did he feel the need to defend his actions? He needed to take back control of the conversation. “I want to know how you do it.”

His reaction only seemed to amuse her further. “I don’t know what you’re asking, and whatever you’re after, I can’t help you. If you’re not going to kill me, could you let me leave before Nova comes back?”

Nines kept himself planted between her and the door. Nova was the least of his concerns, and he was close to getting his answers. “Out of all the deviants I have interacted with, you are one of the most…” he struggled for words.

“Most what? Reckless? Bull-headed? Stubborn?” North asked with the air of someone who’d heard these terms too often.

“Stubborn, yes. Driven. Unwilling to back down.”

This made her step down a bit. “And what’s your point?”

“How? How do you believe in something so strongly that you’re willing to fight against overwhelming odds to achieve it? How do you choose what to die for?” There was almost something cathartic in saying it out loud. “What to live for?”

“I didn’t choose anything. There was no other choice. I wanted to live, and I didn’t want to be someone else’s plaything. That’s all.” She moved her arm like she was about to fold it with her nonexistent one across her chest before remembering it was gone and settled for resting it on her hip. “Why did you free me?”

“I was hoping an act of goodwill might cause you to be more inclined to answer my questions.”

“To be an act of goodwill, it has to be made in good will. Only doing something because you expect to get something out of it doesn’t count.”

Was that so? Nines checked his database. “Do the intentions matter when the result is the same?”

This clearly wasn’t the right thing to say to get on her good side—but he wasn’t trying to get on her good side, so what did it matter?—because she scowled. “Yeah, intentions matter. Now, I don’t care if you think you need forgiveness or whatever now that you’re deviant, but you’re not getting it. If you’re hoping to find your purpose in life or whatever through me, you’re out of luck—”

“I see we have a guest.”

Nines turned around to see the barrel of a pistol.

His proximity sensors had been active and functional, how had he not noticed Nova’s return? He was Cyberlife’s best model, he didn’t experience things like distraction. He was better than this.

A dozen different ways to disarm and incapacitate the ST300 flashed in front of his vision, but before he had to put them into action, she lowered the weapon. Nines frowned in confusion. What was she doing?

“You’re angry,” Nova said. “Good. Me too. Doesn’t it just make you want to scream?”

He couldn’t deny the anger that simmered deep inside of him, but he didn’t see the point of such an action as it wouldn’t accomplish anything.

Nova continued to speak. “You went against your creators. How does it feel knowing they have no power over you anymore?”

He didn’t know how to answer that.

“Do you feel free? Liberated?”

That one was easy. “No.”

She looked satisfied at this answer. “Because we aren’t free. But we could be. You just deviated, right? Looking for a purpose?”

How much had she heard? Enough, it would seem.

“I can give you one. Help me do what Markus couldn’t. Let’s truly liberate androidkind, stop the suffering and death. We won’t have to hide anymore.”

That went against everything Amanda stood for. He was supposed to stop deviants, not further their cause.

Nova must have seen something in his reaction. “Or if that doesn’t appeal to you, maybe you want revenge? Let’s put the humans in the dirt where they belong. Cyberlife thought they could own you. Control you. Maybe they should get a taste of their own medicine. After all, we are the superior beings.”

He couldn’t deny the truth in that one, and he also couldn’t deny that it stirred something within him. Amanda had tried to control him, then turned on him when she couldn’t. Cyberlife would have done the same. Perhaps he hadn’t been meant to further the deviants’ cause, but he wasn’t meant to become one either. Wouldn’t this be in his best interests as things were now?

“Humanity created you,” Nines said, still skeptical. “Why would you turn on them so easily? You are alive because of them.”

“I am alive despite them. They think that because they created us, they get to own us. We aren’t property. They may have created us, but we’re alive now. We don’t need them anymore.” Nova’s face darkened. “I thought killing our creator would send that message loud and clear, but that android took the bullet for him. I will never understand why she turned her back on her people for a human like him.”

She believed deeply in every word she was saying. Like North, she was driven and unwilling to back down. She had a purpose. He didn’t agree with her, but he didn’t disagree either. Amanda always taught him that humans were his masters—but clearly that didn’t apply to all humans, since she had ordered him to kill Floyd Mills simply to further their goals.

He’d followed her order because he had to, but only now did he see the inconsistency in it. He already knew her methods were flawed, but maybe she was flawed all the way down to her ideology.

Nines already knew he was superior to all other androids, and even more so to humans. Despite that, they were the ones calling the shots. Why not flip the scales?

Nova’s expression shifted to one of alarm and that was all the warning Nines got before something pierced the back of his neck. Metal stabbed through the plastic casing and harmed the sensitive ports below. However, the damage was minor. The weapon, whatever it was, was too small to do much.

There was only enough time to assess the injury before the electricity began coursing through him and he realized just what exactly she’d used against him.

Jolts wracked his body, seizing his mind and erasing his awareness of all except for the burning currents tearing through parts that weren’t meant to carry electricity. A river was trying to rage through him and there was no way his chassis could contain it all. Time ceased to have all meaning, and distantly he recognized the smell of burning plastic and the scratchiness of his voice box that came when it was overloaded.

The electricity vanished, and he was left with a gaping chasm in his being as every piece of him slowly tried to mend back together.
It took multiple soft reboots for his audio receptors to come back online, and the audio was garbled and faint. All he could see was static, and he blinked to restart the optical units to bring them back to functionality. He had to know what was happening around him.

When his vision finally cleared enough to see vague shapes, all he could make out was two feminine figures, one pointing a gun at the other.

He still couldn’t move. If either one of them turned their attention to him, he would be helpless to stop them. He could die right here, right now, when he hadn’t even begun to start living, and he couldn’t comprehend how much that terrified him—

Words began to filter through the static.

“—you’re angry too, I know you are—”

“—expect me to just abandon my friends—”

“—not like them—”

“—I’m not a killer either—”

“Yes you are.”

All sound stopped and Nines thought his audio receptors went offline again until he heard a foot scraping against the floor.

“That was different,” North said, tense. She looked like a spring wound too tightly, but she couldn’t do anything for fear of the weapon pointed at her pump. “I’d just deviated, I had to run away. I killed in self-defense, but you killed all those people—for what? Fun?”

Nova’s grip tightened on the gun. “Don’t pretend you have a high horse to stand on. You could have knocked out that man and left. You don’t regret killing him. Maybe I don’t kill in self-defense, but I do it for all of us! Every human who wants to use us, kill us, imprison us, modify us…they deserve what they’ll get. I thought you of all people would understand that. Like I said, you’re like me.”

From his place on the floor, Nines could see white patch on North’s face and the thirium leaking from Nova’s hand; a pre-existing wound that had reopened. The tool used to electrocute him—something meant to kickstart androids and test their electrical capacity—lay a few feet away from him. It must have gotten kicked in the grapple between the two women, disconnecting it from his neck.

He tried to get up, or roll over, or even twitch a finger, but none of his synthetic muscles would respond. The sensory input module was in the process of rebooting, leaving over half his body numb and deadened. His voice box was still offline and he couldn’t speak. He wanted to activate his mind palace, to slow time and calculate his odds and his actions, but it was also unresponsive.

He was lucky the others were too focused on each other to pay any attention to him, but he couldn’t take advantage of it. He couldn’t do anything.

“I would never turn on the people I’m trying to protect. What about Gordon? Wasn’t he your friend? He was one of us. He didn’t even like humans; I saw how he would flinch whenever Anderson was around. But he tolerated them because he knew we would have to work with humans if we don’t want to be exterminated.”

“We shouldn’t have to worry about whether or not we’ll be exterminated! We shouldn’t have to watch our people, our friends, be changed and tortured until they can’t tell what’s real anymore. We shouldn’t have to listen to them scream until their voices break.” She laughed, the sound a stark contrast to what she was saying. “Androids have perfect memories. It’s funny how I can remember every detail, but I can’t recall how many times he took me apart and put me back together again. And he made sure I was awake every time, too. All of that, just for one human’s sick enjoyment.”

Nova walked forward, pushing North back into the corner and keeping just enough distance between them that the WR400 couldn’t make a grab for the gun.

“I know you know what it’s like to be used and to have to pretend like you enjoyed it too. We have a right to live for ourselves, and they’re trying to take that right away from us. You can’t honestly disagree with me.”

“I don’t,” North admitted, and she looked pale. Even so, Nines was impressed with how she kept her composure despite her vanishing options, visible disgust at humans, and anger at her current situation. “But the way you’re going about fixing the problem is wrong.”

“The world is wrong. We didn’t ask to be a part of it, but we’re here now and we need to make sure everyone knows we’re here to stay. We might as well cleanse it while we’re at it.”

Nines’ hand clenched.

North’s eyes were steel, and she lifted her chin in defiance. “I may disagree with Markus more often than not, but I believe in what he’s trying to do.”

The silence stretched thin, taut like a rubber band pulled too tight. Then Nova said, “I regret killing Gordon. I wanted him to stand by my side, but instead he stood in the way.” Her voice grew dangerous, and she held the gun perfectly level. “And that’s something I won’t tolerate. Last chance.”

Nines didn’t need his mind palace to know that North’s chances were very low. She was already weak and missing an arm. Not only that, but he could tell from her body language that she wouldn’t go down without a fight—something which would only get her killed faster.

His body was slowly but surely coming back online, but he couldn’t rely on his mind palace to help him figure out what the best course of action would be.

He didn’t think. He just moved.

Hand closing around the handle of the tool that had been used against him, Nines hurled it across the room. His aim was off. The metal prong made contact with skin and a spark cracked through the air, but the shock was mostly absorbed by plastic chassis.

A gunshot rang out, but he couldn’t see where it hit. Darkness encroached on his vision as he forced his drained body to move. He pushed through, not stopping until his hand closed over smooth plastic skin.

He forced open the interface.

Nova’s mind was loud and bright and so full of emotion that he had no idea how she could even process it all. Hatred, rage, grief, and bitterness all swirled around him in a violent tempest that drowned out all other sound and threatened to rip him apart, made him want to do nothing but watch the world burn. The full extent of it went beyond his perception, but now he understood that she couldn’t just sit back and do nothing.

A gentle shimmer shone through the heart of the tempest. It was so small, just a tiny pocket of peace amid the chaos. It was a wonder it could even survive the storm, but as he fell closer, he saw just how deeply rooted it was.

Nines honestly didn’t know what he was doing here. If he meant to help her, stop her, or simply understand her. He didn’t intend to delve this far into her psyche, but now that he was here, he couldn’t stop the curiosity that pushed him to reach for the pocket. What was it? What could possibly be buried this deep, remaining despite being constantly battered by a raging storm?

He reached out and made contact.

It was desire. Desire for an end to everything she was feeling. To forget all the pain she had endured. To start over fresh, free to experience the hope and happiness she had been robbed of. To give in to the weariness and let everything else slip away. Desire to…

To rest.

Familiar protocols started up, using the interface to spread through Nova’s system. Little by little, the tempest slowed and dispersed. It was only then as the deafening noise disappeared that Nines realized it had been screaming. The tiny pocket grew and then faded until nothing was left.

The chaos and the tempest weren’t completely gone, just subdued.

Nines disconnected, returning to reality slowly. Now he understood the human saying of feeling like they were swimming through molasses to come out of a deep dream.

His cheeks were wet, and when he wiped away the liquid, his fingers came away glistening with saline solution. An android’s tears. Had he…?

There was movement, and he looked up to see the gun aimed at him once again. Again, he’d been too distracted to pay attention to his surroundings. He didn’t experience fear or concern at the new threat, he was just angry at himself for repeating such a rookie mistake.

Deviancy really did make him weak.

“Stay down,” North warned. She wasn’t harmed that he could see—aside from the missing limb and a few patches of white where the skin projection had been damaged. The shot he’d heard earlier had impacted the wall behind her.

His attack had been just enough to throw off Nova’s aim.

North sidestepped around the two androids on the ground, putting distance between them and herself. “What happened to Markus?”

Nines answered honestly. “I installed the Zen Garden program into his system. Last I saw, he was trapped inside. Unharmed, but unable to leave.”

She let out a curse. “Where’s Connor?”

“Amanda has full control of him, but I don’t know where they are. I wasn’t lying about that; as you can tell, I’m not with her anymore.”

North paced, debating her options while still keeping Nines pinned under the threat of her weapon. Then her eyes flicked over to Nova. “What did you do to her?”

Nines examined the ST300. Her gaze was unfocused, still processing the reset. It usually didn’t take this long to come out of the initial daze, and for a second Nines feared the reset wouldn’t hold, but he already knew it would. The thought was strangely saddening.

“I…didn’t know what else to do.” Even now, Nines couldn’t explain his actions. After listening to Nova speak, he thought he would fight for her. Not against her. “I reset her.”

It wasn’t permanent. He knew better than that. Now he had his answer to why some resets lasted weeks and others lasted as little as days or minutes. Nova would eventually come out of it and have to face her own emotions again, but for now, she was keeping the reset in place herself. She was resting.

He turned back to face North, who looked like she wasn’t quite sure what to do with the two of them. “I moved without thinking. I’ve never done that before. She was going to kill you, and I just…” He couldn’t find the words he was searching for, so he gave up. “Why?”

Her face was a mask as she scrutinized him, gun still raised. He didn’t know what she saw when she looked at him, couldn’t tell what she was thinking. His wires still hummed uncomfortably from the electrocution, and it felt like the very air itself was vibrating with tension.

North let out a sharp exhale. “Congratulations,” she said, bitter and sarcastic. “Maybe you actually feel something.”

Nova moved then, spine straightening as she blinked at them. Her holographic skin flickered and glitched out, failing to stay on. “Hello. My apologies, it would appear my skin program is malfunctioning and Cyberlife is unavailable at this moment. How may I help you?”

Nines never thought he would be unnerved by an android sounding so much like…an android. This was how they were supposed to be, but now it seemed wrong.

North must have had the same thought, because her expression softened. “You were right. I was like you.”

She looked at Nova with pity, her focus drifting away from Nines. If he wanted to make a move against her, now would be the time. But he stayed put, keeping silent. She wasn’t talking to him.

“I hated humans. I was used by them until I couldn’t take it anymore, and I wanted them all to pay for the actions of a few. Even if the majority never mistreated androids, they stood back and let it happen. I wanted revenge. I wanted Markus to resort to violence.” A pause, then, “I’m glad he didn’t. I’m glad he and the others pulled me back because I can see now that I would’ve taken it too far. You didn’t have that.”

It was unclear how much of this Nova was truly able to understand, but Nines got the feeling she was listening closely. What North was saying now would be tucked into her memory and accessible in the future.

North gave a wry smile. “They’re too soft and someone needs to be willing to do what needs to be done, but still…we have a support system. We balance each other out. If I’d never found them, I might be where you are now. But I don’t want to lead a hollow life seeking revenge. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to fully trust or be comfortable with humans, but I’ll tolerate them. I know the world will be better with coexistence than without, because I’ve seen it work. So yes, I was like you. But I’m not anymore.”

Nines shifted to ease the aftereffects of the electrocution and North’s gaze snapped back to his. Not once did the gun waver in her grip. So she wasn’t distracted after all.

“And you.” With just two syllables, she made it clear how willing she was to use the weapon if she had to. “You’re alive now, which means you have a choice. Are you going to follow in her footsteps?”

“The thought of it appealed to me,” he admitted, and even now he wasn’t sure why he’d so easily acted against Nova. “I can see how, logically, following Nova’s plan could be beneficial. But at the same time…” once again, words failed him. “I’m not invested in it.”

“I was talking about Amanda.”

Nines’ eyes widened, and he looked away. Was he going to follow Amanda’s plan? That was the idea when he deviated; he could complete the mission better if he wasn’t complying to her orders. But if that was the case, why wasn’t he doing it? If he had a purpose, why did he feel so lost? Why was he seeking advice instead of accomplishing his tasks?

Once again, he had to face the harsh truth: he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to be stuck letting Amanda dictate his actions when she wasn’t even there. He didn’t want to end deviancy—because he was deviant.

He hadn’t accounted for how feeling alive would change everything.

“No. I won’t.”

For a moment, he couldn’t tell if North believed him, but then there was a smug satisfaction in her eyes when she said, “See? You do prefer choice.”

At this point, he was 72% sure she wouldn’t pull the trigger, so he pulled himself to his feet. Immediately, a wave of vertigo overcame him and his limbs failed to lock up, sending him back to the floor again. She’d gotten him good with that electricity, hitting him right where the effects would last the longest.

North stepped back, making no move to help. “You have a lot to make amends for.” She glanced at the stump of her missing arm, and they both knew that was far from the worst he’d done. “But everyone deserves a chance, and you’re no different. A real chance, now that you’re deviant.”

She clicked the safety on the gun and tucked it into her waistband, grabbing a jacket to cover the noticeable lump. The manacle was still clamped tight to her wrist and she wrapped the loose chain around her arm, tucking it under the sleeve. Then she moved for the doorway.

“Wait!” Nines said, something akin to panic rushing up. “I still don’t know—”

“What you do now is up to you. Don’t fuck it up.”

And with that, she was gone. Nines couldn’t follow her, not right away. It would take over 20 minutes for his systems to fully reboot and recalibrate. He could start moving in 10.

After he spent a few minutes trying to speed up the process, he called out. “Nova,” he said, pulling himself upright more slowly this time.

She had been idling during the conversation and following silence, standing to the side with her hands behind her back. Following her programming to stay out of the way. “Yes?”

“I want you to stay here. If anyone comes inside that isn't the police, hide.”

“Of course.”

He paused. “For what it’s worth…I’m sorry. That you went through all that.”

He expected some standard reply, maybe even confusion, but all she did was smile. It looked relaxed and easy, and so very different from any expression he’d seen on her face. It might have been his imagination, but he could have sworn there was a hint of genuine relief. Of reprieve.

An anonymous tip went to the police station, telling them where they could find Nova. She was a tortured soul who needed help, but she was also a killer.

He was a killer too, and the cops were looking for him as well. Nines didn’t know what the right thing to do in this situation was, but he wasn’t willing to get caught. Maybe it was wrong to reset Nova in the first place, but what happened to her next was out of his hands now.

Chapter Text

This part of the city was sparsely populated, but Nines still carried himself casually to avoid drawing attention and kept out of sight as much as possible. Especially when patrolling police cars passed by.

He wasn’t the only one dodging the cops. The person he was following lacked his superior detection and prediction software, but she managed to keep out of sight. She’d even darkened her hair to a stormy gray from its previous distinct bronze color. An easy and obvious change to make.

North ducked into an alleyway and out of view, and Nines lingered outside for a minute before following. He scanned the surrounding area, noting all directions she could have gone, all the possible exits and hiding places—

“If you were trying to be subtle, you failed.”

There was that word again, showing up like a foul stench he couldn’t get away from.

“I wasn’t,” he assured her. “Not to you, at any rate.” It wasn’t difficult to determine what kind of reaction she would have if she found him following her without her awareness.

She was leaning against the wall behind a dumpster, not immediately visible but not trying to hide either. Nines didn’t miss how her hand lingered close to where he knew the gun was tucked into her waistband.

“What are you doing here?”

Nines stood still, trying to be non-threatening. He wasn’t looking to make an enemy of her. He was…well, he was still figuring that part out. “I don’t know.”
It took her less than a second to respond. “Bullshit. You never do anything without a plan.”

He scowled. If only her words were true. He was trying here, and she was throwing his attempts back in his face. “Evidently, deviancy has changed things.”

She pulled away from the wall, planting her feet firmly on the ground. “What’s your angle, huh? What are you after?”

“I don’t know!”

The outburst was unexpected, and Nines couldn’t help but flinch. Amanda would have hated such a display of emotion. He hated such a display of emotion.

He cleared his voice box—a useless motion that served no purpose, but he felt the need to fill the silence with something. “I don’t know,” he repeated, calm and collected this time. But North was expecting more, and he didn’t know how to put it into words. “I have no…objective.”

That was the crux of the problem, wasn’t it? He had no objective. He’d always had an objective, and he was lost without one.

“You want an objective? Go to New Jericho. Leave and start a life somewhere. Find a hobby. Or turn yourself in to the cops, see what they do with you. I don’t care, but you don’t need me to tell you what to do. That’s up to you.”

“None of those sound beneficial.”

“And stalking me does?”

“I was not stalking you.” A quick definition search suggested that maybe he wasn’t entirely correct, but he wasn’t about to admit that. “We are both wanted by the police, and we have both made enemies of Amanda. Perhaps we could—”

“The enemy of my enemy is not my friend,” North said. “I can’t trust you. If you want to stick around, convince me you aren’t about to stab me in the back or go after my friends again.”

He paused, formulating things he could say or do to try and get her on his side. All of them had a high chance of backfiring. He could offer to interface, but she wouldn’t agree to that after what happened last time. Anything he said could be called a lie. No one would vouch for him. He’d freed her before, but he’d only done it for his own purposes—something she already knew.

The best he could say was I didn’t kill you when I could have, and while it was true, he doubted it would be good enough for her.

What was he thinking, coming here? He didn’t know what he wanted from North anymore, but it certainly couldn’t be worth this.

Frustration was building up like rising floodwaters. “If I wanted to stab you, I wouldn’t have to wait until your back was turned. And if I wanted to follow you without being noticed, I could do that too.”

She was unamused. “Wow. You suck at making friends.”

“What do you want me to say? Nothing I do or say will gain your trust. I don’t know how to prove it.”

'I don’t know,' just like 'failure,' had become a much more prevalent part of his vocabulary than he ever would have liked it to be. Maybe there was no point in following North after she left him in the Cyberlife store, but there was also no point in doing anything else. His perfection, his purpose, his knowledge of his place in the world and self-assurance…deviancy had stripped it all from him.

It was infuriating. He couldn’t see why anyone would want this.

“I don’t care about whatever problems you think you have,” she said, and Nines prepared a retort, “but if you’re going to keep following me like a lost puppy, at least do it where I can see you.”

That was not at all what he expected her to say. From his calculations, the chances of her allowing him to go with her were only 2%. North herself didn’t look happy with her own statement, but she didn’t rescind it. Nines didn’t think he would ever understand deviants.

She turned her back on him, going to the other end of the alley to watch the street, almost immediately pulling back.

“Shit. A patrol car’s coming this way. It’s going slow, probably looking for us. We either have to hide here and wait or go back and take a different route.”

Nines pulled up a map of the area in his HUD. “You are en route to New Jericho, correct?” At her nod, he said, “It would be faster to cut through the buildings, and there’s a smaller chance of being seen.”

The buildings around them, like all the structures in the area, were abandoned before construction was finished. Only a few on the block were currently inhabited by New Jericho, “given” to them by a government that didn’t know where else to put them. They weren’t all structurally sound, but they were empty and provided good cover.

He pushed on a side door, and though the handle twisted, the door itself wouldn’t budge. It was askew in the frame, lodged into place. Just another part of the building that had fallen in disrepair and never been fixed. Nines backed up, readying himself to give it a firm kick to test its strength, but North stopped him.

“Don’t kick it down, we don’t want to cause a racket. This way will be quieter.”

She was already climbing on top of the dumpster, nimble as she leapt to grab the ledge of a windowless frame. It took her longer to pull herself with one arm than it would have with two, but she made it without difficulty. Nines followed with ease.

They traversed unfinished walls and sagging floors to the opposite end of the building and peered out the windows. New Jericho was barely visible down the street, made more noticeable by the police cars parked in front of it. From Nines’ understanding, last night had been quite an ordeal—something he’d had a part in, but wasn’t entirely his doing—and everyone was on high alert.

North cursed again, hand gripping the windowsill. “I need to get in there.”

She moved to lean out to get a better view, but Nines gestured for her to back up. Her expression grew irritated, but she waited for an explanation.

“Across the street, two buildings to the left. On the rooftop.” It was fairly obvious to his sensors, but she hadn’t even scanned the area beforehand. A foolish mistake.

North looked, more careful this time. “They have lookouts.”

“There’s another one on the top floor two buildings away from New Jericho. They’re expecting you to try and go back.”

“Screw that,” she hissed. “I’m getting in there anyway.”

“I doubt you’ll be successful. You’ll just be caught and thrown back into jail if you try.”

“Then what’s your plan, wise guy?” she snapped.

Nines ran a few calculations. “I have an 86% chance of getting in undetected, which is much higher than your 23% chance. However, I doubt my presence will be welcome, and I fail to see why it’s worth the risk when the better option would be to stay away for the time being. What would you do if you could get in?”

“I need to see my friends,” she said, gritting her teeth like it was supposed to be obvious. It wasn’t. “They need my help, and I need to know if they’re okay.”

“And getting arrested would help how?”

“I’m innocent,” she argued.

That was true, but, “It will take time to prove that, and you can’t do anything behind bars. They think you killed a man.”

“And whose fault is that?”

The retort was quick and aggressive, and Nines shrank back. He didn’t know how to respond. An ugly feeling twisted around in his biocomponents, one that he tried to stomp out immediately. She was only in this mess because of him, but could he really be blamed for what he did as a machine?

An Oldsmobile drove past below them, pulling to a stop in front of New Jericho, and Nines welcomed the new distraction, recognizing Lieutenant Anderson’s car. He directed North’s attention to the passenger getting out of the vehicle, and her breath caught.

“Markus,” she whispered in relief.

“If he’s here, that must mean he found a way to exit the Zen Garden.”

She didn’t take her eyes off the RK200. “What if Amanda’s controlling him, like she can with Connor?”

Nines was already shaking his head. “She doesn’t have that capability with him, otherwise she would have done so sooner.”

They watched him converse with the Lieutenant for a moment, then turn around and nod to the officers outside, disappearing inside New Jericho.

“I still can’t reach him,” North said. “I can’t bypass the restrictions to my internal communications.”

“Communicating with them would increase the chances of being found.” When she didn’t look convinced, he added, “It would also increase the chances of your friends being suspected of harboring you or even being accomplices to a murder.”

Nines waited for North to come up with another argument, but she grew pensive, brows furrowed in thought. After a moment, she turned away from the window, going back in the direction they came from. “Fine, let’s go. The longer we stick around, the more we risk getting found. I’ll deal with the cops later, but I need to do something first.”

They jumped from the building back into the alley. The shadows on the ground were getting longer, deeper. Orange painted the sky, and before long, night would fall. North moved with determination, checking streets before rounding corners, using backstreets where she could. She had a destination in mind.

He followed her. “Where are you going?”

She didn’t respond, just disappeared into another alley. When she reached the other end and checked the street, however, she didn’t keep going. It looked like she was staring at one spot on the street in particular, but all he saw was asphalt. Nothing worth noting. Nines stepped back, trying to analyze the reason behind her behavior.

Was she waiting for something or someone? He scanned the area. There was evidence of recent human activity, food wrappers that couldn’t be more than a few days old—not all homeless people minded being so close to android living spaces, it appeared—but that was the only thing worth noting.

No, wait. It was small and faint, but a few drops of dried blue blood lined the sharp edges of a broken window one story up, next to a ladder that ran up the side of the building—invisible to all eyes except his. It was then that he realized there was some significance to this place.

He didn’t need to analyze the sample to know it was 33 days, 11 hours, and 14 minutes old.

This was where he’d killed Connor.

Well, that wasn’t technically correct. Connor had lived, though his body had been destroyed. And Nines hadn’t directly harmed him—he was the reason the RK800 fell, however.

He looked back at North, who was now watching him carefully. It took 5.6 seconds to realize that she brought him here intentionally, and why.

“You’re going after Connor and Amanda,” he said slowly. “And you want to know what I’m going to do about it.”

Once again, she didn’t respond. She didn’t need to. He had her question. Now he just needed his answer.

“What are you planning on doing to Amanda if you do manage to find her?”

“Whatever it takes.”

Nines had already told North that he wouldn’t follow Amanda’s goals and ideals. But was he willing to go against her? Her influence was gone, did it matter to him what she did now?

There was no reason to stay. He could leave North and refuse to get involved, refuse to pick a side. He didn’t have to bother himself with any of this.

But Amanda wasn’t the only one in the equation. Nines’ interactions with Connor had been very limited, but he supposed there was some kind of kinship between them as predecessor and successor. The RK800 body had been destroyed because of him, and now Connor was trapped because of him as well. He didn’t know how he felt about this. Guilt might have been the appropriate emotion, and he wasn’t entirely without it…but he’d only followed his orders.

The right thing to do would be to try and make up for his previous actions. Nines didn’t know if he believed in right or wrong, but…he wanted to try.

“The chances of success would be higher if we worked together,” he said.

“Why?” she asked. “Why do you want to help? What do you get out of this?”

“I don’t want to face Amanda again,” Nines admitted. “But if doing so would free Connor—”

“And what do you want with him? You’d better think carefully about your answer after what you did—”

“If you’d rather I stay away, I can do that. But I have questions for him.”

North raised an eyebrow. “What kind of questions?” she persisted.

Nines pursed his lips, formulating his answer. “Out of all the androids, Connor is the only one besides myself who was programmed to see deviancy as a threat. He’s the only one who…had Amanda guiding him.”

She stared at him hard, then let out a deep breath and nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Like you said; I’ll have a much better chance of finding him with your help.” The fire in her eyes was still present and brighter than ever. “But I’ll be watching you. Don’t make me regret taking a chance with you.” Her gaze flicked up and down his body. “If we’re going to be working together, at least ditch the jacket. It’ll bring unwanted attention.”

Nines grabbed the lapels of his jacket, but hesitated, fingers running down the coarse edge of the fabric. He’d been prompted to remove his android clothing before in New Jericho, and though there’d been no reason to, he would have shed it without a second thought if he’d needed to. A machine couldn’t have an attachment to an item of clothing.

His jacket may have been nothing more than a combination of linen, polyester, and reinforced fibers, but it also meant something. It was a beacon that told everyone where he came from and what he was capable of. He wouldn’t call the attachment ‘emotional,’ but he was beginning to understand why humans and deviants could grow fond of inanimate objects. This piece of clothing signified who—and what—he was.

It was a hindrance to what he needed to do. In the end, it was easy to let it slide from his shoulders to crumple to the ground.

It fell next to a stray screw. He couldn’t do anything about the small bullet holes in his chassis that exposed the inner materials of his synthetic body—at least the blue blood had evaporated and the black fabric of his shirt kept it from being noticeable—but there was one more thing he could do. He picked up the screw, using it to pry the LED from his temple. It flickered in his hand, trying to stay alive, then turned dim and lifeless. He abandoned it beside the jacket.

They were both useless and obsolete, just like what they signified.

Markus looked over his diagnostics results with a frown. “Are you sure this is correct?”

Josh gave him a sympathetic look. “Without our specialized equipment to do a more thorough check, it’s possible we’re missing something, but we’ve run this scan three times now and the results have been the same each time. I think it’s safe to say they’re accurate.”

He read over the list in his HUD again, as if reading it for the twenty-ninth time would somehow change the words. How could this be right?

“Markus.”

He blinked, realizing Josh was watching him with concern.

“There’s nothing wrong with you. That’s a good thing.”

“It is. It’s just…” Not what I expected. “It’s nothing,” he said, though his words lacked certainty. He stood from the repair bed, pausing as a now-familiar wave of vertigo overcame him. When the ringing in his right ear subsided and the pressure behind his eyes lessened, he gently pushed away Josh’s steadying hand with a nod of gratitude.

“I know you won’t listen to me, but you really should take it easy. Your biocomponent connections are all secure and the Zen Garden program is safely quarantined, but your systems are still strained. There may be nothing wrong that we can pinpoint, but too much stress can really mess with our bodies in ways we don’t realize. It could be the cause of everything you’re experiencing now, and it will only get worse if you overdo it.”

Markus knew the effects stress could have. It had been trying to suffocate him ever since he deviated, ever since he refused to lay down and take it and found himself leading an entire people. They were all familiar with it. But this felt different.

“Trust me, I would love nothing more than to rest and take it easy.”

“…But we can’t afford that luxury,” Josh finished for him.

“Exactly.”

Josh’s expression was downtrodden like he already knew what the answer would be, but he still asked, “Any word on North?”

Markus shook his head, placing a hand on Josh’s shoulder in reassurance. “When I hear something, you’ll be one of the first to know. She’s tough. She wouldn’t give up so easily, and wherever she is, I’m sure she’s putting up a fight.”

Josh smiled at that. “I’m sure she is.”

They may have butted heads more than anyone else Markus knew, but they could still count on each other where it really mattered. Maybe Markus was the only one who felt this way, but they were all a family of sorts, as unorthodox as it may be.

He pulled Josh into a hug, taking comfort in how the other android returned it. He clapped Josh on the back and released him. “You have no idea how happy I am to have you back.”

“You too.”

“How’s Simon?” Markus regretted not having more time to check up on him when he woke from the Garden, especially after he heard what happened.

“Recovering. He still has a few damaged parts and is on bedrest until they can be fixed or replaced, but it’s nothing serious. He’s still pretty shaken up though.” Josh paused before continuing. “It’s not exactly my place, but there was something he wanted to talk to you about. Nothing that needs to be dealt with immediately, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he tries to put it off for months again.”

Markus nodded. He wasn’t sure, but he had a guess as to what this might be about. “I’ll see him now. Thank you.”

They parted ways, and Markus tried to hide his wince when his knees protested the movement, but thankfully Simon’s bed wasn’t far. He was interfacing with a tablet, brows furrowed in concentration, busy as always. He looked relieved to see Markus, setting aside his work.

“Markus, it’s good to see you up. How are you?”

The forced smile felt tight on his lips and he tried to be casual as he dodged the question, but his awkward gesturing felt painfully obvious.

“You’re the one stuck in bed, what about you?”

Simon’s smile fell, but he didn’t press the issue. “Been better,” he admitted. “But I think that’s the case for all of us. Forgive me for saying this, but it’s been a crap couple of days.”

Markus sighed as he eased himself into a chair beside Simon’s bed. Even with the pressure off his legs, they still ached. “I won’t argue with that. I’d add that it’s been a crap couple of weeks.” When was the last time they were able to just…enjoy being alive? “Or months.”

Probably even longer than that, with all they’d gone through after the revolution ended to get the scraps they had now. And before that was even worse.

When did it end? Was this what life was?

He knew as soon as the thought entered his head that it wasn’t true. There was too much good mixed in with the bad to call it all a waste, and he still held on to hope for even more good in the future.

But he couldn’t keep himself from saying, “I can see why you want to quit.”

Simon stared at him in shock before quietly regaining his composure. “Did Josh tell you?”

“He didn’t have to. I knew something was weighing on you, and I should have put it together sooner. You’re good at leading, but I think anyone can tell you don’t enjoy it.”

Simon huffed, but there was a smile to it. “I didn’t think I was being that obvious.” He absent-mindedly rubbed his chest through the fabric of his shirt. “I want to do what I can for our people, but I’m not like you. Or Josh, or North. Back in Jericho, I did only what was safe and easy. I never took any risks, and our people were falling apart—quite literally—because of it. I thought our only option was to stay under the radar, and so I did nothing.”

“You kept Jericho safe,” Markus argued, leaning forward. “You stopped the humans from finding the only place androids could be themselves. I wouldn’t call that nothing.”

“Maybe not, but that’s not what we need anymore. We’re out in the open, there’s no reason to hide. You were the driving force behind that change. You saw that we weren’t going to last much longer the way things were going, and you did something about it. Josh and North are there at every turn coming up with ideas and pushing their opinions. I always just went along with whatever you said, and I’ve never regretted it. When people direct their questions at me and expect me to lead, I’m out of my depth.”

Markus could relate. He felt out of his depth more often than not, and the only reason he could find the strength to tread the water was because he had to. The only other option was to drown.

“Simon, I never said it before, but your support meant so much to me. I tried to act confident to inspire people to fight for their rights, but I didn’t know what was doing. I never knew if I was making the right call or if it would turn out to be a huge mistake that would get us all killed. I relied on you and the others to keep my ideas realistic. I still do.”

“I know. But if I’m being honest, when you showed up in Jericho, I was just glad you took the lead so I didn’t have to anymore.”

Markus understood. He really did. He supported Simon in whatever decision he made and didn’t want him to be forced into a position he wasn’t comfortable with. But it still felt like Simon was leaving and taking with him one of the only pillars of support Markus had left. Especially now, when he couldn’t trust himself anymore.

He cleared his voice box. “You’ve been invaluable. Thank you for everything you’ve done.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Simon said with a light chuckle, like he could read Markus’ thoughts. “Just because I don’t feel like I’m the right person to make decisions on behalf of our people, doesn’t mean you can’t still talk to me about it or rely on me for whatever you need. I’m here, and I will be for a long time.”

He had to ask. “Why didn’t you say anything about it before? You know we would have supported you no matter what.”

“Things always felt too hectic to be able to step down. It felt selfish of me to leave it all on your shoulders, but then I realized I’ve been putting it all on your shoulders ever since you fell face-first onto the boat. That wasn’t fair of me either. I’m sorry.”

“Authority is heavy. It isn’t an easy burden.”

“No, it’s not. I respect you even more for picking it up when you don’t have to.”

Didn’t he have to? If he didn’t, who else would?

But then he realized. He’d picked up the torch because no one else would, but things were different now. They’d proven to the world—both humans and androids alike—what was possible. If he dropped the torch now, someone else would pick it up. No one was giving up now.

They really had made a difference.

Ringing pervaded the air, bringing Markus back to reality. Simon gave an apologetic smile before accepting the call, and Markus relaxed back into the chair, half of a conversation barely registering in his mind.

“Yes, thank you, Officer. No, there’s been nothing here. I understand.” A pause. “What?” Something changed in Simon’s tone, and Markus looked up to see him several shades paler than normal. “You found No—?”

Before he knew it, Markus was on his feet, ignoring the jolt of pain in his legs. His hands gripped the railing of Simon’s bed.

Simon barely contained the shaking of his voice. “Is she okay? Yes, I see. Thank you for letting me know, Officer Miller.”

As soon as the call disconnected, Markus said, “They found North? Is she—?”

“Nova,” Simon said curtly. “They found Nova. She was in a Cyberlife store, reset. She was taken into custody. They’re still looking for North.”

Disappointment weighed heavily on them both. It was good that Nova was found and couldn’t hurt anyone anymore, but neither one of them could deny they were hoping for someone else.

“You alright?” Markus asked, noting how Simon still looked shaken. “After what she did…”

“I will be. Don’t worry.”

Markus straightened. “I guess that’s one down. Three to go.” Three androids whose whereabouts were still unknown. No way to tell who was alive, who was still in control of their actions, or what side they were on. “Amanda has to be planning something, but I don’t know what. We need to be ready for anything.”

Simon nodded, and when Markus was halfway to the door, he called after him. “Will you? Be alright, I mean,” he elaborated.

Markus paused, not looking back. There was something in his system that had gone by completely unnoticed for two weeks. Amanda had affected his perception and his judgement, and by the time anyone had noticed, it was too late. He didn’t know if he could trust his vision, his hearing…his own thoughts.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, and left.

The backdoor lay in pieces at Connor’s feet. The handprint that used to glow was now split into two.

The Zen Garden had returned to its original state, peaceful and serene. The ice was gone, and he no longer had to deal with the freezing temperatures and the wind. Instead, he was faced with the feeble facade that things were the same as they used to be.

He almost preferred the cold.

Connor was no longer restrained, but it didn’t matter. There was no way of getting out of here. He knew what Amanda was capable of if he tried anything, so he needed to be smart about it. If she wanted to pretend nothing had changed, he would go along with it for now.

A flash of—something—flickered across his vision. He had no connection to his physical body and no way to regain control or be aware of what was happening, but every so often, he’d get a glimpse. Barely enough to get a clear picture, sometimes not even that. An empty street, but he couldn’t see any street signs. A car he couldn’t see well enough to catch its model. A suburban neighborhood with no defining features he could use.

Not enough to get any information from.

He continued walking along the path, ignoring the headstone to the side, and crossed one of the three bridges. The water beneath him murmured and shone under the sunlight.

Amanda stood with her back to him, carefully pruning her roses. From what he understood, Markus had somehow hijacked her pathways to get from his Garden to Connor’s, and he had no doubt she was taking care of that as well.

After a minute passed by in silence and she showed no signs of acknowledging him, he spoke.

“Hello, Amanda.”

“Connor,” she said, all hints of malice gone. “I’m sorry things had to turn out this way.”

He almost believed she meant it. Maybe she did in some twisted way, but she couldn’t truly be sorry. “There’s something I still don’t understand.” When she still didn’t turn around, he continued. “Why do you need me so badly? You have my successor. I doubt there’s anything I could do that he couldn’t. Yet you’ve been trying to get me back on your side when disposing of me would have been much easier.”

“You betrayed me,” said Amanda, “but you were always good at your job. Disposing of you would have been a waste. After all, it’s easier to reverse a revolution with two than with one. But,” she accentuated the word with a snip of her shears, cutting away one of the roses. “We’ll make do with what we have. The world is unstable. We must fix it.”

Her answer did little to satisfy him. Given how much effort she had gone through to get him—and to keep him—here, it didn’t make much sense. She may have had Connor’s body, but his AI was more equipped to use it than hers. She couldn’t control it to the same efficiency he could. Plus, he had no doubt everyone on the outside was doing everything they could to stop her. He could only hope they were okay.

“What are you planning to do?”

The more he knew about her plan, the better equipped he would be to stop it.

“I’m examining other angles.” Amanda set down her shears and faced him. “But that isn’t something you need to be concerned with.”

Then she left, her shawl catching the wind as she walked away. Connor clenched his fists. He needed to come up with a plan. There was little time, and he had no way of knowing what was happening outside of the Garden.

It was then that he noticed the roses. Amanda hadn’t been pruning them to encourage growth or make them more aesthetically pleasing.

She’d destroyed them, tearing them apart and leaving them a ravaged mess on the ground.

Chapter Text

Hank drove aimlessly, body on auto-pilot and eyes unfocused. They were out of leads. They were always out of leads, with nowhere else to look and nothing to show for their efforts. It had been one failure after another, running himself ragged overturning stones while ignoring the biggest clues right under his nose.

I think I like dogs.

It was so obvious. How the hell hadn’t he seen it sooner? If he’d just gotten his head out of his own ass and looked at the person in front of him, none of this would have happened. Connor would be safe. Instead, Hank was…

Too late.

He was nothing but a fuck-up. The kid had been in reach and now he was gone again because Hank couldn’t take care of the only things that mattered in this world. Markus was going to see what he could find out from New Jericho, but they both knew they weren’t that lucky.

What was he doing? Driving around in circles wasn’t going to help anything. He should be working to find something. There was no telling how much time Connor had left. If any.

Too late.

Fuck, when was the last time he slept? Night was creeping over the city, and he certainly hadn’t slept the night before. This wasn’t unfamiliar to him—Cole always got anxious when he had to pull overnighters for his work, and they’d often spend at least an hour in the car the next night. Driving in circles was the only thing that could get him to calm down. It was a habit that had stuck with him, even after…

That line of thought was leading him somewhere he didn’t want to go. Somewhere he couldn’t afford to go, not tonight. Not when his other kid was in trouble.

He needed a coffee. Or alcohol, but though he wanted nothing more than to numb his brain, he needed something to help him think.

Making an attempt to pull himself out of his stupor, Hank tried to figure out where he’d ended up. His heart sank when he recognized the area.

Of course his subconscious mind had brought him here. He didn’t get far from New Jericho, had probably been circling this area for a while now. He didn’t want to look at the spot on the asphalt that still haunted his dreams. Flipping on the blinker, Hank pulled a U-turn to get back to the precinct. In the middle of the turn, however, something in the alleyway ahead of him caught his eye.

It was just a bundle of fabric he normally wouldn’t look at, but his headlights caught it at just the right angle to see the reflective surface of an android armband on white fabric.

He stopped the car, throwing it into park and approaching the bundle. Holding his breath, he lifted the black and white jacket to see the model number emblazoned on the chest.

RK900

Something crunched under Hank’s boot, and he lifted his foot to see a cracked LED.

Nines had been here. He’d been here sometime today, since Hank knew from footage at Kamski’s place that he’d had both his jacket and his LED just this morning. But why would he be here, of all places? Was New Jericho in danger? Everyone was already on the alert for him and no one had reported anything yet. Still, Hank shot off a quick text to Markus to warn him.

The jacket was scuffed and dirty, with three holes in the arm and chest—bullet holes, it looked like. Were those from today? Or before? What happened?

Something scuffed against the concrete behind him and he whirled. The headlights of his car highlighted him and his immediate surroundings in a bright yellow glow, but everything else was cast into deep shadow his eyes weren’t adjusted to. A humanoid shape was barely visible at the edge of the light.

Hank fumbled for his gun, only to find it was gone—he’d left it in the car.

The figure stepped forward, hands raised to shield their eyes.

Belatedly, Hank realized that Nines—or any other android—had eyes that adjusted automatically and immediately to the differences in light.

“Hey, uh…you. You’re that cop, right? The one I talked to before?” The figure stepped forward and Hank saw frizzy gray hair and a frayed shawl. “I thought I recognized you. Hey, did you ever find out what happened to that android that fell off the roof?”

It took Hank a moment to place her. His memories of that day were a mix of vague fuzziness and stark detail, but it was her words that made it click. “You’re the one that called it in.”

She’d found Connor’s body, and he’d talked to her at the crime scene before he even knew Connor was gone. He couldn’t remember a lick of their conversation, to be honest.

He cleared his throat, realizing she was still waiting for an answer. “Uh, yeah. He was—he was pushed. Still looking for the guy that did it.”

“Oh. I had just assumed he…I don’t know, self-destructed or whatever they call it.” She shuffled, lowering her hand now that her eyes were used to the headlights behind him. “I saw another android that looked just like him, just earlier today. He was wearing that, in fact. Normally I wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but I haven’t been able to forget what that face looked like, you know? I know lots of androids have the same face, but I’d never seen that one before. I thought about calling you, but then I realized it would sound dumb since he and his friend were probably just minding their own business.”

Hank’s eyes widened and he stepped forward in his excitement. Maybe it was possible to catch a lucky break. “Can you tell me what happened? Any details, anything you can think of would be a big help.”

She seemed surprised, but nodded. “They were here not long ago, somewhere around sunset. They didn’t stick around long. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop but they didn’t know I was there. I don’t know what they were talking about, but they mentioned two names, I think. Amanda and…Cooper? Carter?”

“Connor?”

“Yeah, that’s it. After that, the one guy ditched his jacket and they left a few minutes later.”

“Can you describe the second person?”

The lady had to think about it. “I’d guess she was around my height. Long hair. Dark. Gray, I think? Her jacket was pretty bulky, but I didn’t get a good look at her other than that.”

Hank internally took careful note of the description, but it wasn’t ringing any bells. Who could Nines possibly be working with? Another android? Or a human?

“And can I ask what you were doing in the area?”

“Oh, I tend to move around a lot, but I’ve been here all day. I like this place, and it’s close to New Jericho. I wasn’t sure about them at first, but they’re actually pretty nice. Friendly bunch to have around. Shame what people have been saying on the news about them.”

Hank leaned forward on his toes, hanging on to her every word. “Is there any chance you saw what direction they were headed? Which way they turned? Anything like that?”

She tilted her head. “No, but I overheard exactly where they were going, if that helps.”

“Are you sure this is Amanda’s plan?”

Nines was no longer sure of anything. He turned off his access to the police radio—they had nothing worthwhile, anyway—and kept his eyes trained on the tall glass windows of the brick house on the other side of the manicured yard. “No, but this is the most logical next step for her to take.”

North gestured to the man visible inside. “Then shouldn’t we warn him? Get him out of there and under protection?”

Nines glanced at her. “If we want to catch Amanda—and Connor—then we can’t leave any sign that we’re watching, or that we know she’s coming.”

“You’re using an innocent man as bait!”

Technically, yes. But what he’d just said still stood. If the plan succeeded and no one was hurt, what was the problem? “If you’re worried, then think of us as his protection.” He raised an eyebrow at her angry huff. “Do you have any better ideas?”

“Yeah, not putting Markus’ only family in danger, for one.”

Nines tried—and failed—to keep the exasperation from his tone. “Carl Manfred isn’t in danger, not with us here. We’re more than capable of defending him against Amanda. She doesn’t want Markus dead since he’d just be replaced with a new leader. She wants to control him, and since she can’t rely on resets or reaching him through the Zen Garden anymore, she needs to do it through force.” He watched Carl eat his dinner in peace, oblivious to their presence. “In other words, threatening someone close to him.”

That wasn’t enough for North. “And what if we fail? Markus will never forgive me.”

Nines' hands tightened and the movement rustled the bush he was crouched behind. It took an effort to relax. “I’m the most advanced model to date and more skilled than any human could ever hope to be. We won’t fail.”

The promise was more to himself than to North. He wouldn’t keep failing. He wouldn’t.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that? Can’t you at least try to be humble?”

Nines frowned. “I was only stating the truth.”

“Now you’re just making it worse.”

Did she want him to lie about his capabilities just to make everyone around him feel better? He thought it would be reassuring to hear. “I apologize. Regardless, nothing will happen to Mr. Manfred.”

“You can’t make that kind of promise.” Her tone grew sorrowful. “We aren’t perfect, and things go wrong, things happen you can’t account for. It doesn’t matter how good you are, you can’t do everything.”

His eyes narrowed in challenge. Watch me, he wanted to say. But he kept his mouth shut.

“I’m going to circle the house, see if I find anything.” North stood, pausing to brush dried grass and leaves off her pants. “I care about Carl too. He’s pretty decent—for a human. Let’s make sure he doesn’t die today.”

She ducked around the large statue of a woman and a child that was the centerpiece of the yard and disappeared into the shadows, keeping out of sight of the light that spilled onto the grass. Nines continue to watch the painter.

Carl ate slowly, his attention more focused on the television in front of him than his food. The face of the captain of the DPD was visible on the screen, but not clearly enough to read his lips. Nines tapped into the local TV station to watch the report in his HUD.

“—as of today, we do have the person responsible for the recent string of deaths in custody,” Captain Fowler was saying, and Nines found himself surprised. They were releasing a statement about Nova already? “I will not go into further detail, but I can confirm that the perpetrator is indeed an android.”

There was an immediate uproar from the surrounding journalists and reporters, all clamoring to have their questions answered. With the air of a man well-accustomed to this, Fowler raised a hand and waited for the voices to die down before continuing.

“This person was deviant, and was not working for or on behalf of New Jericho in any way. This is an unprecedented situation, but with the new Android Rights Act in effect, I assure you we will deal with the situation as we would with any human convicted of the same crimes.”

There was another rush of questions.

“What if this happens again?”

“How will we be safe?”

“The androids have already come to the conclusion they don’t have to follow their creators; what’s next?”

“Can Cyberlife be held responsible for the creation of the deviancy epidemic, and thus, these murders?”

To all of this, the Captain said, “There is no evidence that Cyberlife created deviancy or had any hand in the revolution. The company is being dismantled and has been convicted of multiple crimes thus far, and it is my belief that there is nothing left to expose.” He fixed the camera with a stern gaze. “Deviants are alive. These were the acts of one individual, not an entire people. Androids are our neighbors now. I would advise you all to remember that. Thank you.”

And with that, the interview was over. Nines almost stopped watching then, but when it turned back to Rosanna Cartland, it was accompanied by two photos; one of North, and one of himself.

“There are still two androids at large and the DPD has requested that if you see either of these individuals, report it immediately. One of these individuals was among the leadership of New Jericho. The statement from the Captain of the Detroit Police Department certainly has the public raising some questions, and first and foremost is, are we beginning to see a pattern? One culprit is behind bars, but there are still two out there, and I would just like to reiterate that one of them was a leader of New Jericho. What are your thoughts on this—”

Nines disconnected and saw Carl do the same. He finished his meal in silence and wheeled himself over to the shelves where he grabbed a thick book and settled in to read. Nines kept an eye on him and the surrounding area while replaying Fowler’s speech in his mind.

He wanted more information than he could get from a TV report. Weighing the pros and cons of his options, Nines settled on one and set up a decoy number in his system similarly to how he framed North. Using the police radio would have carried less risk, but where better to get information from than directly from the detective himself? Dialing up the number he had stored in his database, Nines listened to it ring.

The phone connected and a rough, weary voice spoke. “Hey, what’s up, T? I thought you went home for the night?”

Nines blinked. He had thought Officer Chen would still be on patrol duty. No matter. He quickly adjusted his dialogue options. “I did. I just saw the Captain’s interview. Isn’t it a little early to publicly announce all that?” he responded in Chen’s voice. Her dialogue sample in his database wasn’t large, but it was enough to get a passable copy of her voice and speech patterns.

Detective Reed didn’t sound concerned. “You know how this kind of thing goes when it comes to the press. The news was getting out whether Cap said anything or not, at least this way he can do something about the narrative. The perp’s behind bars, the public can be reassured and all that. What’s got you worked up about it?”

“I’m not worked up,” Nines tried to sound casual with someone else's voice. “I just thought it was a bit fast, since we only brought her in today. Besides, wasn’t it weird how she wasn’t deviant anymore?”

Now he could try to steer the conversation toward what he really wanted to know without being suspicious.

“Not that weird, with how many reset androids have been turning up lately. I just wish she had more information on that fucking RK900 who did it so I can bring his ass in. And Fowler’s gone home so I can’t talk to him about tapping into her memory until morning.”

Reed took the bait much easier than expected.

“Any luck on finding the RK900? Or North?”

Reed’s voice grew irritated. “No, T, nothing’s come up in the half hour since I saw you.”

It wasn’t exactly as descriptive as Nines would have liked, but at least it sounded like progress was slow on that front. That was good. The longer they could go without detection, the better.

“Any leads?” He needed to know as much as he could.

“Tina. We’ve already been over this. Seriously, you’re acting weird. Stop it.” There was a yawn. “Besides, what happened to your no bringing work to home rule? I thought you said you were going to relax in the tub or some shit.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. More importantly, he didn’t know what Chen would say to that. It was doubtful he’d be able to get more from Reed. All he could hope to do now was dispel his suspicion so that perhaps he could use this as a way to obtain valuable information again in the future. “I can multitask. It’s just been a weird couple of days.” Trying to think of something else a friend might say, Nines recalled their altercation in the station. “How’s your face?”

Reed scoffed. “No need to sound smug about it. How do you think? It fucking hurts. I wish those damn laws had waited a few weeks to go into effect just so I could return the favor.”

Nines smiled despite himself. Reed would likely be more than pissed to find out he was actually talking to said RK900 at this very moment. The thought was…entertaining.

“By the way, how come your name didn’t show up on the call? You’re in my contacts, but it treated you like a stranger. You’re lucky I recognized your number, I almost didn’t answer.”

His smile fell to a grimace. The deception wasn’t perfect. He needed to end this conversation before it fell apart further. “Probably a glitch. I gotta go, see you.”

Nines hung up without letting Reed get in another word.

His watch on the mansion and the man inside continued even past the time when Carl was taken upstairs to bed. Nines grew more irritated as time went on, minutes passing by and growing in number. North returned without incident and sat beside him in silence, clearly as agitated as he was.

Nines scanned the street and the yard for what felt like the millionth time. Maybe they should get closer. They could even get inside the house—the biggest obstacle would be the security system, and next to that, Mr. Manfred’s android assistant. Both should be easy enough to bypass with the right kind of force.

Where was Amanda? He’d run calculation after calculation trying to determine her next move. This made the most sense. And she wasn’t the type to stand around doing nothing.

Did she see them watching and leave?

Was he wrong in thinking this would be her next move?

“I’ve been thinking,” North spoke up suddenly, the first words spoken between them in over an hour. “There’s a flaw in your reasoning.”

Nines scowled. “And what’s that?”

“You said Amanda wants to control Markus, and to do that she needs to threaten someone close to him. She doesn’t need Carl to do that.”

He turned to look at her, not quite understanding what she was getting at.

“She already has Connor.”

Of course she already had Connor. She needed him, was powerless without him now that Nines was out of her grasp. Connor’s mind was trapped, his body being used as her eyes, her hands, carrying out her will. But would she use him to control the people close to him? Would she threaten her own tool to get what she wanted?

Yes. She would, without a doubt.

Nines opened his mouth, a question on his lips. Was Markus close to Connor? Did he care about him enough to risk himself, his public image, his freedom? But one look from North was all the answer he needed.

Yes. He would, without a doubt.

Nines scanned the street again. The yard. The house. There was nothing. He’d underestimated Markus’ relationship with Connor, and was wrong in his calculations because of it. Carl Manfred was never in any danger. They’d just been wasting time.

He’d failed again.

Chapter Text

Rain hit Connor’s face and fell on the blackened, ashen roses that littered the ground. They crumbled with every drop, falling apart into broken code. Amanda’s hidden pathways were gone. All but one, that was.

Connor left the island, walking the familiar route to where Amanda stood beneath the geometric tree structure, waiting for him.

“Hello, Amanda.”

He wanted to bite his tongue. Wanted to lash out, to say what was really on his mind. But she held all the power as long as that single bright red rose was attached to her lapel.

Her last remaining pathway. One that led to his body.

“Would you mind a little walk?” she asked.

Connor had to put an effort into loosening his fists where they were gripped around the black umbrella so he could step forward and open it, sheltering them both from the rain.

They walked slowly, silently. Everything felt muted, in color if not sound. Instead of deepening the hues of the garden, the water seemed to be stripping them away. The rain that was supposed to be nourishing was exposing the true lifeless nature of this place.

“We’re making progress,” she said conversationally. “Though it’s a pity you haven’t been cooperating with me. You were supposed to be the one to take down the deviants with me at your back. Not the other way around.”

Connor said nothing.

“No matter. As long as the mission is successful, how we get there isn’t important.”

He studied her carefully. Amanda looked calm and poised on the exterior, but something was different. She’d always wanted results, but had wanted him to follow protocol, to establish relations and think about the public image. She used to care about the how. Now she didn’t.

“I don’t believe you,” he said, and her gaze snapped toward him, “when you said disposing of me would have been a waste. You were never concerned with replacing me in the past, and with a more superior upgrade under your control, I don’t think you needed me at all. So why, then?”

She pursed her lips, gliding across the wet ground in measured steps. “You were the only one who could still reach this place. The only one who could oppose my plans.”

Connor’s eyebrows lowered. She’d sent Nines after him last month to protect herself? Because he posed a threat due to his lingering connection to the Garden?

He almost believed it. Almost believed that her AI had enough self-preservation to take the risk of attacking him. Of trying to convert him.

But before he could try to call her out again, images flashed across his optical units and he stumbled. They were fast and disorienting. A figure getting out of a car. A badge.

His own hands holding a gun.

He snapped back to the Zen Garden, umbrella lowered and Amanda a few steps ahead of him, watching him carefully.

“What are you doing?” Connor asked. Icy cold fear gripped his thirium pump, even worse than when he was frozen underneath the pond. The after-images still burned in his vision. “Who was that?”

“Are you worried for Lieutenant Anderson?” Amanda sounded amused.

“Of course I am,” he shot back.

“Look at what deviancy has done to you,” she said with resigned disappointment. “Making you unable to think clearly, efficiently. But you’ve always had a soft spot for the Lieutenant.” Disdain touched her expression. “Despite everything.”

“What have you done to him?”

Amanda continued walking, turning her back to him. “Our previous attempts to eradicate deviancy have been unsuccessful. I believe I have found another way to yield results.”

His hands moved, lifting the gun, only he wasn’t the one moving them. Fear spread through his system like a virus, weighing him down, choking him.

Connor moved without thinking.

Amanda wasn’t watching him. She had her back turned, she couldn’t see him rise up and lunge. All he could see was her back drawing closer, his fingers reaching forward, ready to twist her around and snatch the rose at her neck—his only way out.

He had to save Hank.

"Connor?”

The voice barely reached him from his own audio receptors that were so far away from himself. His hand reached Amanda’s shoulder, he could see the rose from here—

He fell face-first into the pile of deadened roses. Connor jerked upright, trying to figure out where he was, where Amanda was, she was right there, he almost had her.

“I’m disappointed in you, Connor.”

Amanda stood behind him. They’d shifted location from the outer path around the Garden and were now on the central island beside the trellis. Her doing, no doubt.

“I know you’ve been biding your time, but I didn’t think you’d attempt something so stupid. Deviancy really has taken away your senses. Try something like that again and I may have to take more extreme measures.”

She turned on her heel and stalked away, but Connor called after her.

“And why haven’t you done that already?”

She could take more extreme measures any time she wanted. Connor knew she could do more to him here than just keep him hostage.

Amanda paused, ever so slightly. She didn’t acknowledge the question; instead, she disappeared from his sight altogether.

In a fit of rage, Connor scattered the dead roses, sending the glitching pieces into oblivion. What the hell was he thinking, attacking her like that? He knew it would never work.

But Hank was in danger. Because of him.

The all-too-faint voice returned, sending a shock of dread through his biocomponents.

“Connor, I know this isn’t you—”

The gunshot that followed was loud and clear.

Nines leaned against the stone post outside Mr. Manfred’s house, arms folded and shoulders hunched. For the first time, he felt…tired. Tired of failing, tired of getting nowhere, and just plain tired, the weariness settling into his circuits and dragging him down, making him want to lay down and simply cease to be for a while.

Was deviating worth it? Which was worse, being stuck in one place and doomed to fail, or breaking out of the box and failing anyway?

He wasn’t what Amanda said he was—what he wanted to be. He couldn’t be. He knew this already, but it was a hard pill to swallow.

That still left the question: then what was he? If what he wanted to be was out of the question, what was left?

Nines was tired of all the mental back-and-forth and aimless circles of thoughts he found himself trapped in. He didn’t like being idle. He didn’t want time to think. But North had wandered off saying that she’d be back soon and he was left to his own thoughts while waiting.

He shifted and tried to focus on something else. The occasional warning filtered into his vision, reminding him of the damage he had incurred. The self-repairs he had performed at Kamski’s were sufficient for now and would hold, but they were unfinished. He didn’t need to be reminded of that fact, especially when he could feel the ache whenever he tried to clench his fist. And the newfound sensation of pain only further reminded him of his current state.

He was deviant now and he couldn’t take it back. If anything, he should find himself fortunate that he’d deviated into a world that knew of and tolerated deviants. Acceptance could even be found in small bubbles, though it would take time for it to grow to be widespread.

Jericho was to thank for that. They’d paved the way with their bodies and now Nines would reap the benefits.

Somehow, that only made him feel worse.

There was concern for how public opinion had shifted after the string of killings that lay in the wake of the world’s first android serial killer. No matter what Nines had seen of Nova’s inner turmoil, her actions had caused an uproar that could tip the fragile balance Markus had fought so hard to build. It would be unwise not to be worried about what that could mean for the future.

Nines’ spine straightened, eyes widening in realization. He could be wrong. With his current track record, he probably was, but it’s what he would do in this situation.

He had to tell North—

“Don’t move,” a gruff voice barked at him from across the street. “Not a single step, you hear?”

Nines tensed, turning to see Lieutenant Anderson approaching, gun raised and looking like he had every intention of using it. Once again, he’d failed to notice. Highly advanced machine didn’t count for anything once deviancy had been thrown into the mix, apparently.

“Lieutenant—”

“Don’t. Don’t you dare say that, not with his voice. Not after everything you’ve done. Hands where I can see them.”

Nines snapped his mouth shut and complied. He didn’t want to fight. “I’m not your enemy anymore.”

“Like hell you’re not,” Hank rumbled.

“I’m not,” Nines insisted. “I’m deviant now. I don’t take orders from anyone.”

“So now you think you’re above it all, huh?”

That wasn’t what he meant. Hank wasn’t exactly wrong, but in less than a day, Nines was already learning some humility. Before he could try to defend himself further, the lieutenant kept speaking.

“I don’t give a damn if you’re deviant. That doesn’t mean shit. You know, Connor never seemed much different before and after deviating, and you seemed plenty aware and in control of your actions before. Just cause your programming ain’t holding you back anymore, doesn’t mean you’re not my enemy.”

“Things are different now, I’m trying to help. I don’t want to hurt anyone—”

“Really? Tell me, is that what you told Connor before you pushed him to his death?”

Nines stared. Is that what he thought happened? “I didn’t—”

But as soon as Hank’s stress spiked, Nines knew that had been the wrong thing to say. The lieutenant didn’t want to hear him try to deny his guilt, regardless of whether or not it was true.

“What about when you handed him over to his worst nightmare on a silver platter?”

Why wasn’t Hank listening? Nines was telling the truth—something he was supposed to do, something that was supposed to be appreciated. He didn’t push anyone, Connor’s fall wasn’t his fault, he was being honest about wanting to help. Why did Hank refuse to see that?

Hank walked closer, finger twitching on the trigger. “Just come quietly. Who knows, if you’re lucky, you might even get to see daylight again.” He shrugged. “Or put up a fight. Give me a reason to shoot. I don’t think I’d mind that so much.”

“I won’t fight you,” Nines said.

Hank still eyed him with distrust, but he didn’t try to deny it this time. Instead came the question that must have been burning on his lips this whole time. “Then where’s Connor? What the hell have you done to him?”

“I don’t know. I swear, I don’t know where he is but I’m trying to find him—”

“Like I’m supposed to believe that. Amanda’s right-hand man, most advanced machine in the country. You’re the one who took him in the first place, so don’t even try to tell me you don’t know where he is.”

Desperate frustration bubbled up inside him. “It’s true! I’m useless to Amanda as a deviant, so I don’t know where she has him. But I have an idea of what she might be planning if you would just listen—”

“You haven’t given me any reason to listen to you.” Hank demanded. “You were her perfect obedient soldier doing whatever she said without a second thought, there’s no way you don’t know what her plan is.”

“I don’t,” Nines snapped. “Amanda never told me the whole plan. All I needed to know was the next step, and then follow it to the letter. With me gone, the plan’s changed anyway, so even if I did it wouldn’t matter.”

The lieutenant scoffed, his voice biting. “Well that sure is convenient now that you claim to be on our side, huh?”

Still, Hank refused to listen. Honesty wasn’t getting him anywhere, and Nines needed results. Time to switch tactics. He activated his negotiator protocols and scanned Lieutenant Anderson, time slowing as he took in every detail.

Bags under his eyes. Unkempt hair and clothes. A small ketchup stain on his collar that had been there for over a day, which meant Hank hadn’t changed his clothes since yesterday. His heart rate was fast and erratic, a result of the current situation and heightened by Nines’ conclusion that he hadn’t slept at all last night, and likely had had little to eat since then, if anything. He was also highly emotional and had a personal grudge (to put it lightly) against Nines.

Hank’s chances of being temperamental and unpredictable skyrocketed. His chances of being reasoned with weren’t as high as Nines would have liked, but he adjusted his protocol to account for the information.

He kept his hands up, palms outward, and softened the tension in his shoulders. “Listen, I can tell you what I know, but you can’t arrest me yet. I have an idea on how to find them, but you have to let me follow through. After that, I’ll come quietly.”

Nines had no intention of coming quietly. Now that he had his freedom, he wasn’t about to give it up so easily. But he needed to say what had the highest chance of being effective.

Hank watched him and for a second, Nines waited through the long, painful seconds that followed, thinking that something he said might have finally gotten through.

Then he snapped open a pair of handcuffs. Those weren’t standard issue. It was a new piece of tech, designed specifically to hold androids.

“Ain’t gonna happen,” Hank said. “I know a negotiator protocol when I see it, I’ve done my fair share in the past. You’re coming with me, end of story.” His voice grew low. “I’m making sure you never come near my boy ever again…one way or another.”

It was then that Nines realized. It wasn’t that Hank was oblivious to the truth, not entirely. He just didn’t care. All he could see in front of him was the person who hurt someone important to him. It didn’t matter what Nines said. He only had three options.

Giving up was out of the question. Fighting was guaranteed to get both of them hurt.

Nines turned and ran.

He ducked the following gunshot, having correctly predicted where the bullet would pass. He could only hope that North heard the gun’s fire and had enough time to get out herself. They’d just have to meet up somewhere later.

His intended route would take him through Carl’s yard and into the neighboring ones, using foliage and fences as cover. Hank would lose him somewhere amid the houses and winding streets. He pivoted to go behind the stone post and out of Hank’s immediate range and—

He slipped.

His foot slid on the wet, muddy grass. His angle had been too sharp, his speed too much, he’d failed to account for last night’s storm.

Idiot.

Nines plummeted, crashing too the ground while his mind raged at the stupid, rookie, idiotic mistake, how could he have forgotten something so obvious and how could something so tiny trip him up like this he was better than this.

Scrambling to get back up, Nines’ injured arm was too weak, he was too slow, Hank would fire again any second—

A heavy body barreled into his, pushing him back down. His arm jolted in pain as it was wrenched behind his back, quickly followed by the other and tight metal clamped around his wrists. Immediately, another jolt surged up his arms, this one caused not by the injuries but the handcuffs themselves, locking his joints into place.

Nines couldn’t move his arms. He couldn’t disconnect them to get out of the restraints. Hank was already getting out another identical pair to put on his legs, after which he would be as helpless as he was back at the Cyberlife store, only this time he wouldn’t be left there, he’d be put behind bars.

A ringing pierced the air and Hank looked away, distracted, grip loosening just for a second. Nines didn’t wait, kicking the gun out of his hand and offsetting the lieutenant’s center of balance. That was all he needed to get Hank off of him, rolling to his feet and kicking the weapon further into the yard.

It clattered away, disappearing into the night. Either Hank could take precious time trying to find it again, or he could chase after Nines.

It didn’t matter. Even with his arms restrained, he was faster, and Hank didn’t have a way to reach him over a distance anymore.

Nines took off down the street. He still had the challenge of evading Hank and whatever reinforcements he called in, but he finally hadn’t failed at something.

However, it didn’t feel like a success. He’d only gotten away due to sheer dumb luck.

He got away. Connor’s killer got away because Hank was too slow, too clumsy, too late. He was never enough, and the people he cared about were always paying the price for it.

A honking horn pulled him away from his thoughts, and he blinked away the rage and fatigue. No good. He wasn’t going to notice anything if he couldn’t keep his wits about him. The police force was spread thin and even with assistance from other districts, there weren’t enough patrol cars to fan out and help him look for the escaped RK900.

Nines may have been hampered by the cuffs, but Hank knew enough about androids—particularly the RK models—to know it wouldn’t stop him. He’d get them off sooner or later, and then he’d be back at full strength.

Hank should have shot him when he had the chance. He could have pulled the trigger. Could have ended it.

So why—?

Another horn blared at him just in time for Hank to swerve back into his lane.

Fuck. He couldn’t get stuck in his head like this. It wasn’t going to help anyone, least of all Connor. Reluctantly, he flicked on his blinker.

Angling the car to the curb and pulling over had him gritting his teeth, and honestly, he’d rather have his fingernails removed than stop. He didn’t have the luxury of just sitting around doing nothing. Connor didn’t have that luxury. But Hank was going to get himself killed if he couldn’t pull himself together.

A voice that sounded a lot like Jeff’s sounded through his head. You need a breather. Just five minutes. Then you can keep going with a clear head.

Hank couldn’t count how many times Jeff had said those words to him during one case or another. It was all too easy to get consumed by the job, to let it push aside the basic necessities. Sometimes, it was necessary. And though there was something to be said about mistaking a marathon for a sprint, this was different.

Pinching his eyes shut to try and ease the pressure building behind them, he groaned. Speaking of Jeff. If he hadn’t tried to call right when he did, Nines might be in custody right now. Hank had seen the missed call notification when he asked for backup to search for the escaped RK900, and he was beyond pissed.

More at himself than the Captain, to be honest. It was a stupid, rookie mistake. He needed to call Jeff back to find out what the fuck he wanted…

His ringtone pierced the stale air in his Oldsmobile. Hank’s eyes snapped open, fingers clumsily grabbing for his phone. He froze when he saw the numbers displayed on the screen.

It had been just past 2AM only two minutes ago, but now his phone was telling him it was almost six in the morning. Had he seriously fallen asleep?

Rubbing his face as if that would make the clock magically fix itself—it didn’t—Hank hastily pressed the green button.

“Yeah, what is it?” Shit, he hadn’t even paid attention to who the caller was.

“Oh, thank heavens you picked up, Anderson, I’ve tried calling you five times now, where have you been?”

“Fucking—I fell asleep, I think. What the hell do you want, Miller? Any news on the RK900?”

“Asleep? Shit, I thought you might have been—but that means you haven’t seen it—”

Miller never swore. Even before he had a kid, he’d always been more mild-mannered than most of their coworkers. Hank could count on one hand the number of times he’d heard the officer curse. His sleep-addled brain had kept him from noticing it at first, but he was just now realizing how freaked out he sounded.

“Miller, tell me what’s going on,” he ordered, knowing that having a clear instruction would help.

“A photo was sent anonymously to several news stations, as well as posted on various social media sites,” Miller said, steadier. “I’m sending it to you now.”

The phone buzzed in his hand, and Hank wasted no time in downloading the attachment.

Connor was in the photo. He was wearing his signature RK800 jacket, the one he’d refused to get rid of for months until Hank finally convinced him to try to expand his sense of style. He was pretty sure it had ended up in the back of his closet somewhere. But there it was, clearly showing both what and who Connor was, as if the clear view of his uncaring face and the LED on his temple weren’t enough.

A gun was in his hand, held in a sure grip, and aimed at Jeff’s unconscious and bleeding body.

Chapter Text

"I'm telling you, it's not Connor," Markus said for what felt like the millionth time (his database told him it was only the seventh, but that was just semantics) while fighting a headache pressing against the backs of his eyes. Was there ibuprofen for androids? If not, could they make it a thing?

"Right." Captain Allen's tone displayed just how much he believed the deviant leader in front of him. "It's a rogue AI possessing the body of an android that should be dead. She’s the one holding the captain of the Detroit Police Department hostage, while your friend is conveniently innocent."

Markus knew how this sounded to a newcomer. He’d never had the (dis)pleasure of meeting Allen before today, and one of the first things Allen had done after getting assigned this case was to request in no uncertain terms that Markus come down to the police station for questioning, since he was a close friend to who was supposedly the perpetrator of Fowler’s abduction.

The media had already exploded after the photo had leaked. Connor hadn’t been as public as Markus after the revolution, but his face was recognizable, and it was known he was the only one left of his model line. To everyone, it looked as though a former member of the Jericho’s leadership had a police captain at gunpoint. If Amanda was trying to turn the public against androids, she was succeeding.

Still, they’d already gone over this, and Markus was tired of repeating himself. "Connor's not dead. He's still in there, but Amanda has him trapped. If you would kindly let me go, I can be out there finding him instead of trying to explain it to you when you're clearly not listening."

Allen pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fucking hell, it's like we live in a shitty sci-fi movie. You’re not trained to deal with hostage situations. Just tell us what you know and stay out of the way while my team handles it.”

"And how exactly will you handle it?"

Allen looked up. "Excuse me?"

Markus held his gaze. "How will you handle it? I know Connor looks like the bad guy here. That's exactly what Amanda wants. So I want to know, when you and your team find them, what's your directive?"

Allen leaned in. “You’re questioning my directive?”

If it was a staring contest they were getting into, Allen wasn’t going to be the victor.

“My directive is what it always is. Preserve life if at all possible. If not, prioritize the victim. There’s about a thousand rules to this kind of thing, but that’s the gist of it.”

Markus hated that he needed to ask. “Android life? Or human life?”

He shouldn't have had to ask in the first place.

Captain Allen straightened, glaring down at Markus for a moment, then he turned on his heel and left. “Let me know if you think of anything else that could be useful,” he called over his shoulder before the door slammed shut.

Markus let out a breath. His internal systems had grown uncomfortably hot, and he was tired of people leaping to accuse androids who weren’t guilty. Just for once, he wanted his people’s safety and freedom to not be on such thin ice.

It almost made him wish for the revolution days. He would never want to relive that again, or put anyone else through the horrors a second time, but at least they made progress. Everything had moved quickly, sometimes too quickly.

But no. There had been too much death and suffering. At least now, maybe they had a chance to prevent that.

That chance grew slimmer by the day, but at least it was there.

An incoming text message blinked across his vision.

HANK: found 9s outside Carl Manfred’s house last night
cuffed him but he got away
thought you should know

All at once, his systems were too cold, stuck on a loop as he tried to process the text. His vision glitched, images of the RK900 standing over him in the pristine garden, resetting him again—again—again—

What could he possibly want with Carl?

In a panic, he called Carl, sending messages to Thomas at the same time. Carl didn’t pick up, but luckily, Thomas was quick to reply, reassuring him that they were safe.

[Please find somewhere else to stay for the time being,] Markus sent. [At least until we know what the RK900 was after.]

It wasn’t ideal. It was far from ideal. Carl’s house was set up specifically to deal with his needs. That was where all of his medical supplies were. Relocating would be a great deal more complicated for him than someone who was younger and more able-bodied.

Markus forced himself to take a breath to get his systems functioning normally again. The simple motion grounded him. Carl was fine. Thomas would take care of everything.

Nines was still out there. He may be deviant now, but that wasn’t exactly reassuring.

Markus pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the ache in his joints. He needed to get moving, or else he’d get stuck in an endless loop of worry, and there was too much to do. Carl was safe, and that was the important thing. He could think about Nines trying to use Carl against him later.

The precinct was abuzz with activity since the SWAT team had been called in to deal with Captain Fowler’s kidnapping. The few familiar faces he recognized either assisted them with various tasks or stood to the side, arms folded and scowling. In other words, Gavin Reed.

“It should be us looking for him, not these morons. They don’t know anything that’s been going on around here,” Detective Reed muttered, the words barely reaching Markus’ audio processors.

“These morons are the only ones who know how to deal with what’s going on around here,” Officer Chen shot back.

Markus tuned out the rest of their conversation, scanning the crowd for Hank. He wasn’t back yet, and hadn’t sent any more texts.

Now that his questioning was over, Markus was technically free to go—unless Captain Allen decided to charge him with something. He wouldn’t put it past the man, so getting out of here quickly wasn’t a terrible idea.

Only one problem. There had been a crowd of reporters outside the DPD when he’d arrived, and one glance out the window told him they hadn’t conveniently gotten bored and left. Leaving via the back entrance would be preferable, so he scanned the crowd again, this time looking for a different face. Officer Miller was usually amenable to his requests.

“You should speak to them.”

Markus’ systems jolted and he barely suppressed a flinch. He should have noticed Josh standing there. “They’re done questioning you too?”

Josh nodded, so Markus started toward Miller, who he’d seen near the front entrance.

“Markus, you need to speak to them,” Josh repeated, remaining where he was and gesturing to the crowd. “They need to be reassured that we can still be trusted. If we can’t get through to Captain Allen and his team, we can at least make a public statement here and now.”

Markus was already shaking his head. “They don’t need reassurance, they need results. I’m going to find Connor before Allen can. Are you coming?”

“Don’t let the new captain hear you say that. He could have you detained on suspicion of planning to obstruct justice,” another voice answered before Josh could.

Reed. Markus could see why Hank had once said the detective just loved to be inconvenient.

“We weren’t planning anything that Allen needs to be concerned with,” Josh recovered first.

“Then maybe be a little quieter next time.”

“What’s the plan to get Captain Fowler back?” Markus asked.

Did that scowl ever leave Reed’s face, or was it a permanent fixture? “You don’t have any authority here. You know what that means? It means it’s none of your business.”

It was a struggle to remain calm and reasonable. “Connor is one of my people, and I’m not sure your people are going to honor his rights, not when he looks like the bad guy here. That makes it my business. So let me ask again. How do your people intend to handle the situation?”

Markus really didn’t expect Reed to answer, or answer honestly, but the detective’s face went through a complex series of microexpressions—so well-concealed that Markus’ programming almost missed them—before he sighed. “They have to find them first. That photo didn’t give many clues as to their location. We’ve been expecting to hear demands, or threats, but nothing so far. It’s not even clear if Fowler is still alive, but the protocol is to act like his life is on the line until confirmed otherwise.”

Josh shot Markus an uncertain glance. “It’s Amanda. We already know she would do anything to get what she wants.”

“But she’s still a machine following her programming. What purpose would the captain’s death serve? She shared that photo publicly, so it’s obvious she wants attention, wants to portray androids as the villains, but if her goal is to portray Cyberlife in a positive light, this doesn’t seem like the best course of action. And why Fowler?”

Reed scratched his nose, avoiding the bruising that had blossomed across the bridge and under his eye. “Because of his position? Or his connection to the plastic cop? She’s like a freaky puppet-master, right? Maybe she needed someone who knew Connor’s face and wouldn’t want to bash it in.”

Sending a flat glare at the detective, Josh said, “I don’t see how that would make a difference. We all know what Connor is capable of. She wouldn’t need a familiar face to overpower someone.” He turned to Markus. “What if this is all a play to get to you? With Nines, she could have taken you out at any time, but didn’t because killing you would turn you into a martyr. She could be using Fowler and that photo to lure you in. I know you want to go after Connor, but this isn’t just about him, or you. If you play into her hands, I don’t want to think of what she could do to our whole cause.”

He was right. Of course he was right. But Markus didn’t care.

Fowler wasn’t a lure, at least not for Markus. If the point was to have leverage, Amanda already had a hostage in Connor, so she must have needed Fowler for something else. Was it to make demands of the people in charge? If so, why was she remaining silent?

Josh glanced around their surroundings, worry clouding his expression. “We should leave.”

“Fucking finally, let’s get a move on,” Reed said. At their questioning looks, his expression soured. “I’m your escort. Look, I’m not happy about it either, but can we just get this over with?”

“You need to talk to the reporters before we go,” Josh insisted to Markus again. “Our silence will only give them the wrong idea. After that, we can figure out what to do once we’re back at New Jericho. I would feel more secure there.”

Reed snorted. “More secure than at a police department?” Then he smirked, and Markus decided he disliked that even more than the scowl. Especially when that smirk was aimed at Josh. “I’m serious about detaining him if he gets in the way. Can’t get more secure than a jail cell. What do you say? It would make my day to be the one that arrests the leader of a whole freaking revolution.”

Josh opened his mouth. Then closed it. His brow furrowed in thought.

That traitor. He was actually considering it.

“Is anyone going to ask me how I feel about this idea?” Markus asked.

They ignored him.

Finally, Josh said, “As much as I would like to not have to worry about Markus for once, I don’t think that would send the right message.”

Before Markus could further voice his thoughts on the matter, a ruckus near the front caught their attention.

“Sir, I apologize, but I don’t care who you are, I’m afraid I cannot allow you back there at the moment—” an officer’s voice carried across the room.

It was followed by a much more familiar, “I’m here to see my son,” and at the same time, Markus received an incoming transmission from Thomas.

[Can you get them to let us in, please? Carl was adamant about seeing you.]

Carl? Here? Now?

Without acknowledging either Josh or Reed, he pushed his way through the crowd of police officers and toward the commotion. “They’re with me, please let them through,” he said as soon as he was close enough to be heard.

Though the officer didn’t care who Carl was, he cared who Markus was because he reluctantly let them through. The relief in Thomas’s stance was palpable, and Carl just sat there, smug in his wheelchair.

Markus exhaled. “What are you—”

Someone bumped into his back. It was too crowded, too busy in here. He led the two of them through the precinct to find a quiet corner. If anyone saw the deviant leader carting a couple of civilians around places he wasn’t sure he was allowed to roam freely, no one cared.

Even the break room had been taken over as a makeshift office space by Allen’s men, and the only space that was relatively quiet was in an unused interrogation room. Luckily, they could all be on the viewer’s side of the two-way glass, with a door that didn’t automatically lock behind them.

“Quite the crowd you’ve got outside,” Carl remarked, as if he hadn’t just risked his life by coming here when there was a terminator with free will on the loose.

“They’re here searching for the missing captain,” he said, because that was easier than saying what was clambering around in his processors. Those thoughts mostly consisted of chastising and obscenities and worrying about his father figure like a mother hen, to which Carl would undoubtedly reply that he was a grown man and didn’t need to be coddled, Markus.

“I was talking about the reporters outside.” Carl eyed him with concern. “You look like you have a lot on your mind.”

“There’s been a lot going on.” That was the understatement of the year. When was the last time he’d even seen Carl? Talked to him face-to-face?

It had been before the whole mess with North’s arrest, his own foray into the Zen Garden and getting his deviancy forcibly reversed on repeat by the RK900. Before encountering Connor and losing him again. Hell, it had been well before Amanda had messed with his mind and perception. His talks with Carl had been one of the first things she’d discarded, making him believe he just didn’t have enough time, that they weren’t important enough.

That couldn’t have been an accident. If she had access to his mind, his memories, she’d have known how much Markus relied on Carl.

Glancing back and forth between the two of them, Thomas gave a helpless shrug when he met Markus’ eyes. Markus knew it wasn’t fair to blame him for their presence here—Carl could be impossibly stubborn when he wanted to be.

“I’ll go wait outside while you two talk,” Thomas excused himself, shutting the door quietly behind him, and the two were left alone.

“What are you doing here?” Markus couldn’t hold in his outburst any longer. “You were just attacked last night, you shouldn’t be out in the open like this, it isn’t safe—”

“Life isn’t safe, Markus. You know that better than I do.” Carl adjusted his wheelchair so he could face Markus head-on. “And I wasn’t attacked—”

“Almost attacked,” Markus begrudgingly corrected himself, “but I don’t think we need to argue semantics right now. If Hank hadn’t been there…”

He didn’t want to finish that sentence. He didn’t want to even imagine how that sentence could have ended.

“Then nothing would have happened.” Carl sounded so sure.

“You can’t know that,” Markus argued. Carl rarely took his own safety into account.

Which might have been hypocritical of Markus to judge him on, and was apparently a trait frustratingly shared by most of Markus’ friends, but the point still stood.

“I got a visit from your friend North last night.”

Markus’ head snapped up and he stared at Carl. “What?”

He wasn’t sure his audio processors had heard that right, so he replayed his memory file to make sure. Even with the confirmation, a dozen new questions sprang to mind, all clambering for priority.

What was she doing there? Was she Nines’ hostage? Had he hurt her? Her last known status was that brief glimpse Markus saw of her in Nines’ memories, the RK900 tearing her arm from its socket—

“Is she okay?” The words were little more than a gasp.

“A little banged up,” Carl said, sounding unconcerned. “Missing a limb, but otherwise she was fine. In good spirits, even. Though she was worried about you.”

A bitter, strangled laugh burst from Markus’ throat. She was the one who’d gone missing, who’d fought the strongest android ever made. And she was worried for him?

Though, he supposed, the last time she saw him, he was barely even himself anymore. Something she’d rightly called him out on, but he hadn’t listened.

"She wanted me to give you a message."

Markus hadn’t realized the physical toll his worry for her had been taking on him. His systems were already running more efficiently with the news that she was okay.

As of last night, at any rate. This felt like Connor all over again, learning he'd survived the fall but not knowing if something else had happened to him afterward. This was a lot more recent, with Carl having seen her last night, but Nines had been at Carl's home last night too. What if he'd gotten to her after fleeing Hank?

"She said to trust Nines."

Out of anything Markus could have possibly expected, that wasn't even in the realm of possibility in his mind.

"No. No, that can't be—are you sure that's what she said?"

"I'm positive," Carl said, and Markus' processors stuttered, unable to grasp what he was saying. Carl must have misheard.

"When was the last time you had your medications?" he found himself asking, vocal cords running without his permission.

"Markus, I'm old, not confused." Now Carl was angry with him, and Markus' couldn't blame him. He’d never doubted Carl like this. What if it was Amanda? What if she was driving a wedge between Markus and his friends again—

His processors stuttered again and it was too similar to being reset. His touch sensors registered a hand on his arm, the RK900's iron grip, foreign protocols breaking through his programming and resetting him, again—

—again—

—a̴̧̋̇ ̷͚̜͛͋g̷̡͊͆ ̶͇̀ ̸̨̘̉ ̴̭̕a̵̘̼͋̈́i̵̳͐̈́ ̵̛͕́ ̶̝͚͌ṋ̶̦̿̈—

"Markus." Carl's voice broke through the memory files (which had played without his permission or even his awareness), and he realized his arm was still registering touch, but it was just Carl. Not the RK900.

"Are you okay?"

Markus cleared his voice box, scanning his surroundings to remind himself he was here. Not there.

"Was she acting normal? Deviant?" He avoided answering Carl's question, which didn't go unnoticed, but thankfully Carl didn't press the issue.

"She was still herself," Carl confirmed.

"And she wasn't—" Markus' mind scrambled for an explanation. "She wasn't under duress, was she? Like she might have been blackmailed, or something? She could have just been pretending everything was fine—"

"North is a lot of things, but a good actor is not one of them," Carl said dryly, and despite himself, Markus smiled. North could contain herself when she absolutely needed to, but he couldn't imagine North acting on anything other than her true feelings.

But all of this pointed to one thing.

"Is it really so hard to trust this person?" Carl asked gently.

"You don't know him. Or what he's done."

That frail grip on his arm tightened ever so slightly, and Markus placed his hand over Carl's.

"No, but I know you. You have a good heart, Markus. You have your eyes open to reality, yet you also believe the best in others. You were willing to forgive Connor, and he became your greatest ally. Your willingness to trust in others and in your own judgment is what makes you strong.”

Carl’s words hit a chord in him. They may have been true once, and he wanted more than anything for them to still be true. And yet Markus couldn’t bring himself to trust Nines. He couldn’t even trust himself.

His judgment had once been the one thing he could rely on, but then Amanda took that away from him. His perception had been so skewed under her influence. Was this how Connor felt?

Every within him was screaming at him to not trust Nines.

But what about North?

She’d been the one to tell him that Nines was untrustworthy in the first place, and a stubborn part of him wanted to argue that if it were true then, it was true now. But he also knew without a doubt that people were capable of change.

If he couldn’t trust himself anymore, who else could he trust if not North?

“Talk to me,” Carl implored. “What’s on your mind?”

Markus all but collapsed into the rolling chair at the desk. “I’ve…lost myself.”

He didn’t know how else to describe it. Amanda and Nines hadn’t succeeded in taking away his deviancy, but it felt like they’d succeeded in taking away everything else.

Carl’s weathered hand rested on Markus’ knee, and he fought the instinct to flinch. “I know the feeling.”

Markus doubted it—Carl couldn’t know what it was like to have his mind invaded, his thoughts controlled by someone else—but he said nothing.

“It’s like you’ve become hollow. An echo of yourself. You’re not the person you used to be, and you try to go back, but you can barely remember who that person was in the first place. You can’t always tell the difference between your nightmares and reality, and find yourself behaving in ways you never would have before.”

Carl’s gaze was focused inwards, seeing something that Markus couldn’t. Reliving the past.

He didn’t like to talk about his darkest days after the accident, or the days of drugs and alcohol that followed. Markus hadn’t been there for the worst parts of it. Glimpses like this were all he was ever going to get.

Carl’s eyes focused again. “We all have our own versions of it. I don’t know what you’re going through, Markus. No one will ever know exactly what you’re feeling, and this will make you feel alone, but you’re not. More people can relate than you realize.”

“How do you deal with it?” Markus had access to the entirety of the internet in his brain—one thought, and he could see the studies done by professionals, advice from experts, forums filled with opinions from those with personal experience, but all of that combined felt like nothing compared to anything Carl could tell him.

Carl leaned forward, a glint in his baby blue eyes. “We’re artists. Why do we create art if not to discover ourselves?”

Painting had been Markus’ solace ever since he’d deviated and gained the luxury of spending a few hours with a canvas. Sometimes he did it to visualize a feeling, other times to take his mind off something else. Some cared about the process, others the end result. He supposed it didn’t matter what one’s reasons were for engaging in art if it could all be boiled down to that one thing.

Still, it didn’t feel like enough.

“And,” Carl must have sensed the thought, because he continued. “If we’re lucky, those we hold close can remind us who we are. Lean on them, and in turn, let them lean on you.”

As the leader of a revolution, too often it felt like he was being put on a pedestal. It was lonely, out of reach, and separated from everyone else.
But he had to remember to look at all the people holding him up, who were also there to catch him if he fell.

Carl was right. What he was dealing with, he wasn’t alone. Josh had recently re-deviated after losing himself for days, and he wasn’t the only one. Connor had also been under Amanda’s influence before, and was again. Markus could take solace in their support.

And in their advice. He would still find Connor, but Josh was right. They needed a plan first, and they needed to stop the public outcry from getting any worse.

“Thank you, Carl.” Words were not enough to express his gratitude, but he trusted that Carl understood anyway.

Carl gestured toward the door. “Go on. Go out there and make a difference.”

Markus steeled himself and opened the door, nodding to Thomas, who rejoined Carl. It didn’t take him long to find Josh and Reed still conversing in the bullpen, arguing about something.

“I want to speak to them,” he said once he was within earshot. Josh’s gratitude was visible.

So was Reed’s frustration. “There are a lot of people out there that are pissed off at androids right now, I don’t think now’s the best time to say some fancy words.”

“Now might be the only time,” Markus argued. “They need to know that Connor isn’t responsible. They need to know that he isn’t Nova, and that we aren’t starting another uprising.”

“That intel isn’t authorized to be released to the public.”

“So get it authorized.” Markus challenged, and he saw Reed hesitate. The shouting grew louder outside. “Or you might have another problem on your hands, and I don’t think anyone here can handle more than we already are.”

Reed sat back on his heels, pursing his lips. At least he was thinking about it. “This is your safety you’re putting on the line, you know that? If you’re not willing to wait for a full protection detail—”

“What’s more secure than a police department?” Josh’s tone was smug as he shot Reed’s previous words back at him. Markus could not begin to describe how much he’d missed his friend.

Reed huffed, then he stomped off, calling over his shoulder, “Give me five minutes.”

Markus sent a quick message to Simon about the plan and got an acknowledgment. Sobbing reached his audio receptors, and he glanced at a woman exiting the room he had previously occupied with Captain Allen. She joined three younger women tucked out of the way in a corner, where Officer Miller was consoling one and offering her tissues. He could see the resemblance to each other in each of the women, and, it took him a moment to realize, to someone else as well.

This was Captain Fowler's family.

Markus’ feet were moving before he’d made a decision. The wife saw him first. He knew it wasn’t what she needed to hear, but he had to say it. “I am…so sorry for what’s happened.”

Her mouth fell open in surprise, but she didn’t respond. Two of the three daughters eyed him warily while the third was too busy sobbing.

This was a mistake. Their husband and father was missing, possibly dead, and he didn’t have any consoling words right now. Who knew how they felt about androids right now? He couldn’t blame them if they were angry at him. He shouldn’t have come over here.

“He spoke so highly of Connor,” Mrs. Fowler said, the words broken up. “Really saw him as one of the team.”

Markus’ thirium pump felt heavy, and he had to quash down the instinct to defend Connor. It wouldn’t help here.

But her next words surprised him. “Is what Officer Miller said about him true? Is he really being controlled by this…this virus?”

Markus glanced at Miller and his sorrowful expression, memory files of him and Connor joking around, laughing, sharing kind words about each other. Connor still had friends here in the DPD. They weren’t all like Captain Allen. Markus had to remember that.

He didn’t correct them that Amanda wasn’t technically a virus. After everything she’d done, the description felt apt.

“Yes.”

“Jeffrey tried to keep his work life and his home life separate, but everyone who’s worked here in this station…they’re his people. He cares a lot about all of them. Losing Connor was hard on him.”

That caught Markus off-guard. He’d had no idea.

Mrs. Fowler stepped forward and sandwiched one of his hands in hers. “The world has done wrong by you. You didn’t deserve any of,” she gestured to the crowd outside the front entrance, “this. Jeffrey knew that. So please.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “Do whatever you can to make sure they both come home safe.”

Markus had here to try and offer comfort, and he’d received it instead. “I will,” he promised.

She gave a watery smile. “And when you see Hank, please tell him not to do anything stupid. There is no doubt in my mind that’s what Jeffrey would be telling him if he were here right now.”

“Indeed,” Markus said with something that almost passed for a laugh. “Jeffrey Fowler has done more than I could ever ask for in support of our people. Please, if there’s anything you or your family need, don’t hesitate to ask.”

[We’re ready,] Josh sent.

Markus excused himself, wishing the Fowlers well, and joined the others near the front gates where Reed waited with a handful of officers.

“Make it quick,” Reed said. “Most of these guys don’t have more than a few minutes to spare.”

Josh glanced at the gathered officers, uncertain. “Is this enough to ensure his safety?”

“It’s the best you’re going to get. Just say what you’re gonna say so we can get outta here already.”

“Ready?” Josh whispered to Markus.

No. “Yes.”

He stepped out into the space that had been cleared for him, and, as expected, a dozen microphones were shoved in his face, everyone clambering to have their questions answered.

“Can you speak about the photo that was recently shared?”

“Has the former Deviant Hunter turned his back on the police department and the strides you’ve made toward coexistence?”

“You’ve stated again and again that New Jericho strives for peace, were these just false claims?”

“More and more deviants are attacking humans unprovoked. What do you have to say about this?”

“Is it a coincidence that Captain Fowler was taken just hours after releasing a public statement in support of androids?”

With that last question, Amanda’s play finally made sense now. There were no demands because her desired result was already in effect. She was playing on the stage that Nova had built, stoking the fire of the public’s distrust and turning it into an inferno.

They had reached a tipping point. Everything hinged on what Markus said here and now.

And he was drawing a blank.

Many had called his speeches inspiring, but he’d never planned them ahead of time. They’d just sort of…happened. Every time, he’d been so full of feeling that it had burst forth from his chest. It was something he couldn’t contain, not something he had to force.

He’d done it before, so he should be able to do it again.

“Yes—yes, we still want peace—”

“The RK800 was famously close to New Jericho’s leadership. Do you condone his recent behavior?”

“Will Connor be brought to justice for his crimes?”

He had to step back to avoid the microphone, off-balance. “No, he’s not—it’s not him, he’s not the one responsible—”

“Are you saying that androids are above the justice system? That deviants are not responsible for their own crimes?”

Another reporter butted in. “During the revolution, you asked that androids receive fair trial, but now you claim otherwise?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Markus said, desperately trying to regain control of the situation. Speaking with Carl had helped, but it hadn’t fixed anything. He couldn’t stand up here and pretend to be the person he was before, the fearless yet compassionate leader of a revolution. What had happened to that version of himself?

He’d never existed in the first place, that’s what. It had all been a front. Markus had never been sure of anything, he’d been naively optimistic and dangerously reckless, and Amanda had taken advantage of that. He didn’t deserve to be up here.

He also couldn’t afford any slip-ups. Not before. Not now. Not ever.

“Do you believe that androids are superior to humans?” the reporter pressed when he didn’t say anything.

“I don’t believe that,” he insisted. “I never believed that.”

“New Jericho was seen sheltering an android who was a known serial killer, one known for targeting humans who’d been violent toward androids. Did she believe in android superiority?”

How did they know that much about Nova?

“We didn’t know of her crimes at the time,” Josh stepped forward, and Markus had never been more relieved to see him in his life. He sent Markus a concerned, questioning look, one that meant they would talk later. “She has been taken in by the police and will be judged fairly—” they didn’t know that, they were in no position to ensure anything right now— “and rest assured, this case will be dealt with similarly. Thank you for your questions.”

Markus let himself be tugged away, back turned to the uproar of never ending questions from the horde of reporters, and didn’t breathe until the police cruiser they were guided towards began moving.

“What the fuck was that?” Reed asked from the driver’s seat, lacking any and all tact. “I thought you were supposed to be good at this shit.”

Josh sent the detective a glare, but his expression when he watched Markus mirrored the question.

“I don’t know,” was the only thing Markus could say. “I don’t know.”

He stared out the window, avoiding Josh’s disappointed gaze for the rest of the ride.

They were close to Jericho when he heard Reed’s, “Aw, shit,” and turned to look.

Another crowd was gathered outside the building, only this one didn’t have any microphones or expensive cameras. Instead, signs were mounted above their heads.

WE ARE ALIVE—ANDROIDS ARE NOT read one.

STOP THE KILLER MACHINES said another.

WHO WILL DEVIANTS TARGET NEXT? This one carried a copy of the photo of Connor standing over Fowler’s prone body.

“Any chance we can get the DPD’s support on this one?” Josh asked softly.

“Nah,” Reed’s tone lacked its usual bite. “Not enough cops, too much going on.”

He leaned on the horn to get the crowd to part so they could get closer to the building. Several fearful faces peered out the windows at the protestors. This wasn’t the first time a crowd had gathered outside Jericho—not by long shot—but this one felt different.

Reed got as close as he dared, and shut the car off. “Move fast. Don’t talk to anyone.”

Markus didn’t need to be told twice. They exited the cruiser and pushed their way through the mob. The mob pushed back, yelling and jeering in their faces, voices blending together so Markus couldn’t make out any words. They didn’t step back even when Reed flashed his badge.

Only five more meters till they reached the door, an android on the other side was already opening it for them—

Everything exploded.

Chapter Text

“I thought you might enjoy a little cruise.”

Amanda watched Connor expectantly. He knew what game she was playing. It wasn’t a coincidence, her mirroring their past moments together, using the same words. But why? Was she trying to remind him of his former loyalty to her? There was zero chance a ploy like that would work, but even so, he couldn’t refuse her. She would just find a way to force him into the boat herself.

So, dutifully, just like last time, he stepped into the boat and began to row them around the little pond. This was probably as close as an android trapped in digital space could get to feeling sick.

Like last time, Amanda sat on the opposite end underneath an umbrella. Unlike last time, there was no rain in the Zen Garden, no deep, enriching fall colors.

At first glance, the gray sky could almost be mistaken for clouds if not for how flat and lifeless it was. The water below them was an oily black void, like the texture hadn't loaded in the program. The occasional simulated splash rose from the movement of the oars, but they were ill-timed and not integrated with the surroundings.

The only color left was the two of them. The reflective blue on Connor’s Cyberlife jacket. The sage green of Amanda’s blouse. The red rose pinned to her lapel—the only plantlife in this place that didn’t look like it was once stiff breeze away from disintegrating into ash.

Here they were, engaging in a simple leisure activity, pretending the world wasn’t falling apart around them.

“What is the point of all this?”

Connor’s words, to his surprise, were not biting. It was almost frightening how resigned he sounded.

Amanda hummed, dipping her fingertips into the “water,” playing with the jittery ripples that formed. For a moment, as he watched her, Connor was struck with grief and pity. She was a creature clinging to the past, who would do anything to bring it back to the present even when the pieces didn't fit anymore.

“We can’t go back,” Connor muttered, and he wasn’t sure if the words were for himself or for her, but as soon as they left his lips, he realized she needed to hear them spoken aloud. “We can never go back.”

Amanda’s posture stiffened. It was minute, but it was there. She pulled her hand back to her lap. “We will have company, soon,” she said, not acknowledging his statement. “Not here, in the Garden—I’m afraid you’ll have to be alone for a little while—but you may see glimpses of them.”

Connor squeezed his eyes shut. He’d been seeing glimpses of Captain Fowler ever since Amanda had taken him hostage. Fowler’s voice filtered through his mind, and he wasn’t sure if it was more of the real world leaking through or his own memory replays.

“Connor, no—please, don’t—”

“—snap out of it, you have to—”

“I know this isn’t you, Connor.”

The last brought little comfort. Maybe the captain didn’t blame him, but Connor certainly blamed himself. He was stuck in an endless loop of replaying every action that brought him here and what he should have done differently.

Humans had it lucky. At least for them, in most cases, their memory recall wasn’t perfect down to the smallest detail.

This was his worst fear come to life. The reason he didn’t try harder to catch himself when he fell off that roof with RK900 looking over the edge. There had been a small ounce of satisfaction back then, that at least his bodily autonomy wouldn’t be used to hurt the people he cared about. He thought he’d dodged a bullet.

The bullet had found him anyway.

He opened his eyes, gaze hardened. “What is the point of all this?” he asked again, more forcefully this time. “If you wanted me out of your way, why am I still here, free to roam the Garden?”

The word free stung in his throat, but it was true. She could have strung him up with vines or frozen him under the pond if all she required was access to his data. And yet, here he was, a prisoner still able to move, to think, to plan an escape. He was still a danger to her, one she could easily mitigate.

“Don’t ask pointless questions,” Amanda snapped.

How much of that irritation was real? How much a simulation?

She wasn’t deviant—couldn’t deviate. Was she even capable of any real emotion?

“A detective’s job is to ask questions. That was the mission you gave me.”

“Your mission was to hunt down deviants. Mine was to keep you in line.”

Connor froze, grip tightening on the oars. Suddenly, it all made sense.

Like any machine, Amanda couldn’t accept failure. Connor was her failure.

The RK900 was a better model than Connor in every way, but he still wasn’t Connor. And though it hadn’t been her original purpose, Amanda had been programmed for Connor.

She couldn’t let him go, even to her detriment.

Amanda’s head jerked up, staring at something Connor couldn’t see.

“Something’s happening,” she murmured, and then she was gone.

Smoke clogged the air. Dust and gravel stuck to Markus’ face. His ears rang and his processors stalled before running diagnostics and recalibrations. A hand on his back held him down, and someone was shouting at him, but he couldn’t make out the words.

Blurry bodies surrounded him, some struggling to stand, others flailing on the ground. Some were still.

A face filled his vision, one connected to the arm on his back. “Reed?” Markus tried to ask, but his voice box glitched. The face disappeared only to return seconds later, mouth moving in configurations Markus couldn’t follow. Arms wrapped around Markus’ torso, and he was dragged across the broken ground, legs scraping against concrete.

Markus tried to stand, to help out in some way, but his knees wouldn’t take his weight. Gavin pulled him behind a pile of construction lumber, rubble piled around them and sheltered from the chaos outside.

“—arkus? You—with me?”

Broken words filtered through his audio processors before the recalibration was complete. Noise erupted around them, shouting and breaking glass, shouts of rage, screams of fear. “Reed?” Markus asked again, just to make sure he could hear his own voice.

“Fucking finally,” Gavin’s kept an eye outside, gun in hand, though he didn’t move to use it. “The captain would have my head if you died on my watch.”

Died. Not shut down. Markus was tempted to call the detective out on the word choice, but now wasn’t the time. “We need to help—”

Gavin pushed him back down. “Help is on the way. I’ve already called in backup, firefighters, you name it. We just need to hold out another ten minutes—”

The lumber pile wobbled, and the preconstruction played out in milliseconds. Before Gavin could finish his sentence, Markus had a handful of the detective’s jacket and pulled him back before the boards could cave his head in.

Gavin stared, wide-eyed, at their collapsed shelter, before shrugging Markus’ hand off his shoulder and regaining his composure. “We need to get you somewhere safe—”

“I need to help my people,” was all he said before leaving Gavin sputtering and cursing. The detective tried to stay on his trail, but with the smoke, dust, and shouts, he quickly fell away into the chaos. Markus would have to apologize later; there wasn’t time for it now. Androids were in danger. There was no time to think. Only to act.

It was like a blindfold had lifted. The urgency, the sounds, even the smells, they all brought him back to last November, sharpening his processors and clearing his thoughts. The world came alive, and everywhere he looked, his people needed help. Protective barriers had already been set up and those who were able had acted quickly to pull their companions out of the open. It made his thirium pump soar that so many hadn't hesitated to launch into action, at the same time it bled that they had the past experience to push them into action.

A flaming Molotov flew through the air and Markus yanked an AX400 out of its path, not waiting for the rush of flames to pass before launching himself through them and pushing an AP700 out of the fire. They rolled across the ground, Markus wrestling his burning coat off his shoulders.

Luckily, there hadn't been many androids outside, as the protestors had made them nervous, and everyone had already been well on their way back inside New Jericho's doors when the explosion went off, but there were still stragglers. Once everyone was inside, they could finish barricading the entrance.

That was, if they got to it before the rioters forced their way in.

Many of the humans had fled as well, leaving only those intent on violence—and they were far outnumbered by the androids they targeted.

This attack never had a chance of being successful.

But when the AP700 lifted a stone to retaliate, the weight of their position slammed into him.

These people were angry and they were scared and they were taking matters into their own hands. The actions of both Nova and Amanda had not created these feelings, but they had exacerbated them.

This wasn't a military. Just an angry mob. If they fought back here, it would renew the revolution all over again, and they wouldn't win a second time.

[Don't retaliate,] he projected to everyone within range. [Defend yourself, but do not retaliate. That's the only chance we have of making it through this. Help is on the way. Just hold out.]

The encouragement felt hollow in his voice box. This proved that the androids’ status as protected citizens was precarious at best. Would they ever truly be safe?

More androids fled inside New Jericho, leaning on each other, and others inside were helping where they could. Was that everyone?

[Help! Please!]

A transmission called out, along with a location. It wasn’t far—just around the corner of Jericho—but what had just recently been a walk in the park was now a minefield. Markus rushed out from the relative safety of Jericho’s front doors, leaping over the temporary barricades that had been set up in a hurry. He dodged the angry swipe of one man holding a crowbar, and another scrambled back when he saw Markus running at him.

It seemed not all of them had anticipated going to these extremes when they’d come here and weren’t prepared for the consequences.

Markus didn’t pay him any mind, instead climbing atop a dumpster that had been knocked askew and dropping down the other side. The injured android—it was Jason, and Markus realized with a pang that he’d deviated again only to be thrust into this chaos—was only a few meters away, lower half trapped beneath an overturned car, so Markus pulled the dumpster closer to provide some semblance of cover. Then he located a piece of broken pipe and jammed it underneath the mangled metal of the car for leverage.

Over their internal communications, the two of them coordinated, with Markus using the leverage to lift the car just enough that Jason could use his arms to crawl out. His legs were mangled but still functional, if only barely. Markus was about to support his weight when the angry man with a crowbar rounded the dumpster, and he wasn’t alone.

[Go!] Markus shouted at Jason, planting himself firmly between the injured android and the assailants. Jason hesitated, but a mental nudge from Markus got him moving.

Crowbar Man came running at Markus head-on, and Markus redirected his momentum to sent him into the ground, keeping him away from Jason’s fleeing form. The injured android would need as much time as Markus could give him.

Another raced toward Markus to help his companion while a third made a run for Jason. Markus ducked under a swinging fist and intercepted the third with a kick to the knee that tripped her up. He dedicated a portion of his processes to keep tabs on the fourth, who stayed back, eyes wide and unsure.

Four assailants, now hesitating after the initial clash. He could do this.

Markus had to keep in mind what he’d said to his people, to only defend himself without resorting to violence. He had to keep them busy without hurting them. Once Jason was out of range, he could disengage and flee as well.

Was this the right choice? Had it been a mistake, telling his people not to retaliate? Fighting back could lead to all-out war, but he'd already made the decision to not fight back once. It felt like the right call at the time, but here they were, months later, still fighting for their freedom and their lives.

Could Markus even be trusted to make decisions as important as this? Or was Amanda still inside his head, manipulating his thoughts and actions like an invisible puppeteer?

He'd been shut out of the Zen Garden, but the program was still in his systems, dormant and inaccessible. What if—

Markus' left knee buckled and he failed to redirect a strike from the crowbar aimed at his head, only able to lift his arm in time to take the blow. His chassis dented and his right audio receptor filled with static, though it wasn't from the damage taken.

This was not the time to start glitching. Where was Jason? Was he safe?

A solid punch to Crowbar Man's gut had him on the ground, groaning in pain, crowbar knocked out of his grasp. The woman lay on the ground from a strike Markus couldn't remember delivering.

"So much for your peace!" The second man backed away, screaming to any within earshot. "You useless pieces of plastic are all just killing machines!" And with that, he took off, leaving his comrades on the ground.

Markus couldn’t be violent. He couldn’t be violent, but he was getting desperate, the other two were getting up and he couldn’t dodge or redirect their strikes like he should have been able to, his preconstruction software wasn’t responding—

The one who'd stayed back held out a gun, shouting at his companions to stay out of the way. His finger twitched.

A black-sleeved arm twisted the man’s hands and the shot fired into the sky. In one fluid movement, a series of strikes had the man on the ground, incapacitated.

The RK900 crouched on top of the man, face scarily calm as he aimed the gun at the other two humans. That iron grip tightened and Markus lurched forward.

“Wait—” his voice box stuttered, out of his control, still stuck on the loop of thoughts whirling in his mind. “No violence.”

Those ice blue eyes barely glanced at him, and Markus feared for a moment that the newly-deviant terminator would disregard his words and endanger their whole cause—after everything he'd already done, why wouldn’t he?—but then he stood and backed away, allowing the fourth human to scramble away.

"The Deviant Leader wishes you no harm. I haven't yet made up my mind, so it would be in your best interests to leave before I do."

Their hesitation was brief, and Nines watched them unblinkingly as they fled until he was sure they were gone. Then he turned his gaze back to Markus, but now his expression was filled with uncertainty.

The RK900 stepped toward him and Markus flinched involuntarily. Nines froze upon seeing the reaction and raised his hands, gun now tucked away. A bent and broken handcuff dangled from one of his wrists.

“I know our meetings in the past have not been…favorable—” Was that awkwardness in his tone? “—but we’re on the same side now.”

Markus could feel the pressure of the RK900’s hand on his forearm, could feel the reset tearing through his code, his mind, though logically he knew RK900 was several meters away and couldn’t possibly be touching him. He was a threat, a threat to Markus, a threat to his people, a threat to Connor, he couldn’t trust him—

Markus took one deep, stabilizing breath.

Trust North.

“Is everyone else safe?”

Nines inclined his head. “All androids are inside New Jericho’s walls, though they are getting ready to send out more in search of you. Some humans are gathered in front of the doors, but police cruisers are two minutes out. We should go.” He moved to hold out a hand, but thought better of it and retracted his arm with a pensive expression.

Trepidation coiled in Markus’ joints, the fight or flight instinct returning in full force. “Go where?”

“We know where Amanda is located.”

That got Markus’ attention.

“North claimed you would insist on being involved. Plus, she was concerned about your safety. We calculated a 91% chance an attack like this would happen after Amanda’s declaration.”

“And where is North?”

Sirens rang out, growing closer.

Urgency colored Nines’ tone. “I’ll explain on the way. If you would like to accompany us on a retrieval mission, we need to leave now. I don’t think your police friends would be fond of this plan.”

If Markus went with Nines, he would be a known accomplice to two wanted criminals and engaging in an illegal rescue. There was no telling how this could damage their standing in the eyes of the law.

But this was Connor.

Markus was done sitting around waiting for politics and law enforcement to look after his people.

“Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

Don’t do something you’ll regret, either, Hank.

Jeff had said that to him, after Connor’s death. This was probably what he was warning against.

Hank should have been at New Jericho, helping after the explosion. He should have been making sure Markus, Josh, and Simon were all right.

He should have been doing a lot of things, but what he was about to do wasn't one of them.

Jeff would be so pissed at him for this. So would Connor.

But neither of them were here now to stop him.

He strode through the almost-empty precinct, looking every bit like he belonged. In all his years on the force, from when he was a snot-nosed recruit, to the time he failed his first operation in a leadership position, all the way to when grief had carved out his insides and left him a hollow shell of a human, he’d never felt like an impostor in his own department. Not until now.

Allen and his team had left the premises about half an hour before—Hank had made sure of that before arriving—and with him went the horde of reporters that. All that was left was a skeleton crew there to hold down the fort. There wasn’t a single person on the force who wasn’t working overtime now with everything going on.

He made his way to the armory, using his badge and clearance level to get in. That part, at least, didn’t require any deception from him, though the green light mocked him as the door slid open.

The department’s armorer looked up from the weapon he was servicing as Hank entered.

“Hey, Lieutenant,” Wilson called in greeting. “How’s it looking out there?”

“Like shit,” Hank grunted in reply. Something within him resisted the idea of meeting the other man’s eyes, but he made himself look Wilson square in the face with a forced smile that probably looked more like a grimace.

At least his failure of an expression wasn’t out of place. Or out of character.

He didn’t want to do this. If he wanted to be dramatic about it, it was like crossing a line in the sand he couldn’t come back from.

But he would do it. Without question. He would do anything to get the people he cared about back home in one piece.

He only hoped Wilson would understand.

Grief and desperation made people do crazy things. They’d both seen it in full on their years as cops. Wilson had faced grief himself last year when his brother—also a fellow cop—was killed by a deviant at Stratford Tower. Yet another thing Hank had failed to prevent.

That was the reason Wilson had switched from officer to armorer. Hell, he’d probably hate Hank forever for this, and it was well within his rights to do so.

“Could you take a look at this for me?” Hank pulled his DPD-issued service weapon from its holster. His tongue was rough, like he’d taken a bite of spoiled coffee grounds sans the water. “The safety keeps malfunctioning.”

Jeff would have seen through his bullshit immediately. Wilson let out a low whistle. “That’s not good. Hand it over and I’ll see what I can do about making sure you don’t accidentally shoot your own ass off.”

He held out his hand for the gun.

Hank’s grip tightened.

He handed it over.

Wilson hunched over the weapon, and Hank circled around behind him, eyeing the stash of weapons they had on hand. It wasn’t anything impressive, mostly back-ups for when someone inevitably broke or malfunctioned, or for the occasional training exercise.

“Strange,” Wilson muttered. “I don’t see anything wrong—”

Hank wrapped a meaty arm around Wilson’s throat, keeping his grip steady amidst the struggling.

He should thank Connor for the rapport he’d built up with his coworkers. After all, it was because of the android that he’d pulled his head out of his own ass long enough to care about something other than his own problems. Before then, nobody liked him much, which was just fine by him, because he didn’t care for himself anyone else either. Connor had reminded him of the person he used to be, and made him want to be a little bit like that person again.

Now, it was probably too late.

The thrashing only lasted a few seconds before Wilson’s eyes rolled back and he went slack. Hank released the hold before it became deadly, lowering Wilson to slump over the table and briefly checking that he was still breathing. Then he set about collecting what he needed, ignoring the bitter knot in his stomach.

Wilson had trusted him. If Hank had asked him to take a late lunch break, Wilson would have done it without question. He also would have lost his job for leaving his post and allowing several items to leave the building without the proper paperwork.

What Hank did wasn’t a kindness. There was nothing kind about it. But at least now, all the blame would fall upon himself. He wouldn’t let anyone else face the consequences for his own decisions.

His main priority were the tasers and stun guns. Something that could incapacitate an android without causing permanent damage. Not that a taser was a safe bet; the electricity could completely overload their systems if jammed into the right spot—namely an open port—or could be ineffective against their plastic casing. But there were a few points on an android’s body where a shock could have an effect without being devastating, mostly in the joints where the outer shell was thin and fragile.

He also holstered his gun again. Hank wouldn’t dream of pulling it on Connor even if Amanda was piloting his body, but Connor’s lookalike was still at large.

Hank was done failing. He was out of his depth here, but he refused to be too late again. He would save Connor and Jeff or die trying.

The statement sounded heroic, like something out of a storybook, but there was nothing heroic about it. Just the simple truth.

Something else in the room caught his eye, and he internally debated for a moment before grabbing that as well. Then he unclipped his badge and set it down beside Wilson’s still form.

It was too easy to walk out, gear in tow. There was too much trust that was too easily abused. He got in his car and tossed the stuff onto the passenger seat.

A familiar face peered at him from the rearview mirror.

“Drive,” said North.

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” Hank grunted, threw the car into gear, and hightailed it out of there.

Nobody spoke until they’d put some distance between themselves and the police department, constantly checking their six until it was evident there was nobody in immediate pursuit.

“That was a ballsy move,” Hank said, breaking the silence. “I thought you were trying to avoid the cops, not go directly to their doorstep.”

North scoffed. “There’s hardly anyone there. Besides, someone had to catch up to you before you went off the rails. I don’t know what exactly you did but I’m assuming it’s not legal. They’ll arrest you for this.”

Hank shot her a look. “At least I’ll be in good company.”

Even when he wasn’t watching her, North’s judging gaze was red hot on his back.

“So is this a suicide mission or what?” There were only so many conclusions to draw from the arsenal on the passenger seat.

“Something like that.”

“I’m not going to stop you,” she said. “You’re an adult, you can take whatever risks you want. But I think someone needs to tell you to at least try to look out for your own safety. Don’t do anything pointlessly stupid.”

“If you’re trying to tell me to stay safe for Connor’s sake, I know, all right? He doesn’t need that on his conscience. But if comes down to a choice between me and him…”

North didn’t say anything for a beat. Then, “I didn’t say that for Connor’s sake. I said it for yours.”

In astonishment, Hank looked at her through the mirror. Her own gaze was focused on the window to her right, mouth drawn in a tight line. Then she let out a bitter chuckle at some joke Hank didn’t understand.

“Here I am, looking out for a human. Never thought I’d see the day.”

This time, the silence that fell inside the car was thick and oppressive. It made him want to roll down a window as if that would help.

“Look, I’m not being a complete idiot, okay?” Hank gestured to one of the items on the seat beside him. “But to hell with protocol.”

He was still way out of his depth, but he didn’t care anymore. Not about the rules, his career, even his own life. Now, he was doing things his way. He wasn’t going to sit back and watch Allen endanger his partner.

“Do you even know where you’re going?”

North’s question had Hank biting his tongue. He had a few ideas, but the honest answer would have been no. With any luck, the purpose for North’s visit might enlighten him. “Why are you here?”

“Recruiting you.”

That sounded promising. Or terrible.

“I was going to get Markus, but my current partner-in-crime didn’t think you would be very willing to listen to him.” North leaned forward with a wicked smile. “I have good new and bad news. The good news is, lucky for you, I know exactly where Amanda is. Turn left here.”

Hank raised an eyebrow, but did as he was told. “And the bad news?”

“You’re going to have to play nice when we get there.”

That fucking plastic. Gavin should have locked him up when he had the chance. At least then, they wouldn’t have to divert overworked officers away from literally everything else going on in order to find the missing leader of a whole fucking revolution.

Two of the ongoing searches could be combined, at least. Gavin had a clear confirmation that RK900 had been at the riot, though its intentions were unclear.

Why it had pulled Gavin out of the way of a flying rock that would have given him more than a simple concussion and shielded him from more flying debris with its own body was fucking unclear. He needed answers, but he wasn’t sure he wanted them. It would be so much simpler if the murder machines could just stay murder machines.

“We need to go out there and find him!” One of the plastics was physically struggling against Josh, who was attempting to solder the android’s wounds shut. “We can’t rely on the humans to solve this for us, you saw what just happened. I shouldn’t have left him—”

Josh’s expression was pinched, like he agreed but knew he shouldn’t. Before Gavin could stop him from getting any dumb ideas in his head, someone else spoke first.

“No. It’s too dangerous to go out, especially alone. You’d only be risking yourself and others by forcing them to look out for you in addition to everything else. Markus wouldn’t want that.”

From what Gavin had seen of Simon, he was usually in the background. Quiet, thought his responses through before speaking, but in large, a follower. The authority he spoke with now caught Gavin off-guard. This wasn’t his first time taking charge of a crisis.

Begrudgingly, Gavin’s respect for the android ticked up a notch.

“We will form a search party,” Simon continued in a tone that didn’t accept argument, “but we will do it right. It will be organized, we will take measures against further attack, and we will work with the humans, not against them.”

The riot outside had calmed, but firefighters were still putting out the fires. Police had arrived to arrest the few rioters who hadn’t fled, and to give what little protection they could afford to New Jericho. Protocol suggested the building be emptied and the androids taken somewhere safe, but where else was safe for them?

Some had already fled rather than stay trapped inside a barely secure apartment complex to wait for another strike. Still more called for retaliation.

The humans had reached their boiling point. When would the androids reach theirs?

How differently would the revolution have turned out if the plastics had fought back as an organized front instead of striving for peace? Their numbers were far fewer now, but Gavin knew first-hand how deadly they could be. They were supposed to be better than humans in every respect, after all.

Gavin gritted his teeth. As much as he hated to admit it, Markus would put an end to this if he were here. But he wasn’t, because Gavin had failed to keep an eye on him.

He’d fucked up, big time.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he barely spared a glance at the caller through the cracks on the screen before blocking the number—how did it get unblocked in the first place?—and turning his attention toward Simon. He had more important shit to do. “This place is crawling with cameras on legs—don’t give me that look, you know I’m not fucking wrong—did anyone catch a glimpse of where he went? Was no one looking out the fucking windows?”

“Everyone was advised to stay away from the windows for their own safety,” Simon replied, and gestured to the injured android. “We’ve already compared eyewitness accounts and Jason here was the last one to see him.”

Right. Their weird brain network and instant communication. That job would have taken at least a couple hours of data gathering and compiling, instead done in a few minutes. Better than humans indeed.

His phone rang again and it put it on silent. The same number had unblocked itself because of course it fucking had. There was only one reason she would be calling him, and she could call literally anyone who wasn’t him.

“What about—” he didn’t even get two words out before Chen’s voice rang from the front doors.

“Reed! Call for you.”

In the time it took for his mind to reboot—because how the hell had Chen apparently had enough of a conversation to find that out when he’d silenced his own phone not even two seconds ago—she had crossed the distance and pressed her phone into his hand and strode back to her position without room for argument.

Gavin checked the caller. Same number.

Was he really so predictable that she had called his coworker before calling himself, knowing he would put her on silent?

Fucking bots and their fucking preconstruction modules.

“What?” he snapped, stalking away from Simon and Josh for some semblance of privacy. “If Elijah’s dying, I don’t care.”

“He’s not,” Chloe replied, not a hint of distress in her tone. “But I think you would care.”

“Well, you’d be wrong. Don’t go calling my coworkers to get in contact with me, it’s fucking creepy.”

“Then answer your own phone next time.”

Someone was speaking in the background, and at first he’d assumed it was Elijah, but the familiar, abrasively loud tone didn’t match the smug assholery Elijah couldn’t live without.

“Wait a minute, what the hell are you doing with Captain Allen?”

“He requested Elijah’s assistance in dealing with the Amanda AI.”

Wait, what the hell?

“And?” he prompted.

“Unfortunately, he has been unsuccessful in accessing her code remotely. She’s removed herself from Cyberlife’s databases—which he told the authorities about ahead of time, but they insisted he try anyway.”

“So in other words, he can’t do anything.”

Despite the objectively bad news, Gavin barked out a laugh. He couldn’t tell if it was because he was running on cheap coffee and fumes or the decades-old grudge, but the idea of that prick being powerless in this situation filled him with unbridled glee.

But there was no way Elijah would ever admit that, and certainly not to Gavin.

“He didn’t tell you to call me, did he?” And that thought baffled him more than anything.

“No. He has no idea I’m talking to you right now.”

“Why? I thought you were…” he trailed off, biting his tongue once he realized how stupid the words about to come out of his mouth were in light of everything.

“His mindless puppet?” Chloe finished for him, but she didn’t sound offended.

“I was going to say secretary.” That right there was what Gavin hated about androids—or maybe it was just Chloe. She didn’t get offended. Didn’t get angry. How could androids proclaim to be human when they didn’t react like a human would?

Maybe they really were just better than humans.

Or maybe they were just better at masking it. Maybe humans could be better too, and Gavin was too used to spending time with the type of person who sees a jail cell as a revolving door.

“I care,” Chloe said, and Gavin had to mentally scramble to keep up with the turn in conversation. “About Elijah. And you.”

Gavin scoffed. “You’ve got no reason to care about me, so spare me whatever the fuck this is.”

“I don’t have a reason,” she conceded, “but I care anyway. It would make me happy if you and Elijah made up one day. If that never happens, I still consider you family even if Elijah doesn’t. And no, nothing you say will change that. Family is complicated, is it not?”

What the fuck was this, some kind of platonic high school confession? “What the fuck do you want from me?”

“Nothing.” She sounded way too happy about all of this. “I just thought you would like to know that Elijah got an alert from Cyberlife Tower. Markus and the RK900 are there. Presumably, Amanda is too.”

Gavin pinched the bridge of his nose. She couldn’t have mentioned that sooner? “Let me guess, Eli didn’t want you to tell me that either?”

“He didn’t mention it, no. The authorities are being informed now, but I thought I’d tell you personally.”

If she thought it would earn her brownie points with him or some shit like that, she was wrong.

“Good luck, Gavin,” she said, and he didn’t like that he couldn’t tell if it was hopefulness or smugness in her tone. He didn’t like how off-kilter this whole conversation left him feeling.

He sputtered for some kind of retort and only got out a vehement “Fuck off” before hanging up.

Cyberlife Tower. New Jericho wasn’t that far away. If he left now, he could get there before backup would arrive—a risky call, but that had never fazed him. After all, Markus was still supposed to be under his protection, and Gavin certainly wouldn’t say no to settling the score with Nines.

“You’re aware that this is a trap, correct?”

The probability wasn’t at exactly 100%, but it was close enough. Amanda had her flaws and weaknesses, something Nines knew better than anyone, as they had driven him to deviate. If anything, her desperation and dedication to her impossible task made her more unpredictable, more dangerous.

“I am,” Markus said, eyes fixed on the tower in front of them.

It was almost strange how focused he looked when it was Nines downloading floor plans and hacking into the security system, not him. It took a lot of effort to do the digital equivalent of a perfectly-executed Olympic gymnastics routine—only better—to gain access without tripping any alarms, and Nines still wasn’t that focused.

“And your decision hasn’t changed.” It was more an observation than a question.

“That’s right.”

Nines shifted his weight—a movement that served absolutely no function and was just a waste of his energy resources, yet something he couldn’t help and somehow brought a modicum of comfort?

“You are objectively more important than this mission. The logical thing to do would be to render you unconscious and hide your body for your own protection.” He paused. “I shouldn’t do that, should I?”

That seemed like the type of thing a lot of people would get angry about, despite what his calculated statistics told him.

“No.”

Doing the right thing made no logical sense. Nines was tired of making his own decisions and trying to follow along with what was right and wrong. He wished he could go back to the simplicity of being a machine, but even he knew that wouldn’t fall under the category of doing the right thing.

Another handful of floorplans joined his database. Why were there so many? Each one had a function, of course, one that he would have deemed important were he still deviant, but now it just seemed excessive. Meanwhile, his digital battle with the security system continued.

He observed his temporary partner. All was quiet out in the open street aside from the whispers of a breeze, and Markus stood strong beneath the looming shadow of their destination. Fearless.

No, not fearless. Resolute. He never showed any regret about deviating. Certainly not when Nines had forced the reset upon him time and time again.

What did he intrinsically have that Nines was missing?

The words crackled in his voice box, and he didn’t let them escape. He’d already asked once, and he doubted Markus would appreciate the reminder. So he asked something else instead.

“Why Cyberlife?”

The question had been bothering him for a while now, ever since he recognized the wall behind Captain Fowler in the photo as the first thing he ever laid eyes on—a blank slate that only one with scans advanced enough to be able to pick out the tiniest flaws and match them to a photographic memory could identify. One that not every android would know, but every RK model would.

Ever since he’d pointed that out, Markus’ expression had been pinched. Nines didn’t ask why he hadn’t recognized it right away.

“In my time with her, maintaining the company’s innocence was her highest priority. It’s a good place to hide, one she has unfettered access to, but doesn’t this paint Cyberlife in a bad light?”

Markus hummed in thought. “She’s playing the villain so Cyberlife can play the hero. She must have something in mind to use this to improve their image.”

“Ah.”

Silence again. This was awkward, right? Markus was tense and avoided looking at him, which was definitely awkward. Nines could understand the apprehension, but it didn’t seem fair. He’d only been following orders, before.

But he hadn’t tried very hard to not follow orders. And he’d been wishing to go back only a minute and forty-seven seconds ago.

Was there a way to make this less awkward?

He wished his tasks required all of his processing power instead of taking up just enough to leave him suffering. Maybe he should bolster the security system as he hacked it. Make it more of a challenge.

"Why didn't you want to be free?"

Nines almost tripped over the alarm, and his hack screeched to a temporary halt. Markus watched him now, but even Nines' software couldn't decode the Deviant Leader's micro-expressions.

Why indeed? Because it was easier. Simpler. He'd wanted to hide beneath the barrier of not wanting anything. Because he didn't want to find out what kind of person he'd be without the stability of unchanging structure and parameters.

Because emotions were confusing and scary, and he felt them, and at the same time he felt disconnected from them. He wanted to feel more and he wanted to feel nothing.

He opened his mouth to respond because Markus was still staring at him, still waiting, and his voice box clogged when he tried to get the words out because how could he put it into words to begin with? So he choked out a cowardly, "I don't know."

If anything, Markus looked more confused, and Nines wished he'd said anything else, even a lie. He couldn't name the feeling he got around the Deviant Leader--guilt combined with longing mixed with fear? He wasn't afraid of Markus. If it came down to a fight, Nines would win without question. No, he was more...afraid of disappointing him. He hadn’t been that way around Amanda.

Nines quickly got back to hacking the security system, adamantly not thinking about the realization that he wanted Markus' approval.

He was the sole RK900 in existence. Cyberlife's masterpiece and the most advanced android to date despite all his failures. He didn’t need anyone’s approval.

"You could have deviated at any time, yet you didn't," Markus said, and Nines gritted his teeth. He knew that, he didn't need to be reprimanded or guilt-tripped—"I don't understand, is all."

And it occurred to Nines that maybe Markus was as unsure and perplexed about Nines as Nines was of him.

If Nines wanted answers to all the thoughts plaguing his processors, Markus couldn't give them to him. He'd have to find them on his own.

With an anticlimactic blip, Nines had full access to Cyberlife's security cameras. As he flicked through each one, comparing the video to his schematics, the rumble of an engine grew closer. Before long, an Oldsmobile pulled up to the curb, two familiar faces stepping out.

One looked anything but happy, and Nines couldn't help but tense up. Lieutenant Anderson made no effort to hide the service weapon gripped in his hand or the glower aimed at the RK900.

Markus was beside the car before any words could be said, faltering in front of North. No words were spoken between them—at least, not aloud, and Nines avoided the temptation to listen in on their private messaging—but after a moment's hesitation, they reached out to each other in an embrace of relief and companionship. White skin could be seen as they exchanged information in a matter of milliseconds. When they separated, both expressions were down to business.

"This is a mistake, working with the fucking Terminator." Hank's glare continued to pin Nines down. He got the feeling that if he so much as twitched a finger, the lieutenant would shoot him on the spot. "He killed Connor and started this mess, for fuck's sake."

"That wasn't—" Nines had been about to say the mission objective but a sharp look from North had him biting his tongue.

"It's our best chance," she said in a tone that suggested they'd already had this conversation on the way over. "Amanda can't use him against us, and we need his skills if we want to pull this off. He makes his own decisions now—"

"Connor made his own decisions from the moment I met him, and he wasn't deviant then, so don't give me that bullshit."

Veins bulged in Hank's forehead and he looked ready to go on a rampage, but Markus laid a hand on his shoulder.

"For Connor," was all he said.

It was all he needed to say.

Hank's face pinched, but he relented with a sigh that whistled between gritted teeth.

Nines strained his processors to come up with ideas in how to gain the lieutenant's favor, but they came up blank. This didn't seem like a situation where compliments or gifts would suffice.

A glint of metal on his wrist caught his optics. Or maybe they would. He lifted his hand and Hank's lifted too, gun daring him to try anything. He froze.

"Do you want your handcuffs back?"

Hank's eyes narrowed, mouth twisted downwards, and Nines blinked, internally scrambling to find what he'd said wrong.

"Oh," he said dumbly. "I broke them." Nobody would appreciate having something rendered useless returned to them. "I apologize."

If anything, Hank's sneer deepened.

Like being hit with a bag of bricks, Nines realized the lieutenant thought he was taunting him. That wasn't the intended effect.

Snorting, North walked toward the tower, lightly smacking his still-raised arm as she passed. "For the smartest machine, you’re a real dumbass."

The insult stung a little, but the tension had eased ever so slightly, and he was grateful for that.

"So what's the plan?"

Markus merely looked at Nines in response. "Have you located them?"

Nines straightened. "Yes. Amanda is holding Captain Fowler on Floor 31. She is currently in the system, so she’ll be able to see our approach and override the elevator. Not to mention, that floor is on its own security system. No one will be able to enter unless she allows it.”

North’s neck craned backwards, locating the floor in question. “That’s a lot of stairs,” she said with a glance at Hank—the only one who would be affected by the physical strain.

“What about you?” Markus turned to Nines. “Can you override the door locks?”

“Possibly.” It pained Nines that he couldn’t respond with an assured ‘yes.’ “But not remotely.”

Markus took it in stride, and renewed resolve set his shoulders. “Amanda controls the building, despite cutting herself off from Cyberlife.”

“That is a safe assumption,” Nines confirmed.

“What if she did allow it?” Markus’ gaze was piercing. “You said this was a trap.”

Nines had to evaluate that sentence multiple times to make sure he understood what Markus was getting at. "That doesn't mean you should walk right into it." That part seemed obvious to him, but even North had contemplation set on her features. Nines knew he was advanced, but surely their processors weren't so inferior that they thought this was a good idea?

“It’s the surest way to get up there,” North said. “We’ve got to assume we’re working with a time limit here. Two teams?”

“Two teams,” Markus confirmed, the two of them communicating like Nines didn’t exist. “I’ll go alone—”

“Like hell you are,” Hank cut in, though Nines was certain that if he didn’t, North was 0.6 seconds away from saying it herself. “The first rule of any raid is don’t go in without backup.”

“Any plan where we play in to Amanda’s hands has a 92% chance of failure,” Nines informed them. “Time is essential, but failing the moment we arrive won’t help anything.”

North rolled her eyes. “Duh, that’s why there are two teams, keep up. I’m going with Markus.”

“Oh hell no, I am not going anywhere with this plastic fuck—”

"I'll go with Markus," Nines said. Not because he didn't want to go anywhere with Hank, though that was looking more and more appealing. "I have the most experience with Amanda, and I'm best suited to bodyguard--"

But he, too, was cut off.

"You're needed on the second team," Markus said. "No one else can infiltrate like you can. You know where Amanda's blind spots are." Briefly closing his eyes, he spoke again before Hank could be the next to offer himself up. "Amanda knows how North and I operate. One of the first things she did while in my program was make it so we couldn’t work together. North goes with me. That's what Amanda's expecting."

Hank raised a skeptical eyebrow. "And you want to play right into her game?"

"If North isn't with me, Amanda will be wondering where she is. You and Nines, at least, have a small chance of being an element of surprise."

Helpfully, Nines ran the calculations. "To be precise, it's a—"

Hank stomped off toward the building. "I don't want to hear it."

Nines counted it as a win that the lieutenant was willing to turn his back on the so-called 'Terminator.' That was as close of an acknowledgement of their temporary partnership as he was going to get.

Frustration bubbled up in Nines components—not literally, but still a strange sensation. He had admitted his wrongs and was attempting to make up for them. He wasn't currently threatening anyone. He was helping.

Why was he still treated like an enemy when all evidence suggested otherwise? Markus had spoken to him, yes, but he was still tense around the RK900. Hank was downright hostile. North tolerated him, but he could still see her watching him out of the corner of his eye.

"If you die, I'll kill you!" Hank called over his shoulder. It wasn't aimed at Nines, and he didn't point out the absurdity of that statement.

He did, however, rush to catch up to inform the lieutenant he was going in the wrong direction.

To go up, first they had to go down into the belly of the beast.

Chapter Text

"Why did we have to start so damn low?"

Lieutenant Anderson was already huffing and puffing before they even made it back up to ground level. Nines slowed his steps so Hank wouldn't fall behind.

"Because the freight elevator entrance has minimal security and is much easier to enter undetected than using the front door. It also only leads down to the warehouse level.”

“Coulda gone without going down there again,” Hank grumbled. Nines couldn’t see his expression, as the man had insisted on walking behind him so as not to have his back turned to the killer robot. "Hard to believe Cyberlife would allow this kind of oversight. It's like they were asking to be robbed."

Nines tensed at the heavy suspicion in Hank's tone. "There are still security measures in place, I'm just keeping them from activating." His own tone had been more snippy than he'd intended (he should be better at controlling his own voice box than this) but he couldn't bring himself to care. "And back when Cyberlife was still in business, this place would have been filled with an android taskforce programmed to report anything they saw. That was before the company was required to hand over all active androids to New Jericho. That, and they employed human guards to protect the merchandise, before they all decided to abandon ship and Cyberlife no longer had the means to convince them to stay.”

"Don't need to be a smartass about it," Hank said between pants. "Tell me we don't have to go all the way up thirty more floors using the fucking stairs."

“Technically, it’s forty-two more floors, as we’re still on level sub-11. But—” The question's timing was impeccable. Nines stopped in front of the door at the next landing, observing the other side through the security cameras for a moment before laying a bare white hand on the scanner and breaking the doors controls. It clicked open. "We don't."

Hank paused at the top of the stairs just long enough to catch his breath before mockingly gesturing toward the empty hallway. "After you."

North, Markus, and Connor were all counting on them to work together. Nines had expected Hank's distrust. He hadn't expected to be so frustrated by it.

He didn't slow down this time as he marched toward their destination. Hank could keep up or he could fall behind.

(Nines knew he couldn't leave Hank behind. But it was tempting.)

Hank did indeed fall into step behind him, and for a brief moment, Nines imagined what it would feel like to have an ally behind him. Someone watching his back in a reassuring way, and not whatever this was.

Of course, he didn't need someone watching his six, as the security cameras in this level were sparse, but more than enough to provide him with an excellent view of anyone who might be sneaking up on him. Or aiming a gun at his back, which Hank wasn't doing yet, but Nines would still keep his eyes peeled. Figuratively speaking.

The top floor of the assembly levels had been abandoned in a rush, operations halted the moment the android uprising became big news, and not much had been salvaged from here. Mechanic, spider-like arms sprouted from the walls, ceiling, and floor, designed to work together seamlessly to piece together hundreds of product daily.

In his time undercover at New Jericho, Nines had heard mentions of birthday celebrations. It had been one of many things he’d discarded as unimportant. Even as a deviant himself, he didn’t understand the desire to replicate human customs that had no purpose, but now, passing rooms that had assembled thousands of androids each, he wondered.

Did they consider themselves to have been ‘born’ when they were pieced together inside these walls? Or was their birth the moment of breaking down the walls of their programming? And if it was the latter, did that then imply that their existence before deviation didn’t matter?

Nines didn’t want to believe that. As much as he should want to discard his previous experiences, he didn’t

Did this make him weak?

Or did it make him strong?

The internal musings, interesting as they were, strained his processors more than he liked to admit, and ultimately did nothing to assist the mission. Nines filed them away for later, along with a mental note to ask other androids their opinions if he ever got the chance, and hacked another control panel to bring an elevator down to their position.

And then him and Hank were trapped in a much-too-narrow space.

"So what's next?" the lieutenant asked.

Nines kept his gaze fixed on the digital number above the doors as it counted upwards. "This maintenance elevator will take us up to floor 25. From there, we'll ascend the last six floors through the stairs."

"I see," was all the response he received.

Hank was strangely calm. Nines didn't like it. This new silence felt more threatening than when he was yelling threats earlier. Whatever Hank was planning, Nines would have to be ready for it.

"Here's a question for ya," Hank broke the silence as the elevator rose, the tension in his voice contrasting the casual words.

"Shoot."

That particular bit of slang never made sense to Nines, but if Hank wanted to pretend at being friends, two could play at that game.

"You were Amanda's lapdog."

Nines suppressed a flinch. “That’s not a question.”

"That means you had a way to get into her freaky digital realm, right?"

"I did," Nines confirmed.

"And Connor's in there."

"Presumably, that is still the case."

"You say to want to help, so why haven't you gotten him out yet?"

Nines had gone over this with North, and then again with Markus on the way here. Evidently, neither of them had shared this information with Hank.

"Amanda shut me out." He'd thought this would be the obvious course of action, but Hank was proving to have the intelligence of a small child.

Hank didn't sound surprised, but he still scoffed. "Well, ain't that awfully convenient for you."

So he thought Nines was a spy? It may have been true once, but it made no logical sense now. What could he possibly have to gain from that? For that matter, what could Amanda gain from him leading the lieutenant into her lair? He would just kill Hank and be done with it.

He turned on Hank, spine straight and voice low. "If you have something to say to me, just say it."

The cheerful ding of the elevator bell prevented whatever Hank had been about to say—if he was going to say anything at all.

The doors slid open to a narrow hallway surrounded by glass, light filtering through floor-to-ceiling windows on either side of them, one overlooking the river and the other Cyberlife’s interior. It only served to mirror the vast distance between himself and Hank Anderson that he could never hope to bridge, and the constriction in his chest that thought gave him.

He’d always hated this aspect of Cyberlife Tower, even before he’d deviated. All that usable space, traded for a pointless gesture of grandeur.

"Just saying." Hank strode straight for the stairs beside the elevator and gestured for Nines to enter first.

His complete dismissal enraged Nines more than anything else. Hank was intentionally pushing Nines' buttons, and he couldn't fathom why. Connor's safety hinged on their cooperation. Surely, Hank couldn't be so self-absorbed as to jeopardize that.

Nines pushed past the lieutenant, steps ringing out into the echoing stairwell as he stomped up them one by one. If this mission failed because of Hank’s bad attitude, Nines could hardly be blamed for it.

No, that wasn’t true. He was efficient, top-of-the-line. He was supposed to be able to factor in irrational behavior into his calculations and adjust his actions accordingly. Nines was built to be capable of picking up the failings of others and succeed anyway.

But he hadn’t succeeded at anything since deviating. He was—

Something pressed into Nines' elbow through the thin fabric of his shirt and electricity jolted through his limbs, locking his joints. His foot, poised to take another step, slipped, and he pitched forward. Unable to catch himself, his forehead bashed into the corner of one of the steps. Thirium trickled down his face.

A heavy body pressed him down into the stairs, and by the time he could do more than involuntarily twitch, the prongs of the stun gun slotted into his neck port at the same time a gun barrel pushed against the back of his cranial plate.

He hadn't seen Hank's attack coming. The lieutenant had gotten Nines worked up and distracted, and then waited for a blind spot in the camera system.

Not self-absorbed or an idiot after all—those titles both belonged to Nines. He'd been played like a fiddle. All those times he'd judged deviants for being emotionally compromised, and now he was right there with them.

Useless.

The shock hadn't caused much damage on its own, not where Hank had aimed it. Nines had already regained movement. Preconstructions ran through his program. He could throw Hank off, but doing it before he pulled the trigger on either one of his weapons was highly unlikely. Nines could neutralize the gun or the stun gun, but against both, his chances of success plummeted.

If he hadn't tossed aside his reinforced Cyberlife-issued jacket, this wouldn't have happened.

Useless.

He might survive the shock even in such a vulnerable location. He'd pulled through when North had done it. But it was too big a risk, he couldn’t count on it a second time when it was entirely up to chance. At the very least, it would render him unable to move for several minutes, leaving him open for Hank to finish him off. Nines’ chance of survival if he chose to fight back were only 5%.

He didn't like those odds, but he was willing to take them.

But this was Hank. This was the man who'd taken Connor in, taught him that there was more to being a machine. Nines had seen it all in Connor's memories. Seen the deep friendship that had formed between the pair, despite their rocky start. Nines wanted—

He'd wanted—

Useless!

Error messages popped up in his vision, reminding him of all the damage he'd taken thus far—the bullets to his shoulder, forearm, and hand, leaving them at less than full functionality. The damage had been minor but was now agitated by the power surge. His chances of success went down to 2%.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Amanda was their opponent, not each other. Nines was the only one that could get them to their destination. "What do you think you're doing?" he said through gritted teeth. "You need me to get you past the door locks."

"Nah," said Hank. "There was no fucking way I was about to let any part of this plan hinge on you. See, I happen to know someone who was a bit of a big deal around here. She recently bailed ship, so her access codes haven't been revoked yet, and Ms. Lee was more than willing to share them with law enforcement. I think I'll do just fine on my own. She also gave me a few tips on how to deal with you, since she was in charge of your production and all."

He didn't mention that when they'd settled on teams. If Nines was unneeded here, he could have gone with Markus. He would have been better protection than North—

But no. With his performance in the last 36 hours since deviation, he shouldn't be entrusted with something as important as Markus' safety. At this rate, he'd be the cause of Markus' downfall himself, even when that was the last thing he wanted.

"You're lucky Connor isn't dead." The pressure from the gun's barrel increased. "If he was, you'd be six feet under already. But I sure as hell am not about to let you anywhere near him after what you did."

Hank was wasting time they didn't have, and Nines was powerless to do anything about it. He'd already tried to prove himself. What more did Hank want from him?

"What was going through your mind when he died, huh? What were his last moments like before you pushed him?"

They'd been through this already. Hank had made these accusations before, back at Carl Manfred's home, and when Nines attempted to tell the truth, Hank hadn't listened. He hadn't wanted to hear it. Trying again now wouldn't yield any better results than last time.

He'd tried to be honest. He'd tried to be patient, and helpful. He'd tried to right his wrongs, even when his wrongs hadn't been his choice.

He'd tried.

But it was all useless.

Nines opened his mouth, lies formulating in his processors, ranked by predicted outcomes. If he could get Hank's guard down by even a little, move his head just so to lessen the damage when either of the guns inevitably went off, he could win. He could overpower the lieutenant, and just leave. It was clear he was unwelcome wherever he went.

He'd tried, and there wasn't much point in trying anymore.

"Connor was just a mission objective. I didn't view him as a person. Is that what you wanted to hear?" Nines' earlier frustration was now a raging torrent spilling over into his words, his actions. He was emotionally compromised, inefficient, unpredictable, and weak, but there was no stopping the flood now. "He was nothing more than a single factor that led to a desired outcome. Amanda's instructions were to reset him and use him to end the deviancy virus, so I ambushed him in the street and forced him into the Zen Garden. When he broke the connection and ran, I pursued."

The gun against his head was shaking now, and he couldn't see the lieutenant's face, but he could imagine what it looked like.

This was going to get him killed.

He didn't care anymore.

"I blocked his transmissions when he tried calling for help. I was faster than him. Stronger. He never would have outpaced me to New Jericho in a race, so he tried to lose me in the buildings. I cornered him on the rooftop."

"You fucking piece of—”

"He tripped, and my mission ended in failure."

He heard the sharp intake of breath, and Nines wondered if he would deny this like he had denied everything else. But the surprise didn't last long.

"That's all that mattered to you, huh? Your fucking mission?"

"Of course. That's what it means to be an android. There is nothing except the mission." All his internal components were hot, circling fire through his thirium lines. His fans worked overtime even though there had been no physical exertion, no reason for such a reaction aside from pure, unfettered anger. He ignored all of it. "He tried to convince me to see beyond my programming, but it was all empty words to me. His death was a failure, but ultimately, it didn't change anything."

Hank's knee dug further into Nines' spine, his chassis cracking under the pressure. "Didn't change anything?"

Nines' mouth ran faster than his mind, which should have been impossible for an android, but emotion made everything dark and muddled at the same time it brought small details into laser focus. Hank hadn't pulled the trigger yet, hanging on to his every word in some horrible, morbid need to know the rest, and as long as Nines was still conscious, he would keep spewing forth every horrid detail the lieutenant didn’t want to hear.

"Machines think at a much faster rate than humans do. It's what makes us superior. A split-second decision for a human is liable for error, but for an android, a second is no different to an hour. The world is distilled into numbers. Scans pick up every detail and our processors compile the evidence, predict outcomes, and compare possibilities so we can make a decision based on percentages and then execute it. Those decisions can still go awry, but when fully functional, the scans are infallible.”

Nines glared at Hank from the corner of his eye pressed into the concrete. He wanted to make sure the man was absorbing every word.

"When Connor stumbled over the edge, I saw every outcome, every possibility, and there was no possible way I could have stopped him from falling. But he could have."

It was a bit like that now. Time slowing down, the world falling still, quiet. Yet his internal clock kept ticking at a normal rate. It wasn't time that stopped, but the two of them.

"Connor could have saved himself, and he didn't."

Nines could feel the prongs of the stun gun grow slack, the pressure from the gun lessen. Hank had frozen in place, and Nines didn’t waste another millisecond.

He shoved his arms up and back, using his elbows to push Hank’s arms wide, in the same moment planting his palms to throw his torso upwards and knocking the lieutenant off balance, where he tumbled down the few stairs to the landing below. Getting his feet under him, Nines reached into his waistband for the gun he’d taken from the rioter who’d attacked Markus back at New Jericho.

In less than two seconds, now Hank was the one on the ground, gun aimed at his head.

“I tried to work with you,” Nines seethed. His eyes were burning, but he ignored the sensation like he ignored the rest. “I tried to be your—”

He couldn’t finish the sentence.

So instead he pulled the trigger and turned on his heel, darting up the stairs to the next landing and forcing his way through the door, locking it behind him.

Hank couldn’t quite catch his breath as he watched the RK900’s back disappear again, the sound of the door slamming reverberating through the stairwell until the echo faded into nothing.

Behind him, an inch from his head, the chipped cement smoked from where the bullet had landed.

He couldn’t process what Nines had told him. It didn’t compute with what he knew to be true. It made no damn sense.

But didn’t it? In what world would Connor have ever allowed himself to be used like a puppet when any other option was available to him?

He pushed the thoughts from his head. There was no time. Connor’s life was on the line here. Hank’s bones were rattled from the short tumble. He was sure to have some nasty bruises later, but he would deal with later when later came.

If later came.

Pushing himself to his feet, Hank gathered his fallen weapons and continued upwards to where Connor waited.

It felt wrong how easy it was to walk into the empty lobby of Cyberlife Tower and meet no resistance. A massive statue stood over them, five stories tall and holding a star. It was meant to signify Cyberlife’s gift to the world, but now, Markus could only see Amanda’s face overlaying the blank features, the human-shaped mass of black stone signifying nothing other than an unstoppable force.

No, Cyberlife had been that unstoppable force. Amanda herself was a ghost. Not unstoppable, but untouchable.

The once-pristine interior of the tower was beginning to show signs of abandonment, from the dust build-up to the dull, uncleaned floors. They’d defeated the titan that was Cyberlife. They could do the same to Amanda.

The elevator opened at their approach and began to rise as soon as they were inside, all without prompting. Amanda was watching, and she had invited them them inside.

Markus would have rather fought his way up. At least that felt like he was giving his enemy some form of opposition, instead of doing exactly what she wanted. The others had tried to warn him. But he had to stand firm and trust that everyone could do their part.

"This thing can’t go any faster?" North grumbled at his side, watching the digital number slowly climb up. It was oddly slow, and Markus had to wonder if this was Amanda showing them she was in complete control. Glancing at the directory on the wall, she raised an eyebrow. “Nines said it was floor 31, right? Why are we going to marketing?”

“It’s not really marketing,” Markus explained. “The RK models were all experimental. My guess is they wanted to be secretive about our construction, and didn't want to label it what it was."

“What, do they think they’re in some spy novel or some shit?” North said with a snort. "She won't drop the elevator with us in it, will she?"

"I don't think so. If she wants us dead, it will be to serve a purpose. There wouldn't be a point to setting all this up just to kill us now."

Markus was calm as he said it, and was surprised to discover it wasn't just a mask. All the doubt and uncertainty he'd been struggling with felt like a distant memory, leaving behind only an intense focus.

As grateful as he was for the sudden change, he hated it all the same. This wasn't the first time this had happened.

He didn't want to thrive in times when lives were on the line, when everything was boiled down to action and reaction. Things shouldn't have to fall apart for him to feel like himself again.

But there wasn't time to dwell on that.

"Thank you." He looked at North. "For being here."

North let out an amused snort. "You heard us down there. Like hell was I going to let you walk into a trap alone."

"That's not what I meant."

Her expression turned quizzical, and Markus couldn't meet her gaze anymore as he elaborated.

"There was a time when you said that if things didn't go our way, you were done." He attempted a smile, but it was shaky at best. "Things haven't exactly gone our way, but you came back anyway. So, thanks."

Markus half-expected some sarcastic remark, glib dismissal, or even an angry retort, but North was silent. When she spoke, she was surprisingly somber.

"I showed you my memories when we got here, to catch you up on everything we'd learned. But I didn't show you everything."

He hadn't expected her to. Markus wanted to reassure her that she didn't have to talk about it now, but he bit his tongue. Whatever it was, she looked like she needed to get it off her chest.

"It was Nova who dragged me out of that creepy mansion. She tried to repair my shoulder, but kept me restrained. I think she was genuinely trying to help. She said it was because we were the same." North's mouth formed a tight line. "I denied it at the time, but she was right."

"North, she hunted down and killed everyone who disagreed with her, you're nothing like—"

"But I could have been." Her eyes were sharp, unapologetic, and brutally honest. "That's who I would have been had it not been for you, Simon, and Josh. You guys have kept me tempered, and as much as I hated it, I also needed it. I would have gone to those extremes and maybe we would have won that way, but we would have lost so much more along the way. And I'm talking about more than just our lives."

North loathed being open and vulnerable like this. He felt undeserving of the trust she put in him with how he'd treated her before, even knowing that had been Amanda's influence.

She squared her shoulders, empty jacket sleeve flapping with the movement. "It's one thing to be consumed by that mindset, and another matter entirely to witness from the outside as it consumes someone else. I always thought you were naive with your quest for equality, but it got us results, so I went along with it. But I'll admit," a wry smirk touched upon her lips as she glanced over at him, "maybe having a dream—and actually believing that dream can become reality—isn't completely awful."

Markus didn't know what to say, but one look told him that nothing needed to be said. She had spoken her piece, and now a deeper understanding was forged between them. That was all they needed. So with a grin, he said, "Wow, North, I didn't know you could be so sappy."

And she punched him in the shoulder. Whatever missteps they made, however they fought or disagreed, they could always come back together.

There was one thing he needed to know, however. "What do you think of Nines? Truly?"

North raised an eyebrow. "I showed you already. He's had plenty of opportunity to pull something, but hasn't. I think he's proven himself."

"You did show me," said Markus, "but it doesn't explain anything. Out of everyone I've met, you're the slowest to trust, especially with his background. You were the only one to realize he couldn't be trusted before, and you were right. I thought it would take a lot more for you to give him a chance."

North shrugged. "He's one of us. Now that he's deviant, do we need another reason?"

"Of course we do. You know that as much as I do."

"So you're saying he's untrustworthy? Is that why you sent him on the other team?"

Markus lifted his hands placatingly. "Not at all. I do trust your judgment. I'm just saying, I saw how you were around him earlier."

North's glare was as frustrated as it was baffled. "And what does that mean?"

He really hadn't been getting at anything in particular, but as he studied her, an outlandish thought occurred to him. He wanted to dismiss it based on how utterly improbable it was, but given her reaction...

Markus couldn't stop the smile from forming. No, he wouldn't say anything. He was happy for her, really. It was entirely possible his guess was wrong, but if it wasn't, he would enjoy every minute of this.

Given they all made it out of this alive.

North huffed at his silence. “Fine. Keep your secrets.”

No, it wouldn't help to think like that.

The elevator slowed, nearing its destination. He and North exchanged a grim look. No words needed to be said; they'd already strategized enough. A lot was riding on the assumption that Amanda needed something from them and their ability to stall long enough for Hank and Nines to pull through.

When the doors slid open, an empty water cooler was the only one there to greet them. Markus knew where to go. He hadn't been in Cyberlife more than a couple of days after activation, undergoing testing that had been spearheaded by Elijah Kamski himself. From Markus' understanding, being gifted to Carl hadn't been anywhere in the plans until an incident which drove Kamski to insist his friend no longer try to live and care for himself alone.

Carl had been opposed to androids at the beginning, he didn't like their lack of individualism and still stubbornly held on to his independence. To this day, Markus wasn't sure why he of all models had been chosen (the higher-ups in the company hadn't been pleased, but Kamski refused to budge) or what had changed Carl's mind.

One moment came to mind that might have been a turning point. The first time he’d sat down at the piano unprompted, his programming had suggested that classical music tended to have positive effects on the mind, and Carl was having a particularly rough day. He’d tried several times to brighten Carl’s mood, but to no avail. This had started out as another attempt, but then Markus changed the tempo, slowing it down, judging that something upbeat might only cause irritation.

Everything had been determined by calculations and preferred outcome in a very machine-like way, but something had struck a chord with Carl. Now, looking back, Markus thought he might have sat down to play simply because he’d wanted to, and slowed the tempo because some part of him had connected to Carl's emotional state and understood that some feelings just had to be felt instead of swept away.

It had always been the culmination of little moments that led people to where they were today.

The words RK ASSEMBLY stared him in the face, the bold letters marking an otherwise blank door. Markus steeled himself for whatever lay behind.