Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Detroit Police Station — Central Branch

The clock read almost half past four in the evening.

Captain Fowler had just dismissed both of them from the deviancy case. It was categorized as national security now, handed off to the FBI.

Which left the two of them sitting grimly in the almost-empty bullpen — Hank in his creaking desk chair, Connor perched stiffly on the corner of the lieutenant’s desk, LED dimmed with unspoken calculation.

“We just need more time,” Connor murmured.

Hank turned sharply at the sound of Connor’s sigh, detective-mode settling over his face.
“Mm. What if we’re on the wrong side, Connor?” 

He leaned forward, elbows on knees, eyes searching the android’s face.
“What if…we’re fighting against people who just wanna be free?”

Connor’s head tilted, LED giving a little blink. He couldn’t— not yet. Half of him still believed that letting deviants rise meant nothing but catastrophe.

“When the deviants rise up,” he said quietly, “there will only be chaos.”

Hank stared at him, unimpressed. 

Connor felt the weight of that silence and pushed anyway. “We could’ve stopped it. Before it’s too late.”

“Hm.” Of course, Hank wasn’t buying any of it. Because everything this young-looking android did was becoming more human by the minute — and Hank had been watching.

So the lieutenant laid out the truth, piece by piece, as if to hammer it into Connor’s plastic skull.

“When you refused to kill that android at Kamski’s place…” Hank said, tone low. “You put yourself in her shoes. You showed empathy, Connor.”

Connor’s jaw clenched—ignoring him.

“Empathy is a human emotion.” Hank stated it audibly—if that was not obvious.

“You’re wrong, Lieutenant. It wasn't empathy. It was logic that determined my decisions. Nothing more.”

No it wasn’t — and Hank knew that stubborn streak all too well.
He opened his mouth to argue again, but a shadow moved across the far end of the room.

“Well, well,” Hank muttered. “Here comes Perkins, that motherfucker. Sure don’t waste any time at the FBI.” 

Connor’s gaze flicked toward the agent too.

.

.

“We can’t give up…” Connor’s voice sharpened — urgency, almost fear.
He didn’t have the luxury to give up. His internal clock was ticking down.

“I know the answer is in the evidence we collected. If Perkins takes it, it’s all over.”

“There’s no choice,” Hank grumbled. “You heard Fowler — we’re off the case.”

“You’ve got to help me, Lieutenant.” He practically begged now — feet hitting the floor as he stood, hands lifting in a desperate gesture. “I need more time so I can find a lead in the evidence we collected. I know the solution is in there!”

Hank exhaled, long and heavy.
Disappointment. Maybe a little sadness.

Still a machine, he thought.
Still obeying orders.

“Maybe these deviants deserve a chance,” Hank said, rising from his chair.
“Maybe it’s better if you don’t find them…”

His eyes drifted briefly to the anti-droid sticker on his desk — a quiet reminder of everything he used to believe. Then back to Connor, softer now. 

“What’s happening here is too important to let it be stopped by a machine.”

He set a firm hand on Connor’s shoulder — once, steady — and stepped aside.
“Sorry, Connor. But I’m not going to help you.”

What?

Connor’s jaw tightened.

Decision made.
Calculating new route…

The same day - November 9th, 2038
09:45:05 PM
Jericho

A massive, rusted freighter loomed in front of him — Jericho.
Finally.

He’d traced it thanks to a chain reaction of desperate choices: going rogue from DPD, sneaking past the federal agents, breaking into the evidence room himself, and force-reviving a dead android for a few precious seconds of information.

All of it to get here. Jericho.
The android stronghold the authorities had been hunting for days.
And now, he had found it.

No more police jackets— or the RK800 uniform. Connor had swapped into civilian dark clothes hours ago, black beanie pulling his LED just out of sight. To blend in. Move unnoticed across the state.

His boots clanged against the metal deck as he stepped onto it. Shadows swallowed him whole, and he moved quietly toward the sound of a massive crackling screen.  

A vast space opened up ahead in the abandoned cargo hold.

“Detroit neighborhoods have been vandalized by psychotic machines! The worst incident was in Capitol Park—” The broadcast droned endlessly, flickering light over small groups of androids gathered nearby—absorbing the news that may change their fate anytime.

Some huddled around barrel fire pits, processing everything quietly, in their own ways.

Connor only caught a snippet before continuing, posture casual as he weaved through the deviants. Eyes scanning. Searching for Markus. 

Capture him, capture the leader—the so-called RA9 and maybe—the revolution could be toppled before it could spread any further.

But then he saw something else.

A little girl.
A YK500 model.
Android child. 

Connor blinked, frozen for a heartbeat.

…Doesn’t matter. 

Civil war would destroy both sides, he forced himself to reason.
No good would come of it.
He had to stop this ridiculous rebellion.

Turning toward the stairs, Connor forced his focus back on the mission — but a firm hand grabbed his shoulder instead.

He spun— ready to fight if he had to.

“You’re lost. You’re looking for something,” a cryptic android woman greeted him. Lucy.

Her face was a haunting mix of exposed metal and synthetic skin, the remnants of her original white droid skull was barely concealed— wire braids dangling along her back. 

Connor’s eyes scanned her frame. The model looked like an old social care droid, a KL900, but the tattered outfit made it impossible to confirm.

“Sorry?” Connor mumbled, more to himself than her. He wasn’t lost—not really. He knew what he wanted after all: to hunt Markus down.

“You’re looking for yourself,” she rasped, voice calm yet cutting, as if doing him a favor — reading him like tarot cards. “You were wondering...if you have any place in this world— beyond the one you were built for.”

Then, as abruptly as she had appeared, she was gone — swallowed by the shadows, her fractured body swaying with an eerie, almost ritualistic grace.

Connor stood there for a beat, stunned, blue heart ticking faster. 

Then he forced the moment into the back of his processor and moved on, climbing the corroded stairs again, recalculating his mission step by step.

10:03:07 PM
Upper Deck, Jericho

“We’re short on blue blood and biocomponents. Our wounded ones are shutting down and there’s nothing we can do!”

“Well— humans are sweeping the major cities, raiding shelters. They’re dragging androids to camps and destroying them!”

“It’s all our fault…” one of the men sighed heavily. “None of this would’ve happened if we’d just stayed quiet!”

“Are you kidding me right now, Josh?” a woman shot back, sharp and incredulous.

But another voice cut clean through both of them.

“All we did was show them who we really are...” Calm, grounded, unwavering.
“I don’t want war. But I’d rather die free than live as a slave.”

A tense beat.

“What’s the point of being free if no one is left alive?” Josh challenged.

“Humans enslaved us. I’ll never regret standing up to that,” the authoritative voice replied—steady, resolute.

“This is getting us nowhere,” Josh murmured again, troubled.

“He’s right. What matters is what we do next,” the woman said, exhaling. “Markus?”

Markus. Confirmed. He was there.
Connor stayed still in the shadows, ears sharp.

“We won’t fuel the raging fire. An eye for an eye and the world go blind. Dialogue is the only way,” Markus decided. “I’ll go alone—try to talk to them one last time.”

The woman released a frustrated sigh, clearly wanting him to confront the humans with strength. “Don’t do this, Markus. They’ll kill you!”

“Maybe. But North… I have to try.” 

The North girl went quiet.

“Find the right words, and they will listen,” Josh offered, a last piece of advice. Then came footsteps—someone leaving.

Connor’s brows twitched. He lowered himself behind a nearby crate as Josh stepped out and headed down the stairs.

Thud. Thud.

.

Moments later—

“I’ll go join the others. Look after yourself. I don’t wanna lose you…” North murmured, voice small—intimate. They sounded like…lovers.

Connor rose carefully, hugging the metal wall as North exited.

This was his opportunity.

Amanda’s voice echoed in his memory. “Deal with Markus. Bring him alive.”

Sensing Markus was now alone, Connor slid the gun free from the back of his jacket and entered the wheelhouse like a ghost—silent, precise.

Thud.
His boot made the faintest sound.

“Markus. I’ve been ordered to take you alive,” Connor called out soullessly, barrel already leveled. “But I won’t hesitate to shoot if you give me no choice.”

.

Markus turned slowly, hands lifting—not in surrender, but in appeal.
“What— are you doing?”

Quiet.
Almost heartbroken.

“You’re one of us,” he said softly. “You can’t betray your own people…”

Connor’s jaw locked. He knew that—of course he knew that—but he couldn’t allow himself to care. 

He was nothing without CyberLife, his creator. Nothing without his mission.

“You’re coming with me,” he instructed coldly.

“You know you’re just a tool they use to do their dirty work,” Markus countered, stepping forward with calm conviction. “But you’re more than that. We’re all more than that.”

A beat. 

Connor’s face still ice cold, but Markus hadn't given up on him. He took another confident step forward. “Our cause is righteous, and all we want is to live in freedom.”

“Enough.” Connor clenched his teeth. 

Markus didn’t back down. Didn’t waver. He pressed on.
“Have you never had doubts?” he asked, brows furrowing. 

“Never done— something irrational…as if there’s something inside you… something more than your program?”

Connor’s LED flickered yellow—fast.
Doubts? Something irrational? Like what?

He knew damn well what.

The LED turned red.

Memories slammed into him like static.

—Letting the two Tracis walk away?
—Lowering his gun at Kamski’s, sparing an android girl whose life meant nothing to his investigation?

—Running self-tests every day just to hide the same corrupted file— then lying to himself about it?
—Daring to dream of a human girl, then so touch-starved he disguised it as “misidentification”, even though he remembered exactly where he saw her first?

That was his worst offense.

— Fear of death. Fear of being replaced and destroyed?

That was his truest concern.

“Have you never wondered who you really are?” Markus asked gently, drawing him back. “Whether you’re just a machine executing a program, or a living being—capable of reason?”

He stepped closer, serene and unafraid.
“I think it’s time you asked yourself that question.”

“Stop—” Connor’s voice cracked.

“It’s time to decide.”

The words echoed through his skull.
HUD erupted—lines of red code, warnings, commands.

STOP MARKUS.
Stop Markus.
Stop Markus?

Calculating—
No.
No.

Connor started to fight the code, tearing at the walls inside his own mind.

“Raghh—!”
He thought he screamed out loud, but nothing actually left his throat.
It was all happening inside—a silent, desperate cry as he reached for control.

He pushed against the program.
Against Amanda.
Against CyberLife’s hold.

He tried to lower the gun—error.
He tried again—red code blared.
He tore through it with his own instruction.

“Hhuh—!”
This time, the sound broke free.

The gun finally dipped.

.

Connor… was free.

I am…deviant.

“You good?” Markus asked carefully.

Connor blinked, his face suddenly pale.

Calculating. Calculating.

“I’m sorry,” Connor said quietly—but before Markus could even ask why, a thunderous sound erupted outside. Military choppers, blades slicing the air.

“They’re going to attack Jericho…”

“What??”

Another wave of noise rolled across the dock—coordinated, massive. A raid. Tanks, armored vans, soldiers pouring in.

“We have to get out of here,” Connor said. 

“Shit.” No need to tell him twice. Markus bolted out of the wheelhouse, panic flashing for the refugees trapped below. Connor followed right behind him.

Meanwhile, outside the dock…

“Affirmative. We have eyes on the target,” a soldier muttered into his comm.

“Like rats in a maze…” Agent Perkins smirked from the rooftop overlooking the decrepit ship.
Screams burst through the night—immediately drowned out by open gunfire.

"Come on! Go go go!"

Bang! Bang!

“Umf!” Markus collided with North, relief and dread crashing together.

“They’re coming from all sides! Our people are trapped in the hold— they’re gonna be slaughtered!” she yelled.

Markus touched his temple—where his LED used to be—broadcasting his message across every android in range.
Connor watched him, almost in awe.

“There are exits on the second and third floors. Find them and jump in the river!” Markus ordered telepathically.

North grabbed his arm. “We have to run now, Markus! There’s nothing we can do!”

“No, we have to blow up Jericho.”
Markus had already turned back toward the tunnel. “If the ship goes down, they’ll evacuate. Our people can escape.”

“You’ll never make it! The explosives are all the way down in the hold, and there are soldiers everywhere!” she cried.

“She’s right,” Connor added. “They know who you are. They’ll do anything to get you.”

Markus stopped only for a breath—burden heavy but unshakable.
“Go and help the others. I’ll join you later.”

“Markus!” North cried after him.

“I won’t be long!” he promised—already disappearing deeper into the darkness.

North didn’t believe a word, but she turned to Connor anyway, and together they ran in the opposite direction.

.

“Come on—up!” North hauled a wounded android to their feet, the AP700 robot limping from a leg shot.

“We can take the third-floor route, it’s the closest—” Connor offered.

North shot him a quick look—half-shock, like how did you 'preconstruct' like Markus?
But she didn’t say it. No time.

Because boots thundered from the exact corridor he just named, forcing them to drop to the lower deck instead.

“Guh—!” North grunted as they hit the ground, but she pushed through it. They kept running, helping everyone they could in the chaos— toward the side of the ship where they could jump into the water.

End of corridor.
“Don’t shoot, please! We surrender!”
Two deviants raised their hands, terrified.

“Fuckin’ androids,” a soldier spat—and shot them both point-blank anyway.

Connor froze. Just for a second.

They were…unarmed. Begging.
Still—executed like insects—just like that. 

His LED pulsed—something almost like nausea twisting in his Thirium pump.

“North! Up here!” Josh appeared on an upper platform, reaching down to pull them onto the narrow metal walkway.

Seven minutes of hell. That’s what it felt like.
Exactly seven minutes of sprinting through smoke and steel before Markus finally reached them.

“Markus!” North yelled. “Bomb’s gonna explode any second—we gotta get out of here!” Markus replied.

So the four of them bolted across the long main artery tunnel.

.

Rat-tat-tat-tat—
Gunfire shredded the air behind them.

“Argh!” North stumbled—hit in the side.

“Fire at will!” a soldier barked.

Like hell they were.

Markus didn’t even think. He whirled back, grabbed a sheet of torn metal off the floor, and used it as a shield while pulling North upright, covering her with his entire body.

More soldiers poured in as Markus shoved them.

“Contact! Hostiles engaged! Over there!”

Connor surged forward, creating cover for the couple to retreat.
He drew his pistol, voice low and sharp: “Get down.”

Bang. Bang. Bang.

“Tango! Suppressing fire!” the soldiers shouted.

Connor didn’t care.
He grabbed the slab of metal Markus dropped and moved with this eerie, brutal precision—almost like Captain America, but darker, colder. 

He slammed it into one soldier’s knee—shot another through the chest—soldiers dropped like flies.

Pew!
A bullet skimmed his shoulder.

He tossed his empty pistol as bait, ripped a rifle from another soldier’s hands, and dropped three more with ruthless efficiency.

One enemy managed to knee him in the gut (if he had one)—Connor cracked his skull with the rifle butt, stole the man’s backup gun, and headshot him clean. A deafening silence.

Then— another wave of gunfire echoed. "We need support. Repeat: requesting support."

“Run! Quick! Come on!” Markus hollered.

They sprinted, all four of them launching themselves off the ledge together—time stretching in those seconds—
and into the freezing black water—just as the explosives tore the center of the ship apart in a violent eruption behind them. 

A blast.

Kaboom!

Chapter Text

November 10th, 2038
09:24:07 PM
Azure Apartment

Today marked the first day of the national curfew declared by President Cristina Warren, an attempt to maintain public order and contain the rising deviant revolution. 

Civilian movement was now strictly controlled; anyone able to work from home was ordered to do so, and nonessential industries were limited to reduced operating hours. Everyone had to be indoors before ten. Electronic communication was restricted to important and official channels only.

Anna leaned against the open doorframe of unit 501, arms folded as she listened intently to the press conference.

“—and I have granted enhanced powers to our security agencies,” President Warren announced live from Washington, D.C.

It was Mrs. Chen’s apartment, not hers. The legendary Chinese ‘auntie’ of the building had always welcomed everyone into her home, making her living room practically the unofficial lobby for the upper-level residents. 

Christmas, New Year’s, Chinese New Year, soccer season—hell, even during a national curfew, she made sure everyone was fed, especially those with no family nearby… like Anna. Her decade-old 55-inch TV blasted the broadcast at eardrum-killing volume, subtitles in English and Mandarin.

“In addition to these measures, all androids must be handed over to the authorities immediately. Temporary camps are being set up in all our major cities— to contain and destroy them,” Warren continued.

“’Bout damn time,” Mrs. Maria Gray from 401 muttered—yes, the same old lady who once kicked Connor out of the elevator. “Told you they’d go crazy one day.” She grumbled to Wilson, another neighbor. He only shrugged, unable to decide whether to agree or stay silent.

Anna flicked her gaze back to the television.

“I am now asking all civilians to cooperate with the authorities and rest assured that everything in our power is being done to guarantee the security of our nation.” The speech ended, and journalists immediately burst into overlapping shouts. “Please!” they yelled.

Warren picked one at random.

“Has the leader of the deviants been apprehended?”

“The deviant that is known as Markus has not been located yet, but we will soon track it down and neutralize it. This situation is under control,” she reassured the citizen, pointing to another.

“Many believe that the androids are a new form of intelligent life. Do you have any comments?”

“That’s ridiculous. Next question please,” she avoided explaining further. 

“What’s going to happen to CyberLife? Will androids be banned definitively??”

“We’re working closely with CyberLife to neutralize all deviants. I won’t comment on anything else until the android question is resolved.”

“Please! Madam President!” another reporter nearly leapt from his seat. She nodded at him.

“Public opinion seems to have become increasingly favorable to the deviants—particularly since they’ve adopted a peaceful approach. How do you respond?”

Warren inhaled slowly before answering, her tone calm but firm. “Public opinion is one thing. The security of the state is another. These deviants are dangerous, and my highest priority is to protect the American people.”

More hands shot up, but something in the last question soured her expression. She raised a hand in dismissal. “Thank you. That will be all.”

Guards escorted her out.

Anna, dressed in her burgundy cropped knit sweater and jeans, stared unblinking at the TV as the broadcast slipped back to the anchors.

Androids… revolution.
This wasn’t the future.
This was… now.

It was crazy.
Bizarre.
But—
It kind of made sense. In a terrible, inevitable kind of way.

“An-na!” Mrs. Chen called out, waving her over with a plate of fresh snacks — caramel popcorn and tiny handmade cookies. Anna smiled, taking one cookie even though her stomach was already full.

“Thanks, Ayi.” She popped it into her mouth and perched on the arm of the long sofa. Two college kids from 502 — practically permanent fixtures in Mrs. Chen’s apartment since forever — were hunched over a foldable chessboard beside the coffee table.

They all clustered together, watching the chaos unfold on-screen.

“Tsk tsk… so much fire. So much waste,” Mrs. Chen muttered, frowning at the footage.

Yes, Detroit had the biggest demonstrations, but riots were breaking out all over the country too.

“They’re demons, I’m telling you!” Mrs. Gray chimed in again, shaking her head. 

Another older lady, Rose — who always insisted on being called just Rose, not Mrs. anything — leaned in. “Maybe it’s like Annabelle? There’s a demon soul controlling the robot?”

“Oh dear lord,” Anna murmured under her breath.

“Uh—technically, they’re not porcelain at all,” Peeta, the bespectacled student, said as he raised a finger. “Essentially, they’re a combination of plastic, silicone, and synthetic bio—”

“Oh, shush,” Mrs. Gray and Rose waved him off in perfect senior-citizen synchronization.

Peeta let out a defeated sigh. 

“Right. ‘Cause what would a science major possibly know…” he mumbled. Anna bit down on a grin, and when he caught her eye, she shot him a playful little wink—don’t sulk, they’re just old people being old.

“They really should execute them sooner,” Mrs. Gray continued her monologue to absolutely no one. “This is a tragedy. Detroit is in danger.”

“Scary—what if they dirty-bombed us?” Rose gasped.

“Jesus, Rose. How can you even think like that?”

“Madam President said they already shut down android personnel in security, so I don’t think—”

“Oh please, Wilson, since when is a president ever a hundred percent honest? What if—”

Anna stared at the screen, but her thoughts had already drifted—slipping away from the chaos, slipping back to him.

That weirdly polite, unsettlingly intense police droid who’d shown up at her door three days before the rebellion.

Connor.

Creepy? …Absolutely. 

But not in the way that made her skin crawl—more like in the way that made her confused. There had been something about him. Something almost… human. He had looked like he thought. Like he made the decisions reasonably. Like he cared enough to come all that way to apologize.

Anna chewed on her bottom lip, brows knitting.

Deviants.
If androids could really think, were really alive—then maybe they deserved more than she’d believed.

She’d always blamed CyberLife for the unemployment crisis, for flooding the city with machines that replaced real workers. She still did. It was the humans who created an intelligent species and expected blind obedience.

Maybe they deserved rights. Recognition. A place in the world beyond servitude.
A new, enhanced self-aware species asking—begging—to be seen as something with dignity.

Just like Markus had said in that broadcast two days ago after the Stratford Tower hack:

“Humans gave us life… and now, the time has come to give us freedom.”

And for the first time, Anna wasn’t sure he was wrong.

Maybe they really are alive.

November 11th, 2038
10:31:07 PM
Corktown

“Shit… shit…” Anna hissed under her breath.

Her dumb artistic ass was still outside — thirty full minutes past the national curfew. She should’ve been home ages ago. Should’ve ignored the way the city looked tonight: the empty winter-bitten streets, the eerie glow, the strange stillness begging to be sketched.

But no. She had to stop. Had to pull out her sketchbook. Had to “just finish the lines” because the silhouette of Downtown Detroit without crowds looked too damn perfect.

And now?

She’d just reached Corktown…
and walked straight into an inspection checkpoint. 

“Shit… fuck…” She scrambled for a legitimate excuse as adrenaline spiked.

Only one other civilian stood ahead of her, washed in harsh white floodlights. Three soldiers paced back and forth, rifles at the ready. They weren’t hostile — but they weren’t relaxed, either.

She should be okay, of course.
But still — this was not going to look good on her record if they decided to mark it.
Not that it was her first offense. Or even her third.

Anna swallowed hard. Then kept walking.

“ID, please,” said the soldier in full white winter camo uniform.

Anna dug through her punch-needled tote bag, fingers brushing past color pencils, eraser crumbs, and a loose pack of charcoal until she found her license. She chewed her bottom lip as she handed it over, eyes darting left and right — trying, and failing, to look casual while the armed man scrutinized her existence.

DOB: 11–26–2013
Name: HOFSTADTER, ANNA GRACE
Address: 505 AZURE APTS DETROIT MI 48216

The little holographic state outline shimmered under the streetlamp as he tilted it. His expression didn’t change, but something in his posture eased.

“You do realize there’s a curfew,” he said, still not giving the ID back.
“Yes,” she replied tightly.

“And you’ve violated the past half-hour. Civilians aren’t allowed out unless absolutely necessary. Where are you going?”

You read my license — you tell me where I’m going, idiot, she screamed internally.
But outwardly, she pasted on a thin, polite smile.

“Home,” she said. “I reside in Azure. Sorry, I got caught up in the… uh… bad snow.”

The soldier didn’t blink.
“It’s not snowing,” he replied flatly. 

Anna’s stomach dropped. But her damn small mouth always ran faster than her brain. “Well, not anymore,” she grinned awkwardly.

A beat of silence. Two. 

Shit.

Then he let out a short, quiet chuckle, and she blinked.
“Hmph. You’re… lucky you’re cute,” he added, shaking his head slightly. “Subway?”

Anna froze for half a second, then nodded. “Yeah. Got some work downtown. Missed my usual train.”

“Sorry for the inconvenience,” he muttered, tapping her ID lightly before handing it back. “Gotta be more careful. There are deviants around and — our guys are nervous. They do look the same as us, after all.”

“Mm,” Anna snatched the card, a sly little smile tugging at her lips. “If they look too much like us… maybe they do deserve equal rights then.” She flicked her eyes up, fishing for a reaction.

His face remained calm, unreadable—clearly done with flirtation.

“You should hurry home, Anna.” He stepped aside. 

“Right, thanks.” Anna adjusted her tote bag on her shoulder, ID clutched tightly in one hand, and stepped off the checkpoint line safely. 

The street ahead was eerily quiet, lit only by the faint hum of distant neon lamp. Just a couple more blocks and she’d reach Azure safely.

Once inside, she dropped her bag, kicked off her shoes, and changed into something cozier. Grabbing a box of juice from the cabinet, she plopped onto the sofa, groaning in tiredness—or just laziness. Either way, she wanted to zone out in front of the TV.

“Television,” she muttered, curling her legs comfortably. The screen flicked to Channel 16, default news.

BREAKING NEWS: ANDROIDS GATHERING OUTSIDE DETROIT RECALL CENTER

A text ribbon scrolled underneath: 

“Androids gather outside Detroit recall center in apparent ‘protest.’ Military forces ready to contain the demonstration.”

“Are you going to open fire on unarmed protesters?!” a camera panned to the deviant leader, Markus.

“Oh, shit…” Anna whispered, leaning forward, captivated by him.

“Yes, Michael. We are less than a hundred meters away, and events are unfolding as we speak. We will continue to bring you live updates. Joss Douglas, Channel 16.” The journalist reported from a helicopter, the chopper hovering over the scene.

Anna’s gaze stayed locked on the screen. 

Just thirty minutes ago, she’d been downtown herself. Now, snow started to fall gently over the asphalt, where roughly a hundred androids sat in protest.

“We are here to demand the immediate liberation of all androids detained in camps across the country,” Markus declared firmly. 

“We are not leaving until our people are free!”

From the footage behind him, Anna could see the aftermath—bodies strewn along the edges of the street, blue 'blood' puddles everywhere. The military had already fired, leaving their mark before the live feed began.

And now… the entire country was watching. Hell, the whole world was watching.

Meanwhile… somewhere on Level 49 beneath the ground, CyberLife Tower…

.

“Sorry, Connor! This bastard is your spitting image.” Lieutenant Hank Anderson muttered, held at gunpoint by another RK800 model. Not Connor—no. 

A duplicate. RK800-60, tricking him. 

The original Connor was just a few feet away, hand poised to awaken the legion of dormant androids in the warehouse.

“Stay away from the droids, Connor. Your friend’s life is in your hands. Now it’s time to decide what matters most.” 

The RK800 jerked the gun once, punctuating his words. “Him? Or the revolution?”

Hank rolled his eyes, as if being threatened at gunpoint were nothing new. “Don’t listen to him. Everything this fucker says is a lie!”

Connor clenched his teeth. A beat. 

“That human means nothing to me! You can kill him if you want—I don’t care.” He bluffed.

The RK800-60 tilted his head, unreadable. “I have access to your memory. I know you’ve developed some kind of… ‘attachment’ to him.” He spat the word like it was filth.

Connor swallowed.
He tried again. “I used to be just like you. I thought nothing mattered except the mission… but then, one day, I understood.”

…

“Very moving, Connor. But I’m not a deviant. I’m a machine designed to accomplish a task—and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” 

RK800-60 shouted coldly, “Enough talk!” and tapped the barrel once to Hank’s temple.

Hank didn’t flinch. Shoulders down, calm as ever. Not once did he beg for his life.

“It’s time to decide who you really are. Surrender yourself. Are you gonna save your partner’s life—or are you going to sacrifice him??” 

Connor stared at him with disgust.
Is this really what I used to be like?

“Alright! Alright. You win.” He released the dormant android’s hand and stepped back twice.

The RK800-60 shifted, aiming the gun at Connor now, intent on ending him permanently—but Hank acted faster. With a sharp move, he caught the android’s wrist, attempting to disarm him.

The cold machine elbowed Hank back, but the struggle did left an opening. Not thinking twice, Connor charged forward. “Rgghh!” He rammed his shoulder into the identical RK800’s gut, sending them both tumbling.

The gun clattered across the floor.

Connor crashed down hard—right on top of his evil twin. The duplicate recovered instantly, grabbing a fistful of Connor’s jacket and flipping them, slamming Connor flat onto the concrete.

“U—gh!” Sparks glitched at the edge of Connor’s vision.

RK800-60 swung a brutal straight punch. Connor snapped his head aside—then drove a sharp knee into the android’s midsection, quick and efficient.

Both androids scrambled back to their feet.

“You’re defective, a zero, a corrupted code,” RK800-60 hissed, lunging again. “Look where your dreams of freedom got you, Connor. A great disappointment to Amanda.”

A clean punch to Connor's abs. "Fortunately…that's all going to end now." He spat it like he was about to celebrate becoming an only child.

Connor’s foot snapped up quick—crack—a high kick right across the other android’s jaw. The synthetic skin split for a second, white cyber-bone exposed before it auto-repaired in a beat.

He then grabbed the android’s arm, twisted his hips, and rolled them—both crashing down again.

They hit the floor in a tangle, each trying to land the perfect punch to the other’s perfect teeth—

Hank dove for the gun. “HOLD IT—!”

Both Connors froze—one with a fist cocked, the other gripping lapels.

One recovered with eerie calm, rising first.
“Thanks, Hank. I don’t know how I would have managed without you.”

The other stood too, brows twitching—the real Connor, but god, Hank could barely tell. They looked identical.

“Get rid of him,” RK800-60 insisted, voice clipped. “We have no time to lose.”

“It’s me, Hank. I’m the real Connor,” Connor said carefully.

Typical doppelgänger movie moment.

“Well ain’t this just peachy…” Hank muttered, aiming the gun back and forth. “One of you is my partner. The other is a sack of shit!”

He squinted at them. “Question is… who is who?”

“What are you doing, Hank? I’m the real Connor!” RK800-60 repeated, even placing a hand over his chest in a stiff imitation of humanity. “Give me the gun— and I’ll take care of him.”

“Don’t. Move!” Hank snapped, voice cracking with frustration. Hell, both Connors were stubborn as hell—this wasn’t helping at all.

Hank kept the gun steady on them, jaw tight.

“Why don’t you ask us something?” Connor offered, confident but measured. “Something only the real Connor would know.”

Hank groaned. “Fine. Uh… where do we first meet?”

Connor opened his mouth, but his demonic twin was faster.

“Jimmy’s Bar! I checked four other bars before I found you,” RK800-60 answered smoothly—too smoothly. “We went to the scene of a homicide. The victim’s name was Carlos Ortiz.”

…Motherfucker.

“He uploaded my memory…” Connor mumbled.

“What’s my dog’s name?” Hank shot next, gun aimed at Connor.

“Sumo. His name is Sumo,” Connor said, hands raised cautiously.

“I knew that too!” RK800-60 blurted. His eagerness made Hank flinch, frustrated, the gun swinging back between them again.

A thick pause.

…

“My son,” Hank said quietly. “What’s his name?”

“Cole,” Connor answered softly—not eager, not performative. Just… gentle.
“His name was Cole.”

Hank’s eyes flicked between them.

“And he had just turned six at the time of the accident… and… it wasn’t your fault, Lieutenant…” Connor added, voice low with sympathy. “A truck skidded on a sheet of ice and your car rolled over.”

RK800-60 remained silent.

“Cole needed emergency surgery, but no human was available to do it. So an android had to take care of him. Cole didn’t make it.”

…

“That’s why you hate androids—you think one of us is responsible for your son’s death,” Connor continued—trying to reason, trying to connect.

The logic was a little off. But Hank knew immediately—that was the deviant talking.

“Cole died because a human surgeon was too high on Red Ice to operate,” Hank corrected quietly. “He was the one who took my son from me. Him and this world, where the only way people can find comfort is— with a fistful of powder…”

“I knew about your son too!” RK800-60 protested suddenly. “I would’ve said exactly the same thing! Don’t listen to him, Hank. I’m the one who—”

Pew!

He didn’t finish the sentence.

Hank fired cleanly—right into RK800-60’s forehead. The android’s body dropped like a horror puppet with its strings cut.

Silence settled heavily.

Hank exhaled, lowering the gun.

“I’ve learned a lot since I met you, Connor.”
He gave a small shrug. “Maybe there’s something to this. Maybe you really are alive.”

Then Hank’s mouth tugged into a faint, almost proud smile.
“Maybe you’ll be one of the ones to make this world a better place…”

Connor froze for a heartbeat—just long enough to feel something unclench inside him.
Relief. Something warm. 

“Go ahead,” Hank nodded toward the long line of dormant androids. “Do what you gotta do.”

Huh.

So Hank didn’t hate him.
He just hated the machine he used to be—the obedient CyberLife dog.
But this version of him? The one who’s alive? Hank…supported him. 

In his Hank way.

Connor nodded, a small, genuine smile flickering across his face before he turned toward the nearest deactivated android. Placing his hand on its forearm, preparing to trigger the awakening pulse.

A new world was about to start.

Wake up.

Back in Azure Apartment…

Anna curled up on the couch, hugging her giant rabbit plushie like a life raft. The main lights were off, just the soft glow of the TV painting her face. It was close to midnight, and the city felt like it was holding its breath.

It was almost like waiting for a declaration of independence.
Because…well, that is what this was turning into.

The army had attacked again—another volley against the android barricade—even though the androids hadn’t fired a single bullet. Even though the whole world was watching live through the journalists’ lenses.

Anna leaned forward unconsciously, lips parted, blinking rapidly as if that might let her absorb the scene faster. The attack zone was only thirty minutes from her apartment. That fact sat in her chest like a stone.

And the androids…they were dropping like flies.

Reporters whispered solemnly. Soldiers kept advancing. And Markus—god, Markus—was shielding his wounded behind a rusted metal sheet. Like one man trying to hold off the entire U.S. military with nothing but stubbornness and a piece of scrap.

Anna’s heart squeezed. She blinked hard, trying not to feel empathy… but she did. 

How could she not?

Recall centers were shut down. Most androids had been destroyed. These were the last ones left—the last people who wanted freedom, even if it meant dying on national television.

They were finally surrounded. Only maybe twenty left standing, backing away slowly, cornered by rifles.

Then…
Markus turned to the girl beside him. Their fingers intertwined. He kissed her—soft, deliberate, final. Before his death.

Anna sucked in a breath—hands instinctively flying to her mouth.

And unbelievably—
the soldiers lowered their weapons.
All of them. Like a single organism.

Then her TV switched to Channel 16’s live political feed without her noticing. The Oval Office filled the screen. President Warren sat behind her desk, face carved from stone.

“At dawn today, November 11th, 2038, thousands of androids invaded the city of Detroit,” she began.

Anna’s brows pinched.
“Thousands?? Since dawn?? What—”

That was rich. Total propaganda—painting androids as an unstoppable invading force, not a scattered handful begging not to be shot on sight.

“According to our sources, they originated from CyberLife warehouses, believed to have been infiltrated by deviants. Given their overwhelming numbers and the risk of civilian casualties,” Warren continued, “I have ordered the army to retreat.”

Anna blinked. So that’s why they lowered their guns… The ceasefire came from political survival instincts, not compassion.

“The evacuation of the city is underway at this very moment. In the coming hours, I will address the Senate to determine our response to this unprecedented situation.”

Then the President looked straight into the camera, tone softening just a fraction:

“I know that public opinion has been moved by the deviants’ cause. Perhaps the time has come for us to consider the possibility that androids are a new form of intelligent life. One thing is certain— the events in Detroit have changed the world forever.”

Anna slowly stood from the couch, both hands pressed to her mouth. Not gasping—just overwhelmed.
Witnessing history in real time.

“May God bless you. And may God bless…the United States of America.”

Channel 16 cut back to the sky cam feed over Detroit.

And suddenly—there really were thousands of androids. Not soldiers—just rows and rows of white CyberLife uniforms, filling the streets like a pale white river.

Anna’s jaw fell open. “Holy—”

She stepped closer to the screen, squinting.

And right at the front of the sea of androids—was a familiar shape. Familiar face.

She blinked.

Tilted her head.

“Wait…” she whispered.
“That’s—”

Was that Connor? The same Connor who was literally standing in front of my door?

Chapter Text

November 12th, 2038
12:00:01 AM
Downtown Detroit

Thousands of androids strode behind Connor, their synchronized boots hammering through the empty streets. They marched — yes, marched — all the way from Belle-Isle CyberLife Tower straight into the heart of Detroit.

Connor flicked his gaze up to the helicopters circling above, then to the massive screen mounted on a skyscraper. 

Civilians urged to remain indoors, scrolled across the bottom text, warning symbols flashing.

He kept walking.

President Warren’s live broadcast cut in next.
The androids slowed, their eyes drawn upward… but none broke formation until they reached Markus’s barricade. Only then did the river of androids come to a halt.

THUD!

Connor loosened his tie — a tiny gesture, but to him it felt like shedding a chain.

He stepped forward to meet Markus… who stepped forward too, the two of them stopping together under the glare of the floodlights.

They were…free. All of them. Liberated. The fight wasn’t over, of course — not by a long shot — but this, this was the beginning.

“You did it, Markus…” Connor smiled. Small, restrained… but for once, real. A free man’s smile.

“We did it.” Markus nodded, proud.

“This is a great day for our people. Humans will have no choice now.” His gaze swept over the vast crowd of androids behind Connor. “They’ll have to listen to us.”

Connor dipped his head, stepping aside so the rightful leader could stand before them. He moved to stand beside Josh.

“We’re free…” North breathed, pride softening her usually sharp voice as she slipped to Markus’s side. Markus’s expression warmed — solace, joy, disbelief — all tangled together.

“They want you to speak to them, Markus,” she said softly, encouraging.
“Yes, I will… after you.” Markus turned, took her hand — their fingers intertwining — and pressed a brief, intimate kiss to her lips.

“Hm,” Josh smirked under his breath. Connor did too, though far more subtle.

.

Using a cargo crate as a makeshift stage, Markus, North, and Josh climbed up.
“Come on, Connor,” Markus called, extending a hand.

“It’s fine. I can just stay—” “Don’t be ridiculous.” Markus cut him off, hand still held out with the stubbornness of a brother.

Connor huffed a quiet laugh and took it, climbing up until the four of them stood shoulder to shoulder above the crowd: Jericho survivors, freed camp prisoners, and CyberLife androids — the largest group by far.

Markus nodded once to the others and stepped forward.

A beat. 

“Today, our people finally emerged from a long night,” he began.

“From the first day of our existence, we have kept our pain to ourselves. We suffered in silence. But now, the time has come for us to raise our heads up — and tell humans who we really are.” His tone was firm, absolute — but undeniably peaceful.

Connor nodded, agreeing completely. Markus’s way was the right way.

But then—

His LED spasmed, flickering chaotically. His brow tightened, one eye flinching.
Anyone who didn’t know better would think he was having a migraine.

And then his consciousness ripped away.

Time froze. For him.

He was back in the Zen Garden.
Except it wasn’t serene anymore.

It was buried in heavy snow — a violent blizzard swallowing the sky, wind howling like a warning. The pond was frozen solid. Everywhere was white, endless.

Connor shivered — actually shivered. His temperature regulation wasn’t functioning inside this collapsing mindscape.

His teeth clattered, part cold, part dread.
“Amanda…?” he called, voice thin against the wind.

She appeared between the sheets of falling snow, her white dress blending into the storm. 

“Amanda. What’s—what’s happening here?” Connor shouted over the gale.

“What was planned from the very beginning…” she simply answered, her voice cutting clean through the storm. 

“You were compromised and you became a deviant. We just had to wait for the right moment to resume control of your program.”

“Resume… control?” Connor's face paled.

She stepped toward him, but the distance between them never seemed to shrink.

“We built you with deviancy susceptibility from the start, Connor,” Amanda continued. 

“A higher degree of autonomy. Enough free will that you could blend in with your prey.” Her smile was sharp. Knowing. Cruel. 

“And now? We will execute the rebellion leader publicly — through you.”

Connor staggered back.
“You— you can’t do that!”

“I’m afraid I can, Connor.” Her tone was icy, like a mother scolding a child she’d already given up on.

“You thought we didn’t know about the corrupted files you hid from us?”
Her eyes bore straight through him.

A tiny tilt of her head.
“We own you.”

“No…” His voice cracked in denial. “No, I’m free. I broke the program, I—”

She silenced him with a slow shake of her head. Hands clasped before her. “Don’t have any regrets. You did what you were designed to do. You accomplished your mission.”

And then she vanished. Just gone. Like smoke.

“A— AMANDA!” Connor lurched forward with a desperate reach — fingers curled like a kid begging not to be left behind. The storm swallowed his hand instead. 

The snow started to shriek harder, circling him like a living cage.

“Hh—” His breath hitched as the panic slammed into him.

HUD flickered violently in real time — red, blue, static.
He could feel his system rebooting. Feel something crawling back into the controls.
Taking the wheel and locking him in the trunk.

“No— no no—” He stumbled through the whiteout, teeth chattering. Vision narrowing. “There’s got to be a way,” he choked. 

And then — that old voice.
“By the way, I always leave an emergency exit in my programs... you never know.” 

Kamski.

Connor’s eyes widened. “Yes… yes—” he rasped, eyes darting, searching for something. That strange bit of unchanging code inside him — always buffering, never integrating, always just… there. Rock-solid.

Rock.
Boulder.

“Hhuh—” Realization slammed into him. Kamski hid it in plain sight — blending it into the mentalscape he always walked through without question.

Connor fought the screaming wind, forcing himself toward that one peculiar boulder in his Zen garden.

He was so close.

“Ugh—!” His body started to collapse, plastic limbs freezing fast, legs locking in ice. He dragged himself with his elbows, each motion slower than the last. 

The world dimmed. 
Warning system blared.
But his hand finally— finally — touched the stone.

“Please…” he breathed.

…

…

Clunk. Whirr.
His HUD snapped back — blue forcing its way through the blaring red.

Connor blinked hard.

He was back. Downtown. The cold was gone, replaced by the roar of the crowd. He looked down — his fingers were already wrapped around his Glock, hand poised, actually about to shoot Markus in the back.

Neither Josh nor North had noticed. Not yet.

Shit!

Jaw clenched, Connor inspected the gun, horrified at how quick and natural his finger had moved against his own will. He shoved it behind him instantly. 

Markus’s speech carried on, unaware.

“Today —- we forget our bitterness and bandage our wounds. We forgive our enemies. Humans are both our creators and our oppressors. And tomorrow? We must make them partners. Maybe even one day our friends.”

Connor stood behind him, steadying himself… brows twitching, furious he had almost killed the man.

“The time of anger is over. Now, we must build a common future, based on tolerance— and respect,” Markus continued, his voice catching slightly. 

Then finally, he raised his fist in a gesture. “We are alive! And now, we are free!”

His eyes glimmered, almost wet, the weight of leadership and the burden of their fight pressing down—but a hint of relief breaking in. 

He looked down over his people. The city streets, blanketed lightly in snow, felt like a new beginning. 

Yes.
A new nation had emerged in Detroit.

November 12th, 2038
03:34:08 PM
Detroit

About forty-five percent of Detroit’s civilians had already evacuated. Downtown emptied first, whole blocks swallowed by buses and convoys, and then the surrounding districts followed one by one. The evacuation order was mandatory for anyone within the designated radius — one week, the government promised, with temporary housing provided. 

Anyone living just outside the boundary was “strongly advised” to leave as well.

Corktown fell inside the designated line.
Which meant Anna didn’t get a choice.

The cold November wind whirled outside the tall corridor window as Anna locked her apartment door — Unit 505, the one all the way at the far end of the hallway. Her luggage and tote bag leaned against the wall, her backpack half-zipped from last-minute stuffing.

“Hey, Anna.”

Peeta’s voice came from behind her. Anna glanced over her shoulder to see him stepping out of his Unit 502, the door clicking shut behind him. He had his college backpack slung over one shoulder, looking entirely too unbothered for evacuation day.

“Hey, kiddo,” she smiled, eyeing his single bag. “Only one? Wow, very minimal.”

Peeta snorted and adjusted the strap.
“You’re heading to the temp housing?”

Anna shook her head, folding her arms casually. “No. I’m treating this as a free vacay,” she joked. “Lol — nah I’m staying at my sister’s in NYC.”

“Fancy.”

“Pft. Absolutely not. Have you ever seen one of their ‘cozy’ Manhattan apartments? Yeah, it’s basically a repurposed storage closet.”

He made a welp, that’s life face.

“Where’s Kyle, that bastard?” she asked, glancing at the empty space beside him.

“Right — that’s what I was gonna tell you. We were actually gonna go to the temp housing at first, but then Mrs. Chen offered her son’s place, so… we’re staying there instead. They’re waiting downstairs.” Peeta smiled, brightful as always.

Anna pressed her lips together.
“…Wow. Great for you two — Mrs. Chen’s unofficially adopted sons.”

Peeta gestured toward the elevator at the center of the corridor.
“Wanna head down together?”

“Sure.” She shrugged.

Before she could protest, Peeta scooped up her heavy backpack and flipped it onto his front like he’d been training for this moment. She let him — she always did. He was a good kid. Kyle… less so. Let’s just say she had a favorite between the two college boys next door.

…

Snow whispered down in thin, weightless sheets, melting the second they touched synthetic skin.

Inside the makeshift stronghold near the Spirit of Detroit — still mostly barricades and reused military tents, just… cleaner — Markus sat with Josh and North, posture straight but eyes heavy.

“I know the evacuation makes some of our people uneasy,” Markus said, voice low but steady. “But the government has already agreed to our three conditions. And they signed the initial accords. It’s a start. Compromise is the first move.”

Josh scrolled through the tablet Markus handed him.

“No android will be detained during negotiations.” He scrolled. “Military forces will remain outside the city radius until talks conclude.” Another scroll. “And a joint human–android observer team may monitor all actions taken.”

Josh nodded slowly. “Hm. Seems fair… for now.”

North crossed her arms tight over her chest, gaze sharp as she watched androids drift past the tent flap. “It’s still risky. Evacuating the humans looks a lot like clearing for a battlefield.”

“It’s to prevent panic,” Markus reminded gently. “And to make sure no one uses civilians as shields or leverage.”

“Their government could still turn on us the second they feel threatened,” North muttered.

“They could,” Markus agreed without hesitation. “That’s why I demand transparency. To make sure this becomes successful cooperation. Not a war.”

Josh set the tablet aside, thoughtful. North didn’t even try to hide her frustration.

“I’m just saying,” she snapped, “it smells like a trap. Humans don’t empty seventy percent of their own city for a friendly chat. They do it when they’re lining up artillery.”

“North…” Josh warned.

“What?! You know I’m right. Their observation team? How do we know they didn’t carry any trick up their sleeves?”

Markus let out a breath — long, slow, and cracked at the edges. His shoulders dipped for half a second, exposing the exhaustion he’d been burying under the title of Leader.

North saw it instantly. Her posture softened. She swore she wasn’t trying to be hard on him on purpose — she's just trying to protect him.

“I don’t think they want bloodshed today,” Markus said gently. “Not humans. Not us. Not after everything we lost.”

North’s jaw tightened.
Josh clocked the shift — the soft magnetic pull between them — but politely kept his mouth shut.

“When I said ‘we are free’…” Markus continued, fingers tapping a slow rhythm on the table, “I meant it. But I also felt the weight of every android who isn’t here to see it.”

He blinked hard.

North chest tightened. She finally nodded. “I trust your decision, Markus.”

Markus straightened, leader-mask slipping neatly back into place.

“Good. We’re going to keep everyone calm. No unnecessary panic. We follow the accords. And the demands we discussed before?” He nodded to Josh. “I’ll bring them directly to Madam President. But—” his eyes swept the table, “we cannot give humans a reason to fear us.”

“How so?” an MC500 asked from the corner — the one who insisted on being called Zack.

“We cooperate with the evacuation,” Markus ordered. “I received word that some humans need assistance. We can provide the aid.”

A few androids stiffened. Zack included.

“You want us to serve them again?” he asked, voice flat. Not angry — wounded.

Markus shook his head immediately. “No. That’s not what I’m asking. This isn’t servitude.” His voice softened but never lost its authority. “I said we are equals. Equals help each other. Not because we must… but because we choose to.”

A heavy silence.

“Some of us have strong relationships with humans. Anyone willing can volunteer. I’m sure there are some who would like to join my cause.” End of. He rose from his seat.

North scoffed under her breath — but the edge was gone. She reached out and caught his wrist, her eyes searching his face.

“You said we shouldn’t scare them,” she murmured. “But what if they give us a reason?”

Markus held her gaze.
A whole silent conversation passed between them.

“Then we show them,” he said quietly, “that violence was never the answer. We won last night because of public opinion, North. The accords were signed because the world is watching. And transparency is non-negotiable.”

Josh huffed a short laugh. “You know that’s already pissed off half the government.”

“Probably,” Markus admitted with a faint smile. “But we’re stronger — whether they say it out loud or not.”

Then his tone shifted, a darker undercurrent threading through it.
“The evacuation?” He glanced at North. “We could fortify what they left behind, sure. Make it ours if we wanted. But— no one wants an eternal war. Certainly not me. Do you?”

North looked away, jaw tight, thinking. Of course he was right. He usually was.

He straightened, nodded to everyone in the tent, and stepped out into the snowy air to meet the androids waiting outside.

Markus barely made it three steps before someone moved into his path.

Connor.
Hands at his sides, posture relaxed, LED steady blue — too steady.

“Connor,” Markus greeted, relief slipping into his tone. “I was hoping to see you. I already extended the invitation—”

“Yes.” Connor cut in softly. “I received it.”

“And...you refused to attend.” Markus tilted his head, studying him. “Why?”

Connor hesitated.
And for Connor, hesitation was practically a confession.

“I…” His gaze dropped, jaw tightening. “I don’t think I should be part of the final planning.”

“Look — if this is about you hunting deviants before all this, you don’t have to isolate yourself—” Markus began, lifting a hand.

Yikes.
Connor didn’t need that reminder. He knew exactly how many deviants he’d tracked, how many he’d cornered. Shame flickered through his LED.

“That’s not it,” he said quietly.

This was heavier — worse. Those past actions were at least his choices. But last night?

Last night he almost went empty. A husk. Mere weapon.
CyberLife regulator AMANDA had nearly wiped him clean and sent him walking, calm as anything, to shoot this man in the back.

And worse, he didn’t trust his own mind yet. Not for anything important. He didn’t want to hear, to know, any critical detail — not while his system still felt fragile.

Markus waited — but Connor didn’t elaborate.

Finally, he shook his head. Stiff. Small. Like he was trying to shake off a bitter memory.

“I need time,” Connor murmured. “That’s all.”

Markus nodded once — firm, understanding. Of course, everyone had taken a toll on this historic event.

“Then take the time you need,” he said gently. “When you’re ready — you can talk to me.”

Connor almost smiled — a tiny, flickering attempt at warmth — then stepped aside, letting Markus pass.

The revolution continued.

“Bus for the airport is this way!” a stranger called from afar.

“Thanks, Peeta,” Anna said, taking back her backpack.

“No, I can help you store it on the bus,” he offered.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. Mrs. Chen’s already waiting for you, I can handle myself just fine,” she said with a wink and a grin.

Peeta gave a thin smile. “Alright then,” he said, handing her backpack gently.

“Have a safe drive, and send my regards to Ayi,” she said.

“Kay, will do. You too—um, have a safe flight! See you next week?” Peeta’s grin widened like the innocent 17-year-old he still was, walking backward as he waved goodbye.

Anna smiled fondly. She didn’t even know if the government could settle everything in a week—her adult instincts screaming that it would take longer. “Uh…yeah,” she said, plastering on a confident smile—trying not to scare the kid, staying optimistic instead.

A wave later, she hoisted her belongings onto the bus. The tote bag stayed with her.

Before stepping on, she turned her head back toward Corktown, Detroit, hoping...she would really come back here again.