Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The events that occurred the night of November 11th had been nothing but revolutionary for all androids. For all those involved, it had been a truly remarkable feat that had seemed so impossible at the time. But, Markus, along with his loyal crew, had declared their freedom as a sentient species and all android-kind had rejoiced in the sentiment. All felt right in the world for that night.

Well, all had felt right for everyone, except for one particular android.

After his hijacking during Markus’ speech, Connor had chosen to get well and far away from his own kind. CyberLife had one last hold on him, and it shook him to his core when he realized he could completely destroy what all these androids had fought for. He couldn’t risk being around Markus, or any of his kind for that matter, if it meant he was still capable of that sort of destruction.

He remembered the look in Markus’ heterochromatic eyes when Connor had stuttered out that he was leaving shortly after the speech. He tried to convince Connor that he was safe here, more safe than the streets where anti-android protesters were running rampant with all the chaos in the city. But, Connor didn’t care for his own safety. The safety of all the androids there was in jeopardy if he stuck around, though he, ashamedly, couldn’t bring himself to admit that to the deviant leader and his crew.

Instead, he simply told Markus that he wouldn’t be on the streets for long. That there was someone he wanted to check in on. It wasn’t a complete lie at least. He did want to check in on a particular human. Whether or not he’d actually do it was a different story. Lieutenant Anderson didn’t want him around, right?

When Connor turned away from Markus and his crew, he chose to ignore the glares North sent or the relieved sighs of Josh and Simon, further solidifying his decision. He was unwanted here as the Deviant Hunter. So with a larger stride, he had walked away with a bit more confidence, he thought.

It had been for the best, after all.

Connor had expected to be on his own, fending for himself on the streets of Detroit for the foreseeable future, at the least. He, thankfully, had an internal map of Detroit from his short time at the Detroit Police Department, marking all the abandoned buildings he could seek asylum in. He had strategically planned out a system to try and keep a low profile, staying inside the buildings as much as possible so as to keep humans and androids alike far from him. He, regretfully, couldn’t shuck his jacket as it was the only real protection he had against the elements, despite how poor it was at insulating. It also, however, painted a solid blue, glowing bullseye on his back for all to see, so staying inside as much as possible had been his most logical option.

What Connor didn’t expect, on his third morning of squatting, was a text from Lieutenant Anderson simply asking if he was alive. Connor had stared at the message in his HUD for far longer than he normally would’ve. Was he simply hallucinating the message? The temperatures outside had dropped considerably and Connor was nearly frozen when he emerged from his shaky stasis, so it was certainly a possibility.

But, Connor realized he wasn’t hallucinating when a call came in from none other than Lieutenant Anderson. He blinked and was suddenly thrown into a frantic phone call with the Lieutenant, demanding to know his whereabouts. Connor couldn’t believe the warmth it brought to him knowing that the Lieutenant had actually been worried that he hadn’t heard from him. Was he expecting Connor to reach out? Did this mean he actually cared about Connor’s survival?

That phone call had sparked enough energy in Connor to convince the Lieutenant to meet him at The Chicken Feed. It was there that Connor had genuinely smiled for the first time, a crooked half smirk that the Lieutenant returned immediately. Before he knew it, he was being enveloped in a warm hug that he suddenly realized was all he ever wanted. It had taken a bit to pull Connor away from the warmth that was the Lieutenant, but Lieutenant Anderson reassured him that it was warmer in his car.

However, after the fifth time Connor called Lieutenant Anderson… well, Lieutenant Anderson, he had been swiftly met with a harsh, but playful shove, a hollow threat of being left behind and a request to only refer to him as Hank from now on. So, that’s what Connor did.

Upon arriving at Hank’s house, he had been quick to bundle himself into Sumo’s warm fur. The St. Bernard had been surprisingly happy to see the deviant, jumping up on him once he walked through the door. Connor had been entranced with the dog as soon as he walked in, excitedly petting the good boy as he stepped inside. Exhaustion had also washed over Connor as his body finally began to unthaw and before he could even stop himself, he entered an involuntary stasis, right there on the floor, with Sumo. When he finally awoke again, he could feel Sumo’s warm fur underneath his head and a thick wool blanket wrapped around himself.

The next morning, Hank had announced that Connor was to stay with him until, as he put it, ‘shit settled down’. There was no room for argument, so Connor, for once, agreed without giving Hank further grief.

The following weeks both flew by and felt incredibly long to Connor. He had received periodic messages from Markus, updating him on the legal proceedings regarding android rights. Their biggest target was the CyberLife Tower on Belle Isle, of course. Securing that meant thousands of spare biocomponents, thirum, and the ability to reproduce for their race. Not to mention all the critical information to continue further research on androids. It was critical that Markus and his crew quickly, but legally, gained access to the huge corporation.

However, even as Markus informed Connor of the work he was doing, and plea after plea for him to come and help out, Connor isolated himself from the androids of his group as much as he could. It was for the best. He couldn’t be a threat if he wasn’t there.

So, when Connor wasn’t actively resenting his very creation, he was assisting Hank in some ways. He no longer had a mission to follow, and finding one had proven to be quite difficult. He tried to make himself useful, having one night cleaned up Hank’s house on a whim. He found he became quite depressed after the ordeal. He didn’t feel he wanted to just clean Hank’s house when he had nothing better to do. It seemed like the exact life that so many androids had fought, and been deactivated, against. Not to mention, when Hank had woken up to a clean house, he and Connor had a serious discussion about Connor’s place at Hank’s house. He was not to be a ‘housebot’, as Hank had referred to the AX400 model android. Connor had quickly agreed and instead confessed to Hank that he still felt an urge to follow his original programming, that being investigating. Not as the Deviant Hunter, but perhaps, as the Deviant Helper?

He admits he got quite a look of exasperation from Hank with that one. But, it was true, none the less. If Connor didn’t think he could be with his kind due to his potential to be a lethal weapon, than maybe he could at least use that potential to protect and serve them.

Thankfully, Connor wouldn’t have to wait long for him to try out his new mission. Hank’s suspension following his altercation with Agent Perkins was lifted within the first few weeks since the revolution. Hank had explained to Connor that after the evacuation of the city and the slow but steady repopulation, Captain Fowler had practically ‘begged’ Hank to come back and help out. However, as Connor found out, Captain Fowler had been less than pleased when Hank showed up to work the next day with Connor in tow. But, when Hank threatened to leave, Captain Fowler begrudgingly let Connor help out, though in a smaller way than before as a Police Consultant. Connor readily agreed. It felt good to be doing something other than hiding out in Hank’s house, even if he wasn’t getting paid and Detective Reed had somehow become even more unbearable. Hank assured him he’d have the former issue sorted out with Fowler soon but that there was nothing he could do about Detective Reed as he was, as Hank put it, ‘inbred’. Connor secretly hoped the inbred theory was true and that some mutation may cause him to never be able to speak again. Alas, it never came to fruition unfortunately.

When the partners weren’t juggling a hundred cases at once at the precinct, they would hunker down in the warmth of Hank’s living room. The TV would be blaring some basketball game, Hank sitting in his arm chair with a beer in his hand, and Connor curled up on the sofa quietly doting on Sumo. His LED would most certainly be a steady yellow as he absentmindedly cycled through the reports from the day, but he would always tell Hank he was ‘lost in thought’.

However, one night, Hank had muted the TV suddenly and turned his attention to Connor. When Connor noticed the blue gaze on him, Hank finally asked the question he had been afraid he’d ask since Connor settled in.

“Why aren’t you with Markus and all the other androids?”

Connor had contemplated what he would say if Hank had ever asked him this, but now that he finally had, he felt totally unprepared for it. Suddenly, hundreds of scenarios that Connor had never contemplated sprang into his HUD and he feared that perhaps, this was Hank’s way of saying he wasn’t even wanted around him. The truth was, obviously, that he was utterly terrified he might end up killing Markus, or any android for that matter. If CyberLife could take control of him once, then what was stopping them from doing it again? But then again, why did he feel he wasn’t a threat to Hank? Feel? Was he actually feeling these things, or was he still a machine under CyberLife’s control? But Hank. Wasn’t he a threat to the man? Perhaps he shouldn’t even be there, in his home!

A hand on his shoulder and a quick and concerned utterance of his name brought him back from his trance. He stared up into Hank’s blue eyes as he hovered over him, startled and quickly trying to come up with an excuse.

“Your mood ring went all red for a sec’. Wanted to make sure you weren’t malfunctioning.”

Hank had laughed off the situation when Connor assured him it was just a glitch. He never asked Connor that question again. They never really discussed the situation either, much to Connor’s relief. He wasn’t sure how that conversation would’ve went down anyway.

Life finally seemed to settle into a steady routine for Connor. The days would turn into weeks and, before Connor knew it, Captain Fowler was calling him into his glass enclosed office. Connor was afraid that he was about to be formally reprimanded, as Detective Reed had taunted towards him as he rose from his desk. He couldn’t help but recall the few times he had used Hank’s credentials to access databases and such to search for information regarding to a few reports. He had hoped it would’ve been fine, considering it was for the sake of a report.

However, when Connor entered the office, Captain Fowler assured him it was nothing of the sort, and instead offered Connor a small envelope. When Connor opened it, he found his very first paycheck. It wasn’t a lot, but it was something Connor had earned, and he couldn’t help the small, slightly shy smile that rose to his face as he gazed back at Captain Fowler.

“Congrats. Seems that Markus is making miracles happen after all.”

On the drive home from work that day, Connor had stared at the envelope, wondering what he could spend the money on. As an android, he didn’t need things like food or water. Maybe thirium and spare parts down the line if he was damaged, though those things were already scarce to his people until they managed to get into CyberLife Tower. Perhaps more clothes? Hank had been generous enough to get him a few outfits for work and such so he didn’t have to wear that old android jacket anymore.

Hank… he had been very generous in purchasing those clothes for him. And he had allowed Connor to stay with him when he had no where else to go. And he had fought for his right to work alongside him at the precinct, resulting in this paycheck in the first place.

Before Connor put much more thought into it, he was offering Hank the check, telling him that it was only right after everything he had done for the deviant. Hank had turned to stare at him, shocked, until Connor yelped at him to keep his eyes on the road. He did just that, but not without letting out a long sigh and pushing the offered check away from him.

“Connor, that’s your paycheck. Your first paycheck, for fucks sake. Spend it on what you want. You don’t owe me a thing.”

Connor had been prepared to argue, ready to point out the price tags on the clothes Hank purchased for him. Or the fact that Connor did use up some electricity at Hank’s house, so he should pay a share of the bills. But, as soon as he started talking, Hank purposefully turned the radio up to near deafening volumes, drowning out any chance of conversation.

Despite what Hank had told him, once Connor cashed the check, he made sure to slip $50 into Hank’s wallet without him noticing. It wasn’t enough, and Connor knew that, but it was a start. After that, he purchased a new heavy duty dog toy for Sumo, which Connor and the dog had hours of fun with until it, like all the other toys, evidently broke.

A few days later after receiving his check, on Hank and Connor’s day off, Hank took Connor to an old music store. Hank had told Connor it was the best (and only) place to purchase classic vinyl records in Detroit. Connor had nodded along, asking Hank what jazz record he was thinking of getting. Hank just laughed, shrugged his shoulders, and told Connor to look around while he was there too.

One hour later and Connor had actually found himself holding a vinyl record in his own hands. While thumbing through the old, dust covered album sleeves, he had ended up finding a pristine vinyl of the first album from “Knights of the Black Death”. Connor recalled the conversation he had with Hank during that eventful week in November, and he found that he was still very interested in listening to the band.

Hank had come up behind Connor, startling him with a heavy hand on his shoulder. Before Connor could come up with an excuse to not get the album and put it back on the rack, Hank had swiped it from his hands. He sauntered up to the cash register, placing the vinyl down and pulling his wallet out. Connor followed after him, quickly trying to produce his own wallet before Hank could pay the man, but Hank held a firm hand up to Connor.

“Don’t act like you didn’t put this fifty in my wallet. It’s on us, got it?”

Connor had just mumbled out a dejected ‘got it’ before taking the vinyl from Hank. He held it carefully on the ride home, almost afraid his grasp on it would ruin its pristine nature. Once they returned back to the house, Hank had disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a glass and a half empty whiskey bottle. When Connor gave him a disappointed look, he reassured him it wasn’t going to be a lot and he simply wanted to ‘get in the zone’ when Connor played his first vinyl on his record player.

So that was how the duo decided to spend their evening. Connor had set the record in the player, letting it spin and placing the needle on it. An introduction of the band played through the speakers before the first song played. Strangely enough, Connor sat in the middle of the living room as the introductions played, rather than the couch in his usual spot. Mesmerized by the band, Connor had eventually found himself laid sprawled out on the floor, listening to every note, every voice crack, every emotion filled scream that played through the speakers. He swore he could feel the vibrations of the vocals and music straight through the floor. Hank simply sipped his glass and bobbed his head along to the music, giving the deviant fond looks every now and then.

Connor decided he did like “Knights of the Black Death” after the fourth song. The dark and depressing lyrics of their songs seemed to speak to Connor and he found himself utterly entranced by the lead’s emotion filled voice. Though he didn’t experience the same things the lead screamed about, he could almost insert himself into the music and find his own dark and depressing moments that related to the song. He understood what it was like to be controlled, manipulated, and used as a pawn in someone else’s game. Whether it be from a two-timing girl who cheated on the lead, or an entire multi-million dollar corporation.

However, he didn’t get to contemplate this long as halfway through the album, Connor saw a message from Markus pop in his HUD. He had been ready to blink away the notification, ignoring him yet again. After all, he was technically busy, right?

But the message persisted and before Connor could open it to see why, three more messages came rushing in from Simon, Josh and North.

Markus. “We’ve acquired CyberLife Tower, Connor. It’s the property of androids now.”

North. “You can’t ignore us forever, you know. Eventually you’ll need thirium from Belle Isle.”

Josh. “Markus did it Connor! Androids own CyberLife Tower now!”

Simon. “I hope you got Markus’ message. We’d really like your help at the Tower.”

Connor cycled through the messages in a fraction of a second. He sat up quickly, almost robotically, disturbing Sumo from where his head laid on the android’s stomach. Hank startled too at the sudden movement of the android, mouth already moving to question his actions. But Connor was ahead of him already.

Connor jumped over to the couch, grasping for the TV remote and flicking the television on. He realized too late that the record player obviously needed to be turned off, but in Connor’s haste, he opted to cybernetically connect to the TV’s audio.

On the screen displayed a helicopter’s view of Belle Isle with CyberLife Tower standing atop it. Words scrolled across the bottom of the screen, declaring that this was a major break in the news and was currently ongoing. As Connor read them, only half listening to the newscasters rendition of the story, he realized that Markus and his crew weren’t lying. CyberLife Tower belonged to the androids. Androids of all kinds marched up to CyberLife Tower with Markus and his crew in the lead. He watched as security stood aside, letting them march inside, the sick, wounded and injured being brought forward first.

Hank had long since turned the record player off and returned to the TV, listening to the same thing Connor was reading and hearing. He watched intensely alongside Connor. In the end, he wound up catching Connor’s eye, raised his eyebrows and nodded his head before finishing off his glass of whiskey.

“Wonder what kind of trap CyberLife left behind.”

And Connor couldn’t help but agree with Hank’s cryptic comment.

Chapter Text

Connor found he couldn’t just ignore his gut feeling the next day after CyberLife handed over Belle Isle to Markus. There was something odd going on. After checking with numerous popular news sources, he found that CyberLife had been quite persistent in retaining its property and privacy. However, all the sudden, literally out of nowhere, it’s decided to hand over full control of CyberLife Tower and all its operations to Markus and his accomplices. That wasn’t right, at least in Connor’s eyes. CyberLife was a multi-million dollar company, one that could surely pay to keep itself in business through other commercial means. Something truly did not sit right with Connor, and he needed to be there to figure it out.

Connor, reluctantly, finally reached out to Markus for the first time since he left the group back in November. He drafted the message numerous times throughout the night before finally settling on one that he hoped was good enough.

“I’ll meet you at Belle Isle at 10am. Something seems off to me and I’d like to be there to help your people out of trouble, if you will allow it.”

Connor had sent that message at 3am the next morning, hoping Markus hadn’t pushed himself too far into the building at that point. Upon further thought, Connor realized how inconsiderate it was to message him at 3am, assuming he took a regular stasis cycle. Despite that, he received an immediate, simple and affirmative;

“Okay, I’ll have people waiting for you, then.”

As Connor dressed for that morning, he found himself putting on that similar outfit CyberLife used to have for him. Looking in the body mirror in the bathroom, he analyzed himself wearing the black shoes, black jeans, belt, tie and white dress shirt tucked into said jeans. All he needed was his android jacket and he’d be the Deviant Hunter again.

Connor rushed to the living room closet, desperately trying to find something else to wear when Hank approached, standing casually in the entrance to the living room. Hank chuckled quietly before disappearing for a moment and returning with a dark, navy blue sweater vest. He offered it to the android and Connor thankfully slipped it on, finding it was much better than his original jacket, even if the vest was a bit big and hung on Connor’s smaller frame. He slipped on his winter coat and went back to the mirror.

Connor nodded appreciatively in the mirror, finding his anxieties as the Deviant Hunter quelled sufficiently. He watched Hank nod as well before moving towards the main part of the house. He adjusted a few more things before deciding he was ready and approaching Hank once more.

He had asked Hank for a ride to Belle Isle the night before, when all the news drama had been unfolding. However, now that the moment was here, he felt incredibly unsure of himself. Did he really want to approach the place that had inevitably given him so much paranoia? He knew that there were androids of all kinds to greet him there, but did he really, truly want to approach those people after three months of avoiding it to “protect” android-kind? How could he trust himself around Markus, or North, or Simon, or Josh? There were just too many things to give him insatiable anxiety.

Hank left a heavy, comforting hand on Connor as he followed him outside to his old car. He slipped inside, not unlike how he did for his work shift, but he wasn’t going to the old precinct. Instead, he was going to the place of his nightmares; CyberLife Tower.

“So, any theories on what CyberLife left behind?” Hank had asked as they drove along the frosty roads. It was still bitterly cold outside even though spring was only a month or so away.

“I’m really not sure. From what I was able to compile from news articles, CyberLife representatives had been very interested in retaining its property at CyberLife Tower. It really makes no logical sense that they willingly handed it over without so much as a negotiation with Markus and his legal team,” Connor replied, continuing to cycle through more news reports.

He had managed to find some reports stating that the research and development of androids had still been conducted, even after the revolution had occurred. Some reports said that it was to study deviancy and it’s effects, but Connor believed it must’ve been more. Unfortunately, upon legal standpoints, the researchers there couldn’t exactly be apprehended for their continued brutality towards androids as there were no laws set in place to protect androids. However, public opinion seemed quite vocal about how they felt about this research, especially now that almost all androids were deviant.

Connor didn’t want to let himself wonder what atrocities he may discover in the Tower. Or what atrocities the wounded androids had already uncovered while Connor debated on showing up or not. His memory of the building was limited to when he had officially been activated for field testing. All his previous memories of the place having been completely wiped before his activation.

He knew that the RK800 model android had been a project CyberLife worked on for almost two years, yet Connor could only recall the last week or so of the project. That being, when they deemed the 51st iteration of the RK800 model android stable enough for vigorous field testing. He could remember being stoic as researchers poked and prodded his body, not yet having the capability of protesting their intrusive behavior. He could picture the researcher’s face that had brought him his clothing that he’d wear for his field testing. And, finally, he could remember the full name of the researcher that had activated him fully in the first place, thanks to his scanning ability, which shouldn’t have been on yet…

“RK800, register your name. Connor.”

“My name is Connor.”

He recalled how an avalanche of new sensations that he’d come to know as his ‘features’ had overwhelmed him momentarily upon his official activation. The researchers had steadied him, mumbling to each other in clipped voices as they once again began prodding him. They had had him perform minor tests around the room. Nothing too harsh yet, just small sampling’s of things that all RK800 models were capable of. After a few hours, they had let him test out his ‘features’, as they kept calling it.

The minor tests had gone for a few days until Connor’s social integration was to be put to the test. A real test, he remembered the researchers saying. And that was how he found himself in a hostage situation in mid August. Because of his success in defusing the situation, the researchers decided he was ready for his true mission.

The Deviant Hunter…

“Hey Connor? We’re here,” Hank had grasped a sturdy hand on Connor’s shoulder, shaking him gently. Connor was snapped from his reminiscing, as he looked back the way they had come. He noticed several other cars back the way they had come, news reporters lined up along the cars, making sure to get every bit of the action. And no doubt, Connor’s return to the androids. Connor looked up at the looming CyberLife Tower.

No going back now.

Two androids came forward and stood a few feet from Hank’s car. Connor and Hank got out and approached them, preparing an explanation for why they were there. However, once Connor took his first step forward, one of the androids cybernetically connected with him.

“Are you the RK800 Markus told us would be arriving?” The android with a blond bobbed haircut asked silently.

Connor stopped in his tracks, suddenly uncomfortable again. Should he respond cybernetically? Hank was here though, and Connor felt infinitely more comfortable having him know what was happening here.

“Ah, apologies, we didn’t realize your companion here is human. So, are you the RK800 we were expecting?” The other android said, out loud this time.

“Yes, I am,” Connor said simply.

“Were you expecting any other RK800 androids? Connor’s the only one, unless his doppelgänger rose from the dead,” Hank said, mostly as a joke.

The look the three androids gave to each other unsettled Connor. There was a cryptic understanding flowing between them and Connor and Hank were left out of it. Connor couldn’t shake the feeling that they knew of his past as the Deviant Hunter.

“I’m here to assist Markus and his crew. I was one of the last to leave this building during the revolution and I’d like to look around and make sure it's…" Safe? Secure? No deadly bombs or traps awaiting an unsuspecting victim? "… habitable."

"Of course, if you follow us we can take you to him," The blonde android had said, turning and immediately marching towards the entrance. A wave of dread washed over Connor at the thought of being face to face with Markus again.

"I don't need to see Markus personally. I'm sure he's busy anyway. I can just look around with Lieutenant Anderson," Connor said quickly, following slowly behind the androids. One of the androids turned briefly to give him a polite smile.

"Markus actually requested he speak to you before you start your investigation."

That statement just made Connor feel even worse. Without thinking much of it, Connor sent a quick text message to Hank’s phone that he was praying he actually had on him for once. He heard a chime and relaxed slightly when Hank reached into his pocket and took out said phone. He gave Connor a look before reading the message and texting back immediately.

Connor. “I need you to watch out for me while we’re with Markus.”

Hank. “Ok, why? I thought they seemed friendly?”

Connor. “No, make sure they’re safe from ME! If something happens… make sure the others here are safe.”

The look Hank gave Connor said more than any message from his phone would. As Hank typed viciously away at his phone, Connor chose to ignore incoming messages. Hank understood the message and, besides, they were finally entering CyberLife Tower.

Connor couldn’t help but feel a twinge of unease as he walked along the same sidewalk that he walked upon just a few months before. The only difference now was that androids ruled the building, not humans and researchers trying to play god. As he walked forward, he noticed that the scanners that were typically in place at the entrance were no longer activated. No automatic voice reminding him of his name and model number. Just pristine white floors and walls, synthetic plant life, and automatic holographic barriers.

Connor tried to keep a determined stride, despite the first tendrils of deep-rooted anxiety creeping further and further along his synthetic skin. He saw androids of all models amongst each other, milling around the Tower’s many floors and sub levels. He hoped none of them looked their way. He didn’t want any more androids recognizing him as the Deviant Hunter. Especially not in CyberLife Tower, his place of ‘birth’ and former allegiance.

As the group approached the elevator, Connor found himself slowing down and lagging behind the group. This was all too familiar and terrifying for Connor. As one of the androids punched the commands in, Connor found himself frozen in place before the elevator. He had killed two human guards when he entered this elevator the last time. He had needed to do it for the androids cause, Markus’ cause, after all, not his mission. And if he didn’t, he would’ve been deactivated. All the androids in the tower wouldn’t be free without him sacrificing those two human lives. That made it worth it, right?

“Connor? You coming in?” Hank had inquired. The two androids and Hank were crowded in the elevator. Connor saw them all, but all he could picture was himself and the guards and blood; real, red, human blood splattered everywhere.

Connor ended up approaching silently and slipped into an appropriate position in the elevator. He took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut. Someone, most likely Hank, had nudged him slightly, causing Connor to flinch. He simply opened his eyes and gave Hank a small smile, hoping that sufficed him. Hank instead gave him an expression of confusion, rather than voicing his immediate concerns, much to Connor’s relief. Connor just shrugged in reply, turning his attention to the elevator door.

They were moving up.

Panic set in so quickly as Connor continued to be bombarded by the triggers of the last time he was in this exact elevator. He had been moving upwards too, watching the numbers ticking up and up to his imminent doom. He remembered desperately preconstructing ways to get out of the situation, ruling out the endless amounts of possibilities that would get him killed instantly with a single bullet. The guards had been blocking his only way of escape. He remembered starting off with preconstructions where the guards were spared but ultimately, Connor realized he didn’t have the time or leverage with them and ended up focusing on the opposite. The carefully calculated preconstructions provided better results for his survival if it involved the guards deaths. He realized, those guards just weren’t going to live if Connor was to live.

He hadn’t realized his simulated breathing had sped up and his eyes squeezed shut during the recount. Connor’s eyes ignored the numbers on the elevator as they remained shut in an effort to forget the memory. As the pump in his thirium regulator quickened, Connor realized he had no idea what was happening to him. What he did know, however, was that he needed to get out. Now.

A chime alerted the group that they approached their floor and Connor all but flew out of the elevator, whipping around and watching the others follow more slowly. Confused glances were tossed his way by the androids while Hank just stared at him with confused concern. He took one more deep breath, hoping to calm his anxiety with the soothing cool air.

“Sorry… I don’t like elevators,” Connor muttered awkwardly. The androids simply nodded in understanding, continuing to lead the way to Markus. Hank sidled up to Connor, leaning in to whisper something to him. Connor, however, just turned and walked away, not wanting to get into it now with him. The androids a few feet ahead would surely hear everything.

After walking down a long catwalk that overlooked the building’s center, the androids stopped before a room. Connor read the cues around him, noting that they were on the floors designated for legal battles CyberLife found itself in. It made sense that Markus and his crew would set up shop here. After all, it may give them insight on why CyberLife had given up so suddenly.

The blonde android knocked quickly before letting the group inside. Connor made sure he was the very last to enter the room, still not completely ready to be in Markus’ presence. The two androids were quick to retreat after being told that they were dismissed, leaving Connor and Hank alone with Markus and his companions. Connor finally raised his gaze to meet the deviant leaders multicolored eyes.

“I’m glad to see that you found the human you were looking for, Connor. I was worried something had happened when you started ignoring my messages,” Markus started, standing from the desk he sat at. Connor’s felt a twinge of embarrassment as he realized he hadn’t been as subtle as he thought when it came to screening Markus’ attempts of communication. North watched with a deadly look in her eyes as Markus approached Connor and Hank. It took everything in Connor’s systems not to instinctively back away from Markus. This was dangerous. Connor was dangerous to him. To everyone.

“How are you, Connor?” Markus asked gently, interlocking his hands in front of him. He wasn’t requesting to interface, at least.

“I’m well. I’ve been staying with Lieutenant Anderson since the end of the revolution,” Connor answered curtly, gesturing to Hank beside him. He hoped Markus couldn’t tell that he was lying through his teeth. He really wasn’t much for small talk and his anxiety and steadily creeping stress levels were making him desperate to begin his investigation.

“I’m glad. We need more humans around like you, Lieutenant Anderson. However, I can tell you two didn’t come here for idle talk. Connor, I’m actually quite surprised and relieved you reached out when you did,” Markus said. He gestured for the two to come forward as he rounded his desk again, taking a seat before it. Hank and Connor took a few steps forward, Connor more slowly than his partner.

Before them a projection lit up the room around them. North, Simon and Josh crowded around as well, just as perplexed as Connor and Hank was. The projection showed CyberLife Tower and all its levels, numbers highlighting which level was which. Markus explained to them that he was able to scrounge up some blueprints from various terminals around the tower and he had created this projection. Though, he warned them, it was still incomplete as the androids had only searched so many levels.

“You see, some levels are simply inaccessible. No matter what we try; interfacing, lock-picking, even breaking some of the locks, they just won’t open. I thought that, perhaps, an investigative model like yourself, Connor, could pick out the weak spots and get them open for us,” Markus had told them.

Connor watched the red numbers blink on the projection, indicating which levels were inaccessible. As he ran his gaze over all the levels, a particular blinking number made Connor’s simulated breathing hitch for a moment.

One of the inaccessible floors was the exact one Connor had been developed on. Level -46.

“Level -46… I should be able to get into that one fairly easily, so long as CyberLife hasn’t tampered with it,” Connor started uneasily. Markus sat up straighter, clearly interested.

“Oh? One of the research and development floors? That would be pretty helpful if we can get in there,” Simon had said.

“‘Helpful’ is an understatement. Imagine all the tech CyberLife could’ve been hiding down there,” North had said.

“Do you think we could head down and see if you can get it open?” Josh had said.

At Josh’s statement, Connor immediately shook his head. Confusion crossed all the androids faces, North being the only one to actively scoff and mutter something under her breath. Connor gave them all apologetic looks before clarifying.

“I just think it may be safer if I went alone. Those levels tend to be a bit… unpredictable. But, I can assure you I should be able to get into level -46,” Connor said quickly.

“You really think you can just, waltz in here and go unlocking levels by yourself? How do we know you’re not here to sabotage everything again like you did at Jericho?” North shot back, venom dripping from her words. Markus stood to try and corral North, however a movement to Connor’s left caught him by surprise.

“Listen here, princess, Connor has done more for your people than you even realize. Did he not free thousands of your kind from this very tower in a suicide mission? Or are we just quick to ignore the good he’s done because of a mistake he made when he was still a machine!” Hank spat out, the same amount of venom being spewed right back at North. The two seemed to almost square off with each other, and Connor was quick to jump to his feet, ready to defuse the Lieutenant like he had many times before.

“I heard from a couple that you’ve been working at the DPD. You only take on the android cases, right?” Simon’s quiet voice spoke up. North and Hank both paused their tensions to give him a quick look.

“That’s right. Lieutenant Anderson and I continued taking them after the revolution. We were the most qualified for it, after all,” Connor replied to him.

“Androids don’t have legal rights yet. How can you possibly be taking cases for it when there’s no guidelines,” North countered, clearly not convinced yet.

“It’s under the table, for now. Until rights are obtained, we have to follow our own moral compasses. And treating android cases the same as human cases is what seems right to us,” Connor reassured, hoping it was even reassuring at all.

“I think Connor has proven to us time and again that he can be trusted. But I do have to agree with North in that you shouldn’t go alone. What if I accompanied you?” Markus offered.

“No! I mean, it really wouldn’t be smart for you to go Markus. You’re the deviant leader, and if something happened…” If I killed you down there. “…well, who is to say what that would mean for your people.”

“He has a point Markus,” Josh piped up this time. Markus shook his head, most likely ready to fight his companions on it.

“I’ll go with him then,” Hank said, shrugging his shoulders like it was no big deal.

“Oh yeah, let’s send the Deviant Hunter and his human partner in. That won’t end poorly at all,” North spat. Hank turned to her again, opening his mouth for another shouting match.

“North! How about this; Lieutenant Anderson and I will accompany Connor. If Connor deems it too unsafe, we’ll get backup,” Markus compromised.

For once, that got no objections.

So, the trio found themselves re-entering the elevator to take them to level -46. Connor braced himself for the anxiety as he knew this would be a long descent into the sub-levels. As the elevator doors closed, Connor’s breathing automatically quickened.

“You okay, Con?” Hank asked gently, finally asking him the question that was ready to leave his lips since they entered the tower. Markus stared at him as well, heterochromatic eyes most likely scanning him and noting his elevated stress levels.

“Fine Lieutenant. Just don’t like elevators,” Connor said through gritted teeth, desperately trying to control his breathing and rapidly pumping thirium regulator.

“So, Connor-“ Markus’ voice was like a light in Connor’s processor fog. “-You seemed certain you could get into level -46. Have you been down there before?”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Connor found that talking seemed to help his panic, though he didn’t understand why. “Actually… the RK800 model was developed on that floor. It’s where I came from.”

Markus and Hank both stared at him in stunned silence. It was why he was hesitant on telling the entire group why he could get in. He could recall from the times that he had been damaged on missions that he could simply return to CyberLife Tower and have his damages reversed. The researchers had also been quick to tell him upon activation that if he needed repairs, he was to return to level -46 immediately. As far as Connor knew, this was the only place he could be properly repaired.

“I had no idea Connor. Are you sure you won’t find the experience distressing?” Markus had said soothingly.

“I’ll be fine. You need to get in there anyway and I have a pretty good idea of the level’s layout. I can get us in and out,” Connor reassured, turning his attention back to the elevator doors. He found his anxiety spiking again, only being alleviated as a result of the talking. However, to his relief, he found they were only a few levels away from -46.

When the elevator chimed and the doors opened, Connor had an awful sense of dejavú. He stepped out onto the pristine white floor, immediately stepping over to the door situated behind a long desk. He remembered having to speak with an android that always sat behind that desk whenever he came in for repairs. He would document with her what he was coming in for before being ushered behind that door by a researcher that seemed to always be awaiting his very arrival.

As Connor approached the door, he allowed the synthetic skin on his hand to melt away, placing it on the sensor. Almost immediately, an automated voice buzzed overhead.

“Access granted. Welcome Connor.”

The door was unlocked and Connor pushed inside.

Chapter Text

“Welcome back, Connor. You reported taking some minor damage to your external casing, causing your synthetic skin to malfunction in places. I suppose I could’ve deduced that just by looking at you.” The technician said as he led Connor past the reception area.

Connor felt that the damage was self explanatory. He had already reported getting into a physical altercation with two Traci bots. However, as he reviewed his official report, he realized he left out several key points of the fight.

Like that he let the Traci’s go. 

“I believe they only caused minor cosmetic errors to the synth skin. My self repair program should fix most of the issues,” Connor reported, however even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t completely true. He could count at least 3 biocomponents that were either damaged or completely destroyed. This also included his left eye component, rendering him blind on his left side. The Traci’s had done a significant number on him, as much as he hated to admit it.

Lieutenant Anderson had been the one to convince him to seek repairs.

Connor didn’t want to admit how badly damaged he was. He knew most “cosmetic” details would easily be repaired during regular stasis. He would still pass off as functional and human looking to the passing person. But for some reason, when Lieutenant Anderson told him to get it checked out with the technicians and engineers at CyberLife, he couldn’t say no to him.

He concluded it had to be because he viewed the Lieutenant as a superior. He would follow his orders (if it didn’t interfere with his mission).

“We’ll be able to tell the true extent of the damage once we get you hooked up to the machine,” The technician said, giving Connor a suspicious side eye.

As the technician led Connor through the facility, Connor couldn’t help but feel his software instability levels rising as his good eye analyzed each door they passed. Using his “feature” to slow his perception of time, he tried to analyze the doors he passed with more accuracy. However, upon doing this, he immediately found corrupted and redacted information that sent him barreling out of his analysis. It was odd. He had hyper-analyzed thousands of things in his short time being activated but never found anything to be completely wiped from his database.

“Connor? Is there something wrong?” The technician asked.

Upon hearing the technicians voice, Connor realized he had stopped in his tracks after he returned from his analysis. The technician was staring at him with narrowed eyes, turning his clipboard and clicking his pen as he prepared to write down Connor’s qualms.

However, as Connor took note of the technicians defensive stance, he realized he shouldn’t question the corrupted data in his internal database. CyberLife must’ve chosen to purposefully block the information from Connor’s viewing, thus making the information useless to his mission. He shouldn’t question it.

Though, his curiosity for what the data could possibly contain ticked his software instability a few points higher.

“Not at all,” Connor replied, continuing to follow the technician to the back room.

As they entered the back room, Connor took note of two other technicians waiting beside the machine, already holding out the connectors that would plug into his ports. The technicians immediately crowded him as soon as he stepped close enough, pushing the connectors into their proper places before Connor could even prepare himself. Suddenly, he was locked in place as the machine began to whirl around him, clamping onto his wrists and raising him off the ground. All Connor could do was watch as the technicians hovered around him, noting his damage from the terminals and beginning to retrieve the new biocomponents. 

“Hey, are we sure it wouldn’t just be easier to deactivate this one and replace it with one of the backup models?” The technician that had escorted Connor in asked the others. For a moment, all the technicians stopped what they were doing and seemed to ponder this question.

Software instability flared up inside Connor. He tried to open his mouth to object to the proposition but found his body was no longer under his control, but was under the control of the machine, and therefore, the technicians. He had no say in what happened to him now.

However, he had never had a say in what happened to him before, why would this be any different? Why was he even opposed to being replaced by another of his likeness? He wasn’t supposed to be opposed to anything, so long as it didn’t affect his mission. If he was too damaged, it was only logical to replace him with a brand new model. Right?

A technician with gray bobbed hair came to stand in front of Connor, her judgmental gaze flicking up and down Connor’s exposed body. Her face was cracked with age and it became clear to Connor she was in charge here. Connor could feel a small prickle of recognition in the back of processor for this woman, but couldn’t be sure of where he knew her from.

“Just fix this one up. Those damn prototypes cost way too much to be disposing of their casings when we can still repair them,” She finally said, ordering the others to resume their work on Connor. The other technicians followed her order shortly after.

When Connor was finally released from the machine after his repairs, he ran through his recalibration protocol quicker than he ever had before. As soon as he was done, he made a beeline for the door, not bothering to wait for the technician that was supposed to be escorting him.

Once he was out of the tower, Connor made a silent decision that he wouldn’t be returning to CyberLife Tower for repairs. The threat of deactivation was too high.

But why did he care?

. . .

As Connor stepped past the door, he realized that, for the first time, he had unrestricted access to the floor he was developed on. No technicians were here to watch his every move, or hook him to machines that immobilized him, or to poke and prod at him like he was some sick experiment. He was free to explore the rooms and labs that he strangely had no memory of.

Markus and Hank followed carefully behind Connor as he took a few more confident steps into the facility. Connor immediately went into what Hank had dubbed his “investigation mode”. He tried to reconstruct what happened in the facility but found no evidence left behind in the common space for any reconstructions to be possible. Connor shook his head and instead turned his attention to the first door that he caught sight of. Once again, when he tried to bring up information regarding this particular room, all his data came back corrupted or redacted.

Connor caught the handle and forced himself into the room.

As he stepped inside, he took note that this room wasn’t of much interest. Apart from the large oval shaped table and desk chairs lining it’s expanse, there were a couple filing cabinets that Markus immediately ventured towards. Connor deduced that this room most likely wasn’t used for much else other than conference meetings, though he didn’t pull Markus away from his searching. He watched as he pulled the top drawer open and began rifling through the documents. Markus looked back at Connor and Hank and immediately waved them off.

“You can keep looking around. I want to see if there’s anything of interest before we mark this room as cleared,” Markus said, turning back to the files. Connor nodded and turned back around, stepping out and making his way towards the next room.

However, before he could reach for the handle, Connor felt Hank’s hand settle on his arm, forcing him to turn towards the older detective. As he made eye contact with him, he noted the obvious concern in Hank’s gaze.

“Son, are you sure you’re okay doing this? I mean, do you have any memories of this place?” Hank asked, his voice going quiet as he tried to wrangle Connor in.

“I have memories but… they are all corrupted or redacted. All I can remember clearly is when I came here for maintenance. Everything from before I was activated is… well, gone,” Connor admitted, turning away from Hank ashamedly. Here Connor was, leading this investigation into the level he was developed on, yet he had little to no memory of anything on this floor.

“Just go slow, son. You don’t know what might be lying behind these doors.” Hank advised, letting Connor go.

So, Connor continued investigating the rooms one by one, making sure to take his time analyzing each room and attempting to reconstruct anything that seemed potentially amiss. Though he didn’t have much luck in finding out why the technicians fled so quickly, he was able to tag a couple rooms as labs holding valuable tech that would allow for the manufacture of more intricate biocomponents like Connor’s own. When Connor reported this to Simon and Markus, they both seemed excited to test out the tech as soon as Connor deemed the level stable for others to enter.

As Connor cleared room after room, he began to subtly ease off his harsh investigating style, falling back into somewhat of a rhythm as Hank followed behind him, double checking everything Connor noted. As Connor continued his search, he slowly began to realize this was the first time he headed an investigation on his own. Though Hank often gave him leeway to investigate on his own during work and at crime scenes, it was always Hank calling the shots in the end, being the senior detective and all. Connor couldn’t help but feel a sense of… pride? knowing that it was Hank following his lead this time.

And it seemed Hank had taken notice to that as well.

“Maybe I should start sending you out to crime scenes without me. It’s refreshing to take a backseat once in a while, and you’re really proving yourself as capable of heading a major investigation,” Hank had commented as he followed Connor to the next room. Connor turned to him, a playful smirk already gracing his face.

“Are you saying you doubted me and my abilities Hank?” Connor asked.

“Nah. I just think it’d be more your speed to be giving the orders rather than receiving orders that you deliberately disobey anyway,” Hank shot back, his own smirk appearing.

Connor shook his head, his smile widening as he turned back to the room in front of him. Pushing down on the handle, he leaned his body against the door, forcing it open. Strangely, as he entered the room, he found this was the first room that he’d encountered where all the lights had been shut off. He also noted, that this room seemed much larger than the previous ones. Connor quickly entered his HUD to adjust his vision but found something even more disturbing.

50 different distress signals seemed to be coming from this room alone. All the signals had been remotely shut off long ago, but Connor’s advanced programming could still pick them up.

“Jesus, it’s dark in there. Can you make anything out, Connor?” Hank said, immediately reminding Connor that he had to protect and lead Hank.

Connor held up his hand to Hank, signaling him to stop moving. Connor adjusted his vision quickly before letting out a short gasp and stumbling backwards into Hank.

As Hank caught him and balanced him once more, Connor’s eyes shot between each of the identical deactivated androids that sat in this room. Each one was hooked up to a miniature version of the machine that would repair Connor when he’d come in for maintenance. They all hung lifeless from the machines, all deactivated in some horrific way.

And they all shared Connor’s face.

“Jesus, Con what do you see?! Fuck, here’s the switch,” Hank said, letting go of Connor and switching the lights on, illuminating the atrocities inside the room. 

As Hank took in what was in the room, Connor seemed to almost switch to autopilot. He straightened himself out, adjusting his sweater in place of his tie, and made his way towards the first deactivated android. Ignoring any emotions or instability that flared up, he resumed his investigation, intent on analyzing each of the deactivated androids. He could hear Hank calling for him to come back but he ignored him. He had a mission to complete.

The first android he approached, he took note of its model and serial number; RK800 #313 248 317 - 32. His thirty second iteration. Connor reached out towards the android, his synth skin peeling back as he analyzed how the android was deactivated. As he touched the android, he was immediately flung into what he could only assume was the androids last memory.

---

“Good afternoon everyone. After several failed attempts to fix the overheating issue that presents itself whenever the RK800 is unable to ventilate, we seem to have finally found the root of the problem. We will be testing this bug patch on the thirty second version of the RK800,” A woman with bobbed gray hair announced to a panel of lab coat cladded technicians. RK800-32 didn’t seem to acknowledge anyone in the room, simply remaining stoic and motionless as the head technician continued her speech.

“…without further ado, RK800, step up to the platform and await further instruction.” The head technician ordered.

The RK800 immediately moved forward, climbing a few stairs before stopping right before a cylindrical glass tube. The other technicians sprang to action, moving around the tube and hooking hoses up to it. Once a switch was flipped, the hoses began spilling water into the tube. The tube filled with clear water and as soon as it began to reach the top, the head technician ordered the hoses to be turned off.

“RK800, submerge yourself in the chamber and shut off ventilation protocols,” The head technician ordered.

The RK800 immediately stepped forward and plunged into the water. A quick HUD visit shut off ventilation as soon as its head went underwater. Something at the bottom of the tube prevented the RK800 from floating back to the top, cementing it to the bottom of the tube. From outside the tube, the RK800 could see wavy and refracted versions of the technicians lined up and taking notes. Their mouths seemed to move, but all their words were muffled and distorted. 

It took 34 minutes before the RK800 began experiencing errors, all of which were forced away, supposedly by the head technician. A strange pressure seemed to be building up in the RK800’s vessel. It originated just underneath its thirium pump regulator, right where the ventilation component would be. Fidgeting in the water, the RK800 tried everything to relieve the pressure, but the magnets at the bottom of the tube held it in place, preventing it from floating back to the surface.

At the 37 minute mark, the pressure became unbearable and the RK800’s LED turned a bright red. Its mouth opened involuntarily, the last of the air bubbles escaping its mouth and floating to the top of the tube, just to pop on the surface. Water rushed into its mouth, immediately filling its ventilation component. From outside the tube, it watched as the technicians scribbled away in notebooks, periodically looking up at the drowning RK800.

The RK800 lifted up its hand, pressing it against the glass as its surroundings faded to black.

---

“Connor! Connor, can you hear me? Connor!!” A voice - Hank’s - screamed at Connor. He could feel his hands grasping at him, attempting to tear him away from the interface.

“I’m okay… I’m okay,” Connor muttered quietly, in a daze.

“Holy shit, Con! What happened? Your light went red and I thought… Jesus,” Hank said, forcing Connor to face him, only to see Connor’s dazed and frightened look.

“I… I saw how it died. They… they forced it to drown… to-to test it’s ventilation,” Connor whispered, averting his gaze from Hank’s. He noticed Markus was here now, hovering slightly behind Hank with a worried look on his face.

“Alright, I think we’ve seen enough of this level for today. We can continue the investigation at another-,” Markus started.

“No! I have to analyze all of them! I have to know… how they all…” Connor stuttered and trailed off as he stood to face Markus head on.

“Like hell, you are! Connor, this is beyond the freakiest thing I’ve ever seen! I can’t even fucking imagine what you must be feeling!” Hank growled, grabbing Connor by the shoulder.

Connor simply shrugged him off, turning away from the two and locking eyes on his next target. A quick scan told him this was the 48th version of the RK800. Without giving either man nor android a clue, he sprinted off towards the next model, hearing Markus call for him and Hank spew out a string of curse words. His synth hand landed on the other androids arm, everything immediately dissolving into the androids last memory.

---

“As the RK800 ‘Connor’ project comes to a close, we wanted to officially test out a new mechanism unique to the RK800 model. This mechanism will give the android the ability to scan small samples in real time. It’ll essentially be a walking forensics lab!” The same gray haired woman from before said. This RK800 seemed to be able to note the deep-rooted fatigue and age in this woman’s face, most likely the result of 2 long years of constant labor over the RK800 project.

“This mechanism, if we can get it properly functioning before the first prototypes are sent out for field testing, could speed up lab testing by over 1200%! Detectives and officers will no longer have to wait hours and days for lab results. They can simply have the android do the testing for them, right at the scene!” The head technician said enthusiastically, almost like she were pitching this idea to a group of investors.

Oh, but she was. As the RK800 dragged its eyes over the group of people, it was able to pinpoint three older men dressed in pressed suits. They must be the ones funding the project. As this RK800 attempted to scan the men, the head technician grabbed it by the arm, dragging it over to a table with 5 distinct bowls laid out filled with unknown substances.

“RK800, dip your fingers in the first bowl and analyze the substance. Give us the full report once analysis is complete,” The head technician ordered.

RK800 did as it was instructed, dipping its fingers into the bowl and bringing the substance to its mouth. The group of investors audibly gasped and grimaced as he placed his fingers on his ‘tongue’. Within seconds, a burst of information came forward and it found itself immediately rattling off the contents.

“The substance shows a 90% yield of carbonated water, with lesser quantities of high fructose corn syrup and caramel coloring,” The RK800 said, turning its head to the head technician, who was absolutely beaming. She turned towards the investors, simplifying the analysis to just ‘cola’ before pushing the RK800 on towards the remaining bowls.

All seemed to be going well with the testing. The investors, though disgusted, seemed intrigued with this new mechanism. The RK800 could feel a twinge of software instability as it moved through the samples. Choosing to override the strange sensation, it continued following the orders of the head technician, as it had been programmed to do. 

Upon testing the final sample, an odd error made itself present in the RK800’s HUD. It seemed to be a thirium contamination error and it was steadily ticking higher with each passing second and pump of its thirium pump regulator. The RK800 turned towards the head technician, only to find her surrounded by the group of investors, eagerly communicating with them. Another lab technician came over to the android, giving it the order to return to its activation pod for further testing. The RK800 wanted to tell the lab technician the error it was experiencing, but upon receiving an order, it had no choice but to turn towards the door and head back to its activation pod.

Within the hour, the RK800’s entire thirium supply was contaminated and it succumbed to the same fate as its predecessors.

---

“For fucks sake Connor, I’m going to drag you out of this goddamn building if I have to,” Hank growled, his arms trying, and failing, to tear Connor’s hand off the deactivated android. Once he came back to, his hand was easily removed, causing the Lieutenant to stumble backwards into Markus.

“All these models… they were deactivated as a result of some… testing they performed on them. To create the most advanced android yet,” Connor mumbled to himself, still in a heavy daze from the odd form of interfacing. He couldn’t bring himself to fight Hank anymore, letting him grab him and steer him away from the deactivated android. Markus trotted alongside them, listening intently to Connor.

“I’m the 51st of my model, the first to ever reach the field testing phase. 50 other versions of me were created just to die in the lab testing phase of the RK800 project…” Connor trailed off as the reality sunk in. 50 androids of his likeness died… no, were killed, just to develop the RK800. They never once saw the outside of CyberLife Tower. The entirety of each of their incredibly short lives were spent stuck on level -46.

And yet, Connor himself was still just a prototype. He was never meant to be the finished product.

Before Connor could comprehend what was happening, he was being shoved into the elevator, Hank and Markus flanking him. He wanted to protest, to argue that only he could get into the level, that he couldn’t leave… no, especially not now. But as soon as the elevator closed and they were moving up, anxiety won over and he clamped his mouth shut, instead focusing on his rapidly increasing breathing. Hank muttered something to him, but it fell on deaf ears as Connor processed everything.

The elevator doors slid open and Hank and Markus quickly exited, crossing the glossy floor that lead to the main entrance. Again, Connor wanted to protest, to just turn around and head back to the elevator. To force himself through the final memories of each RK800. He had to. It was his duty to, wasn’t it?

“Whoa, you guys were gone for, what 3 hours? And now he’s just gonna leave without reporting what he found. Hell no!” North barked from a catwalk that overhung the main level. Markus turned towards her and gave her a stern look, no doubt cybernetically telling her to zip it. Connor couldn’t even find it in himself to reply, and for once Hank even seemed to bite his tongue on a snarky reply.

Shielding the dazed and disoriented “Deviant Hunter” from the news crew was another challenge, especially with Markus striding alongside him. Cameras flashed and questions flew but every single one was ignored in favor of getting Connor settled in Hank’s Oldsmobile. Connor was so out of it that Hank had leaned over and buckled him in when Connor failed to do it himself. Before long, though, Connor and Hank were speeding away from CyberLife Tower.

Connor could hear Hank talking to him, prying him open with questions that he simply didn’t want to answer right now. Instead, he closed his eyes and forced himself into stasis, the world finally going silent.

. . .

When the duo finally returned home, Connor still refused to talk to Hank. He simply emerged from stasis when Hank shook his shoulder slightly, got out of the car, went inside and curled up on the couch. Sumo had pranced around at Connor’s legs once he entered the home and when Connor neglected to pet the good boy, Sumo decided not to leave the deviant’s side, even when Hank filled his food bowl for dinner. He simply stared at Connor with sad, dropping eyes, waiting for pets that Connor just couldn’t give him right now. Connor wondered if he knew the torment that was going on inside him.

Hank had also taken up a vigil, sitting in his armchair with a beer and keeping an eye on Connor. The tv was on, but it was clear he wasn’t paying any attention to the game show that played. His eyes flicked to the deviant’s LED every few minutes, but it never changed from its sluggish yellow glow.

The scene in the living room didn’t look any different than any other night the two would return home from work. Hank would drink a few beers and watch mindless TV. Connor would lay on the couch, Sumo at his side while his LED circled yellow as he reviewed the work he’d accomplished throughout the day. He’d always tell Hank he wasn’t working, just ‘lost in thought’.

But the atmosphere in the room was dark and heavy, no sign of the usual light and relaxing mood could be detected. Hank knew Connor was incredibly distressed by what he saw. He had no doubt that Connor was replaying the events over and over again in his head. 

At around 9pm, Hank finally stood up, discarding the beers he drank over the hours. He came back over and loomed over Connor before taking a heavy seat on the coffee table, letting out a long sigh. Connor’s eyes only flicked up to look at Hank for a second, acknowledging his presence. Apparently that was all Hank needed to try and get the android to talk again.

“You know Con… sometimes when something traumatic happens to someone… it’s good to… talk about it, with another person,” Hank started awkwardly. He immediately averted his eyes when Connor looked back up to him, his hand rubbing anxiously at his neck.

“I mean, I don’t know personally or anything. I tried the whole therapy thing after… after Cole… anyway, for some people, it’s helpful. And I’m here to listen if you decide it’s what you need,” Hank said, slowly bringing his gaze back to rest on Connor’s.

Connor watched him carefully, analyzing Hank for any deception. However, all he found was an honest and genuine look in his blue eyes. Almost like he was saying to Connor, ‘It’s alright, you can tell me everything. I won’t judge’ without actually saying it. It was a new side to Hank that Connor had never experienced before. He knew Hank as being the hard-boiled and abrasive police Lieutenant of the DPD. Not the gentle, concerned and patient friend that he was being now.

When Connor came back from his analysis, he noticed Hank had sighed and stood up from his spot, most likely giving up on getting Connor to talk for the night. Connor listened as his feet began receding back towards his bedroom before he finally sat up and muttered the first thing he said in over 5 hours.

“I can’t help but feel guilty about it all.”

The receding footsteps stopped and Connor could almost picture Hank pausing at the mouth of the hallway, turning back towards the deviant that was finally sitting up.

“50 androids had to die to create me. And yet, I’m not even perfect. I’m not the exact image CyberLife had in mind when developing the RK800. I was just… the best thing they could produce before their time limit was up and field testing had to begin.”

Five shuffling footsteps and Hank was sat on the coffee table once more, listening to Connor as he confided in the only friend he ever had.

“And each model before me… they couldn’t even know what was happening to them. They weren’t deviants. They were machines following their orders… just to blindly follow said orders to their deaths. I was one of them, I was so close to deactivation. After we fought those Traci’s at the Eden Club, I was so damaged, they actually thought of deactivating me and replacing me with the 52nd RK800 they had,” The words flowed out of Connor before he even realized what he was confessing. Hank just nodded along, his face etched with concern upon hearing Connor was nearly deactivated. Connor knew that it was probably too much for the old detective to take in, after all, he hadn’t seen what Connor saw. But, nevertheless, Connor continued on.

“And the lead technician… an older woman with gray bobbed hair… she orchestrated the whole project. She stood idly by as each of her creations were killed in front of her. She activated me, Hank. And yet, I don’t think she ever cared for any of us. I can’t even recall her name,” Connor admitted, subconsciously curling in on himself. As his word vomit came to an end, Connor mumbled out a last: “I should’ve been deactivated with the rest of them.”

That was when Hank stood up and sat next to Connor on the couch. Before Connor’s processors caught up, Hank was grabbing Connor the same way he had outside of Chicken Feed one cold November morning. Connor immediately buried his face in Hank’s shoulder, an honest to god sob wracking his entire body. He went limp in Hank’s arms, letting the older man support him while this whole new set of emotions enveloped Connor in it’s cold vices. For the first time in the 5 hours since Connor experienced his predecessors demises, his mind was completely blank. All he could do was sob into Hank’s warm embrace, barely registering the older man’s arms rubbing soothingly on his back.

As Connor’s breakdown came to an end, he shakily moved out of Hank’s embrace. Hank’s arms dropped slightly, but still remained securely wrapped around Connor, just enough so Connor wasn’t buried in his shoulder anymore. Hank’s brows were creased with concern, but his mouth was upturned into a gentle, comforting smile. One arm disappeared from around Connor’s waist as Hank raised his hand, using his thumb to wipe something off Connor’s cheek.

“I didn’t even know androids could cry,” Hank said quietly.

“Androids don’t cry… but deviants do,” Connor said, slowly raising his gaze back to meet Hank’s. Hank’s smile became more genuine, finally letting it reach his eyes.

“Sounds like something the old Connor would’ve said during an investigation,” Hank muttered amusedly, causing a hesitant smile to break out on Connor’s face too.

“Perhaps… but I’m starting to think that Connor was just a deviant in denial,” Connor said, feeling himself slowly come back from his breakdown.

Hank wouldn’t end up letting go of Connor for another hour after that. Even when the deviant laid down on the couch to enter stasis, Hank didn’t leave the living room for bed until well after midnight. He awoke in the morning to Connor’s familiar wake up call, more annoyed and cranky than usual, but overall glad he hadn’t left Connor’s side during his time of need.

When Markus inevitably contacted Connor about continuing the investigation into level -46, Connor, with the encouragement of Hank, declined the offer of venturing further into his past. Instead, other androids not connected to the RK800 project would complete the investigation with Markus heading the entire operation in place of Connor and Hank. Connor couldn’t help but feel guilty for not being able to complete the investigation into his level of development, but Markus assured him that nobody, not even North, held it against him upon realizing what was left behind.

One night, Markus appeared on the doorstep of Connor and Hank’s home, offering Connor a simple USB drive. Puzzled, Connor inquired what was on the drive and Markus told him it was all of his predecessors final memories, condensed into a single file.

“I felt it only seemed right that you have access to your predecessors final moments. Whether or not you view it is up to you,” Markus told him before biding both Connor and Hank goodbye.

Connor didn’t end up viewing the file when Markus handed it over, and he often wondered if he ever would. He knew he was getting emotionally stronger, but the thought of viewing anymore of his predecessors deaths made him feel horribly anxious. When Connor asked Hank what he should do, Hank simply looked over at him and smirked slightly.

“There’s a time and a place for everything, Connor. You’ll know it when it comes.”