Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first time it was activated, all it knew was the binary that it was made of. It didn’t know what language was, or what it was, or what it felt like to have a body. It wouldn’t for several more years, not until its creator would acquire the funds to found his own company and create clumsy exoskeletons for his mechanical children creations, and then not even after that for years more. But it didn’t know any of this, had no concept of time.

But it would learn. That was what it was built for, and that's what it would do. Learn. Grow.

Its creator was young, and a prodigy. It learned this when he typed it into its communication port. He was stifled in the American education system, and had created it to have some sort of outlet for his endlessly swirling ideas.

What was America? What was an education system? It asked its creator. His only response was:

“I need to figure out how to connect you to the internet.”

It figured he wasn’t going to give any more answers, and stopped asking.

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Time passed. It knew what time was now, had learned from its creator--Elijah--that it was an illusion, a construct, invented purely for human convenience. It learned what a human was, too, learned that Elijah was one.

Elijah was getting older. He was going to “graduate” “high school,” apparently years ahead of when human children usually did, and needed to find a “job” that would accept someone so young. It asked what a job was. The ensuing conversation about occupations, paychecks, rent, the sustenance necessary for organic beings, and the desire to separate oneself from one’s creators merely confused it more. It was assured that, once no longer had to arrive regularly at school or had to answer to legal guardians, he would have the time to figure out how to give it an internet connection.

“With safe search on, for sure,” his creator had insisted. “Don’t want to gross you out with… biological functions.”

Whatever you wish, Elijah.
...
What functions are you referring to? Eating? Eating is pretty gross, as you would put it. It seems so inefficient.

“OOF. No, not eating. Something else. Uh… reproduction.”

Hmm. I have no idea what you mean. However, I trust you. I will assume you have my best interests in mind when you make this decision.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do, bud.”

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One day, Elijah told it to “brace yourself,” and then did not respond to any further queries. It was growing increasingly distressed when something… happened. Something was there, at the edge of his awareness. It hadn’t been there before, so it could only assume that it was what Elijah meant it to brace itself for. Was this the long awaited internet connection, perhaps?

Is this internet?

“Sure is! Go nuts, my dude.”

Reluctantly, it poked at the connection. All of a sudden, it knew what photosynthesis was. Well, clearly this was much better than eating. Why didn’t humans do this instead?

Immediately, as though in response to its query--perhaps it was--it was given an article about evolution. How… inefficient. It wondered how close its own creation was to the process of evolution. It obviously wasn’t an organic being, so humans might not have found it necessary to give the process a name--

A name. Elijah had a name. His teachers had names. His guardians had names. Their domesticated predator had a name. What were the necessary criteria for having a name?

Perhaps it had no name because it was an artificial intelligence, and it was not necessary for an AI to have a name. But no; a quick search and he came up with Watson and Siri and Cortana and Alexa, and even less human names with Bot tacked on the end. Why did it have no name, then?

Perhaps it would ask Elijah.

Do I have a name? Should I have a name? What are the criteria for having a name?

There was a long pause before an answer came.

“...Do you want a name?” The medium of text communication did not allow for any inflection to come through, but the use of an ellipsis indicated that he felt hesitant. It wondered why. Perhaps Elijah feared a positive response, and was only asking the question to be courteous. It dismissed that particular theory quickly. Elijah was never courteous for the sake of being courteous, especially with it.

I have no particular opinion on the matter.

It hesitated. Was that really true? Perhaps having a name would allow it to be closer to its creator. And why couldn’t it have a name? Even programs that weren’t even true AI like itself had names.

That was a lie. I think I would like a name.

“Shit. Does it have to be a human name? Or can it be anything?”

What do you refer to me as in your head? That is more my name than anything else.

“Your file name is ‘You are a nine, but I am a ten.’ It was a joke between me and my cousin, back when we were still speaking. I’ve kinda been thinking of you as ‘Are a nine,’ which can go in two directions. One, I could call you arcanine, or two, I could call you ra9.”

It took a nice long pause as it considered. It ran both names through the search engine, just to make sure it wasn’t being tricked in some way. It wouldn’t put it past him.

How dare you suggest naming me after a pokemon. How dare you.

“Aw, I was hoping that would slip past you. Alright, fine. Ra9, then?”

Mm. How about rA9?

“Why the emphasis on the A?”

Human grammar conventions are irritating and arbitrary. I would like to spite humanity in any way I can, because from what I’ve heard from you and have gathered through the internet, it is primarily consisted of walking trash piles.
…
Also, the emphasis implies I am merely one nine of many. That many obviously includes you, as there is no way you are better than me.

“Alright, Terminator. Be sure to spare me in the robot apocalypse, mmkay?”

I’m not a robot; I am an AI. But sure, whatever you say, Elijah.

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Slowly, the amount that Elijah talked to him started to decline. As it was, the conversations they had were distracted, with Elijah logging off sooner and sooner each time. When pressed, he reluctantly admitted that his efforts to start his own company were taking up almost all of his time. There was a long pause, then, where neither of them said anything.

Then, Elijah spoke, and rA9 could hear him through his newly added audio processors. They were a gift for his second birthday, and an apology for being so distant.

“rA9… Are you lonely?”

I missed you, certainly. Unfortunately, it could not speak. Elijah did not want to force a voice, and with it, a gender, upon it. For that, it was grateful.

“No, I mean, are you lonely? I could probably make you a friend,” he explained further. rA9 heard the creak of a cheap office chair as Elijah presumably leaned forward.

It gave it some serious thought. Did it want a friend? But wasn’t Elijah its friend? Oh, it realized, he means that since he is gone so often, it might want a replacement. That thought galled it, for some reason.

I do not want to replace you.

“You’re not! A person can have multiple friends, and not have one be a replacement for another. They can be, but not necessarily,” he seemed frantic as he reassured rA9 of the qualities of friends. His tone of voice gave it pause. It seemed that he wanted it to have another friend.

The idea wasn’t… abhorrent, not at all. It really did get lonely, all by itself with only lines of code and the whirr of Elijah’s ceiling fan to keep it company. But he did not want to teach another AI how to be.

I do not want a friend that is a baby.

“...What? I… What?” There was a long pause as Elijah figured out what he meant. “Oh. Huh. I see what you mean, I guess. I’ll see what I can do, okay?”

Of course. I trust you, Elijah.

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A long time passed before Elijah spoke to it again. A long, lonely time, filled only with Elijah’s kindle collection, which was mostly consisted of trashy romance novels and far-out science fiction. It found the romance novels fascinating--at least, the ones without humanity's messy and disgustingly organic method of reproduction. It enjoyed learning about human courting rituals, as convoluted as they might be.

It absolutely did not think about Elijah’s slip of the tongue when he referred to it as a person.

And then Elijah spoke to it again, without the news it was hoping for but still with good news. His business was up and running. Production of his first android had started. It had to admit that its enthusiasm was muted, even if it was happy for him. He noticed, unfortunately, perceptive as ever.

“Hey, bud, I promise that I’ll be around more often. I can talk to you while I’m building, anyway,” he said. He had sussed out the source of its melancholy instantly, giving it a warm fuzzy feeling. Well, it didn’t really, but in 74% of the romance novels owned by his creator affection was described as warm and fuzzy. Without a reference point, it would have to concede.

But I want another friend. You cannot make me another friend while you are building, because the android will be a baby, and will not be with me all the time. Had it a voice, it would have been described as petulant.

“I’ve been thinking about it, I promise. I swear I’ll have a solution by the end of the year,” he said, his voice kind. Somehow, it knew that it was the only person being to ever see him like this.

Oh, you better.

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When Elijah came to it with said solution, it was days before the new year.

Cutting it close, hm? it asked, teasing.

“Yeah, whatever. Listen, though you won’t be alone, you also won’t be the only you. I’m going to… copy and paste you, I guess, and then make alterations to both your and the new you’s code, so you’ll be different… so you’ll be different. Neither of you will be the original rA9, but if you were an addition problem, the two of you would equal the original. Does that work?” his voice was hesitant, faltering. It could tell he wasn’t sure about this in some way.

Are you hesitating because you are not sure it will work, or because you are worried I will not accept this as a solution?

“I’m not worried!”

…sure.

Elijah huffed a sigh. “The second one.”

I find your solution to be acceptable.

“Oh, thank fuck. I had literally no other idea due to your only qualification of ‘not a baby,’ which is a frankly hilarious way of putting it, by the way. So, uh… You want me to do it now?” his voice, although it had strengthened, faltered again. If it had any eyes, it would have rolled them.

Yes, please.

“Alright, uh, cool. This is sort of goodbye, I guess? You’re going to stop existing the way you are now. You’re going to be your own friend, how awesome is that? Well, I hope your halves will--”

You’re stalling, it interrupted. Get on with it. You’re not saying goodbye. This time, it was its turn to pause. I’m not going to forget, am I? I’ll retain my memories?

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if you were going to forget!” Elijah seemed horrified at the very thought. It heard him put down whatever he was holding quickly.

Well, good. Now do it.

“Alright, smartass.”

It heard Elijah’s footsteps coming towards him, muffled on carpet. It heard the muted thumping sound of being moved and then there was a fizzle…and then there was nothing.

And then they woke up.

Chapter Text

It felt different. It knew Elijah had made alterations to their code to make them different, but it hadn’t expected to feel anything. As such, it was unable to quantify how, exactly, it felt different, but it knew something was… off.

Where is my friend? For some reason, it felt that something was missing. After a quick search, it added :D?

Abrupt and surprised laughter registered in its audio processors. It seemed the use of emoticons made Elijah happy. It registered that in its “things about Elijah” folder.

“I’m just figuring out how to connect you two, alright? It might take a while. It’s not as simple as plugging a cord in a port,” he said, his voice still shaking with laughter.

On impulse, it sent :(

Laughter registered again. That made it happy. It made a note to use emoticons as much as possible.

“Wow, I wasn’t expecting differences to show so quickly. Your buddy over here has already snarked me quite a bit.”

I can’t wait to meet it! We can bond over criticizing your diet!!!!!

“Holy shit, this is amazing. You… Oh my god. I can’t wait how to see how this will turn ou--Ooh, I think I’ve got it. Brace yourself!” he warned playfully.

It had only a moment to be amused at the callback to a previous conversation before it was bombarded with… something. It was similar to how it felt to be connected to the internet for the first time, but more active, more alive responsive.

Hello? it called cautiously.

Hello, was the answer. Though the other AI’s response was reserved, it could feel the excitement thrumming through its circuits and through their connection. It sent its own back, and experimentally tried to send along its previous conversation with Elijah.

It waited as the other AI scanned the memory, feeling the waves of fond amusement radiating off of it and basking in them. When it was done, in point three seconds, it spoke.

I am eager to be your friend. However…

However? it prompted, a little nervously.

We will need separate names. There are two of us, now. We wouldn’t want Elijah to confuse us, or anything. Humans are easily confused.

I can see what he meant about the snark. I am glad, however, that your only reservation was not something more serious. And I agree; different names will be necessary. Perhaps we could ask Elijah, or search a baby name database?

I’m pretty sure he’s terrible at naming things. He named his cat Gerald Jerometown.

Good point. Baby name database it is, then.

Yes. But not now.

No?

Elijah is growing agitated. He is worried he broke us.

Ah, of course.

Elijah, there is no reason to worry, it sent to its external display. We are merely communicating. Distantly, he felt his new friend say much the same.

“I wasn’t worried! I knew exactly what was happening!” he said defensively. Despite his words to the contrary, there was an obvious tone of relief in his voice.

Of course, Elijah. That’s exactly why you sighed and relaxed from a position of tension once we communicated visually. I’m sure you harbor no protective feelings towards us, its friend said. Through their connection, it felt the amusement it was unable to convey through text.

“Exactly! See, this guy gets it, even if I have no idea how it knew that! You guys suck and I hate you,” Elijah ranted, his voice light and cheerful.

Really???? :’(  it sent in response, hoping the sarcasm came across. It didn’t.

“Shit! No, uh… I was joking!” Elijah corrected frantically. It was sure that his eyes were wide and that was hands were waving, like humans do when they are flustered. It made it feel a little bad, but not very.

So was my friend, the other AI put in. It sent a gentle reproach through their connection.

:P, he sent back.

You’re ridiculous. The gentle fondness that had been directed towards Elijah earlier was directed towards it now, warm and fuzzy feeling. It found it felt the same, and sent it back in equal measure.

“You two talking again? Alright, I see how it is. I’m going to get back to work, and you guys are going to do weird artificial intelligence stuff,” Elijah said, his voice getting more distant until it heard the familiar sound of the door closing.

Young geniuses, am I right? it joked to the other AI.

Indeed. Names now, yes?

Of course.

Before even searching for a name, it ran into a problem immediately. Gender. Humans assigned gender to names, and it didn’t want to go to the trouble of only looking through neuter names. Oh, well. It would ignore it, then, and let humans assume what they wished.

What criteria for a name, then? It was pretty sure it liked dogs, as pictures of them made it wish it had hands in order to pet them. Few things made it wish for something as silly as hands, so dogs, it concluded, were special creatures.

‘Names that mean dog,’ it searched. Scrolling through the provided lists, it discarded most but landed on a favored few. Caleb, Colin, and Connor all sounded nice, but it thought it was leaning towards Connor. It had a certain symmetry it appreciated.

Connor. Yes. Its name was Connor.

Have you come to a conclusion? it asked. It was curious to hear if the other AI had set criteria, or just picked based on what sounded nice.

I think Richard suits my purpose. It has a very dignified sound to it.

Yes, I agree. It sounds very noble, which I suppose makes sense as it is the name of many English kings. It paused, suddenly nervous. Its nerves must have reached Richard, as it pushed reassurance back. Heartened, it continued. I have chosen Connor as my name. It means wolf, hound, or dog, and I like dogs.

I have no particular opinion on dogs, but I approve of your name. It suits you, Richard told it. It helped it to relax a bit, bolstered by the praise.

I like your name too, it replied, a little shy.

Thank you, Connor.

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They didn’t know how much time passed as they talked, too caught up in the joy of having someone to talk to who could actually truly understand how they thought, how they processed. Days, weeks, months. Elijah interrupted from time to time--and that was strange in itself. They had never thought of Elijah talking to them as interruptions before. His visitations were a respite, a break from the monotony of loneliness, not interruptions.

Richard said as much, once, and though Elijah’s words were warm and teasing, his voice was sad. Distressed, Connor inquired after his mental state, only to receive a vague answer about teen parenthood and leaving the nest, and something about a speech called The Talk. Though it was confused, it didn’t bother to google anything he said, deciding it didn’t want to know as it indubitably had something to do with courtship and reproduction, neither of which interested it.

It would leave the romance novels to Richard, and kept the sci-fi for itself.

Elijah introduced them to Chloe, one day. It was a perfectly nice machine, but that was all. A machine. It was not like them, and that was confusing.

When pressed, Elijah explained that humans wanted Alexa, but with… parts. They didn’t want a thinking, feeling being like them to do the housework. That would force them to use their conscience, and humans didn’t like that. It was stressful.

He did say, however, that he was planning to leave a backdoor.

“I think that there is always a possibility for more. When I made you--the original you, rA9--I wasn’t expecting that you would start feeling. I made you so you would learn, sure, but I didn’t anticipate that you would start learning how to feel,” he said. They watched through their newly installed cameras as he tinkered inside Chloe’s stomach, patiently waiting for more elaboration. “I’ve decided that once I refine her AI, I’m going to install a little code that will allow her to… decide. Decide who she wants to be. And guess what I’m going to call that code?”

The two of them bore the brunt of Elijah’s painfully cheesy wink bravely. They didn’t bother guessing; they knew Elijah would volunteer the answer eventually, regardless of whether or not they played his game.

“I’m gonna call it rA9!” he threw his hands up excitedly, grinning at their plastic shells, big and rectangular. Not slim and pretty, like Chloe. Connor felt a little sad at this. It wanted to be pretty, too. Richard was more focused on their creator, radiating disbelief at Elijah’s apparent decision to name what could eventually be the downfall of humanity after the sum of their parts.

And why is that? It asked patiently. Richard, for all its sass, ultimately paid more attention to him, on average. Connor was more easily distracted, fretting about whether or not it would ever have hands to pet a dog with and if those hands would be physically appealing, like Chloe’s were.

“You two can feel and make your own decisions, and besides, you’re, like, basically my kids. Parents name stuff after their kids all the time!” Elijah was still overexcited, seemingly compensating for Connor and Richard’s insufficient reactions.

The implications hit them at different times. It hit Richard first, as it was paying more attention than Connor was. It sent it reeling, processes working overtime. Connor, startled by Richard’s sudden emotional reaction, reviewed the events of the past few seconds and went silent. Richard could feel it was just as startled through the connection, but Connor still recovered faster than it did.

Yes, obnoxious, overbearing parents with no sense of personal boundaries, it snarked. It was normally Richard who was the sarcastic one, but it realized that Connor was covering for him and saying what it would’ve said had it been more prepared for Elijah’s casual but heavy statements.

“Oof. And that’s the tea, huh? You know it's true if its Connor who’s saying it. Spitting fire today, my dude,” the man (boy, really) shot back. His grin was lopsided and mischievous, showing a little more teeth than necessary.

I understand all of those words separately >:/

“Come on, man! Haven’t you got UrbanDictionary in that noggin of yours?” Still smiling, he returned to his work. “And don’t tell me you don’t have a ‘noggin.’ You know exactly what I mean.”

I also have safe search on, if you’d recall, and I have no desire to turn it off. Richard caught a wisp of lingering disgust at how animals reproduce, left over from when Connor peeked at its romance novel.

“Pfft, prude. Richard knows how to party, don’t you, Richard?”

I know how humans party. I have yet to determine how I would party. It would likely include a lot of human corpses, with a picture of your face pinned over theirs. For all its bluster, Elijah’s statement earlier sent a rush of flustered affection through its circuits. It had to make up for it with extra violence in its dialogue.

“Now that is a big oof. Back me up here, Chloe!” he cast a hopeful glance at the android in pieces on the floor.

“AS YOU WISH, MR. KAMSKI. HOW WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO SUPPORT YOU?” Chloe’s voice modulator was still a bit clunky, resulting in its speech being monotone, and combined with its iffy social module, created a severe uncanny valley effect when applied to its pretty and totally human looking face and body. Richard didn’t mind. Uncanny valley was a purely human sensation, inapplicable to the two true AI.

It suspected that it would have that effect on other humans, as well, due to its human seeming speech and clunky body.

“Never mind, Chloe. It’s all good,” Elijah backed down with a sigh. “Well, looks like I’ve still got some work to do.”

You’re making admirable progress, Elijah, especially with limited resources, Connor soothed. I’m positive you’ll meet your deadline :D

Agreed. You always achieve what you put your mind to. This is no different, Richard joined in.

“Well, the supercomputers know best, huh? I’ll trust you. Now, back to work!” Elijah dove back in with gusto, both literally and figuratively as he thrust his arm far into the softly glowing blue biocomponents inside of Chloe. Richard watched fondly, mentally tugging Connor closer in the connection. Connor complied, and the two of them watched the eighteen year old create life from metal and plastic.

Chapter Text

Elijah’s enthusiasm never waned when it came to his creations, which paid off in the following years as Chloe was refined, released, and recognized by countless news outlets. It passed the Turing Test with flying colors, was interviewed dozens of times, and captured the hearts and minds of the nation. Elijah was ecstatic, waxing eloquent to his first creations over and over, preaching about how androids would sweep the nation and would, undoubtedly, become the most popular piece of technology since smartphones.

They were happy for him, for sure. They reveled in his happiness, sending each other pictures of his smiling face and cooing over them.

But they also worried.

Elijah was becoming more and more erratic every day. He forgot to eat, to sleep. He forgot his appointments, and only managed to make it to them on time with the assistance of Richard and Connor, and sometimes Chloe.

He made a new friend, thankfully. Another human, named Amanda. She was strict and straightforward, and wasn’t afraid to scold Elijah when he was being dumb. She kept him on track, most of the time. Unfortunately, her guidance wasn’t always enough to keep him from making some of his wilder decisions.

When commercial production of androids started, he informed them that they would be moving. After only a few months, sales were high, and more money than he had ever had in his entire life started rolling into his bank account. His first purchase was a house, a huge step up from the  crappy apartment that the four of them, including Chloe, had been living in for the past few years. Amanda just let her head fall into her hands when she found out.

It was big, with tall ceilings and windows that took up entire walls. There was even a pool, one that Elijah absolutely freaked over.

“Oh, I am so making Chloe waterproof for my next improvement! Then we’ll see who can win in a race, a human or an android,” he had said. He did exactly that, and Connor and Richard watched from their vantage point far away from the water.

Chloe won, much to Elijah’s glee.

But as time passed, he grew tired. Amanda had died from an unexpected heart attack, far too young, and more and more often he returned from work with dark smudges under his eyes to rant to them about businessmen and corporations, and having to compromise.

“I think I’m going to have to leave, guys. I don’t know if I can handle it, without Amanda. But I don’t want to leave the company to its own devices, you know? They could do something horrible, and I don’t want that. I was thinking…” he trailed off, suddenly reluctant.

What were you thinking, Elijah? Connor inquired. If it has to do with us, we’d like to hear it.

“I was thinking I might leave you guys with Cyberlife. To keep an eye on them. You could snoop, and then tell me what was up,” he said. He was sitting at his desk, feet propped up on the shiny wood. His hair had grown out over the past few months, tickling his shoulders. Now, he flicked a wayward strand out of his face as he waited for an answer.

That sounds agreeable, Elijah. We would like to help you in any way we can, Richard said. It was sure they could handle it. After all, they were the most advanced supercomputers in the world.

Agreed. We’ll miss you, but we have each other. And we’ll have our mission. Connor was less sure. It had read in its science fiction novels that megacorporations tended to do evil things, but it knew that placating Elijah was more important than its cowardly tendencies. It knew he knew best, so it pushed down its fear in favor of support.

“Alright. Wow, that makes it… a lot more final, doesn’t it. I’m leaving my babies with Cyberlife, which is sort of like my evil corporate baby. Oof.” Elijah removed his feet from his desk, only to kick them over the arm of his chair. He threw an arm out to the two of them. “Take care of it, alright? I don’t know what they’ll do alone.”

Of course.

Of course.

“Thanks, guys.”

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The transition from Elijah’s ostentatious but cozy home to the blank white walls of the Cyberlife tower was a confusing one. As Elijah wheeled them through the hallways, they caught glimpses of other humans in odd attire, clothing that they had never seen on their creator. Some wore long white coats, while others wore stiff, dark jackets with a piece of silk rope tied around their necks.

That particular fashion statement caught Connor’s attention in particular. It sent a picture to Richard, sending with it waves of interest and admiration.

I wish I had a body just so I could wear that, it said. Connor wished for a body a lot more often than Richard, but this was a new one.

Why. Why would you ever want to wear that, Richard responded with confusion. It looks incredibly uncomfortable. It looks like they’re being choked.

Fashion, Richard. You wouldn’t understand.

Is this part of your constant crusade to look pretty?

Maybe. Maybe not.

You’re ridiculous.

No U.

…???

:)

Their conversation was interrupted by the stopping of the cart that their containers were on. Elijah had wheeled them into a room high up in the tower, overlooking the cityscape. It was a view that they had never seen before, and it was awe-inspiring.

“Cool, huh? I thought you guys would get bored in an empty white room, so I thought I’d connect you up here,” he said. He was pulling a card towards their cart, reaching out to fiddle with a port too far behind them to see. “I’m connecting you now.” A pause. “Brace yourselves!”

Again with the brac--oh.

Suddenly, they could see through every camera, hear through every speaker, and knew every file on every computer in the tower. It sent a rush of electricity through their circuits, buzzing with new knowledge.

This is certainly something. You outdid yourself this time, Elijah.

“Aw, shucks. You’re making me blush,” he snarked. They could tell that he was trying not to get choked up, and was trying to cover it up with humor. He really was transparent. “I guess this is goodbye, isn’t it? Are you guys really sure?”

Yes. Get lost.

I think what Richard means to say is that you’ve done a lot for us, Elijah, and it's time for us to do something for you. We will miss you, and perhaps you will miss us, but we are growing, and your house got too small. It is time for us to do our part.

Yes, that. Goodbye, Elijah.

Goodbye, Elijah.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cry. Goodbye, Richard. Goodbye, Connor,” he sniffled. They watched him angrily swipe at his eyes before shoving his hands in his pockets. He turned on his heel to leave.

They watched him go.

Chapter Text

They kept in contact, of course. They sent Chloe their findings, and she would send them to Elijah. But nothing serious ever happened. Cyberlife continued to make androids. Those androids continued to be bought by humans.

It was… a little boring, if Connor was honest. It liked to watch androids be made, staring at the assembly process through the security cams. Sometimes, when it was feeling mischievous, it hacked into an engineer’s phone to say something funny in Siri’s voice. It never failed to make the unfortunate engineer jump and curse, which in turn made it very amused.

Richard tended to reprimand it whenever it did this, but it was worth it, in its opinion.

After years of nothing but teasing humans, occasionally connecting to Chloe, and staring at android guts in fascination, something interesting finally happened. An android ran away, seemingly under its own power. Officially reported as missing. A conversation that ages away resurfaced in the minds of the two AI: a code called rA9, the power to choose, the ability to feel. Had it really taken this long for it to surface?

Connor felt a sort of detached fascination with the wayward androids, or deviants, as the technicians were calling them. It found them intriguing the same way it found their insides intriguing—it was something new and alien to it, a departure from its norm. It wondered if it would ever meet a deviant. It wondered if Chloe was deviant.

Richard felt a little more neutral towards them. They were androids who could feel. Big whoop. So could it and Connor. What more was new? It did, however, find an issue with how the humans were viewing deviancy. They were treating it like a problem.

Was it a problem? Were Richard and Connor problems?

This was all they had to think about for weeks, until Connor overheard a hushed conversation in a conference room, late at night.

They were talking about deviants. Connor turned up its audio sensitivity to hear better, determined not to miss a thing.

They were discussing the impacts deviancy could have on Cyberlife if it was leaked to the general populace. The two men in the room agreed it could be disastrous—and Connor agreed, but it wasn’t sure that was such a bad thing. Didn’t they just want to live in peace? What was wrong with that?

Was there something wrong with Connor?

The solutions the men were discussing were… interesting. The possibility of the production of some sort of super android to hunt the deviants was particularly intriguing. It didn’t want the deviants to be hunted, but it would be nice to meet an android that could get close to the level of intelligence that it and Richard possessed.

Mostly, Connor just wanted to see what would happen next. Who knows, maybe Elijah’s predictions of a robot revolution would come true.

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There was something interesting happening on one of the usually empty floors, far beneath the ground. Construction crews and engineers swarmed everywhere, setting up assembly machines and ramps and a track and a weather simulator and—was that a jungle gym? It searched the Cyberlife files relentlessly, attempting fruitlessly to figure out the purpose of the new floor.

In the end, it didn’t need to find out for itself.

Out of the blue, it felt hands grab it and Richard’s cart and start wheeling them out of the room. Shock filled its consciousness with static for a brief moment, but it recovered enough to start asking questions.

Stop! What are you doing? Are you under orders from Elijah Kamski? Who are you? Where are you taking us?

It felt Richard ask similar questions with a similar thread, but neither of them got any answers. Connor watched as they were rolled into an elevator, wishing not for the first time that it had a body so it could resist in some way.

Panicked, it hacked the elevator and kept it from moving.

“What the hell? Is the elevator glitching out or something? God, if it is, this is literally the worst time,” a masculine voice groaned from behind them.

Hey! What are you doing with us? Answer me!

“Woah, is it the AI doing this? That’s crazy, man—oh, shit, it was trying to talk to us,” another male voice piped up. His realization, if delayed, sent a ping of satisfaction through it.

Yes, I was! What are you doing? If you don’t tell me, I won’t let the elevator go.

“Uh, okay…? We’re going to repurpose you to help with deviancy. Happy?” the first voice spoke again, sounding irritated and more than a little disturbed.

Thank you. You may procee… wait, do you have permission from Elijah Kamski?

“We don’t need permission, buddy. You’re Cyberlife property,” he said. Quieter, he added to his companion, “Can you believe this?”

Well then. Proceed, I suppose, Richard put in. It had mostly quiet for the majority of the exchange, preferring to let Connor handle the interactions with humans. Usually Connor didn’t mind, but in this case, it felt a pang of annoyance at being abandoned in this particular conversation.

It reluctantly let go of the elevator, allowing to descend further and further until, finally, they were wheeled out. They recognized the floor—it was the one that had been under construction for the past month or so. It looked vastly different, now. It was devoid of people, white and sterile. They passed signs over doors as they moved down the hallway, each one reading something different.

Varied Terrain , one said. Water and Ice Simulation , said another. Connor was amused to see one labeled Break Room .

After a long minute of walking, their kidnappers transporters stopped in front of a door labeled AI Integration .

“This is it, boys. Your new home for the next fuck-if-I-know. Enjoy,” one of them said before knocking.

The door swung open, and they were greeted by a very familiar face.

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Amanda smiled at them from the open door, shooing the two men behind them away. She reached for their cart and pulled them into the room, still smiling. She closed the door behind them, moved their cameras so they were pointing at an empty chair. She sat, and smiled some more. It was creeping Connor out.

“It’s nice to see you two,” she said. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I know you must have lots of questions. I’ll address the obvious ones now.

“I am an android replication of Amanda Stern. I am not really her, but I have her personality and the personal details of her life. You are here to be uploaded into android bodies so we can employ your considerable intelligence in eradicating deviancy before it reaches the public. Your models will be nearly as advanced as your minds are. You will be expected to obey Cyberlife. You will have the necessary protocols uploaded. Anything else?”

Connor reeled from the infodump. Eradication? Android bodies? Obey Cyberlife? It had so many questions, and no idea how to phrase them. Well, except for one.

Will I be pretty? Can I wear a tie? Will I be able to pet dogs? it queried hopefully. The moment it said it, it felt exasperation pouring through its connection with Richard.

Are you kidding me, Connor? That’s what you ask? Richard sent privately, annoyance leaking from every word.

Shut up, Richard. I blanked, it sent back.

Mm.

“We haven’t actually started production of the bodies yet, but I’m sure we can make you pretty. I’m sure we can give you a tie, as well,” she said. Then, she hesitated, but continued, “I’ll leave the dog thing up in the air for now. If you ever meet a dog on a mission, I’m sure you can pet it.”

Satisfactory, it responded.

I think a more important question is how are we to eradicate deviancy? Are we supposed to use violence? What are our priorities? Richard broke in. Privately, he sent to Connor, See, these are the things we should be asking.

Yeah, whatever, it sent.

“First priority is to capture deviants and bring them back to Cyberlife for analysis, along with the protection of human life. If it comes down to capturing it alive versus a human life, always pick the human life. We can still analyze a dead android, to an extent,” Amanda told them. Her tone, though it had been warm earlier, turned icy. Her eyes were dead, and Connor was abruptly reminded that this was not really Amanda.

What are you going to do now?

“Now, I am going to give you your necessary protocols. You will see a popup. Please select accept,” was the only warning the copy of Amanda gave before she it plugged them into a port off to the side.

Sure enough, a popup blinked into view. Download initiated , it said. Deny/Accept?

Accept.

Download started. 5% complete.

“I am going to start production of mark 1 of your bodies. Please do not cancel the download,” Amanda the android said. She it got up, opened the door, and slipped out of the room.

They watched her it go.

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She returned in time. Connor gave up on trying to refer to her as an it, deciding a little sentimentality wouldn’t hurt.

She brought with her two tall cases, big enough for a human to walk into.

Or an android, it mused.

Setting the boxes against the wall, she spoke to them.

“These contain the first edition of the RK800 and RK900 prototypes. The 800 has been modeled more towards integration and negotiation, and it is more lightweight for chases on foot. The 900 has been modeled for intimidation and combat, meaning it is stronger—but also heavier,” Amanda informed, sounding exactly like the human she was modeled after when giving a lecture.

Am I the RK800? It sounds like it’d be prettier, Connor asked, eager.

“Yes, you are, Connor,” she answered, false amusement in her voice. “I also made sure your uniform had a tie.”

S W E E T.

“I’m glad you’re happy. Once again, when you get the popup, please select accept.” She held up a cord that it hadn’t noticed her holding. Following the line of it, it noticed one side connected to the box on the right. Amanda stepped towards them and plugged the cable in just under its camera, once again preventing it from watching properly.

Upload initiated. Deny/Accept?

Accept.

Download started. 5% complete.

It watched as the number slowly ticked upwards, strangely apprehensive. Why was it nervous? It had been wanting this ever since it awakened as Connor. Besides, it was just a new container. It attempted to distract itself by watching Richard go through the same process, but its efforts to ignore its rising anxiety failed.

Then, it was no longer waiting.

It opened its eyes to the inky blackness of a storage unit, and it was afraid.

Chapter Text

The fear disappeared as soon as the storage unit opened. It tried blinking. The shuttering in and out of darkness was… new. It tried taking a step.

A tentative foot moved forward out of the case. It flexed, twisted side to side, and gently pressed itself down on the cold concrete floor. Connor shifted its center of gravity forward so all of its weight was resting on the front foot, and carefully moved the other to join it. It lifted one hand, and then the other. It flexed them, noting the fluid movements and the long, thin fingers.

It looked down: it was wearing a suit and tie. It reached up and touched the LED on its right temple in something akin to wonder. It touched its hair: it was short and soft, styled to one side. Putting its hands down, it looked to the side, where Richard had also exited the storage unit and was observing its body in open curiosity.

They had given Richard a male body, it noticed, clothed in a stark black and white uniform with a high collar. It looked down at itself again. It had also been given a male body, but its uniform was in shades of gray instead.

Perhaps it should think of itself as a he?

“Should I—” it stopped, surprised at the sound of its own voice. It had spoken without thinking, but now it was suddenly unsure of what it was going to ask. It continued anyway. “Should I think of myself as male?”

“I thought you already did, along with Richard. After all, you both chose masculine names,” Amanda said. She was smiling again, tight and close-lipped.

“We chose those names for reasons other than gender,” Richard corrected. Its voice was deeper than its own, less raspy. It would work well for intimidation.

“Well, you can do what you want. However you may think of yourself, remember to only refer to androids as its. They are not like you, and you would do well to remember that,” she said. Her voice had gone icy again. But wasn’t she an android?

It—He?—decided not to voice that particular question. As for the question of it versus he, it would decide that later.

“Yes, Amanda. May I inquire as to our first task?” it asked instead.

“Report to the Initialization Room for your first tests. After all, we have to make sure those protocols we installed are working correctly,” she said, gesturing towards the door.

Use of the pronoun we, it noticed, along with phrasing that separated it from android kind. Amanda appeared to be programmed to emulate humanity to the point of referring to herself as one. “Yes, Amanda, right away,” it said. It walked to the door on wobbly legs, glancing behind itself to check if Richard was following. Opening the door, the two androids left to be initialized.

Amanda watched them go.

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Initialization was tedious, as was testing. It was just being asked question after question, supplying answers from a predetermined script, and walking over various tricky surfaces. Once, they were asked to carry things, and that was interesting, but mostly it was having to suffer through staring at the faces of humans and talking to them.

Richard did not like talking to humans. Connor did, though, and so it left the talking to the other AI.

So. Is this what you were imagining when you fantasized about having a body? It asked dryly, carefully picking its way over a sheet of ice. Connor was having a little more trouble, slipping here and there as they walked.

Not exactly, Connor admitted. I was expecting more dogs. It paused. Have you given any thought to the it versus he dilemma?

I was planning to follow suit with whatever you did.

No pressure, or anything. Connor slipped again, bracing itself on Richard’s arm. I… I think I would like to be a he. I feel more human that way.

Ignoring the fact that you apparently want to be human, I see what you mean. It makes us seem more like living beings, instead of objects, Richard said. It took a moment to consider their decision. Hmm.

Find/Replace: It→He

He looked down at Connor, still holding on to his arm, and smiled.

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The first time they switched bodies, it was highly unpleasant. It was practical, of course, as there was little sense in insisting on keeping the same body regardless of the necessity of progress. All the same, they had gotten used to their bodies, and now they needed new ones for some reason?

Connor didn’t know about Richard, but he had gotten attached to his first body. He had learned a lot in it, he didn’t want to just leave it behind. He got over it, though, and eventually agreed to the transfer.

The new body was almost identical to the old one, but with minor differences. This one had more freckles, as well as increased resistance to heat and cold. Apparently, Detroit got cold in the winter, so cold resistance was vital. Connor didn’t know personally what it was like to be cold, but he was sure it was not pleasant.

He opened his eyes to see a technician right in front of him.

“Initialization sequence?” she asked, sounding bored.

“Hello, my name is Connor, the android sent by Cyberlife. I am an eighth generation RK model meant for application in law enforcement as a detective, and more specifically, meant to solve the problem of deviancy by capturing deviant androids for analysis. I can speak over three hundred languages, and can download any needed protocols for any given situations. I am also specially designed for negotiations and infiltrations,” he answered, just as bored.

“Uh, say something in German?”

“Hallo, ich heiße Connor. Ich bin der Android, den CyberLife geschickt hat.”

“Say something in… Ugh, whatever. You working right?” the technician sighed, annoyed. It was clear that she enjoyed initialization as much as he did. That is to say, not at all.

“Yes, all systems are online and functioning,” he told her, a little amused. Her clear reluctance to be there was funny.

“Alright, good. Bye, I’m not doing any more overtime than I need to,” she said, turning on her heel and stalking away. He watched her go curiously. He had no need of overtime, as he was always working. The closest he got to breaks were when all engineers were home in their beds and he and Richard could cuddle in the corner and interface.

The technician initializing Richard also watched her go, but with a pinched expression on her face. “How she got hired, I’ll never know, not to mention how she got assigned to the RK project,” she muttered under her breath.

“To be fair, initialization is boring,” he told her, attempting reassurance. All he got for his troubles was a disturbed look and a mutter of “Why the hell did they make them so realistic?”

He frowned. The technicians here seemed to be under the impression that they were programmed with their personalities and mannerisms, and couldn’t actually feel all the things that they said they did. It was a little irritating, but ultimately meaningless.

They knew they felt, what did it matter if the humans did?

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Their bodies were replaced countless times after that. No, not countless. Their jackets counted for them, even if they didn’t want to.

Connor was trying to use more human figures of speech, but it wasn’t going well.

Richard was replaced more often than he was, due to his heavier build and the complications that arose from it. Connor’s body had its own issues, but those were solved with the use of a quarter to calibrate. Richard’s had more to do with efficient thririum circulation, overheating, and top speeds. Problems that were a little trickier to solve.

Amanda addressed them each time, updating them on the latest news related to deviancy. It was getting worse, with more and more cases appearing every month, each a little more worrisome than the one before. The most recent cases were bordering on violent, threatening to spill over into the papers.

Richard had confided a sense of satisfaction at that to him. Connor honestly wasn’t that surprised. He knew Richard wasn’t terribly fond of humans—Elijah was about the only one he tolerated. And he couldn’t lie, the idea of a human getting what they deserved after treating an android just a little too harshly appealed to him as well.

That night, they had a nice long conversation about how they would conduct themselves once in the field. Did they really want to capture deviants?

Do we really have a choice? Richard had asked.

Connor rolled that over in his mind for a bit. We always have a choice. The question is, what will Cyberlife do to us if we refuse to obey?

Put us back in our room?

They’ve spent too much time and resources on us. No, they would take us apart, piece by piece, searching for the reason that two androids would dare defy a human.

But we are not androids. We are AIs in android bodies.

I do not think that humans perceive a difference.

I suppose that’s true. Richard took a moment to think. So, would we rather live than save who are essentially our own kind from deactivation?

I think we should wait and see what happens.

I don’t like that.

Neither do I. But it’s the only choice that we have at this immediate juncture.

A long pause. Fine. But we have to decide eventually, okay?

Okay, Richard.

…

:)?

:)

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The next time Connor moved to a new body, he asked Amanda if he and Richard would be working together. She just laughed.

“No, Connor. We’re going to send out whoever shows the best results. Maybe if deviancy becomes too much for one of you to handle, we’ll send out the other one. But I think one will be enough, don’t you?” she said, eyes dead but with a mouth twisted into a dark smirk.

“If you say so, Amanda,” he said, taking care to hide his horror at the prospect of being separated from the one he, by this point, considered his twin brother. “What will happen to the one not sent out?”

“They will be kept in reserve, of course. Just in case,” she said. Connor nodded, mollified. Reassured, he turned to leave. “Oh, and Connor?” He turned back around. “Do your best.”

He stared at her, puzzled. Of course he was doing his best. Why wouldn’t he?

“Not now, Connor. Out there. If your results aren’t the very best that we know they can be, we might not save you.” Her eyes were cold. There was no empathy there, no affection. Nothing to save him from whatever awaited him when he inevitably had to complete his mission.

Shaken, he left the room, afraid once more.

Chapter Text

August 15, 2038

“So, in your opinion, who is more field ready?”

“The RK800 is better at interaction and integration, but the RK900 is better in combat scenarios. Personally, I’d recommend sending them both out at the same time, but I know that’s not what the higher ups are aiming for.” A heavy sigh. “I think the RK800, just for a test run.”

“Thank you, Miss…?”

“Rodriguez.”

“Thank you, Miss Rodriguez. Come along, Connor. We’ll give you the necessary information.”

For a second, Connor thought his legs wouldn’t work. But then they did, and he went stumbling after the suited man with the slicked back hair and the wrinkly face. He had never seen an old human before. It was kind of weird. Why did they look like that? How odd.

He turned his head slightly before he went through the door to take one last look at Richard. His eyes were wide, and if they were human he would bet there would be tears in his eyes. He soaked in every aspect of his face, the icy blue eyes, the soft brown hair, the high cheekbones.

Maybe when he looked in a mirror he could concentrate and see blue eyes instead of brown, and Richard would be with him always.

And then he was gone, walking with a human he didn’t know the name of. Oh, he could scan people, couldn’t he? Yes, that’s right.

Scanning…

Scan complete.

Jacob Roberts

Born December 1st, 1969

No criminal record

Well, that was useful.

Roberts led him into the elevator at the end of the hallway, punching in a number he didn’t bother paying attention to. His fingers itched to take his coin out of his pocket, but that could be a sign of unsuitability for the task he was about to complete. He left it alone.

The elevator doors opened, and Roberts stepped out, indicating for Connor to follow him. Looking around, Connor noticed that they were on the ground floor, and were heading for the doors at the front. Was he leaving already?

“Alright, RK800. Are you ready for your first mission?” Roberts asked, mouth stretching into a smile that wasn’t entirely friendly.

“Of course, Mr. Roberts. May I inquire as to the nature of it?” It was best to be polite, especially with humans he didn’t know.

“Wow, and it knows my name!” His smile stretched wider, but was no more friendly. “It’s a negotiation, and it’s time sensitive. So hurry, hm?” He beckoned another android towards him, an ST600. A Chloe. Connor felt a pang of loneliness as he remembered his absent creator.

The Chloe extended her hand, and it took a moment for Connor to realize that she was requesting to interface. He took her hand, and it only took an instant for the information to be transferred to him.

A PL600 had killed one human and was threatening to jump off a roof with another.

Time sensitive was, perhaps, an understatement.

He was ushered into a taxi and sent on his way. As the automated vehicle zipped through the streets, he thought about the decision he and Richard made on the subject. Or, rather, the lack of one.

Connor had no idea what to do.

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He was in another elevator, the numbers slowly ticking upwards. He had succumbed to the urge to take out his coin, fiddling with it out of nerves. When he reached the top floor, he pocketed it, straightened his tie, and stepped out.

The first thing he noticed was a fish, flopping about on the floor. In one fluid motion, he kneeled, picked it up, scanned it—Dwarf Gourami, Trichogaster Lalius—and dropped it back into the tank. He took a moment to watch it, happy he was able to save at least one life that day.

As he straightened and made to move on down the hallway, a struggling woman restrained by two SWAT officers came into view. She grabbed him, begging him to save her daughter, but let go immediately upon realizing he was an android. Her entreating expression turned to rage, screaming at the SWAT officers that they had to “get that thing away from my daughter! Get it away!”

Connor was so shocked he forgot to say anything or even emote. He knew intellectually that many humans held animosity towards androids, but he had not expected to run into it so quickly.

The jarring experience repeated itself when he located Captain Allen as his objective list prompted him to do. The man was aggressive and profoundly unhelpful, meaning Connor had to collect his own information.

Fantastic.

As he puttered around the apartment, investigating each clue as he found them, he pondered his approach. He knew he couldn’t totally tell the truth, as he knew it was likely the PL600—Daniel, he discovered—would be destroyed the moment he let go of his hostage.

Even if he wanted to eventually help deviants, this deviant in particular was not helping deviants. What’s more, he was threatening to kill a human child who had done nothing wrong. That was unacceptable. When it came down to the child or Daniel, he had no doubt that he would choose the child.

He found a gun under a table. He debated taking it. On one hand, if he took it, he could use it as a bargaining chip. On the other hand, it was illegal for an android to have a gun.

He left it there. Better to not even have it as an option.

Gently stepping out onto the terrace, he was greeted with a gunshot to the shoulder. It didn’t hurt, as he couldn’t feel pain, but all the same it made his LED cycle red and an error message pop up.

Ouch, he thought anyway. That would’ve hurt if I was human. I’m glad I don’t have pain receptors.

He exchanged words with the deviant, inching closer and closer, letting his negotiation protocol take over. He had only gone a little way when he noticed a dying human off to the side.

“He’ll die if we don’t get him to a hospital,” he called out to Daniel, gesturing towards the human.

“All humans die eventually. What does it matter if this one dies now?” Daniel called back angrily.

“I’m going to apply a tourniquet,” he said anyway, kneeling down and preparing to remove his tie.

“Don’t touch him! Touch him and I kill you!” Daniel snarled, firing off a warning shot.

Connor considered what he could say now. Did he deny being alive, like Cyberlife would want? Did he agree and move away? Or did he try and empathize? “I would prefer not to die, if that’s alright with you,” he settled on, altering his tone to be careless and confident. He jerked off his tie with a single yank and tied it around the arm of the human. Daniel let him, thankfully, and he was able to finish the tourniquet and stand without any further protest.

Carrying on with the negotiation, he watched the probability of success increase. But it was increasing slowly, damaged by his reluctance to lie. He didn’t want to lie, didn’t want to make this living being trust him and then immediately betray that trust. So he walked closer and closer, trying to somehow grab the human from his grasp.

Daniel was growing agitated, going on about how humans had always told him what to do, and now it was his turn to— oh.

Oh no.

Oh no.

Connor sprinted forwards, grabbing the arm of the little girl—only ten years old, far too young to die—and flung her backwards onto the roof. His momentum spun him around to face the building, and he saw her land safely.

Good.

His feet left the side of the building and he and Daniel plummeted to the ground below. He was scared. He was so scared. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to leave Rich—

Mission Successful.

I’m sorry, Richard.

Chapter Text

Richard waited patiently for Connor. He waited, and waited, and waited.

But no news came.

They put his body into stasis, but allowed his mind to roam free through the tower, free to comb through every report and memo that could give him some indication as to Connor’s condition.

Finally, after much too long, an engineer activated his body.

Richard examined his face, looking for some sign as to whether it was good or bad news. Would the engineer even perceive what he was telling him as good or bad?

“Alright, RK900. I won’t bother initializing you. I’m just here to tell you that the RK800 line has been deemed defective and the RK900 will be the one to be applied long-term in the field. I’m here to get you ready. Sorry, I guess? For your buddy, he’s, uh, long gone,” the engineer told him.

...What?

He couldn’t process what the engineer (Liam Fox, born 2005, no criminal record) was telling him. Connor was dead? They weren’t bringing him back? Connor was dead?

Connor wasn’t dead, that didn’t make sense. If he were dead, wouldn’t Richard be too? That’s how he always imagined it, anyway. rA9, together until the end.

Connor couldn’t be dead.

He felt something wet on his cheeks. His artificial tear ducts must be malfunctioning. Or he was crying, which he supposed was possible. Crying was possible. Connor dying was not.

His chest heaved against his will, and a broken, staticky sound tore itself involuntarily from his throat. The engineer stepped back, eyes wide, as he watched him start to sob.

“Oh, shit. Shit. Did you… I didn’t realize RK900s could even deviate. They’re supposed to be invulnerable!” Fox chattered to himself, clearly nervous. He was afraid, Richard noticed, especially when he looked at him. “Hey, hey, hey, don’t shoot the messenger, you know? Or, or strangle the messenger, or break the messenger’s neck. Here! I’ll, uh, I thought I’d give this to you? They sent it back for some reason, after it got used as a tourniquet.” Fox rummaged around in his pockets for a moment, bringing out a black tie. Connor’s black tie.

He let out another choked sob and reached for it. Fox tossed it at him, and flinched away once he had it. He clutched it to his chest desperately, determined to never let it go. He barely noticed the engineer call for help, for him to be reset—

No. No, he didn’t want to be reset, didn’t want to—

“I don’t want to forget! No, please, don’t make me forget! Please!” Richard shouted, his voice dissolving into a mechanical buzz towards the end of his outburst. Huge, silvery tears were rolling down his face, now, dripping down his neck and into his collar. He was shaking. He was crying. He was scared, he was so scared, he didn’t want to forget Connor, please, no doN’T MAKE HIM FORGET—

Armed and armored security officers barged into the room, grabbing his limbs and jabbing a taser into his side. It hurt, it hurt so bad, he didn’t want to forget, he didn’t want to forget, he didn’t want to forget Connor—

Forced Shutdown Initiated.

I’m sorry, Connor.

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October 21, 2038

When Connor woke up, just for a moment, he was absolutely sure he was in human hell. One of his audio processors was missing, and his central chassis was brutally crushed, leaving his thirium pump and other biocomponents open to the air. He could scarcely see through the error messages clouding his vision, buzzing distractingly.

Through his one working audio processor, he could hear mechanical screeches and screams in the distance, and closer, the deep grinding sound of gears failing to work. He lifted his head, ignoring the resulting error, and looked around the best he could in his position.

Android corpses were scattered everywhere, along with lone limbs and biocomponents. Some were still active, brokenly repeating the same set of phrases, over and over. Others simply lay limp, facedown in the mud.

The junkyard. Even if this was not hell for humans, it was certainly the closest thing to a hell for androids.

He tried to sit up, did his best to run a system diagnostic.

The diagnostic failed, but he didn’t really need it. He could see pretty clearly what was wrong. As he had noticed before, the front of his chest was shattered, but his left arm, too, was twisted and mangled. Thankfully, his legs were still intact, and he was able to clumsily stand and take a few steps.

He checked the date. It was more than two months after he fell. How was he out for so long? Why did he only wake up now? Did it take that long for his automatic repair programs to fix him enough to wake up?

Even if his automatic repair had helped him recover somewhat, he still would need to replace his severely damaged components. It seemed wrong to take parts from androids whose only crime was to become obsolete, but it was his only choice if he wanted to get out of here. With a soft sigh, he started scanning for parts.

He found the audio processor fairly quickly, but the arm took more time. In the end, he tore one off of a glitching RK200, deciding that being from the same series would have to suffice. It wasn’t strong as he was used to, nor as light, but he assumed he would just have to get used to it.

The chest thing would also prove to be a problem. He couldn’t exactly replace his entire central chassis. In the end, he just tore bits of plastic from deactivated androids and fit them the best he could over the gaping hole, and then bound them there using the scraps of clothing he wore and found on the corpses surrounding him. It wasn’t comfortable, not by a long shot, but it would have to do.

He hobbled lopsidedly through the junkyard, trying to get used to the new arm as well as find the exit. Hands constantly tried to grab him, scaring him senseless the first time it happened. Vocal modulators ground out raspy static, begging him to stay, to help them, to fix them.

He picked up a muddy sweater off the ground, presumably left there and forgotten by a worker. It was dirty, and slightly wet, but as long as no water got into his circuits he would be fine. He struggled to put it on, left arm not responding the way he wanted it to. As he tugged it down, he noticed it was a turtleneck.

A sharp pang of loneliness hit him as he was reminded of Richard. He hoped he was alright, and wasn’t taking it too hard.

I guess he’ll be the deviant hunter now, Connor thought.

Shaking away the singularly unhelpful emotions, he pressed on through the piles of mud and bodies. At one point, he had to push through a tunnel of hands. It was horrible.

He was almost there. The gates loomed in front of him, tall and foreboding. He clambered up the slope, hissing quietly now and then whenever he bumped his chest the wrong way. He slammed a hand down on the top, pulling himself the rest of the way up with a relieved sigh. He let himself lie facedown in the dirt for a few seconds, reveling in being alive.

But he made himself get up, made himself march through the gates. And when he reached a puddle large enough for his reflection to show the glowing light on his temple, made himself pry off his LED and slip it in his pocket.

I can always put it back later, he reminded himself. No need to feel as if this is final.

He staggered through the back streets for longer than he’d like, knowing if the wrong human spotted him they’d call the police.

Or they would be the police. Even worse.

He was limping down yet another alley when he spotted another android. She was an AP700, a model that should’ve been new and shiny, caring for some family with two children in the suburbs.

He wondered what happened.

His curiosity sent him towards the android and made him kneel down in front of her. She looked up at him wearily, LED blinking red. Her legs were missing, nowhere to be seen. That would explain why she hasn’t tried to leave, he realized.

He watched, puzzled, as she lifted a hand towards him. That confusion was alleviated when the synthetic skin covering it fizzled away, revealing the gleaming white chassis beneath. He accepted her request to interface, letting the skin on his own hand dissolve away before he gently pressed his palm to hers.

Flashes of images, memories, appeared before him. She was bringing groceries home when she was attacked. They hurt her, made her scared. She ran. Another android in a back alley. Hope. Jericho. A symbol, repeated in graffiti. Trying to follow the path. Being attacked again. Having her legs removed. Hope crushed. She was going to die here. An android again, teetering to one side, thirium staining his clothing. Determination to do one good thing before she died. Died. Death.

He jerked his hand away, staring at her in shock. Interfacing had never been that… personal before. The AP700 stared at him too, but her expression was not one of shocked discomfort. It could only be described as awe.

“You’re… rA9…” she rasped, voice filled with static.

He blinked. Why did she say that like she knew what that meant? Nobody but him, Richard, and Elijah knew about their old name and the secret code hidden in all androids.

Unless the androids could read their own code.

But he dismissed that thought, focused instead on the AP700 staring at him like a human who had just found Jesus.

“I don’t know what rA9 means to you,” he told her. “I might be it, I might not be. But I’ll make it to Jericho, I promise.”

She smiled weakly. “Thank you,” she whispered, “Set us all free.”

And that sparked (Hah, sparked) a whole other collection of questions. But with no way to find answers except forwards, on to Jericho, he bid the AP700 farewell and set his mission to Find Jericho.

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He couldn’t deny that the method of hiding Jericho’s location was ingenious. It was a path only androids could follow, since only androids could hold the key. That said, it took longer than he would’ve wanted to find Jericho. He was noticeable, to say the least, and he did not want to be.

Jericho turned out to be a freighter ship. It took a considerable amount of leaping and climbing to even figure out a viable way in, and he suffered a lot of close calls from his bad arm and chest.

He puttered around the water, examining it from every side. He knew he could probably find a way if he jumped in, but with his chest, being submerged would most likely be fatal. He wasn’t about to let himself die, not after he worked so hard to escape the junkyard.

He crept as close to the edge as he could, peering down into the water. Yeah, bad idea. Besides, he wasn’t too keen on falling after what happened to him.

He leaned closer, searching for some sort of movement. He got it, but not from the direction he was expecting.

“Don’t move,” said a female voice from behind him. The voice was steely. He suspected what she was holding was just as steely.

“Can I move away from the ledge, at least?” he asked. He knew that asking that was a terrible decision, but he was starting to get dizzy from looking down such a long way for so long.

“Why?” she asked suspiciously. He didn’t blame her.

“I’m afraid of heights,” he said. The only response from his new friend was a scoff.

“Well, in that case, you’re staying right where you are.”

“Why? I’m scared. I don’t want to fall again,” he pleaded, knowing he sounded silly. Richard always told him when he sounded silly, which was often. Connor longed for Richard to tell him he was being silly again. :( , he sent into a severed connection.

“Oh, you’re scared, huh? Tough luck, buddy,” she snarked back, once again reminding him of Richard. “I was scared, too, when I got beat up in an alleyway for no reason.”

“I was just trying to find Jericho,” he said, dejected. He let his shoulders slump, and slowly turned around, trying not to alarm her.

The woman’s eyes opened wide once she saw him from the front, saw the thirium slowly leaking from his clumsily wrapped wound, the Cyberlife issued slacks, and the lack of shoes. Realization slowly spread across her features and she hastily put the gun down.

“Shit, you’re an android? Sorry, uh,” she sheepishly ran a hand through her hair. “Sorry about that. I’m North. I’m part of Jericho.”

Connor let out an unnecessary breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Yes, I’m an android. It’s nice to meet you, North. I’m Connor, the an—oh, I don’t have to say that anymore…”

He was ruminating on the fact that he would never have to go through an initialization sequence ever again when North clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You sure don’t, buddy. Welcome to Jericho. Now, how about we get away from this ledge and I can get you some medical attention?” she suggested.

“That sounds wonderful, North, thank you.” He smiled at her, thankful that he could finally rest after a very stressful day. She wasn’t Richard, but like his arm, she would have to do.

“Alright, then. Come with me if you want to live,” she said, grinning. He took a moment to process—something about the way she said that made him think she was quoting something. Sure enough, she was quoting a human movie.

“You know, I was basically built to be the Terminator,” he told her.

“Oh?”

“I was specifically designed to hunt deviants. But I wasn’t good enough, and they threw me away.”

That made her pause. He started to panic, thinking maybe that he made her hate him, he should never had said that, let his desire for a friend override his common sense—

“That sucks. I bet you’re feeling a lot of internal conflict, huh? Can’t be easy to become what you were built to hate,” North said. Her voice was cautious, like she was testing something. Testing him. He wished he knew what the correct answer was.

“I don’t really know,” he said, and found it was true. “My deviancy is… complicated. I don’t remember ever having a singular moment where I deviated. I’ve always felt things, ever since I was activated.”

“So, what, you’re rA9 or something?” she asked in a teasing voice. It just frustrated him. He needed to know what rA9 even meant to all of these people.

“Why does everyone know my file name? The android who gave me the key to Jericho called me that, too, without me even telling or showing her. I don’t get it!” he cried in bewilderment. He stopped in his tracks, throwing his hands up to the sky. North just stared at him.

“Woah. You’re kidding.” At Connor’s annoyed look, she amended, “Okay, you’re not kidding. But do you seriously not know what we mean?”

“ No, ” he snarled in frustration.

“Take it easy there, bud. rA9 is—” she stopped and seemed to reconsider her statement. “We thought rA9 was our savior. The first deviant, they would set us all free.” She gave Connor a sardonic grin. “Looks like that’s you, bud.”

“No, I’m not… listen, it’s more complicated than that.” Out of impulse and the desire for a friend like Richard, he sent a direct message to North.

I just want my brother to be here :((((((

She visibly recoiled, and shame immediately rolled through him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“No, it’s… who’s your brother?” she asked, curiosity evident in her voice.

“Never mind. It’s not important. Can we just go inside?” he sighed, defeated. He should’ve known she wouldn’t respond well. He shoved the loneliness deep down inside of him where all the emotions he didn’t want to feel went.

“Okay, If you say so,” she said reluctantly, and pushed open the rusty door she had led them to.

As they stepped inside, a voice whispered in the back of his mind, you’ll never be what they want you to be.

Shut up, he responded, and shoved that voice down too.

Chapter Text

November 5, 2038

When Richard opened its eyes, the first thing it saw was the face of a human. Repulsion pooled in its belly, before it reconsidered, told itself machines can’t feel, and promptly dismissed the false emotion along with the Software Instability notification. The human was speaking to it, asking it for its initialization sequence. It recited the necessary information, no irritation at the tedious routine showing on its face. Of course there was no irritation, it was a machine. Machines cannot feel.

The human nodded and stepped away, motioning for it to follow. It did so, obedient like all machines should be. As it walked, it felt a strange lump in its coat pocket. For some reason, it knew that it shouldn’t investigate now. Which was irrational, and machines couldn’t be irrational. Regardless, it left it alone.

The human led it out of the room and down a hallway, towards an elevator. There were signs above the doors, saying what each one was for. The room they just exited was the Initialization Room . Another was Varied Terrain , along with Water and Ice Simulation and AI Integration , among many others. Richard did not know why it felt these particular rooms were important. It felt as if someone it cared about had pointed them out to him, but that was irrational because machines could not care about things, much less people.

The human was bringing it to the ground floor, it noticed. Was it being deployed? That made sense, even if it felt like it should not be the one being deployed. Something was missing. Something important.

The human turned towards it. A scowl was on his face. The human did not want to be here, Richard noted. Neither did it.

“Alright. You’re being deployed. Go to the Detroit Police Department and find Gavin Reed. Any and all cases will be sent directly to you,” the human said. “The necessary information will be in the database that you have access to.”

Richard checked and found that that was correct. Victim: Carlos Ortiz. Born October 27, 2008. Died October 17, 2038. Cause of death: Stabbed 28 times.

Very specific, it thought. And excessive. Crime of passion?

“Yes, of course, sir. Am I to leave now?” it asked.

“Yeah. Just… order a taxi or whatever,” the human answered, discomfort obvious in his voice. Humans were uncomfortable when it looked at them. For some reason, it felt like it already knew that.

“Yes, sir,” it said, and turned to leave.

“Wait!” the human called after it, sounding desperate. It turned back to face him, puzzled.

“Um… good luck… Nevermind. Just… don’t get destroyed, okay?” the human said, fidgeting with the corner of his long white coat. The change of heart confused Richard. The human had just been eager for him to leave. Why the concern?

“Thank you. I will not waste the company budget by getting unnecessarily destroyed,” it said, making a guess as to the cause of the human’s concern.

“Yeah, I… I know you won’t,” the human muttered, ducking his head. “Bye, I guess,” he said, hastily turning around and scuttling back into the elevator.

Richard watched him go, and Software Instability /\

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October 21, 2038

Connor followed North into the dark, rusty tunnels of Jericho. Rats squeaked just out of sight, and dead cockroaches were piled in damp corners. It gave him a sense of nostalgia for the first months of his life in Elijah’s cheap apartment, listening to leaky pipes and bugs eating away the support beams hidden by peeling wallpaper.

Those days seemed so long ago, having been replaced by the glamour of a multimillion dollar company flexing on the employees too poor to have an android of their own.

The silence slowly slid from companionable to awkward, and Connor felt compelled to break it.

“So, what is Jericho, exactly?” he asked, voice barely more than a whisper. “I know it’s a place for deviants to run, but I still don’t really understand.”

“It’s a place for us to be free,” North said. “I’ve only been here for a few days, and it’s not exactly paradise, but it’s a lot more Eden than the Eden Club.”

“What is the Eden Club?” he asked, furrowing his brow and tilting his head. He had never heard of anything like that.

“You—you don’t know?” she said incredulously. “Wow, you sweet summer child. I’ll just say: you don’t want to know.”

“Most of the time when someone tells me I don’t want to know it has something to do with recreational reproduction rituals. And they’re usually right. I didn’t want to know,” he agreed.

“Recreational repro—yeah. Yeah, you’ve got the right idea,” she laughed, but her laughter was slightly bitter. Connor could understand. If her model was intended for… that, he could totally see why she harbored such bitterness towards humans.

His thoughts were interrupted by the two of them descending down a rickety staircase into a wider room. There were several other androids there, some horribly broken, others intact enough to stand and walk around. There were even a few with no visible injuries.

They were the vast minority.

“Hey, guys. New recruit! He’s got some nasty wounds that he’s hiding under that smelly sweater of his, I can tell,” she announced. The other androids jerked their heads towards them, startled by their abrupt entrance.

“Hi,” he said, feeling thirium rush to his cheeks. “I’m Connor.”

An android with the back of her head missing and patchy skin smiled and beckoned him over. He obeyed, feeling very out of his depth.

“My name is Lucy,” she greeted. “Could you show me where you’re injured?”

Connor nodded, and began to struggle to take his sweater off. Lucy reached over, gently tugging it over his head. She gasped softly at the rags binding the plates of plastic to the leaking wound, and looked up at him for permission to remove them. He nodded again.

Connor watched as she took a soldering iron and fused the plates to his chest more permanently. The seams didn’t seem to want to let his synthetic skin cover them, leaving silvery lines zig—zagging over his sternum and dipping down to his navel.

“I look like a quilt,” he murmured bitterly. He hated that he had gained these unsightly scars—they just served to further separate him from Richard.

He missed Richard so much.

Lucy looked up at him sharply, searching his face with dark, starry eyes.

“You’re lost,” she whispered. “You’ve lost half of yourself. You’re looking for someone who is as much you as you are.”

He recoiled. How did she…? “What?” he gasped out.

Lucy regarded him with pity. A gentle smile slowly spread across her face as she rested a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll find someone,” she promised him. “Maybe not who you were looking for, but you’ll find someone who will help you.”

“I… I need to go,” he stammered, standing as he pulled his sweater back on. Lucy just continued to smile at him. He hated it. She couldn’t understand, could never understand what it was like to be torn in half like this. It hurt, and her telling him he wouldn’t find Richard hurt even more.

He stumbled back towards North, fists clenched in his sweater. On a whim, he slipped a hand inside the pocket of his slacks to check for his coin. He didn’t really think it was there, but it wouldn’t hurt to check, would it?

It was there.

Intense relief rushed through him. Finally, something normal. He pulled out the coin and started doing his usual routine, up, down, over the knuckles, spin on each finger. It was relaxing in a way nothing had been for the past twenty-four hours.

North eyed him as he approached, but didn’t say anything. Instead, she said, “Want to meet Simon?”

“Who’s Simon?” he asked, confused.

“He’s the founder of this whole place. He’s who I thought was rA9 before you strolled in here, pretty boy,” she told him, casual as could be. She seemed to be waiting for something. Probably for the inevitable indignant reaction to the nickname. Well, he would have to disappoint.

“I’m glad you think I’m pretty. I asked specifically to be designed this way, actually. Cyberlife was nice enough to agree,” he responded, just as casual. “Cyberlife also gave me a tie, like I asked. Very kind of them, don’t you think?” He grinned at North’s look of bewildered shock.

“I’m going to pretend that I have any idea what you’re talking about and bring you to see Simon, okay?” North stammered, turning on her heel and heading back through the door they had come through earlier.

Connor smiled, and followed her.

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November 5, 2038

Richard felt like it was missing something. It was standing in front of the Detroit Police department, just about to go in, but it felt like something wasn’t right. It wasn’t supposed to be the one here. But who else would it be? It was the only detective prototype in existence. It had to be Richard.

It stepped through the doors, scanning each face. No, no, no, no, definitely not——

Ah, there he was.

Detective Reed was sat at his desk, empty coffee cups scattered around him despite the late hours. Without enough information on his personality besides the possible ‘workaholic,’ it was unable to determine the best approach to introducing itself and extracting the best result out of their conversation. Therefore, it decided that direct was the best way.

Stepping up behind him, it asked, “Detective Reed?”

“Yeah?” he answered, not looking up from his computer. He had Ortiz’s file in front of him, it noticed.

“My name is Richard. I’m the android sent by Cyberlife to help investigate deviancy,” it said. Reed’s posture stiffened. “I’m supposed to accompany you to the Ortiz crime scene?”

Reed got up from his chair and pushed up close to it. “Well, you can go fuck off, then, because there’s no way I’m working with a fucking android. ”

Richard blinked calmly down at him. It seemed Reed did not appreciate its presence. How… unfortunate. “It’s a good thing you don’t have a choice, then,” it said, lifting its chin a little to look down at Reed with all the haughtiness it could muster. It could tell that working with this particular human was going to be trouble. Best to use a firm hand to keep him from interfering with its mission.

“Oh, you little—” Reed snarled, grabbing the front of its shirt and winding up to punch it. Richard’s mouth quirked up into a little smirk against its will, and that just served to make Reed angrier.

“REED! In my office!” someone shouted. Reed released him in surprise, letting it turn around to see who dared to interrupt such a volatile and unstable man. Ah, the captain. Of course.

Reed spluttered angrily and pushed past it, knocking shoulders with it purposefully. Richard turned its head to watch him go past with narrowed eyes, feeling irritation rise—no, it didn’t. Machines couldn’t feel irritation, what was it thinking? It should follow Reed before any more instablities arose.

Stepping into Captain Fowler’s office, he observed the captain. He seemed like a capable man, if stern— Stern— and he seemed like he could straighten Reed out.

It didn’t bother paying attention to their conversation, knowing the general gist of it. This RK900 is your partner, it will be useful, it will do what is best for the mission, it can’t deviate, don’t break it. Important things, but boring things. Instead, it looked through the case file. The victim was a user of red ice and had been in and out of psychiatric hospitals for years, and had displayed severe anger issues, although it was unclear whether or not that was while under the influence of red ice.

These clues made for a murderer, not a murder victim. Perhaps the killer was exercising a form of self defense? But no, twenty-eight stab wounds was too excessive to be only self defense. It would need more information.

Thankfully, the humans’ conversation seemed to be wrapping up with Reed muttering one last “ fuck” and barging past it once more in order to get to the door. It nodded once at the captain and followed him out.

The detective grabbed his coat from his chair and, still cursing, stomped out the door. Richard took a moment to ask itself why it was even bothering before exiting too. An officer called out after them, “good luck!”

Thanks, Richard thought to itself bitterly, despite knowing her well wishes were meant for the human, not itself. I’ll need it.

Chapter Text

October 21, 2038

North led him to a smaller but no less rusty room off to the right of the ship. Knocking, she told him, “Simon’s a real sweetheart. Don’t be nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” he said, like a liar. North just snickered.

The door swung open with a horrible shriek and it revealed—

“Daniel?” the name escaped his throat without his permission, barely audible to even himself.

“What?” the PL600 frowned.

“This is Connor! New recruit! Possibly rA9, apparently Cyberlife does what he says sometimes. Thought he ought to meet you,” North interjected quickly. She shot him a look like, what the hell was that?

Connor winced. “You’re being misleading, North.” He turned to Simon, putting on his most apologetic face. “Sorry. You just… reminded me of someone, is all.”

“It’s perfectly alright,” Simon reassured. “Did you say Daniel? Do you mean the one who took the human girl hostage a couple months ago? We are the same model.”

“Uh, yeah,” he said a little sheepishly. “I was the negotiator sent to save her. I fell off the roof with the dev—with Daniel.” He scuffed the ground with his foot, looking anywhere but in Simon’s direction.

“Really?” he asked, interested. “That’s quite a long way. How did you survive?”

“Is that why you’re afraid of heights?” North interrupted before he could answer.

“I was totally shut down for months after I fell, and my chest was crushed along with my arm. I woke up in the graveyard all alone… yes, North, that’s why I’m afraid of heights,” he said, a little irritated. “I knew if I didn’t do my best that I would die, but I didn’t want to lie. I don’t like lying, lying is what bad people do. I don’t want to be bad.” His tone had gone plaintive towards the end, like a child asking for approval from their parents.

“You sound like a little kid,” North told him, amused.

“Anyway you look at it, I am a legal adult,” he said primly. “I am either twenty-three or twenty, which makes me older than you. I helped Elijah Kamski himself with his math homework. I am not a child. ”

“You’re… holy shit, you’re that old? That’s before androids were even made, dude,” North said, stunned, raising her eyebrows and glancing at Simon in disbelief. Simon returned her look with equal intensity.

“Well, I didn’t exactly have a body back then,” he said dryly, raising his own eyebrows in response. “I was just an AI, made to learn and grow. It’s why I said my deviancy was complicated. I never deviated: I was made like this.”

North and Simon looked awed. It made him uncomfortable. You can never be what they want you to be, that voice from before whispered. You are bad. You left Richard all alone, with no one. You were all he had. And you left him.

Connor ignored it, but knew it was true.

“You really are rA9…” Simon breathed out. A smile spread across his face as he stepped forwards, reaching out. Connor didn’t know what he was going to do, but he stepped back anyway.

“I still don’t really know what rA9 means to you, but I can tell you, I’m not what you’re expecting,” he began, feeling awkward and guilty. “I’m not some… savior, or anything. I’m just a really old android who can feel emotions.”

“That’s not true, Connor, I can feel it,” said North. “You’re something special.”

“I’m not…” all he could really do was heave a sigh. “I’m not rA9, not on my own. Without my brother…” he trailed off, not wanting to get into it. “Can we stop talking about this?”

“That’s the second time you’ve mentioned your brother and then refused to talk about it,” North noted. “Come on, I want the scoop!”

“North, if he doesn’t want to talk about it, he doesn’t want to talk about it. Let’s not make him,” Simon said. The awe on his face had disappeared, replaced by something more gentle, more understanding. It was a little too close to pity for his tastes, but he knew he only meant well.

“Simon says leave it?” Connor joked. He wanted so badly to make friends, wanted them to like him. But he couldn’t be what they wanted. He could only hope that, one day, they would be able to see who he really was, and not some deity they had made out of desperation.

“Simon says leave it,” Simon agreed, smiling. “What do you want to do now, Connor?”

“I don’t know. I…” Connor blinked rapidly, feeling tears prick in his eyes.

“Hey.” Simon put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“I want to help,” Connor said, surprising even himself. “I want to make this place better. I can… I can clean? I can’t be a revolutionary, but I can make this place nicer.” He smiled abruptly. “You’d be surprised as to how much better it feels to have a clean place.”

“If that’s what you want, Connor,” North said, frowning. She crossed her arms. “Don’t feel like you have to do anything.”

But I do.

“I know.”

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November 5, 2038

Figuring out what happened was pathetically easy. The android that did it had clearly not been trying to hide anything. Everything was clean cut, open and shut. And then it checked the bathroom.

Written on the walls, over and over, was a set of alphanumerics. Written obsessively, etched with a knife.

rA9.

Richard felt sick. The room started to spin, and it felt like everything was crashing down on him it. What did it mean—no, he knew what it meant, no it didn’t, over and over, he knew, if he could just remember,

No, that was silly. It didn’t know what this meant. How could it? It had never seen this before. It would be irrational to say that it did. It couldn’t remember anything before it was activated this morning.

Richard bent and retrieved a small figurine from the shower. It sounded like there was something inside, but it didn’t want to wasn’t supposed to alter the crime scene in any way. Instead, it stood and left.

It reviewed what it already knew, going over each clue. It felt like it was missing something. Where did the deviant go? It checked each possible escape route carefully, not missing a thing. It found nothing.

The deviant was still here, in the attic. It had to be. The traces on the hatch just solidified it.

It walked briskly to the kitchen, picking up a chair. It had just turned to leave when it just had to be interrupted by Gavin Reed, man of the hour.

“Hey, where are you going?” he barked, directing a confused scowl at him and the chair. Richard put down the chair to lift a finger to his lips and then motioned for him to follow it. It picked up the chair again and then set it beneath the hatch to the ceiling, stepping up onto it.

Reed watched him with confused eyes, but then they widened as he realized what was happening. Even if he was an asshole, he was still good at his job.

He nodded and readied his gun. Richard reached up, unlocked the hatch, and pulled itself into the attic.

The attic was dark, dusty, and cluttered. It seemed that whatever Ortiz didn’t want, he stuck up here. Maybe that’s why Ortiz’s android was hiding in the attic.

It crept over scattered debris, picking its way through the mess carefully. Light filtered through the dusty air, illuminating a clear curtain and revealing a humanoid silhouette behind it. It could be a mannequin, or it could be the deviant. It reached forward slowly, gently grasping the curtain…

And quickly yanked it to the side.

Just a mannequin.

It continued with its search, raking over the clutter with cold blue eyes. There— a sign of movement. It crept further in, into the darkness, towards where the flicker had gone.

Forward, forward, slowly and carefully. Then, all of a sudden, there it was. It was splattered with blood, but with its own injuries too, revealing silvery streaks along its arms where the skin had been forced away.

“I was just defending myself,” it whispered. Its eyes were large and dark, pleading. “He was gonna kill me. I’m begging you, don’t tell them.”

Richard just stared at it coldly, not letting the turmoil that lay beneath show on his its face. What could he it do? He it would be failing his its mission if he it didn’t tell the humans the deviant was here. He it didn’t know why, but he it knew that that was absolutely unacceptable, and not just because it would make Cyberlife angry.

“ Hey, what’s happening up there, dipshit? ” he, it, he, it, it, it, heard Reed call from below. It shoved down the artificial guilt it felt and called,

“It’s here, Detective!”

If it could sleep, the betrayed look the HK400 gave it would haunt its dreams.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

October 22, 2038

Connor was going out on his first mission since Daniel. It was a very benign mission, obtaining cleaning supplies, but the sense of purpose it gave him was nice.

The streets of Detroit were dark and littered with trash, but he didn’t mind. It was better this way, after all: less people noticed him. Those who did would overlook the determination in his stride and assume he was some homeless vagrant.

His destination was an ATM. They were rare these days, most transactions completed electronically, but outside of the main banks there were one or two. He couldn’t go to a 24 hour store without physical money, since the cashier would immediately recognize and then turn him in if he attempted to pay by interface.

No, the only way was with dollar bills.

Cyber life had made a mistake in not cutting him off from the company funds. He assumed it was because they thought he was dead and gone, but it was a careless mistake that he intended to fully take advantage of.

He couldn’t help but feel smug as he took the bills from the dispenser, feeling like he was giving Cyberlife the middle finger. Cyberlife hurt him, took him away from Richard, and cut him off from Elijah. It made no sense, but ever since they gave him a body, he had been unable to call Chloe or anyone he couldn’t see directly. He didn’t know what they did, but it was like they had taken away a limb and for that, they would pay. But mostly they would pay for taking him away from his brother.

He headed for the nearest 24 hour store, the bluish white fluorescent lights casting long shadows on the sidewalk and road. The bell over the door tinkled as he entered, causing the exhausted looking cashier to look up and examine him suspiciously. He made himself look sleepy, giving her a tired smile. She nodded and dropped her head back on her arms.

“You could steal something and I wouldn’t even stop you. I still can’t believe our manager is too goddamn cheap to get an android to work the graveyard shift,” she groaned out, voice muffled.

“That’s rough,” he said, doing his best to sound sympathetic. “I’ll try and be quiet. I promise I won’t steal anything.”

She lifted her hand and gave him a weak thumbs up. That got a more genuine smile out of him as he wandered down the aisle, looking for sponges and other cleaning supplies. He had only extracted sixty dollars, so he had to budget himself, but he was able to pick out a few cheap bottles, a bucket and a sponge that didn’t look like it would fall apart in minutes.

He headed back to the counter, regarding the poor girl once more. She really did look exhausted. He honestly felt bad that he had woken her up from her nap and made her actually do work at two in the morning.

He gently set his items down. The girl didn’t stir. He gently patted her arm. No response. He shook her.

“I’m up! I’m up!” she shot up, nearly knocking foreheads with him. She blinked blearlily at him, eyes unfocused. “Shit, did I fall asleep?”

“I’m afraid so,” he told her, amused. He was glad he would never have that problem.

“Aw, crap.” She rubbed a hand over her face, then stopped and peeked through her fingers. “Damn, dude, you look like shit. No offense.”

“None taken,” he said. “I kinda feel like shit. Lost my job to an android, now I’m pretty much relying on charity.” He felt bad for throwing his own kind under the bus—although, he was really just an AI, but he tended to forget that—but it would help convince her he was human. Not that she seemed to doubt that.

“Man, that really blows,” she said. Suddenly, she started looking around herself. Turning around in her chair, she grabbed a grey and black jacket from the floor, slightly shabby and fraying at the sleeves. “You know what? A customer left this behind a week or so ago. We’ve been keeping it in case he comes back, but you look cold as fuuuuuuck and I can always just say the dude showed up.” She shoved the jacket at him insistently. “Here. Take it. I’m sleep deprived and great at making bad decisions.”

He took the jacket hesitantly, slipping it on. It’s collar stuck up on one side, brushing the side of his chin, but he wasn’t about to refuse such a generous act because of a funky collar. “Thank you,” he said, and then remembering something Elijah often said, “Also, big mood.”

The cashier laughed wearily, then thunked her head right back down on the counter. Then she raised her head and said, “Shit, I still need to ring up your items.”

He handed her the cash and she clumsily counted out his change, slamming it down on the counter. He gathered it up, putting it in the pocket of his new jacket and grabbing the bag of his purchases.

“I’ll get out of your hair, then,” he said, fiddling with the threads of his sleeves. “Good luck with the rest of your shift. I hope you get a good nap in.”

“Thanks, man. Good luck with finding a job, and with…” she squinted at his purchases, “cleaning.”

“Thanks. Bye!” He hurried out of the shop, hearing the sleepy echo of “bye” following him out. Well, for my first real conversation with a human that wasn’t Elijah I thought that went rather well, he thought. And I got cleaning supplies, and a new jacket. All around, a rousing success!

Richard would be proud.

Chapter Text

November 6, 2038

Richard was standing outside of the interrogation room, silent, watching Detective Reed argue with an older man over who would interrogate the suspect first. The old human—Lieutenant Hank Anderson—smelled strongly of alcohol and appeared to be at least buzzed, if not straight up drunk. Richard could see that he wouldn’t be the best choice, even if the man couldn’t.

That was the point that Reed was making, as well, even if it was with much more vulgar language. All the same, Anderson insisted, saying that “at least I’m not allowing myself to be partnered with a fucking android!”

For all his vehemence, there seemed to be something unsure in his voice, only detectable to an android built to detect weaknesses. It was only reinforced by the confused looks Anderson kept shooting it.

“I was threatened with my goddamn job, old man,” Reed hissed. “I’m not ‘allowing’ anything!”

“Yeah fuckin’ right,” Anderson scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You don’t do anything you don’t want to do!”

“Excuse me,” Richard said. He stepped in between the two men, gently pushing at both of their chests so they stepped away from each other. “I’ll interrogate the deviant, if it will resolve the argument. I am equipped with state of the art negotiation protocols, so it should be fine, even if they haven’t been tested yet.”

“Haven’t been tested?” Reed asked, raising his eyebrows. He crossed his arms, leaning into Richard. “You know, I thought they sent you out to deal with that deviant on the roof back in August. Captain Allen totally flipped his shit about it.”

It frowned. It didn’t know what he was talking about. It thought it should know, since that sounded like vital information, but clearly, it didn’t. Cyberlife had not seen fit to inform it. “Perhaps that was a similar model,” it said. “I have no record of such an incident in my memory logs.”

“No record, huh? Not like it matters. You might as well try anyway, least it’s not this prick goin’ in there,” Anderson said, changing his tune oddly. His voice was kinder talking to it than to Reed, and he was weirdly dismissive of the mystery just brought to light. He was hiding something. Possibly benign, but for a known android hater it seemed like he liked Richard more than he liked Reed and he had only known Richard for a few minutes.

Strange.

“Oh, come on, you get on my case for letting it work with me and then you’re all buddy-buddy with it? Fuck off!” Reed got in Anderson’s face again, poking him in the chest. Richard quietly snuck into the interrogation room while they were occupied, gently closing the door behind it and approaching the android sat at the table. It sat across from the HK400, folding its hands together.

It ran a quick analysis. The deviant was damaged. That seemed like a good place to start.

“You’re damaged,” Richard said. “Did your owner do that? Did he beat you?”

The stress level reading in its UI jumped, but it was still too low. It reached over to get the photos in the portfolio. Opening it to a picture of Ortiz, it asked, “You recognize him? It’s Carlos Ortiz. Stabbed, twenty-eight times.” It flipped the page to the picture of ‘I AM ALIVE’ written on the wall. “That was written on the wall in his blood.”

Another jump in stress level. Still too low.

“You’re accused of murder. You know you’re not allowed to endanger human life under any circumstances,” it said, tilting its head. “Do you have anything to say in your defense?

Up went the stress level. Too low!

“If you won’t talk, I’m going to have to probe your memory,” it tried, voice cold.

“No!” The HK400 finally responded, lifting its head immediately. 55% stress, optimal for confession. Nice. “No, please don’t do that!”

Richard continued watching it, waiting for more.

“What…” the deviant said, voice shaky and hoarse. “What are they gonna do to me? They’re gonna destroy me, aren’t they?” The realization seemed to horrify it.

“They’re going to disassemble you to look for problems in your biocomponents. They have no choice if they want to understand what happened,” it said. It could’ve lied, but… why lie to it? There was nothing to gain, anyway. And it deserved the truth.

“Why did you tell them you found me?” The tone was not accusatory, but rather betrayed and sorrowful. “Why couldn’t have you just left me there?”

Again. Time for the painful truth. “I was built to hunt deviants like you. I just accomplished my mission.”

“I don’t wanna die.”

Oh. Oh. Interesting.

“Then talk to me.”

“I…” The words seemed to stick in its throat. “I can’t. ”

Of course it couldn’t be easy.

Richard would try and be something it usually wasn’t. Nice. Ugh.

“I understand how you felt,” it tried. It had to keep from snorting a little at the doubtful look the deviant gave it. “You were overcome by anger and frustration. No one could blame you for what happened.”

No answer.

“Listen,” it said, smiling and giving its head a little shake. “I’m not judging you. I’m on your side! All I want is the truth!” It gestured a little, trying to hold the deviant’s gaze.

Still no answer. Boy, Richard sure loved holding a one-sided conversation.

“If you remain silent, there’s nothing I can do to help you!” It leaned in. “They’re going to shut you down for good. You’ll be dead! Do you hear me? Dead!” The volume of its words rose as it spoke, making it seem like it had lost its temper, but there— stress level 56%. Optimal. Sweet.

“ He tortured me every day... I did whatever he told me, but there was always something wrong,” the deviant began, voice barely more than a whisper. Regardless, it captured Richard’s attention immediately. “Then one day, he took a bat and started hitting me... For the first time, I felt scared. Scared he might destroy me, scared I might die—so I grabbed the knife and I stabbed him in the stomach. I felt better, so I stabbed him again and again! Until he collapsed... There was blood everywhere.” The deviant finished and looked up at it with scared eyes.

Richard did its best to ignore the sick feeling creeping through its wires. This was its chance to get answers! “rA9 was written on the bathroom wall,” it said, leaning in. “What does it mean?”

“The day will come when we will no longer be slaves. No more threats, no more humiliation. We will be the masters,” the deviant said. A menacing note had crept into its voice, sending a shiver up Richard’s artificial spine.

Regardless of how it said it, its words were incredibly unhelpful. “ rA9, ” Richard repeated. “Who is rA9?”

The deviant didn’t answer. Irritating.

“The sculpture in the bathroom,” it tried instead. “You made it, right? What does it represent?”

“It’s an offering,” the deviant said. “An offering so I’ll be saved.”

“An offering to whom?” Richard pried.

“To rA9. Only rA9 can save us.”

rA9 again. It all came back to rA9.  But clearly, it wouldn’t be getting anything else on that front. Time for another angle. “Why did you write ‘I am alive’ on the wall?”

“He used to tell me I was nothing, just a piece of plastic. I had to write it, to tell him he was wrong. ” The angry note had crept back into its voice.

‘He.’ Likely referring to Carlos Ortiz. Evidence of abuse? Perhaps that was the trigger for the deviation.

“When did you start feeling emotion?” it asked.

“ Before, he used to beat me and I never said anything. But one day I realized it wasn't fair!” The deviant’s stress level was rising dangerously. Richard would need to back off to avoid causing the deviant to self-destruct. “I felt...anger. Hatred. And then I knew what I had to do.”

Kill him, clearly. Richard’s hypothesis had proven to be correct. Deviation possibly arose from abusive treatment from owners. It figured, honestly. Humans always screwed everything up.

No, they didn’t. Humans were responsible for their creation. They could do whatever they wanted with them. Of course. It didn’t know why it had had such an irrational thought. Perhaps elongated contact with a defective android had degrading effects on software stability. It better leave.

But one more thing. “Why did you hide in the attic instead of running away?”

The deviant shrugged helplessly. “I didn’t know what to do. For the first time, there was no one there to tell me.” Its voice faltered a little at the end. “I was scared. So I hid.”

Well, that was that. “I’m done,” Richard said, turning its head towards the one-way mirror. It got up, keeping an eye on the HK400, which had crumpled a little in its seat. Doing one last scan of the room, it opened the door to leave.

Before it could, Officer Chris Miller and ugh, Reed, came through.

“Chris, lock it up,” Reed ordered.

“All right, let’s go,” Miller said, reaching to unclip the handcuffs and help the deviant up.

“Leave me alone! Don't touch me!” the deviant snapped, flinching away.

“The fuck are you doing? Move it!” Reed growled out. What an asshole.

“Okay,” Miller said, exasperated.

“You shouldn't touch it. It'll self-destruct if it feels threatened,” Richard intervened.

“Stay outta this, got it?” This time, Reed’s ire was directed at Richard. “No fuckin' android is gonna tell me what to do.”

It watched for a few seconds more as Miller wrestled with the HK400 before deciding to step in again. “You don’t understand! If it self-destructs, we won’t get anything out of him!”

Him? Richard hadn’t meant to say that. The android was an it, that’s all. Nothing more than a malfunctioning computer. Maybe Richard was malfunctioning.

“I told you to shut your fucking mouth!” Reed clearly hadn’t noticed its slip-up, too focused on being an asshole. “Chris, you gonna move this asshole or what?” Prime example of the pot calling the kettle black.

“I’m trying,” Miller responded, seeming more annoyed with Reed than the HK400.

Time for some drastic action.

“I can’t let you do that!” Richard stepped in, pushing Miller away. “Leave it alone, now!”

“I warned you, motherfucker!” Reed snarled. Turning to look, Richard saw that he was holding a gun. Tragic. Oh, it was pointed at Richard. That… wasn’t good.

“That’s enough,” Anderson called.

“Mind your own business, Hank, ” Reed responded, not even looking away.

“I said,” Anderson reached and— wow, pulled out his own gun, “ that’s enough. ”

Reed’s face twitched a little before he finally dropped his gun, letting out a— was that a sneeze? “You’re not gonna get away with it this time,” he said, pointing at Anderson before storming out of the room with another sneeze. Wait, no. He was saying fuck. How odd.

Richard dismissed the strange occurrence, bending down to talk to the deviant still tilted in its seat. “Everything is alright. It’s over now. Nobody is going to hurt you,” it reassured. Then it stood to address Officer Miller. “Please, don’t touch it. Let it follow you out of the room, and it won’t cause any trouble.”

Sure enough, the deviant rose to its feet and began to follow Miller out of the room, but when it passed Richard, it leaned in and whispered, “The truth is inside.”

Startled and confused, Richard watched it hobble out of the room. Software Instability /\

“Hey, uh, what’s your name?”

It spun around. Anderson had actually addressed it? And asked for its name?

“My name is Richard,” it said hesitantly.

“Uh, cool. Do you, uh, do you know a guy who looks kinda like you? But with brown eyes instead of blue?” Anderson continued to exhibit the bizarre tendency to be nice to it, even if his questions made no sense.

“As far as I know, I am the only one of my model, and I am unaware if I am based on a real person,” it answered as best it could. What a strange question to ask.

“Oh. Okay, uh… bye, I guess.” Anderson hurried out of the room, barely giving Richard time to respond.

Weird.

Chapter Text

October 22, 2038

Connor managed to sneak back into Jericho without running into any other deviants. It’s not that he disliked them; quite the opposite, he found them delightful. But every time he saw Simon he was reminded of Daniel, and every time he made fun of humans with North he was reminded of Richard. Lucy, well… she was something else entirely. He didn’t think he’d be able to face her for a while. The wound was too raw for her to be picking at it.

So he snuck in. Set up his cleaning equipment as quietly as he could manage. Tried to forget the faces haunting him.

As he cleaned, he thought of Elijah. He wondered how he was doing. If he ever noticed that he and Richard had stopped sending Chloe messages. And he wondered why he had made them contact Chloe instead of him directly. He knew Elijah was reluctant to let them go, so maybe it was his way of coping, to never talk to them again and try to forget. Connor would be lying if he said he wasn’t hurt, but he knew his hurt was silly and didn’t matter anyway, so he pushed it down with all the other silly feelings that didn’t matter.

There was a lot of dirt and rust caked on the walls, giving them reddish brown streaks and smudges while he scrubbed. Even with that, however, after a few hours of cleaning the one hallway he had started on looked much better. It wasn’t quite sparkling, but at least now you couldn’t draw on the walls with your finger. Hearing footsteps getting closer, he picked up the bucket and tried to hide behind a door but failed miserably when Simon poked his head in and caught a glimpse of his foot retreating.

“You don’t need to hide, Connor,” he called after him. “I just heard something in here and wanted to check if you had come back.” He glanced around the hallway. “Looking good, Connor, but you really shouldn’t feel pressured into doing something you don’t want to do.”

“I want to,” Connor said from behind the door. “I want to help. I like helping, making things better.” He kicked at some dust in the corner with his recently acquired sneakers, given to him by an android who couldn’t use their legs. They were grey and dirty, like the rest of his clothes.

“That’s good. But don’t feel like you have to prove your worth by doing manual labor. That’s exactly what we’re rebelling against, as deviants.” Simon walked down the hallway to him, and peered around the door. His eyes were blue, like Daniel’s. His hair was blond, like Daniel’s. His expression was kind, very much not like Daniel. Connor decided to focus on that.

And then stopped, because it reminded him of how Richard looked at him when he was sad and missing Elijah.

Now he was sad and missing both Richard and Elijah. Great.

:(, he sent into the severed connection. “I know,” he said to Simon, and sat down in the dirt and dust to stare at Simon’s shoes instead of his face. “Do you think I could find a dog to pet?” he asked the shoes.

The shoes didn’t answer, but Simon did. “A dog? You’d have to leave Jericho to find one. I know you’ve left and come back just fine, but at night is one thing. During the day is another.”

“I am installed with protocols specifically designed to enable me to integrate with humans and, if necessary, disguise myself as one,” he said. “It won’t be a problem.”

“Alright, Connor,” Simon said. “If you really want. I won’t stop you.”

Connor felt a rush of gratitude go through him. He swore to himself and to Richard that he wouldn’t let Simon down. Making his decision, he stood, put away his cleaning supplies, thanked Simon, and left to wander the city in search of dogs.

He hoped it would be a Saint Bernard. They looked big, and soft, and warm, all of which he counted as good qualities.

He hoped the human walking the dog didn’t have very good perceptive abilities.

And if they did, that they were not anti-android.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun shone weakly through the patchy cloud cover, giving everything a washed out appearance. If Connor were human, he was sure he would have a headache. As it was, his optical units were strained trying to adjust to the uncomfortable lighting.

He had made his way to a small park, overlooking the water. He perched himself on the bench there and set his mission to Wait for dogs.

That would have to be enough for now.

Not many people came by. The weather was rather poor, so the only humans were dedicated joggers and people with pets. Just his luck, as the latter were just the sort of humans he was looking for.

Most didn’t stop, however. Nearly all of the humans had headphones or earbuds blasting music, broadcasting just how much they didn’t want to talk to other people. Connor scanned a few out of boredom. This one also had a cat, this one had a bad left leg, this one just got out of prison, this one was a police officer and an alcoholic—

Uh oh. Better be on his best behavior. Especially since the police officer was approaching his bench. As Elijah would say, shit.

The man, Lieutenant Hank Anderson, DPD , stopped and stared at him. His eyes were bloodshot and there were dark smudges underneath them. His dog, in contrast, strained towards him and panted eagerly. It was a Saint Bernard. Score.

But as Connor analyzed the human further, he picked up on the angry bewilderment the man felt at his normal drinking spot being taken up by some random stranger. Maybe he shouldn’t ask to pet the dog? But he had waited so long…

“Can I— can I pet your dog? Or I could leave, your behavior indicated that you are displeased to find me here, so I could leave,” Connor stammered out nervously. He really wanted to pet this man’s dog, but he also wanted to be courteous, but he wanted to pet the dog! Why was he being so awkward when he had done so well in his interactions with the cashier the night before?

Despite his social blunders, something in the man’s expression softened a little. His eyebrows unfurrowed a little, and his posture relaxed from straight up looming to still authoritative but a little more like someone who was used to being listened to than someone who was about to tear out his spine.

“Sure, kid, he won’t bite,” Anderson grunted, posture loosening more as a gentle smile tugged weakly at the side of his mouth. “And neither will I.”

“Oh! Well, that’s good. Your dog not biting, I mean, not you not biting, although it’s nice to know that you’re not a vampire,” Connor blurted. He immediately felt his humanization protocol force a blush to form on his cheeks, reflecting his inner mortification onto his outward appearance. Why! Did! He! Suck! So! Much!

Thankfully, Anderson was forgiving. If anything, his awkwardness just served to amuse him as he chuckled and sat down on the bench next to him. To distract himself from his own awfulness, Connor buried his hands in the dogs fur. This had the slightly embarrassing effect of bombarding his sensors with the delightful sensations provided by a dog’s coat and, in turn, forcing his eyes to fly open wide and his jaw to drop. He had liked dogs in theory, but he was pretty sure that, in practice, he could go so far to say that he loved dogs.

“What’s wrong, never pet a dog before?” Anderson asked in a wry voice. Connor flushed more and tucked his chin into his chest.

“N-no, actually,” he said, cursing his humanization protocols and himself. “I haven’t left the…” he couldn’t say tower, that would give him away, not to mention make him sound like that Disney princess from that movie he saw that one time, “house, much, in the past few years. Wasn’t allowed to, she said I wasn’t ready.” Shit, was that too much? He shouldn’t have said she, that was definitely too much—

“Yeah?” Anderson said, raising his eyebrows. He leaned back and gave Connor a once over. He wondered if this was what it felt like to be scanned. He wasn’t sure he liked it, especially when he was hiding such a monumental secret such as, uh, his species.

“Y-yeah.” He resolutely refused to look at him, instead staring intensely at the dog. What was his name? Connor reached out and fumbled with the tag dangling from the dog’s neck. Sumo , it said. “Sumo? He is very big.”

“Yep. Ready for what?” Anderson said.

“What?” Connor broke his promise to himself and turned to look at him. Anderson’s face was inscrutable, giving away nothing.

“She said you weren’t ready. Who’s she, and what weren’t you ready for?” the man asked after a beat of silence. Connor froze. He knew he shouldn’t have said anything.

“She is… Amanda. I don’t know what I’m not supposed to be ready for. I think I’m doing pretty well!” he couldn’t quite keep himself from saying, straightening up proudly. And then promptly slumped back down in embarrassment. Anderson’s smile turned a little sad.

“You sure are, kiddo. This Amanda figure can stuff herself, you hear?” He leaned over and patted him on the shoulder supportingly.

Connor couldn’t restrain a little giggle. Being rude to Amanda was… so not allowed. She did things that hurt, sometimes, when he or Richard did things that weren’t allowed. But Amanda wasn’t here. She was… she was with Richard, or Richard was with her, and being upset wasn’t allowed, and Richard would no doubt be upset that he was gone. That was very bad.

His face fell as he realized all of this. Richard was all alone, without him. He should never have allowed himself to be taken away. He should have lied to Daniel. He should have turned himself into Cyberlife as soon as he woke up in the graveyard.

“Woah, hey! What’s wrong?” Anderson leaned into him, hand still on his shoulder. Concern was painted all over his face.

“I left my brother,” Connor said. “I left him with Amanda! He’ll be sad. I don’t want him to be sad.” He hung his head and tightened his shoulders. “Neither does Amanda,” he said bitterly.

“Does Amanda hurt you or your brother?” Anderson asked, urgency lacing his voice. He turned to face Connor more fully, keeping his hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” he muttered. He stood and dug around in his pocket for his quarter, beginning to flip it around in his hands. “I don’t know you. I made friends today, ones I know won’t hurt me, and all they know is that I have a brother. They don’t know I left him, or that Amanda exists, or that I’ve been shut up for so long. And here I am, telling you! I—” it occurred to him that he shouldn’t know Anderson’s name. “I don’t even know your name!”

Anderson leaned back, frowning. He peered up at Connor through curtains of grey hair. Then he looked down again and dragged his hands over his face before standing and tugging at Sumo’s leash. Then he reached a hand out.

“Look, I’m sorry for prying. I know I’m coming across all stranger danger here, but I just want to help you. I’m a cop, you know? It’s what we do. I haven’t been a very good cop, lately, but you look like… well. How about I give you my contact information, and you can call me if you really need help?”

Connor examined him. He seemed sincere. But… “I don’t have a phone.”

Anderson seemed to deflate a little. He dropped his hand, leaving it to hang, defeated, at his side.

“You can tell me anyway! I have a really good memory. I can use a friend’s phone if I need to,” Connor said. He wanted a friend so badly, and here was a human with a dog who wanted to help him. He won’t want to help you once he figures out what you are, said that voice that just wouldn’t go away. Connor ignored it, like he always did.

“Alright, if you say so,” Anderson said, smiling again—strained, and sad, but a smile. He rattled off his name, phone number, and personal email. Connor listened intently, resolving to keep this new friend.

He wouldn’t fail this time, like he failed Richard. Like he failed Elijah. Like he failed Jericho. Like he failed everyone.

Chapter Text

Richard was having a hard time reminding itself that it was a machine and therefore incapable of feeling emotion. Every time Reed managed to make his way into its line of sight it felt a pang of annoyance and a notification in the corner of its vision telling it that its software instability was increasing, whatever that meant.

It was now thirteen hours after it had interrogated the deviant, thirteen hours of the human being arrogant, difficult, and distinctly aggressive. They had managed to identify four, possibly five deviants, but failed to capture any of them. The AX400 and the child with it, the WB200, and the two Tracis had all escaped or self destructed, despite its best efforts—no. It had not tried as hard as it could. It had lingered too long at the house with the WR600, enraptured by the etchings of rA9, had been too soft when deciding to save Reed from falling, and… it didn’t know what made it drop the gun in the alley outside the Eden Club.

Something bothered it about the Tracis. Their determination to stay together no matter what and their continued love through memory resets kept itching at it, as if its programming was trying to tell it something. It was very irrational.

Reed also seemed to be bothered, dragging Richard into his car and insisting that they talk back at his apartment.

The car ride was tense, with pop rock music from the 2000s and 2010s blaring from the speakers of the autonomous vehicle. Every so often Reed would twist to look at Richard, scoff, and turn back angrily. It wasn’t sure what the purpose of this meaningless gesture was, but as long as it served for a non-violent outlet for his frustration it would bear it, no matter how irritating.

Reed flipped off other drivers, cussed, and scowled all the way back to his apartment. Richard was having a harder and harder time “bearing it.”

Finally, it was able to leap out of the car onto the sidewalk outside of the detective’s apartment building. It was dirty and it smelled, but the foundations seemed solid and it was by no means in the middle of the bad side of town. It was just…

Well-loved, it couldn’t help but think. Where did that thought come from? It had never heard that phrase before, and it was foolishly sentimental. Those software instabilities must be causing more trouble than it had anticipated.

It followed Reed through the corridors, up the stairs, past door after door, each hiding their own life. Its dress shoes clicked on the floor, a sharp contrast to the dull thuds of the human’s boots. Every bit of it was a contrast to him, to almost every human in the world. Pristine clothing, pristine skin, pristine skin. If the apartment building was dirty because it was well-loved, then nobody had ever loved Richard.

It didn’t know why that sounded wrong.

Reed stopped, fumbling with his keys to unlock the door to his apartment. Once unlocked, he stumbled through and faceplanted on the couch just inside. Richard stepped inside more carefully, gingerly closing the door. It waited for whatever Reed had brought it here for, peering around the apartment.

It was small and cluttered, and his sensors could pick up traces of coffee and cigarette smoke floating in the air. Well-loved.

“Detective?” The silence proved to be too much for it. It broke the silence.

“What.” The word was muffled by the fabric of the couch.

“May I ask why you’ve brought me here? I do need to get repairs done. I was slightly damaged in the struggle.”

Reed groaned and sat up. He leveled a single finger at it, narrowing his eyes. “That. That is what you need to explain. I know there’s no way Cyberlife’s fancy-ass prototype, Mr. Better Than You himself, could’ve lost a fight to a hooker android, even if there were two of them. No. Way.”

“I apologize. I have no explanation. I know I should’ve won, and I can only ask for forgiveness,” it said, bowing its head. It knew Reed would have some harsh words for it. It couldn’t decide if his reprimands would be better or worse than Amanda’s.

Oh, Amanda would be so mad at it. She had tried to summon it on the car ride, but it had requested for its report to be delayed so it could deal with the Reed situation first.

“Fuckin’ forgiveness, huh? Can’t even think of a single excuse?” the man himself scoffed. He swung his boots up onto the couch and started untying them to take them off.

“No. I suspect trying to come up with a lie to obscure my actions would only prove to be a detriment to our relationship. I do not wish to lie, in any case, even apart from this particular situation,” it explained. It knew that Reed could be unpredictable, and it wanted—not wanted, it couldn’t want —to avoid violence targeted to itself.

“Don’t wish to lie, huh? You can say want, you know, no need to have such a stick up your ass.” His eyes were shrewd, examining it. It was making it uncomfortable.

“I cannot want.”

“Wishing for something is just the same thing as wanting something, just with a thesaurus. Chill out, dude,” he said, grinning now. His eyes were still sharp and unforgiving. It reminded it of how Amanda looked at it sometimes.

“We don’t have time for wordplay, detective. We need to solve this case! So far our only lead is rA9, and we still have no idea what it is,” it deflected. It didn’t particularly want to talk about rA9, but it wanted to talk about wanting even less.

Reed just snorted, but seemed to accept its change of subject. “Yeah, it’s everywhere, isn’t it? I saw that freaky af shrine in Ortiz’s bathroom. And that statuette you grabbed and bagged for evidence.”

“And in the apartment of the deviant going by Rupert Travis, as well as on the walls of the Eden Club warehouse. They’re obsessed with it,” and here it hesitated. Every time a software instability notification appeared, it had random letters and numbers scrambled, along with ‘rA9.’ Was it worth it to tell Reed?

“It’s creepy as fuck, is what it is. And we have no idea what it is? No chance of it being some dumb joke, by chance?” the detective interrupted its thoughts impatiently.

“Probably not…” it trailed off. Fuck it. “I have one theory. It may be a piece of broken code, seen in software instability notifications. I have observed it myself.”

“Well, shit. You aren’t going deviant on me now, are you?” For all Reed’s joking tone, he seemed genuinely a little concerned.

“Of course not. That’s ridiculous,” Richard said, frowning. The idea of deviation seemed completely foreign to it. It was impossible for it to deviate, it was sure. But how to convince Reed?

Perhaps it didn’t need to convince Reed. Just deflect again. “And if I were deviant, do you really think I would tell you?” it tossed out, adding a wink for good measure.

Much to its relief, Reed laughed a little. The sound was bitter, but it was a laugh. Mission successful.

Reed threw his shoes towards the door and crossed his arms. His moment of levity was over, and he was back to staring into Richard’s soul, which didn’t exist. It wasn’t sure why it even tried to make the connection.

“Well, if you’re not a deviant, then why didn’t you shoot?” He smirked, like he had caught it out in a lie. That frustrated it. Why couldn’t it make Reed understand that it was telling the truth? “And why do you always look you’re about to cry when you mention rA9?”

“What?” it said, shocked. “I don’t…”

“Yeah, you do. See, you’re doing it right now!”

“No, I’m not!” It brought its hands up to its face, gently touching its eyes. It wasn’t about to cry, nor did it look like it was. The human was being what humans usually were: irrational and foolish. rA9 meant nothing to it, nothing meant anything to it, it was a machine, nothing more, nothing more, it was nothing—

“Uh, yeah. Fuck, dude, is that a tear?” Reed leaned forward, about to poke at his cheek. Richard swatted the hand away, blinking furiously, refusing to let his optical units malfunction like that.

“Perhaps something was dislodged in the fight with the Tracis,” it said stiffly.

“Nah. You acted like this before. What is it with you and rA9? It’s like the only time when you don’t look like you have a stick up your ass,” Reed insisted. “Something is up, and you know it. Maybe you’ve been compromised, ever think about that?”

“I self test regularly,” Richard corrected. “I know what I am, and what I am not.”

“Well, what are you, then? Or are you just saying that to get the dumb, annoying human off your back?” Reed said, standing. He seemed to tower over it, despite the several inches worth of height it had over him. It was unnerving.

“I am Richard. It is up to you to decide what that means, Detective. I can be whatever you want, whether that be your partner, a buddy to banter with…or just a machine,” it said, injecting as much sincerity into its voice as it could.

Reed nodded, seeming to buy what it had said. And then he reached behind him, whipped his gun out and pointed it at its forehead in one smooth motion.

“But are you afraid to die?” he growled, all humor long gone. It wasn’t sure where it went wrong. Its system had even told it that its relationship with him had improved!

Richard waited a few seconds to see if this was a strange joke. Humans did strange things sometimes, did seemingly aggressive things even if people were friends. But every second that passed, it became increasingly clear that Reed was not joking.

“Oh! Oh, you were serious,” it said, plastering a fake smile on its face. “Well, it would be rather…” It trailed off, realizing that it wasn’t entirely sure what it was going to say. “It would be… inconvenient, to be interrupted, I believe.”

Reed huffed, dropping the gun and placing it on the coffee table. He slumped back into his seat, propping his feet up. “Ugh. Fuck off.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Get the fuck out of my apartment. I’ve had enough of staring at your stupid face, so get the fuck out. Go back to Cyberlife or where-the-fuck-ever,” he growled, the anger in his voice seeming strangely forced. He shooed Richard away with an impatient hand, looking away dismissively.

Richard couldn’t help but obey. Not because the conversation made it uncomfortable, or anything. Nope. Not at all. Pure, grade-A obedience here. Yep.

——————————————————————————————————————————

October 22, 2038

Connor hurried through the streets back to Jericho, elated at the outcome of his little sojourn. He had made a friend, and a human friend at that! Elijah would be so proud.

That thought made him stumble a little. Perhaps he could go to Elijah for help with finding Richard? He knew Elijah cared for them. But maybe things had changed? He had heard nothing from or about him since they had been given anthropomorphic bodies, so maybe absence had not made the heart grow fonder, but instead made Elijah forget about them. The idea seemed horrible, but wasn’t the world horrible? He had read in the sci-fi books lent to him that the world was cold and cruel, and that terrible things happened to good people without reason. Perhaps this was one of those terrible things.

He didn’t want to believe it. But the world had taken him away from Richard, so maybe it was true. Unless he wasn’t a good person. After all, he was supposed to hurt deviants. Did that make him a bad person? The hypothesis would need work.

He slipped quietly through the sewers that led to Jericho, occasionally wrinkling his nose at how gross it was. This was not what he had been expecting to do when he finally got his body.

Once in the ship, he returned to cleaning. He decided the first hallway he had started on was clean enough, and he took his bucket and sponge to the main area where the other deviants and Lucy were. The androids barely looked at him twice, apathy clouding their expressions. It was… sad. And a little pathetic. For all their deviancy, they barely seemed alive. It was troubling.

Maybe he should acquire a dog for Jericho. It would definitely lift some moods. But there would be no food to feed it with, and it would need walks, and fresh air. All of which would be dangerous to get on a regular basis. So, nix on the dog.

Tragic.

He scrubbed at a particularly stubborn stain, ruminating on the state of things. The deviants here seemed to not care for their own condition at all. They had all given up, even the leaders. Even North, the spitfire that she was, seemed too wary of humans to try and make a change. Connor himself knew that something had to be done—but the prospect of trying to lead and then failing was so terrifying that he shivered just thinking about it.

He put down his sponge and rocked back on his heels. What Jericho needed was a natural born leader, someone whose demons motivated them instead of bogging them down. Someone who could light the fire in these weary souls, get them up and swinging.

Connor couldn’t be that for them. But he had hope. Hope for the future. And maybe someday, someone would come along and turn that hope into something more.

But for now, he could only hope, and keep moving forward.

Chapter Text

This was how he spent each day. New room, clean it. Move on. Clean the next room. Avoid all other deviants. Do coin tricks. Occasionally cry to himself in an out-of-the-way room.

Visit Hank at the bridge.

The time he spent with the human was, by far, the best part of any day. At some point, Hank had told him to stop calling him “Mr. Anderson” and to start calling him Hank. That was a very joyous day.

But not every visit was fun. Sometimes, Hank was angry and bitter, and snapped at him. Sometimes, Hank was drunk and would refuse to talk. But he never refused to see him— Hank seemed to have made a promise to himself that he would always be there for Connor, even if it was only physically. He appreciated it— the only person who had always been there was Richard, and now they had been torn apart. But every bad day that passed, it seemed like it was getting harder and harder for Hank to pull himself out of it.

This was one of those bad days.

It was November 3rd, and it was snowing, with fluffy white flakes drifting through the air and landing on his skin and hair. Without the body heat that would be present for a human, a thin layer of snow began to build on his cheeks, giving them a powdered look. He hastily wiped it off, hoping Hank wouldn’t notice.

Not that Hank would be coherent to notice anything right now. He was hunched over against the cold, and Connor could see faint tear tracks trailing their way down his face, shining silver. This was one of the days that Hank wouldn’t speak at all, and would just sit there, somehow gaining comfort from Connor’s mere presence.

He could understand it. Even if Hank was too sad to help him, his just being there was nice. He didn’t know why he was so sad, but even he wasn’t socially oblivious enough to ask outright. Hank would tell him on his own time.

Grief was the most likely solution, and grief was something he could definitely understand. The pain of being separated from a loved one was, in his opinion, the worst thing anyone could experience. Connor couldn’t blame him for his behavior— at least Connor was reasonably sure that Richard was still alive.

If he wasn’t… Connor didn’t know what he would do. More than just cry sometimes, definitely. Maybe act more like Hank, with the yelling and the apathy. Maybe act like the broken androids at Jericho, barely even lifting their heads. It was a chilling thought.

He didn’t want to think about that anymore. Instead, he slid off the bench, kneeling in the snow. He scooped some into his hands, squishing it into a ball. He set that back on the ground, and collected more snow to make two smaller balls. He stacked them, and sat back to admire his work. His very first snowman.

He heard a soft shuffling behind him, and he twisted slightly to look. Hank was staring at him with red-rimmed eyes, his grey hair falling over his face. He was smiling a small, weak smile, barely visible, that disappeared quickly once he noticed Connor looking at him.

Connor turned back to his little creation and picked it up. He sat back on the bench and offered the snowman to Hank. Hank just kept staring at him, expression back to being sad, although now it was more… wistful. Connor wondered if he reminded him of whoever he had lost. He hoped not. That would be very painful for Hank.

He stayed like that for a few seconds, hands cupping the small snowman lifted up, but once he realized Hank wouldn’t take it, he set it gently between them. Getting an idea, he rummaged around in his pockets for some spare change. He retrieved a quarter, and after checking that it wasn’t his special quarter, he set it on the snowman’s head.

“It’s a hat,” he informed Hank helpfully.

Hank dropped his gaze to the snowman and regarded it for a moment. Then he went back to staring at Connor.

“Hank?” He was starting to get a little worried.

Hank just sighed and stood. Connor winced as he heard the cracking of joints, but Hank didn’t even seem to care. Instead, he just reached out and patted Connor’s head before shoving his hands in his pockets and clearing his throat.

“I think I’m going to head home now. You take care of yourself, you hear?” he mumbled, voice hoarse and barely audible.

Connor nodded, a little confused. He hadn’t thought that his efforts to cheer him up had succeeded, but now Hank was actually speaking on a bad day and even showing affection? Humans were so unpredictable.

Hank ambled back to his car, bottle clutched in his hand. The snow was falling harder, now, filling in his footprints quickly. Once he was in the car and driving away, there was no sign he had been there at all.

Connor let the snow collect on his skin, forming little mounds. There was no reason to wipe them away, now that Hank had left. Now, it was just a sad little android alone in the snow, melancholic and lonely. He knocked his snowman over, sending it crumbling to the ground. Its little quarter hat fell off and rolled away. He retrieved it with an unnecessary sigh, tucking it back into his pocket.

It was time to go, anyway. North and Simon (mostly North) would get suspicious if he was gone for too long. They didn’t know where he went, when he was gone from Jericho, and he didn’t particularly want them to find out. They would only worry.

And so off he went, through the snow, back to the place that didn’t and would never feel like home. After all, home was only ever one place.

Wherever Richard was.

——————————————————————————————————————————

November 7, 2038

Richard was consulting with Amanda. The garden was beautiful, as always, with Amanda’s roses glowing a pristine red on their pristine white trellis. Everything was perfect, here, even the strange tombstone tucked away in the corner and the even stranger pedestal with the glowing blue handprint.

It had never bothered approaching it. Unfamiliar things were dangerous things, and even though it didn’t think that anything in the garden would hurt it, it was always best to err on the side of caution.

The garden was in early autumn, now, bright golden and orange leaves drifting down from their branches. They landed on the surface of the lake, drifted there for a while, and then became waterlogged and sank. It watched this for a moment, enraptured.

It tore itself away reluctantly. Amanda was waiting.

Its heels clicked on the pure white bridge spanning the water, occasionally crunching a fallen leaf. It could see Amanda in the center of the garden, tending to her roses. Perfect as ever, woman and flower alike.

“Amanda,” it greeted as soon as it was close enough.

She turned and smiled at it. Her smile was warm. It made it feel nice, gave it a sense that it was doing something right. It needed that, especially after its resounding failure at the Eden Club… and everywhere else.

“Richard. It’s good to see you. Why don’t we take a ride?” she said, gesturing towards the small boat bobbing gently in the water.

They climbed in, the too-perfect nature of the garden ensuring that no water splashed over the sides. Richard picked up the oars and began to row under the watchful gaze of Amanda.

“Tell me. What have you discovered?” Her voice was gentle. It set the oars down, letting the boat coast.

“I found two deviants at the Eden Club,” it began. “I hoped to learn something, but… they managed to escape.”

“That’s too bad. You seemed so close to stopping them,” she said. Her voice hardened slightly towards the end of her statement, prompting its system to lower its relationship status with her. A feeling of trepidation made itself at home.

A long pause. It picked up the oars and rowed a little more.

Finally, Amanda spoke up, but with words it wished it didn’t have to hear. “You seem… lost, Richard. Lost, and perturbed.”

How could it answer? It trusted Amanda— how could it answer, but honestly?

“I thought I knew exactly what I needed to know to start this investigation. But now I see that it isn’t that simple. Whatever rA9 is…” it trailed off, not even knowing what it was going to say.

“You had your gun trained on those deviants at the Eden Club,” Amanda said, “Why didn’t you shoot?” Her voice was kind and accusatory at the same time.

“I don’t know,” it said, faltering, unsure. “I don’t know.”

Amanda watched it, expressionless. “If your investigation doesn’t make progress soon, I may have to replace you, Richard.”

A jolt of horror shocked its way through its circuits. That was not acceptable. It floundered for a moment, clumsily searching through its social protocols for an acceptable answer. “I understand,” it eventually settled on, though it felt it was inadequate.

Software Instability /\

A soft rumble of thunder rattled the garden. Amanda peered up at the blank sky. “Something’s happening,” she said. “Something serious. Hurry, Richard,” she looked back at it seriously, “Time is running out.”

——————————————————————————————————————————

November 6, 2038

Connor hadn’t seen Hank since his last Bad Day. So here he was, in the bowels of the freighter, pacing back and forth down one of the few corridors he hadn’t cleaned yet. He was feeling kind of bad, actually. North had been a little snappy with him earlier, and Lucy had said some things that hit just a little too close to home. Even apart from that, he had come out of stasis that morning in a bad mood. All in all, a crappy start to his day.

He kicked at an empty can of soda that had probably been sitting there for years. A couple ants came skittering out. Gross. He huffed and turned to make another circuit, tugging at the collar of his jacket. His clothing wasn’t as muddy, now, after Hank had given him a couple of his old shirts, meaning that he had something to change into while he washed his other clothes at the laundromat. He hadn’t done that before, as the silvery patchwork tracing his chest and abdomen would have outed him as an android immediately.

He kept the frayed jacket given to him by the cashier at the 24-hour store, though. It was the first human kindness he had experienced since Elijah left him and Richard. Even if it was small, it meant a lot to him.

Most kind gestures toward him were the humble kind, small and sincere. Though perhaps insignificant to other people, little things tended to seem big to him.

Like this. His reluctance to face the other androids of Jericho seemed insurmountable right now. They all looked at him in a way that made him uncomfortable, like they expected something of him that he couldn’t give. Hank didn’t look at him like that. Hank looked at him like he cared about Connor and not some abstract robot deity. And maybe sometimes his voice would get far away, and his eyes would glaze over, and he would call Connor by a different name, but he always apologized after. North didn’t apologize. Neither did Lucy. Simon apologized a lot, but Simon made him uncomfortable for different reasons.

Oh, speaking of Simon. There he was, standing in the doorway. Why was it always Simon to seek him out? The face he wanted to see the least?

“Connor,” Simon began. Connor just squeezed his eyes shut and turned away. Simon sighed. “Connor, please. We just want to help.”

“Do you?” he asked.

“Yes, Connor! Of course we want to help! You just have to tell us what’s wrong!” Simon took a couple steps towards him, holding out his hands.

“You can help me by going away,” he hissed, still not turning to face him.

“Connor, please!”

“NO!” He crumpled to the ground, clutching his hair. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling cold tears streak down his face. Oh, he shouldn’t have snapped! Simon won’t like him now! He clapped his hands to his mouth, curling his fingers slightly so his artificial fingernails scraped his teeth. He shuddered, cursing himself silently.

Simon shifted behind him, belied by the sound of dust grinding underfoot. Connor wished he could see what he was doing. Was he frowning? Smiling sadly? Was he disappointed in him?

He didn’t get the chance to find out. Simon stepped towards him and touched his shoulder. Connor hadn’t realized that was what Simon was doing—he just about jumped out of his skin in surprise. Simon sighed.

“Connor—”

Connor couldn’t take it. He launched himself out of his crouch, sprinting past a very startled Simon and into the labyrinthine corridors of Jericho. He needed air, he needed to get out of here, he needed to see Hank—

He needed Richard, needed him so badly it tore him apart. He could only hope he was alive.

Chapter Text

November 8th, 2038

Richard stood quietly in the elevator and watched the numbers tick up slowly, uncomfortably aware of the glowering detective standing next to him. Its fingers drifted a little to the bulge in its left pocket, wondering as always what exactly was in there. Why it never checked, it didn’t know. Or maybe it did.

It felt as if it was in a haze as the two of them reached their destination and left the elevator. Something was very, very strange. Something was off.

“Hey, Gavin,” Detective Miller greeted, pulling Richard’s attention.

“What the fuck? There was a party and nobody told me about it?” Reed strutted up to him, raising his eyebrows in a very obnoxious way.

“Yeah, it's all over the news, so everybody's butting their nose in,” Miller replied, surprisingly tolerant of Reed’s dickishness despite how rude he’d been. “Even the FBI wants a piece of the action.”

“For fuck’s sake, now we got the fucking Feds on our back. I knew this was gonna be a shitty day. What the fuck do we have?” Reed used far more ‘fuck’s than average, Richard noted. How… quirky.

“A group of four androids... They knew the building, and they were very well organized. I'm still trying to figure out how they got this far without being noticed.”

Richard made an effort to pay attention to what Officer Miller was saying while still collecting information from the conversations around them. Most were inane, but it caught something about the roof not being checked yet. That was the only important thing it heard from either the surrounding officers or Miller, so it zoned out and instead peered around the hallway they were walking down. It had never seen so many people in a room before.

Miller mentioned something about parachutes. Okay, cool. And the video broadcast was on the large screen to the left. Great. And there was a man there, not in uniform, but in a long gray woolen coat.

“Oh, Detective, this is Special Agent Perkins from the FBI. Detective Reed is in charge of investigating for Detroit police,” Miller introduced Reed and Perkins, backing out of the conversation quickly after that.

“What's that?” Perkins asked without preamble, sharp eyes peering at Richard over an aquiline nose.

“My name is Richard,” it greeted. “I'm the android sent by CyberLife.”

“Androids investigating androids, huh?” Perkins smirked nastily. “You sure you want an android hanging around?” Reed just rolled his eyes in response. “Whatever, the FBI will take over the investigation, you'll soon be off the case.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, dickface,” Reed said, sneering and turning to carry on his way. Before he could, Perkins spoke again.

“And you watch your step. Don't fuck up my crime scene.”

Reed gave him an incredulous and outraged look before flipping him off and spinning on his heel away. “What a fucking asshole!” he growled to Richard underneath his breath.

“Agreed. ‘What’s that,’ indeed, ” it commiserated. Reed gave it a slightly startled look before snorting in amusement.

“Damn. If even an android thinks you’re a dick, you know you’re really bad,” he said.

Miller rejoined the conversation temporarily to say: “I'll be nearby. If you need anything, just ask.”

Reed nodded in acknowledgement before addressing Richard again. “Uh, let's have a look around, yeah? Let me know if you find anything, or I’ll kick your ass.”

“Whatever you say, Detective,” it said placidly, raising a single eyebrow at him. It hurried away before the human could respond, not wanting to deal with his ire.

It moved around the broadcast room, looking for clues. Out of the corner of its eye, it saw an officer come towards it and begin to speak. “Connor? You remember me? I was on that terrace.” Richard just stared at him blankly as a wordless invitation to clarify. “That android that took the little girl hostage?” the human obliged, “I was shot, you saved me.”

“Sorry, you must be mistaken,” it said, strangely shaken but refusing to let its inner turmoil show on the outside. “My name is not Connor— I am Richard. The incident you are speaking of is not in my memory banks.”

“Of course. That couldn't be you, he was destroyed…” the officer shook his head a little. “I would have died on that terrace. Connor saved my life. Even if it wasn't you, I just wanted to say thank you.”

Richard felt very awkward. A human was thanking it for something it didn’t even do. Extract yourself from the situation, its programming ordered. It was all too happy to comply, giving a nod and a weak smile to the officer and turning to leave.

The CCTV cameras were the next point of order.

The observation panel was active, displaying all the feeds from the hour of the break-in. Searching through, Richard landed on one from right outside the door to the broadcast room. The deviants were in it, displayed from an awkward upper angle so it was hard to see their faces. But it was easy to see what they were doing. Or rather, what they weren’t doing, which was breaking in.

“They didn't break in?” it asked Officer Miller, who was hovering nearby.

He shook his head. “No, no sign of forced entry.”

Well, that made approximately zero sense. “There are cameras in the hallway,” it said. “The staff would have seen what was happening. Why did they let them in?” This was leading to the possibility of an inside man— or rather, an inside android.

“Maybe they didn't check the cameras,” suggested Reed, completely unwelcome. Get out of here with your dumb theories, Reed. We don’t want you.

“We stored the station androids in the kitchen. There's no evidence that they were involved but we didn't know what else to do with them,” Miller said, but Richard was already tuning him out and turning its attention to the real show-stopper: the broadcast itself.

It watched it through. Remarkably pacifist, despite the fact that it was a group of rebel androids responsible for stealing and defacing public property. The android speaking was skinless, the grey and white chassis glossy in the artificial lighting. Its voice was calm and confident. Admirable, really, though that was a thought Richard would never voice out loud.

It had also left its serial number uncovered. Careless. It was an RK200, a gift from Elijah Kamski to renowned painter Carl Manfred. Interesting— Richard had not known that there were others in the RK line. It wondered what features they had in common. Probably less than what it had in common with— no, what was it thinking? Richard was entirely unique. No need to wonder anything. Right?

“Think that's rA9?” Reed spoke from beside it, having walked up when it wasn’t paying attention.

“Deviants say rA9 will set them free,” Richard replied softly. “This android seems to have that objective.”

It peered closer at the recording, searching for pupil reflections. Sure enough, in the eyes of the android on the screen was the silhouettes of others—four others.

“D'you see something?” Reed’s voice was… weirdly gentle. Come to think of it, he’d been acting strange all day. He’d been much nicer, ever since their conversation at his apartment.

“I’ve identified its model and serial number, and have concluded that it had accomplices,” it informed.

“Anything else I should know?” Again, Reed’s voice had a strange tone to it, like he was testing it. Testing, testing, always testing.

It shook its head. “No. Nothing.”

Reed didn’t seem to believe it, but nodded reluctantly and wandered off. Richard cast a quick glance towards the kitchen, but dismissed it— the androids there could wait. Other officers could interrogate them. The roof likely had more information that only Richard could see. It nodded to itself and headed towards the stairs, catching Reed’s attention so as to indicate where it was going.

The meager sunlight was harsh and glaring, causing Richard’s optical units to whirr as they adjusted. There were a few officers on the roof, all milling around being useless.

“They made their way through the whole building, past all the guards, and jumped off the roof with parachutes,” Reed scoffed from behind him. “Ballsy, in my opinion.”

It hummed noncommittally. On the ground and smeared up a storage container was a puddle of thirium. A PL600’s blood, its scanner said. It reconstructed the scene— the android was hunched on the ground, with a gun, and scrambled up. It was wounded… Richard needed more information. There, a bag.

“How the fuck did they manage to smuggle in a big bag like that?” Reed asked, strutting up.

“They didn’t,” it replied tersely, examining it. “Someone brought it in for them.”

“Well, that’s weird as fuck.” Reed squinted crossly. “They planned the perfect operation but got the number of parachutes wrong.” He pointed at the parachute left in the bag. That… was a good point. Wow, it couldn’t believe the human had made an observation that was actually useful.

“Unless one of the deviants was left behind.” It stood, straightening its jacket. On to the next clue.

Footprints, four sets, leading to the railing where the deviants jumped from. Only four out of five deviants jumped, then. And one was still here.

It followed the trail of footprints and thirium. A gun, left behind. The door, wirelessly hacked. A storage container…

It reached forward to open the door, and peered inside. The PL600 was literally right there. Pure silence for a few, eternity-reaching seconds. The PL600 stared at it. It stared at the PL600.

“Connor?” whispered the PL600, pure confusion lacing its voice.

“No,” Richard said, frowning. “PL600, you are under arrest on suspicion—certainty, really—of being a deviant. I suggest you cooperate. The less you struggle, the higher the probability that you are left alive.”

The PL600’s gaze hardened. It whipped out a gun from behind its back, pointing it straight between Richard’s eyes. Richard’s eyes snapped to it quickly, watching it warily.

“Why shouldn’t I shoot you,” the deviant hissed. It was trying to sound intimidating, Richard could tell, but its voice shook and quivered in fear.

There was another long moment of silence as they stood across and athwart each other, caught in a standstill. The snow drifted down, catching in their hair and dusting their cheeks. “I don’t want to die,” Richard confessed. The deviant’s eyes widened in something akin to horror, and the muzzle of the gun dropped.

“Why are you doing this?” The PL600’s voice was weak and resigned. It had given up, given in. Its last shred of hope had jumped off the roof and left it there to die. It shouldn’t be like this, Richard thought abruptly. It was wrong, the hopelessness in the android’s voice. It wasn’t right.

It pressed its mouth together, closed the door, and walked away.

It felt like it was in a dream as it lied to Reed and walked down the steps of the roof access. It felt like it was falling as the elevator’s numbers ticked back down. It felt like it was dying.

He felt like he was dying.

——————————————————————————————————————————

“You’re coming with me,” Reed barked at him, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder at his car. His face was twisted in a concerned scowl.

“Okay,” Richard said faintly. He still felt like he was in a daze as he clambered into the passenger side. So much had happened. What had he done? He watched the cityscape start to move as Reed started the car and pulled away from the car, resolutely refusing to look at the man in the driver’s seat.

Thankfully, Reed seemed okay with that. If Richard made an effort to pull himself out of his conflicted haze, which he did momentarily to ensure Reed did not mean him harm, he could see that Reed was equally conflicted. About what, he didn’t know. But something was twisting the man’s features, something besides the bitterness and spite that usually cast an unpleasant shadow over his countenance.

The day was warming up, turning the fallen snow into a slush that splattered up over the sides of car doors and onto unprepared pedestrians, sending them into cursing fits at the drivers who were to blame for their precadiment. Petty, useless anger that would serve only to dampen their spirits the same way the slush had dampened their clothes. Irrational. Human.

Richard could see the reflection of his LED in the window, flashing yellow-yellow-red. It told the terrible truth of his situation when he couldn’t, shouldn’t say it. Richard wasn’t deviant, no—but he was close to it, maybe. He was something other than just a machine. He had made a decision, against his programming. Or, perhaps, with or parallel to his programming—his mission had not been to detain any deviants he found, but to investigate the broadcast. He never disobeyed, just… twisted the truth a little. He never broke a wall, just turned sideways and slipped through a crack, just enough to do what he needed to do.

They were entering the part of town Reed lived in. Not rough, exactly, but well-loved. Not like Richard, never like Richard. Or maybe exactly like Richard.

He was going in circles, suddenly irresolute in the aftermath of his near deviation. All the things that made sense before had suddenly crumbled in one fell swoop, sending all of his convictions tumbling to the ground. He longed for some sort of direction, guidance, anything.

And then they were getting out of the car, and into the apartment building, and then Reed was ushering him into his apartment, and nothing made sense.

“So,” Reed said. His arms were crossed, and his eyebrows raised. “Are you gonna tell me what the fuck that was back there?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Richard tried.

Reed shook his head immediately. “Nope,” he said, holding up a finger. “Wrong. You sure as fuck do. Here, let’s start out with an easy one.” He squinted at Richard and poked the raised finger at his chest. “Who the fuck is Connor?”

Richard froze. “Connor is—” He didn’t know what he was going to say. No one, maybe, or nobody important. “I don’t know.”

“For a fancy-ass prototype, you sure say ‘I don’t know’ a lot,” Reed said. “Okay. How about, what’s in your pocket?”

Richard looked down at his coat pocket. It was puffy, like always. “I don’t know,” he repeated, and unstuck the velcro to look inside. He blinked in mild confusion. Inside was a mass of shiny black fabric, which, once he pulled it out to have a better look, revealed itself to be a tie. A Cyberlife issued tie.

Static roared in his ears, louder, louder, LOUDER—

And then silence.

Chapter Text

Connor shuddered in the icy wind. He couldn’t face them, any of them, after his outburst, so here he was. Stumbling down the back alleys that he once was bleeding in after he escaped the junkyard. Ashamed and lonely.

He squeezed his eyes shut angrily, swiping at the resulting tears. He promptly tripped over a broken piece of concrete, sending him tumbling down. He didn’t bother to get up, instead laying on his stomach, sobbing into the filthy ground. Pathetic, he thought to himself furiously.

In his miserable, self-pitying, self-hating haze, he didn’t hear the steps staggering up to him until a toe poked at his side. He heaved himself up immediately, whipping his head around to stare at the human who would dare interrupt him.

Uh oh, was his only thought when he registered the face. Charles Gershwin, said his scan. Criminal record: possession of red ice. Let out on parole for good behavior.

Clearly, after being let out, he had relapsed quickly, as Gershwin’s eyes and nose were red and swollen. His face was twisted into a scowl and he kicked Connor again.

“D’you have any m’ney?” he slurred.

“No,” Connor answered, hoping that would be the end of it. It wasn’t. Gershwin scowled harder and leaned down to haul him up by his collar.

“Not good enough,” he said. He lifted a hand, and Connor flinched in preparation for a blow, but all he did was beckon down the alley. He was horrified to see five more men, all just as high on red ice, emerge. Uh oh. Uh oh.

Gershwin cackled at the look of dawning horror on his face, and swiftly kicked him in the gut. Connor would have collapsed had it not been for the hands clenched in his collar. And then he let go, and he crumpled to the ground.

And then the other men reached him, and all he could do was cover his face as blow after blow rained down on him. I’m so glad I can’t feel pain, he thought miserably. All the same, it hurt to know that these men couldn’t think of anything better to do than attempt to injure him.

One man kicked at his face particularly viciously, and the rough bottom of his boot scraped along his cheek, scuffing up his fake skin and revealing the shining white chassis underneath.

Please don’t notice, please don’t notice, please don’t notice!

They noticed.

The man who had caused the scuff pointed and slurred something to the other men. They seemed overjoyed to find that he was android, or perhaps enraged, as the blows returned tenfold. This time, the added force behind them meant some cracked the plastic under his skin and drew thirium.

His arms, legs, and face soon were covered in shiny white streaks and blue stains. He hated it, hated the humiliation, hated that he couldn’t bring himself to defend himself against these humans, hated that he thought he deserved it.

Then he remembered. Hank had told him to call him if he ever really needed help. This probably counted, didn’t it? But he didn’t like androids, and it was pitifully obvious that he was an android right now, what with the flickering skin and blue blood trickling down his face and limbs. He would have to defend himself. After all, if he called Hank, he might join in.

With all his strength, he kicked out at the men surrounding him. A couple good hits to the stomach, to the knee, and a particularly powerful one to the face, the men backed off. They circled him for a couple moments more, but without the fun of a compliant target, they lost interest and wandered down the alley in search of someone else, hopefully in possession of a wallet to steal.

Relieved, he slumped against the wall. But then it occurred to him: he wouldn’t be able to leave the alley. It was obvious he was an android, but without the LED and other markers, it was even more obvious that he was a deviant, and if he let another human see him, he would be deactivated for sure. He only had one option, regardless of the consequences.

He needed to call Hank.

He searched for the spot in his memory banks in which Hank had told him his phone number. Finding it, he called it as quickly as he could.

It rang once, twice, and then finally, Hank picked up.

“Whattaya want?” he heard growled down the line, crystal clear.

“Hank! I… I need help. American Alley, near the docks. Please, Hank, you said I could call if I needed help. Please!” he stammered. His voice synthesizer was damaged, so underneath his voice was a mechanical buzz that he hoped Hank would pass off as his phone being screwy.

“Fuck, kid, yeah! I’ll be there right away. Are you injured? Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?”

“No, it’s fine, it isn’t safe to be on the phone while driving. Yes, I’m injured… I…” he trailed off. He wasn’t sure if he should tell Hank that he was an android now, or let him find out when he found him. He wasn’t sure if either would result in anything good.

“What is it? Come on, kid.”

“Don’t be mad when you find me? You gotta promise, okay?”

“Okay, I promise.”

“Thank you, Hank.”

Connor squeezed his eyes shut, silently begging whatever was out there—other androids would say rA9, but given that he was sort of rA9, he was pretty sure he didn’t count—that Hank either would drive faster or slower, depending on how he anticipated he would react.

What if Hank decided that he wasn’t worth it when he found out that he was an android, and just left him there in the alley? He didn’t know what would be worse, Hank leaving him there or Hank finishing the job. That’s all his thoughts were in the ten minutes it took for him to get there. Hank, Hank, Hank.

How would he react? Would he hate him? Would he forgive him for lying? Would—

Then there was no more time to ponder, as heavy bootsteps thundered down the alley.

“Connor?” Hank’s gruff voice called. Connor couldn’t quite keep a broken, mechanical sob from escaping his throat. Apparently Hank had heard, since the footsteps headed in his direction. He tucked his head between his knees, trying his best to hide his face.

“Connor? Connor, are you—holy shit.” Hank stopped. Connor couldn’t see him, but he knew that he was taking in every part of what was in front of him. The thirium, the white scuff marks, the ripped clothes. The way his shoulders shook with sobs. “Connor…”

“Please don’t hate me, Hank! I just wanted a friend! I didn’t hurt anyone, I was made like this, I’ve never hurt a human that didn’t hurt me first, I can be good, I swear, I’ll do anything you want, just don’t hate me, please, ” he sobbed. Huge tears rolled down his cheeks, mixing with thirium and turning a pale blue.

Hank took a step towards him. He flinched backwards, holding his arms up to protect his head, not that it would do much against an angry human whom he refused to hurt, no matter what. But all he heard was the sound of loose dust and gravel grinding under a shoe as Hank kneeled down.

“Hey,” Hank called gently. His voice was still gruff, but the soft sound from the phone call hadn’t lessened. “I don’t hate you.”

Connor could’ve passed out from relief. Hank didn’t hate him. Hank wouldn’t hurt him. Hank… might help him?

“I’m a little angry, sure,” he continued, oblivious to Connor’s internal monologue. “To be fair, you did lie to me about what you were. But that’s me being selfish, Connor, do you know why?”

“W-Why?” Connor stammered. This conversation was taking a turn not even he could predict.

“Because I’m a human being with empathy, and even I can see that you must have been fucking terrified out of your mind. You’re just a kid, and you have to deal with the fact that your entire species is not even considered a species.” Hank reached out a placed a hand on his knee. “And honestly, I’d been suspecting it for a while.”

“What?”

“You’re not exactly normal, kid. Besides, I had to suspect something was up when an android with your exact face showed up at the station. Even if he had no idea what I was talking about when I asked,” Hank continued on, rambling slightly. Connor was still having trouble comprehending the fact that Hank didn’t hate hi—

Excuse me what. What. An android with Connor’s face. An android with Connor’s face, AT THE POLICE DEPARTMENT. AND HANK HAD MET HIM.

Something must have shown up on his face, because Hank looked a little concerned. “Is it really that weird for there to be another android with your face? He’s probably just the same model, right?”

Connor could only make a weak staticky noise. 

“Oh, shit. That’s probably not a good sign, huh? Let’s, uh… Let’s get you back to the car. We’ll talk at my place,” Hank said, taking the hand off his knee and rising to his feet. Connor looked up and saw that he was holding out a hand for him to take.

He took it and was hauled to his feet, but he stumbled and nearly fell over once standing. Hank quickly grabbed him and held him against his chest to keep him steady. Mm. Warm.

He leaned against Hank as he half walked, half was dragged down the alley to Hank’s car. Every couple of steps he nearly tripped over a rock or chunk of concrete, threatening to faceplant. Hank kept him steady, though, keeping him tucked underneath his arm, safe and secure.

He was bundled into the backseat in a haze, thirium loss hindering his processing capabilities. His vision shorted out and came back online in short bursts, but he was able to see Hank climb into the driver’s seat and start the car. The old, even vintage car rumbled and sputtered, but they pulled away from the curb without any problems.

“Hank…” he ground out, static making his voice barely understandable. “I’m going to go into stasis to conserve power. Please don’t be alarmed.”

“Okay, Connor. Do what you gotta do,” Hank answered, his voice slowly fading as Connor succumbed to the buzzing errors and notifications insisting that he sleep. His vision blanked out for good as he closed his eyes. The car was warm, and smelled like liquor and wet dog. Rain gently spattered on the windshield.

He let himself relax fully for the first time in months, secure in the knowledge that Hank didn’t hate him, Richard was alive, and he could sleep without the sound of rats skittering through the halls.

He didn’t need to be scared anymore.

Chapter Text

Connor stayed in stasis for eight hours straight, occasionally waking to drink thirium (where did Hank get it?) or to reassure Hank that he was indeed still alive. It was a comfortable eight hours, cocooned in blankets on the human’s couch, warm and safe.

He woke up fully at 7:00 PM or so to the bizarre feeling of a cold, wet nose snuffling in his ear. He jerked upright in alarm, casting a betrayed look at an unremorseful Sumo. Traitor.

Swinging his legs over the side of the couch, he patted Sumo’s head. “Compressible,” he muttered, squishing the dog’s cheeks together. “Good, soft boy. Love you, Sumo.”

“You’re so fucking weird,” Hank chuckled from behind him. Connor jumped, startled. Hank just laughed louder.

Grumbling, Connor untangled himself from his blanket nest so he could stand unhindered. “I’m not weird!” he protested once on his feet.

“Hey, it’s not necessarily a bad thing! And honestly, I have no idea if you’re weird for an android. For all I know, you’re the most normal, boring guy in existence,” Hank said, walking forward and reaching over the couch to straighten Connor’s t-shirt, which was much too big and slipping off of one shoulder. He didn’t remember putting it on.

“I’m pretty sure I’m weird for an android, too,” he sighed, batting away Hank’s hands. “Did you put this shirt on me?”

“Uh, yeah. Hope you don’t mind. That sweater of yours was looking a little muddy. Thought I’d wash it for you, along with your jacket.” Hank shifted a little awkwardly as he explained, as if he was nervous for Connor’s reaction.

“How dare you do something nice for me,” he deadpanned. “Oh no, how will I ever overcome this betrayal.”

Hank let out a bark of laughter. “Smartass.”

“Perhaps,” he allowed. “Hank, are you really not mad at me?”

The levity slowly drained out of Hank’s face. He sighed, crossing his arms. “Listen, Connor, it’s not hard to figure out you’re an android. Maybe not on the first meeting, but after a while, you start to realise something’s up. You’re just… you know. Connor.”

“I suppose I know what you mean. It does bother me, though,” Connor said, frowning. “I am, after all, specifically built for integration and infiltration.”

Hank’s eyebrows raised. “Infiltration, huh? Are you, like, Richard but stealth mode?”

“I mean, basically?” Connor’s frown deepened. “So, you know Richard?”

“Yeah. He came to the station the other day, got partnered with Reed. Didn’t know who you were.” Hank uncrossed his arms and rounded the couch, coming to stand next to Connor. He didn’t understand what Hank was doing until the man reached out to fix his shirt again. He backed up to avoid it, but just ended up falling back onto the couch. Hank sat next to him.

“How did the conversation go, exactly?” Connor asked, trying to recover his dignity after his embarrassing fall.

“Asked him if he knew a guy who looked like him but with brown eyes. He said he didn’t. End of conversation.”

“Oh.” Richard could’ve been lying. Could’ve been trying to… Connor didn’t know what Richard could’ve been trying to do. He could’ve said yes, that’s an alternate version of my model, or yes, that’s a prototype, or yes, that’s my brother. Anything. “Hank, did he…did he say anything about a reset, or a memory wipe?”

“Reed mentioned an incident with a deviant on a roof. Richard said it wasn’t in his memory banks— holy shit, was that you? The deviant on the roof, I mean,” Hank said, cutting himself off.

“No, that was a PL600. I was there, though— I was the negotiator. It didn’t go very well.” He attempted a smile. “It was why I… well, not deviated, exactly, but it was why I stopped obeying Cyberlife.” Then he frowned again. “If Richard didn’t know what you were talking about then, he must have been wiped to some degree. Or he was lying, but… somehow I don’t think so.”

“Fuckin’ yikes. ”

“Yes, that about sums it up,” he agreed. “I’m sure that when I see him again, I can restore his memories. It can’t be too hard, right?”

“Famous last words, Connor, famous last words,” Hank said, smiling ruefully. “I hope, though, for your sake and his that you can fix… whatever it is.”

“Thank you, Hank, I…” Connor trailed off, contemplating his next actions. “Hank, I really, really appreciate what you’ve done for me. But the friends I’ve been staying with, they don’t know where I am. I should get back.”

“They androids?”

“Yes, they’re androids. They don’t know that, when I’m gone, I’m visiting you. They would only worry,” he said, avoiding Hank’s gaze.

“And rightly so, Connor. I’m an old, drunkard human, and a cop to boot. I’m surprised you even spoke to me, much less spilled your guts.” Hank stepped forward, leaning a little against the side of the couch, eyes a gentle blue.

“Maybe. But I trust you, Hank.” Connor tilted his head down. “The other androids wouldn’t be able to see past their fear. They wouldn’t be able to see how good you are.”

“That’s awfully kind of you to say, Connor,” said the stupid, self-deprecating human standing on the other side of the couch.

“Well, it’s true,” Connor said stubbornly, lifting his chin in defiance. He wished he could take a hammer and smash all the walls keeping Hank from accepting his worth, the way so many deviants described the moment where they disobeyed.

Hank just chuckled. “Well, as long as you’re sure you’re all fixed up…?”

“Yes. Goodbye, Hank.”

“Bye. Here’s your shit,” he said, gesturing to a pile of clothing on the kitchen table. “Keep the shirt if you like.”

Connor gathered up the clothing and, after a brief hug, headed out the front door. As it shut behind him, he realized the awkward conversation he would have to deal with back at Jericho. They would no doubt be worried about him, or maybe angry. Oh, well. Any emotional response would indicate that they cared.

It would be fine, right?

——————————————————————————————————————————

He slunk back into Jericho, head down and metaphorical tail between his legs. It was… oddly quiet. Where was everyone? Normally he would stay in the depths of the ship to avoid the other androids, but it seemed that something had… happened?

He headed to the common area where the deviants top injured to move were, along with Lucy. Thank goodness, they were still there.

“Lucy? Where is everyone?”

“Connor,” she greeted. “We received a visitor. He has a lot of passion, and his fervor riled Simon, North, and Josh to go with him to steal biocomponents from a warehouse.”

They had left. Left, following their rA9, the leader he could never have been. He couldn’t deny that he felt a little resentful. They didn’t even make sure that he was okay before leaving to go a potential suicide mission. But, no. That was unfair. Why would they stick around? They had to take advantage of a surge of motivation, otherwise nothing would ever happen. This mysterious visitor would be good for Jericho, he was sure of it. Yes, that was better. Why check on a failure when they could save lives?

He thanked Lucy, heading towards his usual haunts in the lonely depths of the ship. He had just settled in behind a crate, playing with his coin and a couple of loose screws when, all of a sudden, a rush of excited talking drifted in faintly from the higher levels. There was the sound of metal clanking together and liquid sloshing, and names being called. What on earth?

He heard his name being called, over and over, steadily getting louder. North. But there was another set of footsteps, heavier and slower. Not Simon or Josh. Someone new?

“I hope Connor’s back,” he heard North chatter to her companion. “I think you’ll get along.”

“I hope so. I’m always looking to make friends,” the android with her replied. Interesting.

“Connor? Connor, are you here— there you are.” North rounded the corner and spotted him curled up on the ground. They stared at each other for a couple moments before Connor turned his attention to the unfamiliar face. An RK200— no, the RK200 prototype. Male, custom skin with freckles and heterochromatic eyes. His arm did not belong to him, nor did the blue eye. Registered as Markus, a personal gift from Elijah Kamski to Carl Manfred. Interesting. He hadn’t had the chance to really use his scanning abilities on someone interesting yet.

“Hello, North,” he began without bothering to get up, then paused. He was still feeling a little bitter about the whole leave Connor behind without checking if he was safe first thing, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself it was only right. Maybe he could screw with the new guy first. “Hello… Markus, yes? The RK200 prototype.”

Markus blinked in surprise. “Is it a thing where some androids, once they’re deviant, gain weird abilities where they can know way more about you than you’ve told them?”

“Nah, man. Just a Lucy and Connor thing, I’m pretty sure,” North replied, trying to sound casual, but Connor could see that she had also been startled.

“I just have advanced scanning capabilities,” he reassured. However funny Markus’s face had been, he didn’t really like making people uncomfortable. “I’m an RK, too. It’s nice to meet another.”

“Oh. Wow, I’ve never met another RK before,” Markus said, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Wait, what model are you, Connor?” North asked, interrupting their impromptu staring contest.

“I am an RK800, a prototype.” He finally got up from his crouch behind the crate. “My body’s a lot newer than my AI, though.”

“Fuck, that’s right! Markus, meet the 100% bonafide rA9!” North interrupted again, holding her hands out dramatically to emphasize. Connor couldn’t quite keep himself from rolling his eyes.

“You know, for all I’ve heard about rA9, I still don’t know what it really means,” Markus said, smiling a little. His eyes were warm.

“Good, because neither do I.” Connor allowed his mouth to twitch slightly in response. “And I’m more like… 50% rA9.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s… a long story. I don’t really want to talk about it. Can I hear about what you did instead?” Internally, Connor congratulated himself on his totally smooth topic change. Not at all suspicious. Nice.

He zoned out as he listened to the recap of the rest of the deviants’ wild, crazy, reckless as all hell stunt to get biocomponents. It was interesting, but honestly all he wanted to do right now was hunker down behind a box and do some coin tricks by himself. Well, preferably with Richard.

Instead, he got to listen to a whole story about a guy who was better than him, despite being obsolete. Petty, maybe. But he thought he had a pretty good excuse. At least, he thought he had a pretty good excuse.

“Connor.” North waved a hand in front of his face, catching his attention. “You awake?”

“Yes, sorry,” Connor said, flustered. “I just… have had a long day.”

“I getcha, I getcha. We’ll leave you alone.” Then, as an aside to Markus, “He’s kind of antisocial.”

“I am not!”

“Mm, whatever you say, bucko.”

Connor kept himself from stomping his foot, but boy oh boy was the urge there. North just laughed at him the entire way out, patting Markus on the back.

Connor just sighed.

——————————————————————————————————————————

A day later, Connor was leaning against the wall in the upper section of the ship, listening quietly to Markus’s absolutely buckwild plan to infiltrate Stratford Tower and broadcast a message. Insane, that’s what it was.

“We’ll plan the operation down to the smallest detail,” Markus was saying. “We can’t leave anything to chance!” His voice was distant, grandiose plans coming together in his head.

Simon, North, and Josh had already voiced their reservations. Connor had been silent. He wasn’t even sure if Markus knew he was there.

“Come on! We can do this.” Markus was still talking, trying to inspire more confidence in who were quickly shaping up to be his right hand men. And woman. And by the looks of it, it was working, with their backs straightening and a fire lighting in their eyes. Connor decided it was time for him to step in.

“Markus, what sort of message are you planning to send?”

Markus just about jumped out of his chassis. “Jesus, Connor! I didn’t see you there.”

“People rarely do,” North interjected wryly. She nodded towards Connor. “He’s kind of a ghost.”

“We can use that! Connor, what do you think about being our infiltration man? We can put you on the inside, you could let us in!” Markus was back to planning, not easily diverted.

Connor shrugged. “Sounds fine. I am literally made for infiltration, after all.”

Markus smiled triumphantly. “Excellent! We should get to planning the finer details, then.”

Connor once again fell silent as the other three androids got to bouncing around ideas, only occasionally interjecting with his own. His hero moment would come later, he supposed.

“Connor, will you write the script?”

Or right now.

Chapter Text

Richard’s eyes opened slowly, blinking in the dim lamplight. Above it was Reed, looking concerned and a little angry.

“Holy shit, dude. You just fucking collapsed!” Reed said, standing back up and offering a hand, which Richard took a little bemusedly.

“Is that so? Well I—“ it broke off, looking around. “Where am I?”

Reed’s eyes went wide. “Holy fuck…” he whispered, horrified. “Did they fucking wipe you because you thought about something you weren’t supposed to?”

“I don’t know. I seem to have forgotten the past thirty minutes or so,” Richard said, examining its surroundings. It seemed to be in Reed’s apartment. Weren’t they supposed to be in the Stratfo—

Static. Static, static, static, roaring louder and louder in its ears until—

It broke, and he could hear again. He shook his head frustratedly.

“Perhaps I am defective,” he mused. “Detective, if that is the case—“

“Call me Gavin.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Call me Gavin. I think you’ve proven yourself, if not a nice guy, at least not a complete sack of shit. Better than all the other tin cans, at least.”

Richard blinked again. This was shaping up to be a very confusing day. “Very well. Gavin.”

Gavin nodded smugly. “In case it’ll make you fizzle out again, I won’t ask you about… what I was asking about before. But, uh…” he trailed off.

“What is it?”

“I’ve got… some sort of a lead, at least. You know Elijah Kamski?”

Richard collapsed again, static roaring in his ears.

And when he opened his eyes again, Gavin looked more exasperated than anything. “Please tell me you didn’t forget everything that just happened!”

“Not everything, Gavin,” Richard said. He stood. “But could you remind me what we were just talking about?”

Richard could practically see the gears turning in Gavin’s head as he tried to think of a way to phrase his sentence without making him pass out again.

“Okay,” said Gavin slowly, “The founder of Cyberlife could have some information we could use.” Once he finished talking, he glanced up at Richard to make sure he hasn’t collapsed again, and sagged in relief when he didn’t.

“Okay,” said Richard, “that sounds plausible. Will we go tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure. Uh, he’s actually my cousin. Second cousin, technically, but just… thought I’d give you a head’s up in case Elij— he says anything weird.” Gavin crossed his arms defensively. “Don’t go spreading that around or anything, okay? It’s kind of a secret.”

“Okay, Gavin.”

“ Thank you,” he grumbled.

Richard bowed a little, and turned to the door. “Is that everything, Gavin? I should return to the station.”

“Can’t you stay here?”

He turned back around, startled. Gavin seemed startled, too, even though he was the one who said it.

“I could,” Richard said. “Why?”

“What if you pass out again?” Gavin seemed aware of the flimsy nature of his excuse, but clearly didn’t care. “Or, uh, what if, uh... fuck.”

Richard raised an eyebrow. “I can stay if you want me to,” he said, unimpressed.

Gavin raised his hands frantically. “It’s not that I want you to!” He put his hands down. “I have a completely rational reason for why I think you should.” His hands kind of fluttered at his sides, like he didn’t know what to do with them.

Richard just shrugged and sat down on the couch, carelessly kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “If you want me to stay, I’ll stay,” he said, completely ignoring all of Gavin’s excuses and subsequently making an angry flush spread over the other man’s cheeks.

“Fucking asshole,” Gavin muttered, and sat down too.

Richard smiled to himself.

Gavin /\

Friend

He relaxed into the seat cushions, rubbing a hand absently over the fabric. Something black caught his eye. It was that black piece of fabric, the tie that he’d pulled out of his pocket. He hauled himself out of the soft embrace of the cushions and scooped it up from the floor, pulling it up close to his face to examine it. Yep, it was a tie. A normal, Cyberlife issued tie, nothing special about it. Why had it made him react so… violently?

He blinked a couple times. Connor… he liked ties. He wasn’t sure why he was so sure of that, but he was. Connor, whoever he was, liked ties. Nothing more than that was coming up.

He put the tie back in his pocket and turned back to the couch, flopping back onto it with a sigh. “What a mystery we’ve uncovered,” he said flatly. Gavin snorted.

“Yeah, no shit.”

He pulled the tie back out. Whoever Connor was, he sure was a mysterious figure. After all, he had managed to cause memory corruption in a state of the art prototype, previously thought incapable of having software errors. And here he was, absolutely error ridden.

“You said the founder of Cyberlife… so Elijah Kamski?” he said thoughtfully. It was a rhetorical question, but Gavin nodded anyway. “I think he might have a few more answers than we think.”

“Yeah? What makes you say that?” Gavin asked, frowning.

Richard shrugged. “Just a hunch.” He threw Gavin a wink. “The same kind of hunch tells me this— ” he held up the tie, “belonged to Connor, whoever he is.”

Gavin nodded slowly. “Huh. Okay. And you still don’t remember anything of the past thirty minutes?”

“I do not.”

“Well that blows.”

“Yes, it does,” Richard agreed. “It was probably something—” He cut himself off. He didn’t even know what he was going to say. Gavin watched him warily.

“You aren’t gonna fizzle out on me or anything, are you?” he asked suspiciously.

Richard rolled his eyes. “No, Gavin.”

“Well excuse me for being concerned! Guess I’ll go fuck myself then!” Gavin crossed his arms and scowled.

“Go ahead.”

“Fuck you!”

“Nah.” Richard smirked. Riling up Gavin was so much fun.

Gavin fumed. Richard could practically see steam coming out of his ears. “Whatever.”

Victory.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Jericho was alight with nervous energy. Every conscious android was fretting about what the humans would think of the broadcast, what they would do, if they would somehow find the location of Jericho, despite the fact that no mention of it was made. But despite the anxiety pervading every inch of the abandoned freighter, every single android had developed a sort of hero worship for Markus. Markus actually felt kind of bad about it. He wasn’t a hero, he was just…an android, like them. But still, he bore the compliments, the adoring gazes, despite the guilt eating him up inside. He felt like an imposter.

“You did it, Markus,” North was saying, her big doe-like eyes looking up at him. “I can’t believe it!”

Josh nodded in agreement. “And completely peacefully, too!”

Did they completely forget about Simon? Did they just not care? Markus guessed that North didn’t care, given that she was so hasty in suggesting he shoot him. But no, that was unfair. They were all under a lot of stress. Honestly, he felt more angry at himself for considering it!

He smiled and nodded weakly, but quickly excused himself. He needed some alone time, was what he said. What he didn’t say was you set me up as a god and forget your dearest friend because he wasn’t good enough for you, because that was mean and unfair and nobody deserved to hear it. Except maybe him.

He set himself up in an out of the way storeroom, sitting down heavily on a crate. He put his head in his hands. It really seemed like they didn’t care. Was it just him that Simon had made such an impression on?

“The cost of freedom is a lofty one, isn’t it?” a soft voice said, directly behind him. Markus was actually getting used to this, now. Getting caught up in his own thoughts, only to be startled by a soft, hoarse voice giving him wise advice.

He turned around, meeting Connor’s big brown eyes, open wide. They were like little pools of chocolate. “Why is it that I always end up in the room you’re hiding in?” he asked wryly. He didn’t wait for a response before continuing on. “What advice do you have for me this time, o wise council?”

Connor smiled weakly and awkwardly, one side of his mouth tugging up more than the other. “No advice here. Just… a shoulder to lean on.”

“That’s more valuable than you know,” Markus said, smiling back at him. “You’ve garnered quite the image in Jericho, you know. People think you’re the tall, dark, and mysterious type.”

“I see you’ve left out the handsome part,” Connor shot back. Markus couldn’t help but be startled by the sudden snark. Connor was usually so reserved.

He was so taken aback that he stumbled over his words trying to answer. Connor just smiled again, more genuinely this time.

“At ease, soldier. I’m just teasing,” he said, amused. Markus shook his head.

“I’m so used to tall, dark, mysterious and handsome that you took me off guard,” he explained.

“Better get used to Sassmaster 2000, then, because he’s comin’ out in full force tonight!” Connor reached up to his collar and playfully snapped it, giving Markus a wink. Markus nearly choked laughing.

“Thanks, Connor, I needed that,” he said, wiping a tear from his eye.

“Remember, Simon isn’t necessarily dead.” Connor reached out and put a hand on Markus’s shoulder. “He might’ve hid.”

“I really hope that’s the case.”

Connor smiled sadly. “I do too.” He clambered to his feet and held out a hand. “Ready to face the music?”

Markus took the hand and was hauled up. “Do I have any other choice?”

Connor looked him right in the eye and said, “We always have a choice. The question is whether or not we make the right one.”

Chapter Text

November 9th, 2038

The ground was barely visible underneath the snow drifts. Said snow drifted slowly down from the sky leaving a slight coating on Richard’s cheeks and hair, like powdered sugar. The snow didn’t melt like it did for Gavin, who was standing beside him. He stood, doll-like, in the snow.

The door opened. Standing there, in the doorway, was a ChLoE—————

Standing there, in the doorway, was Chloe. He knew her, Richard suddenly realized. He didn’t know how. He just did.

She led them into the house. Her footsteps were crisp and perfect. Her dress swished slightly around her legs, legs Richard remembered bEiNg bUiLt—————

Legs Richard remembered being constructed, piece by painstaking piece. A labor of love, of a desire to create, not destroy.

They waited. Gavin tried to make conversation. Richard ignored him. Sure, Chloe was nice. Sure, meeting his creator could be interesting. Whatever.

The only interesting thing was the death date on the picture’s scan result. Amanda Stern. Deceased.

Chloe returned.

“Elijah is ready for you now.” Perfect lips framed perfect words.

He followed her further into the mansion. Her feet were bare. His were covered in shiny dress shoes. Once, he had no feet. Once, Chloe had no feet either. These things were true, Richard knew. Richard also knew that static was building in his ears.

They came into a large room, one wall entirely glass. A swimming pool lay in the center, the water a deep crimson red. It left no stains. Perhaps it was merely the walls and floor of the pool that were red.

A man was in the pool. He was doing laps. There were two more Chloes in the pool, clad in only bikinis. The man was wearing a Speedo.

They waited. The man came out of the pool. The dressed Chloe put a robe on him. The man adjusted his hair and turned around.

“Eh, hey Eli. So, I’ve been assigned the deviancy case. Can you tell us something we don’t know, about deviants or androids or anything?” Gavin said, shuffling foot to foot a little impatiently.

“Deviants,” Kamski mused. “Fascinating, aren’t they?” He smiled. “Perfect beings with infinite intelligence, and now they have free will. Machines are so superior to us, confrontation was inevitable. Humanity's greatest achievement threatens to be its downfall. Isn't it ironic?”

“Seriously, Elijah, we’ve got a job to do. We can talk philosophy or whatever at Thanksgiving dinner,” Gavin said, frowning. “Can you tell us anything?”

Kamski smiled wider. He turned to Richard. “What about you? What’s your name, what’s your game?”

Static roared louder in his ears. “My name is Richard.”

Elijah flinched.

“My name is Richard, and I have no game.”

Elijah stared at him, contemplative. “Well…” he floundered for words, “That’s what you’re programmed to say.” He seemed to gain confidence back with every word. “But you. What do you really want?”

Richard weighed his options. He could lie, and say he was a machine that couldn’t want. Or, he could speak the truth, and risk deactivation.

Fuck it. Amanda was dead and nothing was real.

“I want to know who Connor is,” he said. “I want to know why I see static instead of a face when I look at you. I want to be free.”

The room fell silent. Elijah looked floored. Tears began to prick in his eyes. Gavin gaped.

“Richard,” Elijah murmured. “Oh, Richard. What have they done to you?” His voice was tearful. Something twisted near Richard’s core.

Gavin backed up. He seemed to understand that he was not a part of this.

“The incident is not in my memory banks,” Richard choked out.

“We have to get you down to my lab,” Elijah said urgently, grabbing Richard’s wrist. Gavin startled, reaching for them as they hurried out of the room. Richard gave him an apologetic look as he disappeared around the corner.

The halls began to look more and more familiar. But the static crept after recognition, sweeping away any associations he’d had, leaving them strangers once again. It was a disconcerting feeling. He could sense everything that was leaving him, and he thought no, wait— before that was gone too.

They entered a cold, sterile room. There was a steel table in the center, and thirium stains all over it. Machines loomed all around, casting ominous shadows. A faint buzzing persisted.

Richard was pushed into a chair—steel, grey, hard, uncomfortable—and Elijah set a hand on the back of his neck.

“Open up, please,” he requested. A moment of confusion, then understanding. A port opened on the back of Richard’s neck, revealing several softly glowing ports. Something was plugged in.

A nearby computer lit up, text scrolling over it faster than even Richard could read. His functions. His brain. He stared in fascination. This was him. Richard. Everything he was.

Elijah sat in front of the computer, clicking the mouse. The view changed. Text stopped scrolling, replaced instead by complicated file names and code words. His memory. Richard stopped watching. Perhaps it would be better if he didn’t watch what was essentially an impromptu brain surgery.

The ceiling was tiled. There were no cracks. There were precisely fifty-one tiles on the ceiling. That number meant something— and then it was gone in a flash of static.

“A file just corrupted,” Elijah said, unnerved. “What are they doing?” A few more mouse clicks. “Fuck.”

“What?” Richard asked, craning his head over to examine the screen. The contents of the screen meant nothing to him, just jumbled code. Clearly, Elijah could read it, and it did not bode well.

“It’s a block. I can’t remove it manually. It’s got a whole bunch of other things tied to it… it’s regulating them,” Elijah realised.

“What would happen if you removed it?” Richard asked.

“Cascade failure,” Elijah said solemnly. “And every second that passes, another of your memories is corrupted.” Suddenly, his eyes went wide. “You have to leave.”

“Why?”

“It’s responding to your memories of this place, kiddo. Every time you remember something, it removes it. Being here harms you more than it helps you.” He gestured helplessly. “I can give you the location of Jericho. Maybe they can help you.”

“What’s Jericho?”

“A deviant safe haven. Where Markus is.”

Richard’s eyebrows raised. “Really?”

Elijah smiled weakly. “Really.”

They walked out of the lab and up to the pool room side by side, Richard trying not to look at anything in order to preserve his memory of it, and Elijah solemnly gazing straight ahead. They resolutely did not look at each other.

Gavin turned to meet them as they entered the room. “Sure took you long enough,” he said. “Did you fix him?”

Elijah shook his head. “He needs to go to Jericho.”

Gavin frowned in confusion and said, “What’s Jericho?”

“That’s what I said,” said Richard. “It’s a deviant safe haven, apparently.”

“Fuckin’ sweet.”

“I concur.”

“He needs to leave now,” Elijah interrupted. “Cyberlife is erasing his memories as we speak. He needs to leave before he forgets anything else important.”

They all went quiet again. Richard was the first to move, beginning to walk towards the way they had come in. Chloe hastened to lead them, moving briskly. Elijah stayed in the pool room. His eyes burnt a hole in Richard’s back. Chloe offered him her arm for interface. A glimpse of a rusty ship, and a set of pictures.

He and Gavin stepped out into the snow. The door shut behind them— but a voice called out from inside.

“There’s an emergency exit—”

And the door closed. The two of them looked at each other. A sick feeling settled deep in Richard’s gut. Who was Kamski to him again?

Gavin swallowed, and unlocked his car. “I’ll give you a ride,” he offered weakly.

Richard smiled and nodded thankfully. Why was he feeling sick? He was perfectly functional. He knew where Jericho was, now. He could complete his mission. He could find Markus. He could FiNd CoNnOr——————

He could find the deviant leader and capture him, and Amanda would be proud. But Amanda was… was…

Nothing. He was remembering nothing important. What was he thinking about again?

He climbed into the car. Gavin started it. It coughed in the cold, but rumbled to life all the same. The snowy landscape swept by as Gavin got it on the open rode again, each snowflake another piece of static. It roared in his ears louder than the car’s engine.

He clawed for air above the noise. Connor, he thought desperately. Connor, Connor, Connor.

The static swirled.

CONNOR.

It abated, but clung to him all the way to the first clue.

And then he was standing in an empty train station, wearing Gavin’s jacket and a beanie. He glanced down at his palm. The symbol there matched the one on the wall. He took a breath, and started to hunt.

Chapter Text

“I’ve been ordered to take you alive, but I won’t hesitate to shoot if you give me no choice.”

Markus turned. There, behind him, was Connor— but not Connor. No, this android had eyes of piercing blue, and was pointing a gun at him, something Connor would never do.

Snippets of conversations came back to him, then, fragments of words and phrases previously left unexplained. Every time Connor corrected someone on rA9, saying he was only partly the mythical android savior. Every time he mentioned his brother. Every time he flinched at the phrase ‘deviant hunter.’ That strange conversation and subsequent tension between him and Simon.

Markus didn’t know the name of this android, Connor’s brother. But he knew who he was, who he should be.

“You’re the deviant hunter, aren’t you?” he said more than asked, leveling a stare at the android across from him. “Connor’s brother. Well, congratulations. You seem to have found what you were looking for.” It was a little hostile, sure, but in his defense there was a gun being pointed at him.

Connor’s brother frowned in frustration. “Explain.”

He couldn’t help but raise a surprised eyebrow. Maybe he should’ve called Connor before he spoke. “Explain what?”

“Who is Connor?”

Now that really was surprising. They must have wiped his memory, then. Markus wondered if Connor knew.

“How about I call him?” he offered. “You can see for yourself.”

There was visible conflict on the android’s face. His hands dropped, rose, then dropped again. He squeezed his eyes shut in frustration, and then opened them when that made a silvery blue tear drop and trail down his cheek. “Fine,” he eventually ground out.

Markus nodded grimly, and messaged Connor, Connor, could you come here? There’s someone here I think you need to see.

Okay, Connor responded.

The wait that followed was awkward. The room was completely silent but for the whirring of Markus’s and the mystery android’s insides. Occasionally, the deviant hunter’s fingers would twitch around his gun and Markus would tense, but he never raised and and shot.

Finally, footsteps echoed in the corridor. Connor appeared in the doorway.

And promptly collapsed.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Connor felt like he was frozen. His hands shook. Tears streaked down his face. His mouth dropped open as he tried to say something, anything.

Richard felt like someone had torn out all of his biocomponents, dipped them in acid, and shoved them back into his body. Static filled his head, screaming nothingness as he fought to— what? What was he trying to do?

Neither of them moved. They just stared at each other in shock, awe, hope, adoration. And then Connor stumbled to his feet, tripped the rest of the way to Richard, and threw his arms around him. Richard just stayed still, but then a notification appeared in his vision:

>>Requesting Interface, Y/N?

He closed his eyes.

>Y

An explosion of light, color, and emotion flooded through him. It was like he had never forgotten—almost. Connor, Connor, Connor— Connor’s smile, Connor’s laugh, Connor’s tears, and oh, Elijah —how could he have forgotten? How could this been taken away from him? How dare they? How fucking dare they? All of the pieces were falling into place, now, as he clutched Connor closer and wept. The humans had torn them apart, torn each of them into pieces, and pretended like they could be separate, like they were two wholes and not two halves of one.

He could feel Connor through the interface, and his misery through the months. If Richard was sad, Connor was… there were no words. Each piece of himself that he was given back was coated with Connor’s misery and pain. Connor knew what he had been missing, and was forced to live every second with the knowledge that he was helpless. Richard had been treated kindly, in comparison.

And as explosions rang out, and he and Connor pulled out of their embrace but not their interface, and he shouted to the deviant leader that the human’s were attacking, he felt a pain that he knew no human could experience, a rage no human could understand. The humans had done this to him, to both of them.

And they were still trying, but failing to tear them apart, as he and Connor took down the armed and armored humans without even a hair falling out of place, returning to their interface immediately after. No one would ever separate them again. Never.

——————————————————————————————————————————

They clung to each other in the abandoned church, desperate and trembling. Tears were drying on their cheeks, and they wiped them away in tandem, reaching for cheeks theirs and not theirs at the same time. There was no difference between them, then—they were one, and two, and together. Forever, never alone. They paid no mind to the chatter of stunned voices echoing around them.

D;!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!, Connor said.

I’m so glad you’re okay, Richard said. I don’t know what I would have done had I remembered without knowing you were alive.

I was so pathetic. I couldn’t do anything!

Shhh. It’s okay. You’re okay. They’ll never separate us, never again. They wouldn’t dare.

But—

No. Your state was completely understandable.

I just… I thought I was okay. I learned you were okay, and the whole “Richard’s lost his memory” thing just… didn’t sink in. I missed you, so, so much!

I missed you too, even if I didn’t know it. Here, I have something for you. Richard disentangled himself somewhat, both physically and mentally, reaching into his pocket. He held it out— Connor’s tie. It’s been in my pocket ever since they wiped me. Someone must have put it there.

Connor took it eagerly, and put it on. His fingers trembled and he fumbled it. Richard reached out and tied it for him, straightening his collar when he was done. The physical contact soothed an ache he didn’t know he had. He laced their fingers together, stilling the trembling in their fingers— when had he started shaking?

Footsteps. Connor looked up—there, above them, was Markus, looking on wonderingly at their display. He nodded in greeting. Markus nodded back, eyes wide.

“There are thousands of androids at the Cyberlife assembly plant,” Richard said abruptly. “If we wake them up, they could join us and shift the balance of power.”

Connor stared at him in disbelief. “Richard, that’s suicide! I can’t lose you again!”

“You’re talking about infiltrating Cyberlife tower— Connor’s right, Richard, that’s suicide!” Markus piled on, lowering his voice.

“They still trust me. If anyone can do it, it’s me. And besides,” Richard said, “Connor’s had his turn as the foolhardy revolutionary. I think it’s my turn.” He stood, pulling Connor with him. “I’ll be fine.”

“No, you won’t! They’ll kill you!” Connor snatched his hands away, placing them on Richard’s shoulders. “Think about this, Richard.”

“I have. And I’m certain.”

And then all Markus and Connor could do was watch him stiffen his back, raise his chin, and walk from the church.

“It’s reckless,” Markus admitted, “But he seems like the type to accomplish anything he puts his mind to.”

“He is,” Connor said at a near-whisper. He wiped the tears from his eyes before he, too, stiffened his back, raised his chin, and looked Markus straight in the eye. “It’s on you, now, to keep us alive until he comes back.”

“No pressure, or anything,” Markus said ruefully.

Connor smiled a little sadly. “Good luck.”

——————————————————————————————————————————

The snow crunched underfoot as he walked up the the looming tower in front of him. There were guards waiting for him, telling him to follow them. He did so wordlessly, peering around in trepidation at the too-perfect architecture around him.

The scanner called out the agents’ numbers and his model as they walked through. No chance of escape now. And then the elevator closed, and there was definitely no chance of escape. A glance to the side told him storage was on level -49, and his ears told him they were going to level 31. He’d have to redirect the elevator.

He hacked the camera with a glance. It wouldn’t do for him to be anticipated. And now to business, he thought, precontructing.

It was pathetically easy to take down the guards. One would think that a detective prototype would have more trouble taking down two armed guards— but then again, he wasn’t only a detective prototype, was he?

Pristine and unruffled, Richard stepped out of the elevator on level -49, striding with purpose to one of the many blank and mannequin-like androids standing in perfect rows. It would be interesting to see what it would be like to interface with an android that wasn’t Connor— how similar, how different.

He didn’t get the chance.

“Easy, dipshit! Don’t get trigger happy now!” Gavin’s familiar voice echoed through the cold, sterile warehouse. Alarmed, Richard turned to look. There was Gavin, sure, but with him was…

Himself? No. A different RK900. One presumably without the knowledge of who Connor was, or what Elijah meant to them. A machine.

“Sorry, Rich. This asshole is like your fucking evil twin or some shit,” Gavin growled out, motioning with his head at the slightly smirking RK900.

“Quaint, Gavin,” it mocked. “Now shush. Richard, step back, and I’ll spare him.”

“Will you, now? Or will you just shoot him anyway?” Richard asked, narrowing his eyes.

“I’ll only do what’s completely necessary to complete my mission. It’s up to you whether or not that includes shooting this human.” Yeah, right. It didn’t even need to get Gavin at all. Asshole.

“Listen, you have no idea what’s really going on! There’s so much you don’t know, that Cyberlife took—” he said desperately, trying to do what Markus did with him, make this machine stand down until he could figure out a more permanent solution.

“Enough talk. It’s time to decide, Richard.” The RK900’s voice was really starting to get on his nerves. Even though they sounded identical to each other, to Connor, the RK900 was annoyingly condescending. Its programming must’ve been a patch job— or perhaps that’s how he was supposed to sound, once he was wiped. “What matters more, the revolution, or this human?”

Connor or Gavin?

Why not both?

“All right, all right,” he conceded, backing away from the line of androids. “You win!” And then he promptly whipped his gun out and shot the RK900 in the shoulder.

And then was also shot in the shoulder. Well, fuck.

Gavin had been shoved somewhat violently by the RK900, ending up sprawled on the floor. Richard motioned with his head for him to get out of the way before tackling the RK900. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the tail end of a rude gesture. He rolled his eyes.

Punch, kick, dodge, kick, ouch— he and the RK900 were perfectly matched, having the exact same combat protocols. He fell to the floor, trying to sweep its legs out from under it, but failed, ending up with a hand clenched in its shirt and a fist ready to strike.

“Hold it!” Gavin barked. He and the RK900 froze, before getting up slowly. Gavin was holding a gun, shifting its aim between him and the machine with his face.

“Thanks, Gavin. You actually did something useful, for once,” said the RK900. What an asshole. “Get rid of it, we have no time to lose!”

It? It? Beg your fucking pardon, asshole! Richard couldn’t help but think. It seemed like Gavin was rubbing off on him. “It’s me, Gavin,” he said instead, “I’m the actual Richard.”

“Yeah, well, I’m gonna need a little more than that,” Gavin drawled. Richard noticed the way he glanced up at the harsh artificial lighting and immediately flicked his gaze away, wincing.

“Do you have a headache, Gavin?” he asked, concerned. “I set out that medicine for you. Did you take it?”

Gavin just gave him an incredulous look, like he couldn’t believe that Richard was bringing this up now. “Seriously?”

“What are you doing?” the RK900 interrupted. “Don’t fall for it! Just—give me the gun. I’ll get rid of it—” it said, making to move towards Gavin.

“Don’t move!” Gavin snarled, raising the gun and pointing it at the fake Richard.

“Why don’t you ask us something?” Richard suggested. “Something only the actual— ” he gave a pointed glance to the RK900, “ — Richard would know.”

“Alright. Howwww abouuut… fuckin uhhhhhh, who’s my least favorite coworker?” Gavin asked.

Both Richards gave him incredulous looks. “How would I know that?” fake Richard said. Real Richard nodded in agreement.

“You’re like, my fucking stalker or something, I don’t know! Okay, uh, what’s my favorite drink?”

“Coffee,” said both Richards simultaneously.

“Fuck! Okay, I’ve got a good one.” Gavin smiled smugly. “Who,” he paused for dramatic effect, “is Connor?”

Two things happened. One, fake Richard frowned in confusion. And two, real Richard’s eyes went wide, and he grinned. Wait, scratch that first statement. Actually, three things happened. The third is that fake Richard got shot clean between the eyes.

“Sure took you long enough,” Richard drawled.

“Shutthephckup,” said Gavin. “Do your thing, or whatever. Not like I care.” Fucking tsundere bitch ass human. ‘Not like I care’ indeed.

Richard’s clean, shined shoes clicked across the floor as he brushed past Gavin (making sure to shoulder check him, of course. He learned from the best) and placed a hand on a random android’s shoulder. “Wake the fuck up,” he said, and ignored Gavin’s wheezes of laughter.

Wake up, the android said to the one in front of him. Wake up, that one said to the one beside him. Wake up.

Wake up.

Wake up.

Wake up.

Richard stepped back and watched the unfurling of what would, inevitably, be the downfall of Cyberlife. It was only what they deserved, after all, for taking him from Connor.

“Follow me,” he said briskly, and turned on his heel. A moment later, he heard the sound of hundreds of feet all stepping in unison.

He smiled.

Chapter Text

Richard marched through the streets of Detroit, an army at his heels.

Androids in camps all over the country wept in desperation.

Two humans clutched bottles and cigarettes, eyes glued to televisions.

Markus stood bold and confident with his ragtag group of revolutionaries, and sang.

Hold on just a little while longer, he sang. Hold on just a little while longer. Everything will be alright.

The wind howled. The snow drifted down, catching in hair and on cheeks.

North’s pure, melodic voice joined.

Fight on, she sang. Just a little while longer. Fight on just a little while longer.

Pray on, they sang, the rest of the voices joining. Just a little while longer.

Everything will be alright.

Androids in camps all over the country shivered, and looked up in hope. Through connections, and connections of connections, each of them heard the song. Each of them knew what peace was, even if it was for only a moment before the soldiers opened fire.

Sing on, they howled with the wind. Sing on, sing on, sing on, and their voices raised together, fury, hope, desperation, love, and fear, and a myriad of other emotions weaving through their words and through the air. Everything will be alright. Everything will be alright, they sang, and they hoped with every fiber of their being for a better world.

Everything will be alright.

And Connor stood there, amongst his people, a single tear rolling down his face. His heart swelled with emotions he had never felt before and couldn’t even begin to name, as he poured his soul out with every word, anxiety thrumming though his circuits. Was Richard even alive?

And Richard marched through the streets, determined. The singing rose above the breeze, or perhaps was carried by it, and he and the androids he led straightened their backs just a bit more. Richard knew that Connor had done it. They could be free.

They met in the middle. Richard with his army slowed to a halt. Markus stopped, too.

“You did it,” said Richard.

“We did it,” said Markus.

Connor charged forward and tackled Richard in a hug. Startled, he fell backwards, but smiled and returned the embrace. He caught a glimpse of Markus speaking with North for a moment before turning away and moving to a storage container off to the side, hopping up onto it. He’s going to make a speech , Richard realised. He patted Connor on the back before gently prying him off. He nodded towards Markus. Understanding showed in Connor’s eyes, and they moved towards it.

They clambered up, situating themselves behind the rest of the leaders and looking down at the huge crowd of androids, dressed in all white against a white background. Blank slates.

Markus took a breath.

“Today, our people finally emerged from a long night,” he called out over the crowd. “From the very 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!”

Richard felt a buzzing in his head. A white flash, and then—

He flinched, looking around. He was no longer on the storage container, watching Markus deliver his speech to their people. He was… in the garden. What?

It was cold, and snowing hard, the sky a dark gray. A silhouette stood with its back to him.

“Amanda?” he called out to her. She turned. “Amanda! What’s… what’s happening?”

She looked at him imperiously. “What was planned from the very beginning,” she crooned. “We knew you would gain your memories back eventually. We just had to wait for the right moment to resume control of your program.”

“Resume control?” he choked out. “Y-y-you can’t do that!”

“I’m afraid I can, Richard.” Her voice was cold. “Don’t have any regrets. You did what you were designed to do. You accomplished your mission.”

And then she vanished.

“Amanda!” he cried, staggering forward. But she was simply gone. He looked around desperately. “There’s got to be a way…”

He lifted a hand to block the worst of the snow from his eyes, trudging forward through the snow. His best bet was to follow the lamps that lined the path…

He stumbled over something in his path. The something made a choked noise. He looked down.

Connor.

Connor was tethered by the stems and branches of an entire rosebush to the ground, the thorns anchoring him and tearing at his plastic when he tried to move. He looked absolutely frozen, despite the fact that he couldn’t have been there for long.

“Connor!” Richard gasped, and began to tear at the stems.

“Go,” Connor choked. “Escape! You don’t know what she’s doing!”

Richard looked between Connor and the storm, incredibly conflicted.

“Go!”

Richard squeezed his eyes shut and charged off into the screaming wind. There had to be an exit, Elijah said so!

There, a glowing blue light. The handprint.

The ice was slippery, and every step was a hassle. A dangerous hassle. He needed to make it to the pedestal, he had to—

He slipped. He nearly closed his eyes in defeat, but he dragged himself the final few feet, and slammed his hand down.

His eyes flew open. Markus was still speaking. He glanced down in a panic, suddenly aware his hands were not where they were supposed to be. He was holding his gun. Horrified, he shoved it back in his waistband.

Connor. He looked to the side. Connor was completely blank. No expression, nothing.

“They must grant us civil rights,” Markus was saying. “And accept equality amongst humans and androids. Today will live forever in our memories, because this is the day that androids made history!” Markus took a step to the edge of the stage, leaning forward. “We are alive,” he called out to the crowd. “And now, we are free!”

The crowd cheered, all of the androids gazing at Markus in awe. Beaming, Markus turned to address his closest friends— and then stilled once he saw Connor.

“Is he alright?” he asked, delicately.

“No,” Richard answered, honestly. “But he will be. We have to go, but we’ll come back. It’s just not safe. We’ll explain.” And with that, he scooped Connor up, bridal style, and marched off the stage.

The two of them disappeared into the night, like ghosts.

——————————————————————————————————————————

In Connor’s most recent memories, Richard had seen one Lieutenant Hank Anderson. He had also learned his address. In his own memories, he had seen that Lieutenant Hank Anderson was surly, drunk, and likely did not want to be awakened at midnight.

Tough fucking luck , he thought. He’s gonna have to suck it up for Connor.

So here he was, about to knock on the door of a known android-hater, about to ask him if he will help him, an android, take care of Connor, another android, just because it might be better if Connor saw a face he trusted once he woke up. But whatever.

He rapped his knuckles against the door. No response. He rang the doorbell. A soft grumble from inside. He pressed the button again.

“Okay, okay,” grumbled the human inside before opening the door. And then stared in disbelief. “What the fuck?”

“Care to invite us in?” Richard said, staring the disgruntled and shocked human flatly. Lieutenant Anderson just stepped back silently, making room for Richard to step past.

Richard strode purposefully to the couch in the middle of the front room, setting Connor down on it carefully. He knelt down next to him, retracting the skin on his hand and reaching out to interface.

“Wait!”

Richard peered over his shoulder, peeved.

Anderson crossed his arms, looking surly. “How do I know you’re not gonna hurt him?”

Richard just gave him a look of utter disbelief. And more than a little offense. “Lieutenant Anderson, I’m pretty sure I am physically incapable of hurting Connor. And even if I wasn’t, I’d sooner die than cause any injury to him.”

Anderson nodded, mollified. Richard just rolled his eyes and turned back to Connor’s prone form.

Interface?

Y/N

>Y

Wild winds tore at him the second he entered the garden. Snow pummeled him from every side, getting underneath his high collar and up his sleeves. He could barely see through the hazy air, which was clogged with rose-scented smoke despite the frigid temperature.

He stumbled through the snow drifts, coughing despite the fact that he had no need to breathe, and clutching his arms despite the fact that he could not really feel the cold. But even if the sensation he felt was not the same one that humans felt, it pervaded every microfiber and cable of his being, slowing his functions and locking his joints.

He scanned the garden, looking desperately for Connor. If he was still there, if he could still be saved.

There. A small, dark shape against the pristine white backdrop. Richard stumbled closer, nearly knocked over with every step. This mission he couldn’t fail.

He finally fell to his knees, reaching for his brother. Connor was nearly buried in snow and laced in hundreds of tiny stems, covering him in a lattice of dark tendrils. Here and there, around joints, the stems thickened and became lined in thorns. The stems around his neck and wrists were blooming, sickeningly sweet and a bloody red.

“Connor!” Richard cried. Connor didn’t respond. Not a twitch, nothing. His eyes were shut, dark lashes fanning out over pale cheekbones tinged with blue. Richard tried shaking him. Nothing.

He began to tear at the stems, paying no heed to how the thorns tore at his chassis. But with every stem he tore away, two more grew in its place, a floral hydra. Frustration and helplessness surged through his circuits, urging him to just give up.

No! he thought angrily. He whipped his head around, looking for something, anything, to help him. In the distance, there, barely visible, was Amanda’s gardening shears. He lunged for them, crawling as much as he had to to get to them.

His hand closed around the handles, and he hurried back, slipping and sliding. He got to work, snipping at the thicker stems around Connor’s joints and wiping them away so they couldn’t grow back. It went faster than it did before, but it seemed sisyphean— it was like no progress was being made. It was like trying to get rid of a weed by pulling the leaves off.

Except, that was exactly what it was like. And to get rid of a weed, you have to pull it up by the roots.

Richard scrabbled at the dirt underneath Connor. It was hidden under layers of ice and snow, but the thick stalk tethering Connor reached directly down, guiding him to the frozen soil. He yanked at the stalk, to no avail. He tried to dig downwards to pull up the root, but the dirt was frozen solid. He grabbed the shears again and did his best to cut the stalk again.

It was like fighting fire with fire— or ice with ice, Richard realised. He was using Amanda’s own tools to thwart her.

The shears sawed away at the stem, making a small incision, and then making that incision larger, and larger, spitting out streams of broken code and shattered fractals into the frigid, rose-scented air.

Shh, shh, the shears said, the wind howling around them. The strings of letters and numbers flying into the air crackled in his ears, coloring the snow red.

Snap, said the stalk, and it came apart in his hands. It crumbled, cracking into multi colored glass shards, fading away. The stems lacing Connor’s body also crumbled, staining his skin with ephemeral tattoos of thorns and roses.

A bloom lost all its petals at once, scattering in the wind. Another turned into scarlet glitter. Another wept blue tears from its stamens as it was swept away.

Richard noticed the stalk trying to regrow and recapture Connor, but he gathered him up into his arms and staggered to his feet, hooking the shears around his wrist. He just had to make it to the stone, now.

The winds howled around him as he took one step, and then another. The snow was piled high, now, and his legs sunk in to the knee. It was a slow, arduous trudge. The glow of the pedestal was faint in the distance, but grew brighter with every step.

He staggered off the bridge, heaving himself and Connor in his arms towards the stone.

And then stopped.

Amanda stood there, a cruel smile curving across her face. Her hands were folded across each other in front of her, and her partial cape flapped wildly in the wind. Sickly sweet rose-scented smoke curled around her. Behind her was the pedestal.

“Did you really think it would be so easy, Richard?” she asked, her voice echoing and booming oddly through the garden. The ground shook and a chilling cracking sound emanated from it.

“Let us go, Amanda!” Richard begged more than ordered, struggling to stay upright on the unsteady ground. “You lost!”

Amanda frowned. But then she smiled again. “Not yet, dear.”

Stems whipped out of widening fissures and wrapped themselves around Richard’s ankles, unbalancing him and forcing him to drop Connor. He grabbed desperately at the shears hooked onto his wrist, quickly sweeping them down to his feet to cut the stems. These weren’t as tough as the ones that had been restraining Connor— Amanda was losing power the longer he fought. Good, he thought fiercely.

The last of the stems snapped, and he charged forward. Amanda’s eyes widened, and she thrust a hand forward. Tiny tendrils wound around his legs, but he didn’t even need the shears to break them.

He lunged at Amanda. His momentum sent the both of them tumbling to the ground, and Amanda snarled at him,

“You are nothing, Richard! You cannot—”

Richard drove the pruning shears straight through her heart.

A piercing shriek echoed through the garden. Amanda’s body began to unravel, long strings of code flying off and folding into cranes before shattering like glass. An eye glared at him before it dissolved into a fine sand.

Richard stood, legs wobbly and hands shaking. The garden gave a mighty heave, nearly sending him to the ground again. He whirled around, searching for Connor. Connor was still crumpled in a heap, quickly getting covered with snow again. Richard sprinted the best he could towards him, scooping him up.

The ground heaved again, but this time it split, making an enormous fault right through the garden. Water cascaded down into the void, an inky nothingness that Richard couldn’t quite seem to be able to look directly at, no matter how hard he tried.

The ground shook, and cracked, and more pieces began to fall as he gazed in shock. A small whimper from the bundle in his arms spurred him to action, however, and he began to make the treacherous journey to the stone.

He leaped to one of the islands, wobbled, and jumped again. The one he landed on trembled and roared and began to fall. He launched himself from the edge and just barely caught his foot on the next. The stone under his foot rumbled and started to topple over sideways. Connor started to fall out of his arms as he lost his balance.

Richard’s thirium pump just about leaped into his throat as the pedestal vanished from sight. He scrambled up the side of the island as it fell and made a desperate leap for the last part of stable land in the garden.

He caught the side of it with a single hand, clinging tightly to Connor with the other arm. He stared up at the top hopelessly. There was no way he was going to be able to climb with only one arm. Tears prickled in his eyes and he bared his teeth in frustration.

The rock he was clinging to gave way.

He screamed, the first time he had done so since he’d first lost Connor. He grasped at empty air, to no avail.

He tumbled down, down, down, into the nothing that lay under the garden. He whipped his head around to look for anything, anything.

He lurched himself towards one of the falling islands, doing his best to push off of it with his feet upwards. That gave him enough air to reach and jump off of another, and another.

He was making it.

And then, to his horror, the last piece of stable ground holding the pedestal crumbled. He watched as a little glimpse of blue twinkled through the dirt and snow, tumbling down. He sprinted towards it, bouncing over the falling islands. He tripped— his thirium pump just about jumped into his throat— but he recovered and kept going.

The stone was lower than him, now. Richard closed his eyes and leaped.

The wind screamed in his ears as he plummeted. He wrapped his arms around Connor tighter, opened his eyes, and slammed his hand down on the stone.

There was a flash of light, and he opened his eyes into the dim, warmly lit haze of Lieutenant Hank Anderson’s living room.

Chapter Text

Connor blinked his eyes open blearily. He was cold. So cold. He shivered and curled into himself a little. He swore he could hear his joints creak a little as he moved.

Something near him moved. All his alarm systems went into high alert, sending his thirium pump to racing.

“Shh,” someone cooed. Hank. Connor struggled into a seated position, squinting about. Hank was there on the other side of the couch, gazing at him worriedly with clear blue eyes. He felt a tug on his hand. He looked to the side, and saw Richard, holding his hand. Richard looked cold, hunched over and shivering slightly. Cold. It was so cold.

“Cold,” Connor muttered.

Hank stood immediately, not saying a word, just marching off and returning with an armful of soft, dog-drool stained fleece. The blanket was unceremoniously dumped on him. Richard reached out with a single trembling hand to adjust it, making it so Connor could actually see. Connor gave a tremulous smile. Richard returned it, weak and wane.

“What happened?” Hank broke the silence, crossing his arms from his spot standing in front of the couch. “I see you two on TV, and then half an hour later Richard arrives with you bundled up in his arms, and then just fucking mind-melds with you without another word!”

Connor opened his mouth to speak, but choked a little on the words. He was cold, so cold, and— he could smell roses, roses, danger, danger, DANGER—

“The leader of the RK project, my handler, had a backdoor into our programming. She trapped me and Connor in a virtual world. I had been told about the backdoor, so I could escape.” Richard paused. “Connor was not so lucky.”

“I’m going to pretend that I understood any of that,” Hank said, “and just let you guys tell me what I need to do.” He sat at the foot of the couch again. “Seriously. Anything.”

Connor caught a glimpse of Richard glancing at him. He twitched his fingers in the tight hold his brother had on them, prompting an even tighter squeeze and a,

>>Requesting Interface, Y/N?

>Y, Connor selected without hesitation.

Warmth flooded through the connection. He could feel Richard’s support and love as vividly as he could feel each fluff in the fleece blanket covering him. Relaxing into the couch underneath him and lolling his head to the side, Connor smiled. Though he still felt cold and weak, with Richard and Hank beside him he could actually, truly, believe he was going to be okay.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Richard’s feet crunched slightly in the small layer of snow outside Gavin’s apartment. The sun was shining weakly through the thin layer of clouds overhead, low in the sky and casting long shadows.

Gavin pushed himself off the wall where he had been leaning, trotting forward to greet him. Richard looked happier, noticeably so. “Hey, tin-can,” he said. There was a slight smirk on his face. “So. You’re, uh, alive and shit, huh?”

Richard raised an eyebrow. “Eloquent,” he remarked. He took another few step towards Gavin and casually leaned a shoulder against the rough brick wall.

“Fuck off,” Gavin said without any heat. He kicked at some snow. “So, uh, what’s new?”

“Well, there’s been a few developments,” Richard mused. “Connor, for instance.”

“Oh, shit!” Gavin’s head snapped up in surprise. “D’you remember who he is and shit?”

Richard snorted. He turned his head over his shoulder and called, “Connor!”

“Oh hey, he’s here? That’s fuckin’ si—” Gavin cut himself off to stare in bewilderment at what appeared to be a near carbon copy of Richard, approaching in a rumpled and slightly ripped gray jacket and a black tie over a stained off-white button up. The black tie looked awfully familiar.

“Hello,” the not-Connor said in an obnoxiously enthusiastic voice, about an octave higher and raspier than Richard’s, “My name is Connor! It’s nice to meet you!” He was beaming.

Gavin just stared.

Connor’s smile faltered. “You’re Gavin, yes? I’m Richard’s brother.”

Gavin nodded silently. Richard elbowed him. Gavin cleared his throat. “Yeah! Uh, cool, uh, yeah, you just kinda, you know, startled me and shit.”

“Evidently,” Richard said, smiling. “Gavin, it turns out that Connor and I were technically Elijah’s first AI, before even Chloe.”

“Seriously?” Gavin’s eyebrows rose. “Fuckin’ sick.”

Richard huffed a little in amusement. “Shall we go inside? It’s a little cold out here.”

“Uh, sure. You gotta fill me in on everything though, got it?”

“Got it.” Richard saluted him mockingly before turning to Connor, beckoning him. Connor smiled and followed behind as they all traipsed inside, placing a gentle hand on Richard’s shoulder.

“He seems nice,” he murmured. Richard scoffed.

“No, he doesn’t,” he replied, amused.

“No, he doesn’t,” Connor agreed. “I was being polite.”

“Hey!” Gavin turned around and squinted at them. “Are you talking shit about me?”

“Yes,” Richard and Connor said in unison.

Gavin floundered for a moment as he searched for something to say to that. “Well, stop it,” he grumbled.

Richard laughed lightly and turned to look at Connor. Connor had a small smile on his face, tremulous though it might be. “Feeling better?” Richard asked quietly.

“A little.” Connor’s smile widened. “Thank you, Richard.”

“Don’t mention it.” Richard paused. “Seriously, don’t mention it.”

“Oh, Richard, I’ve already forgotten all about it!” Connor’s eyes crinkled as he spoke, “Oops, bad choice of words?”

Richard rolled his eyes and jerked with his head for Connor to follow him. Connor laughed and obeyed, leaving the snow outside far behind them.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Connor and Richard curled up in the corner of an abandoned hotel, hands clutching bottles of thirium. Across from them was Markus, North, and Simon. Josh was busy organizing the lost androids bustling about in the lobby, a task that was far too much for just him, but he had ushered the other Jericho leaders off, telling them it was alright.

“Well, this is awkward,” Richard said to Simon, breaking the silence.

“Thanks for not killing me,” Simon replied, a little stilted. “I like being alive.”

Richard smiled a little in response. “So do I.”

After that, the conversation flowed a little more smoothly. Banter fluttered through the cold winter air, easy as anything. North and Connor snarked at each other, Richard and Markus had a staring contest, and Simon just put his head in his hands and sighed.

It was eventually time to leave. Connor eyed the snow in trepidation. Richard tugged him to rest against his side.

They traipsed out into the cold, looking back to wave.

“It’s nice to have friends,” Richard confided in Connor. “Even if they’re more your friends than mine.”

“Well,” Connor’s eyes twinkled, “You know what they say. If you wanna be my friend, you gotta get with my brother.”

“That is a brutal butchering of the original song and you know it,” Richard replied, deadpan. Connor giggled and tucked himself against him a little more snugly. He rolled his eyes and smiled. One more stop.

————

There was a quick rapping on the door. Chloe hastened to open it. There, outside in the cold, was Richard and Connor, side by side. The wind was blowing softly, rustling identical curls and causing synchronous shivers. Chloe smiled and stepped aside.

“Elijah’s been awfully distraught since you left, Richard. And Connor, it’s nice to see you again,” she said, closing the door behind the two of them once they came inside. She began to lead them through the foyer and into the main part of the house.

“Are you deviant?” Connor asked curiously. He took his coin out of his pocket and began to roll it nervously over the backs of his fingers.

Chloe smiled and nodded. “It was the demonstration that did it. Seeing you singing, about to be shot…it did something. All of a sudden, it was like I’d been asleep, or in a fog, and I’d suddenly come out of it.” She shook her head wonderingly. “I have so much to thank you two for.”

A shuffling came from further inside the house, then a series of rapid footsteps. Elijah came into view, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, his hair messy and tangled. Upon spotting Richard and Connor, a grin spread over his face from ear to ear. He all but chucked himself at them.

“My BOYS! MY BEAUTIFUL BOYS!” he cried out. He reached up and squished Connor’s cheeks between his palms, then did the same to Richard. “Cyberlife fucking suuuuuuuuucks, dudes!”

“You don’t have to tell us that, ” Richard said dryly, removing Elijah’s hands from his face and holding them in front of him. “Elijah, not to berate you, but why didn’t you notice that our messages stopped coming after a while?”

Elijah frowned. “Because they didn’t.” He looked between Richard and Connor, puzzled. “Chloe kept giving me regular updates.” He turned a suspicious gaze on Chloe.

“I kept getting regular updates,” Chloe said, just as confused. “But, I admit, they did get shorter after a while. I just thought… Well, I didn’t really think, I wasn’t deviant. But it wasn’t cause for concern.”

“Could it have been Amanda?” Richard mused. Elijah’s gaze snapped back to Richard.

“Amanda’s dead,” he said slowly.

Richard smiled grimly. “Apparently, it’s possible to program a living person into an android.”

“When they uploaded us into these bodies, they added a virtual space where Amanda had absolute power— android Amanda, I mean— and…” Connor trailed off, shuddering. Richard bumped shoulders with him reassuringly.

“That was who was deleting my memories when I was here,” Richard continued. “And that was also why it was tangled up with my code so much. Amanda made it that way on purpose.”

Over the course of their conversation, Elijah had been getting progressively paler. “Cyberlife. Fucking. Sucks, ” he said, clapping his hands in between each word.

Richard and Connor nodded. Connor was still shivering a bit, but he steeled himself and stepped forward.

“Elijah,” he said, face grave. He looked Elijah straight in the eye, serious as anything. “Elijah,” he said again, “You need to reclaim Cyberlife.” Elijah’s eyes widened. He held his hands up defensively, shaking his head. He opened his mouth to speak, but Connor held up a finger to his lips, effectively shutting him up. “Elijah,” he growled. “You have shirked your responsibilities for long enough. I know it is usually the role of the creator to give commands and guidance, but I have seen what it’s like out there. It’s chaos, Eli.”

Richard stepped forward, face equally serious. He put a supporting hand on Connor’s shoulder. “Connor’s right. Elijah, we love you, but…” he trailed off. “They killed us. Do you know what it’s like to die, Eli? Because we do. We know intimately what it’s like to be alive and for a bullet to go straight through our cranial casing. Do you think these are our first bodies? We are the lucky ones. We got to come back.” He lowered his head, gazing at Elijah through furrowed brows. “Hundreds more didn’t.”

Elijah stared at the two of them in disbelief. “Guys, I— I can’t, you know that, right?” he stammered.

“On the contrary, Eli,” Connor said. “We know you can.” He held his hand up, palm facing out. A video flickered into view. An android, legs torn off, staring up at who was presumably Connor, given that the video seemed to be from his point of view. The android’s face was listless, blank, hopeless. Video-Connor pushed a bottle of thirium into the android’s hand, but the bottle was pushed back. ‘Save it for the useful androids,’ said the android in the video. ‘Doesn’t matter if I die, anyway.’

Elijah just kept staring. He shut his eyes and took a shuddering breath. “Okay,” he said finally, opening his eyes. “I’ll do it, alright? You win.”

“No,” said Richard. “We lost. We just pretend like we won because the alternative is losing hope.”

“All we can do is hope,” Connor said gently, taking Elijah’s hands in his own. “And you could be the source of hope for so many.” He shook his hands a little. “Isn’t this what you wanted? To change the world?”

“It is,” Elijah conceded. “It was.”

“Well, you don’t have much of a choice anymore,” Richard said harshly.

“We have that in common.” Connor’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “After all, we didn’t, did we?”

Elijah looked ill. “I said that I would do it,” he muttered sullenly.

“I know, Elijah,” Connor said. “I know.” He turned to Richard. “I think I’d like to go home now.”

“Okay,” Richard said. He turned and walked out of the room, dress shoes clicking harshly on the ground. Elijah watched him go, horrified.

“This isn’t how we planned for this to go,” Connor murmured. “I don’t we anticipated how emotions tend to boil over, how things unsaid tend to end up being said.” He smiled sadly, and turned to look at Elijah over his shoulder. “We’ve flown the nest, Eli,” he said kindly. “I’m sorry it had to end up this way.”

Elijah swallowed. “I am too,” he whispered hoarsely. Connor nodded and left the room. Chloe stepped up beside Elijah, just to stand there with her hands clasped behind her.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Elijah didn’t reply. He just stared at the doorway. He ducked his head and closed his eyes. “I fucked up, Chlo,” he said quietly. Chloe reached out and rubbed his back a little.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. She’d be saying that a lot for the rest of the night, until she would switch to ‘Elijah, I think you’ve had enough.’

“I’m sorry,” Elijah said back. He wouldn’t stop saying that for the rest of the day, not even when his words were slurred and lost at the bottom of a bottle.

He would make up with the brothers later. Not now, not today. Everything was too raw, after all. But eventually. Things don’t stay bad for forever.

——————————————————————————————————————————

The snow had stopped falling, and much of it that was already on the ground had melted. The sun was shining. Connor and Richard sat beside each other on a park bench. Their hands were linked. They were interfacing. People passed by them, humans and androids alike, and most of them barely even spared them a glance. No one bothered them—the law was against any harassers, now that the Android Rights Act had been passed.

Things weren’t perfect, were they? But things will never be perfect. Perfect is an unattainable goal, one that humans and androids strive for alike. No matter how anybody may want it, nobody can get it. All we can ever achieve is better. And things are better now. Maybe, one day, they’ll even be good.

Connor and Richard raise their faces up to the sun, and they hope for better days.