Chapter Text
The next thing that Hank learned about androids was that they were strange.
Well, he pretty much knew that already, but in this case, they were even stranger than he thought. His first clue was when he was tasked to investigate the deviant that murdered its owner—a strange enough situation as it was.
As he waited for said deviant to get settled into the interrogation room on the other side of the mirror, Hank reached for its file on the console in front of him and idly flipped it open. It was filled with photos of the crime scene: the dead body of Carlos Ortiz, the murder weapon, the baseball bat, all the blood on the floors and walls, 'I am alive,' Red Ice. Then, there was another collection of photos on the next page, somewhat grainier than the others, probably extracted from Connor’s memory. (Or so he figured. He didn't know how any of that stuff actually worked.)
He looked through them, muttering “what the fuck” under his breath when the last picture revealed the most unusual scene involving an android he’d ever witnessed: a wooden figurine sitting in the very center of Ortiz's shower, with flowers and near-illegible scrawls of RA9 (or maybe 'Rag'?) on the wall surrounding it.
He didn't remember seeing this before.
"What the hell is this?" he asked, turning around to glance at Connor, who was still here, for some reason. Thankfully, it was standing in the back of the room, as far away from him as possible. He hoped it stayed that way.
Connor knew what he was talking about without having to look. "I think it's an altar. I found it in the bathroom shortly before finding the deviant in the attic."
“An altar?”
“Yes.” Connor tilted its head inquisitively, its eyes briefly scanning the photo over Hank's shoulder. “It appears to be some sort of... offering. The statuette could be an idol of sorts."
Hank never would have pegged Mr. 'Red Ice' Ortiz for the religious type. “So... Carlos was—”
“I don’t think it was Carlos’ doing.”
“I—what?”
“I believe the deviant was the one that made the altar.”
But... why? How? Androids didn’t believe in any higher power, let alone create an altar for one. They didn’t think about something like that. They didn’t think about anything at all. Maybe it had malfunctioned so bad that it somehow saw things in its program it normally wouldn’t. Thought it was seeing Android God or some shit.
"For who?" Hank had to ask. "Or what?"
He wondered if maybe Connor, being an android itself, might have an inkling of an idea, but it seemed just as puzzled as he was. He didn't know that was possible.
“I’m not sure.” After a thoughtful pause, it curiously met his gaze, the light on its head blinking. “Lieutenant, do you know what ‘RA9’ means?”
No. He didn’t.
Before he could hazard a guess, the door on the other side of the room suddenly opened with a whir, revealing the last person he wanted to deal with at 1 AM.
"Ah, Gavin." He let out a sigh, swiveling in his chair to look back at the observation mirror. "What brings you here this fine evening?"
"A homicide case," said Gavin casually as he strutted inside, vaguely gesturing to where the deviant sat. "Which'll probably get transferred to me if that thing turns out to be the wrong suspect."
"Well, sorry to disappoint"—he wasn't—"but I doubt it. Whole crime scene has its fingerprints all over it."
"Metaphorically speaking, of course," Connor piped up from the back.
Gavin stopped in the middle of the room, turning to look at the source of the unfamiliar voice. After a beat of comprehension, he glanced back at Hank and gestured to it as if to say 'You seeing this shit?' before facing the android again. "Who the fuck are you?"
It responded instantly with what had to be some kind of automatic, pre-programmed introduction, as it was using the exact same words and clipped tone that it had for Hank at the bar. "My name is Connor. I'm the android sent by CyberLife."
"Androids aren't allowed in here, dumbass. Who do you answer to?"
"Lieutenant Hank Anderson." It nodded to Hank, who did his best to avoid eye contact. "I've been assigned to his case."
"Temporarily," said Hank coolly.
"Huh." Gavin stepped closer to the android, crossing his arms over his chest. "So... you're that fancy new android detective Fowler was talkin' about."
What did he mean by that? Was Jeffrey planning on keeping this thing around long-term? Jesus Christ. Just one night with this thing was bad enough.
Detective Prick turned to flash Hank a grin, knowing exactly how much he was hating this. "Is it any good?"
"Well, it managed to catch this guy in less than ten minutes," Hank mumbled, pointing at the 'guy' in question, who was still staring blankly down at the table. "So… you know. Not bad."
"Thank you, Lieutenant," said Connor earnestly.
Whatever.
Gavin made an amused 'chh' through his teeth, turning his back to Connor just as Chris entered the room, apparently done strapping the deviant in.
"We good?" Hank asked. When Chris made a small thumbs-up in response, he got to his feet with a grunt and grabbed the case file. "All right... Here goes nothing."
The moment he entered the room, he tossed the file haphazardly onto the table and sat down, eyeing the deviant across from him. The deviant never lifted its head or even acknowledged his presence, which was just fine with him. He'd rather cut to the chase instead of dealing with pointless introductions or pleasantries anyway.
He wasted no time in starting his interrogation as a result, hoping he might be successful in getting some answers. He just didn't know how exactly to get those answers out.
Because it wasn't fucking talking.
In hindsight, he should have expected this. This thing hadn't just been silent since arriving at the station; it had been silent the entire damn time, ever since it left the crime scene—not speaking, not looking at anyone, only following along on auto-pilot, as if the realization that it was caught had caused its robot brain to shut down while the rest of it kept moving. Now, though, Hank wasn’t sure that it had moved at all since Chris first sat it down in that chair.
He tried everything to get this thing’s attention. Calm questions. Snapping his fingers in its face. Even slamming his hands on the table and yelling, something that normally would, at the very least, startle a person. But this android wasn’t a person, so it didn’t even flinch.
This wasn’t getting anywhere. He'd figured it wouldn’t, considering that this battered android probably didn’t have the highest trust in humans. Still, he couldn’t help but feel frustrated as he got to his feet, finally giving up.
“Fuck it,” he huffed. “I’m outta here.”
All eyes were on him when he re-entered the observation room. Connor was still in the exact same spot it had been standing in before, though it was watching him keenly as Hank irritably headed back over to his seat.
“We’re wasting our time interrogating an android," he spat. "We’re getting nothing out of it.”
Gavin suggested roughing it up a little, because of course he would. If it weren’t for the fact that he'd have to pay a hefty fine for harming police property, he’d probably have a field day beating up the other police androids for lunch money as a hobby.
Connor didn’t seem offended at his idea, only confident that such a method wouldn’t work.
“You would only damage it, and that wouldn’t make it talk," it informed him. "Deviants also have a tendency to self-destruct when they're in stressful situations.”
Not unlike some humans.
“Okay, smart-ass,” said Gavin impatiently. “What should we do then?”
Connor thoughtfully glanced back at the deviant in the holding room. “I could try questioning it.”
Gavin predictably laughed at the idea. Hank, however, found himself actually considering it.
It... wasn’t a terrible idea. The suspect only ever spoke to one of its own kind—Connor—before being detained. Maybe it'd trust it enough to talk a little. Then again, Connor was the one who had snitched it out... But it was also the only android there at the scene.
Whatever. It was worth a shot.
“What do we have to lose?” He gestured from Connor to the suspect, who still hadn't moved a mechanical muscle. “Go ahead. Suspect’s all yours.”
As Connor left the room, Gavin scowled. “You’re gonna let an android interrogate an android?”
“Well, you know.” Hank shrugged. “Using humans hasn’t worked out all that well.”
Gavin grumbled something under his breath just as Connor entered the interrogation room. It moseyed over to the table to thumb through the file, occasionally glancing at the deviant to spot a reaction. There was none, of course.
Before sitting down, Connor gave one more scan around the room, until its gaze landed on the one-way mirror on the wall. It immediately walked over and stared into it, presumably at its own reflection rather than the occupants of the room. It obviously knew they were there, so—
"What the fuck is it doing now?" Hank grumbled.
Was this thing checking itself out? He didn't know androids were even aware enough to recognize themselves in the mirror.
Maybe this one was just discovering it for itself, as it tentatively reached its hand up, almost as if to test it. Then, after a considerate pause, it decisively 'fixed' the tuft of hair that hung down over its forehead by moving it a millimeter to the side. It didn't matter, since the hair just fell right back to its original spot, but it seemed to matter to Connor anyway, as it contentedly whirled around in one fluid movement to stride back over to the table.
Fucking bizarre.
Connor slowly sat in the seat across from the deviant, prepared to begin. Hank leaned forward a little in his own seat, admittedly curious to see how this might unfold, as it was the first time he got to witness this android working alone.
The android’s interrogation started out calmly, with a series of questions that never earned a response. It worked carefully to keep the deviant’s 'emotions' in check, using a gentle voice and comforting words—something that Hank was a little shocked to see, considering how blunt and matter-of-fact it usually acted.
But then, when it realized that reassurance wasn’t doing anything, it flipped its switch.
If there was ever any doubt of androids’ ability to fake emotions, Connor’s rapid change was proof. The understanding expression faded, morphing into something more callous, its voice suddenly stern.
“If you won’t talk, I’m going to have to probe your memory.”
Hank blinked from behind the one-way mirror. “They can do that?”
“Apparently,” said Chris.
Well, hell. Why didn’t they think of that? It was like they kept forgetting it wasn’t human.
He supposed it wasn’t too unreasonable for them to think that way, considering just how much 'human' emotion the other android had shown when it was caught—fearful, upset, betrayed. Even its stubborn silence later on felt more like defeat than just an android mentally shutting down.
Were all deviants like this? This was the first time Hank had ever met one (and he always adamantly refused to work on any cases involving them), so he didn't know much about them except that 1) they didn't do what they were ordered to do, and 2) they acted differently than regular androids. He didn't realize just what made them so different until now, with the 'emotional' example sitting directly in front of him, visibly juxtaposed by Connor's more stoic presence.
It was strange.
Connor's words must have been a threat in android-speak, as the deviant’s reaction to its warning was the biggest show of emotion they’d seen so far. It straightened in its seat in a flash, eyes wide with terror.
“No! Please don’t do that...”
Connor's threat seemed to work, as the deviant wasn't maintaining its effort to stay silent and still anymore. It looked down at its bound hands, then shot a nervous glance at the mirror.
Hank swore softly when it somehow made direct eye contact. It knew it was being watched. No wonder it was trying to look emotional.
“What... What are they going to do to me?" The deviant glanced back at its fellow android, lowering its trembling voice to a whisper. "They’re going to destroy me, aren’t they?”
“They're going to disassemble you to look for problems in your biocomponents,” said Connor coldly. “They have no choice if they want to understand what happened.”
Way to sugarcoat it, asshole.
“Why did you tell them you found me?” the deviant asked shakily. “Why couldn’t you just have left me there?”
“I was programmed to hunt deviants like you. I just accomplished my mission.”
Ah, so its mission was all it cared about. Good to know. Hank now had a more concrete reason to stay far away from this thing.
Though he supposed its focus on the mission at hand was helpful, at least in this case, as it knew exactly what it had to do for this one. When its straightforward honesty seemed to pressure the deviant just enough, it reverted back to something a little more understanding yet again, taking advantage of the vulnerable emotions the deviant displayed and not only acknowledging them, but matching them.
Hank had to admit that the way it conducted its interrogation was impressive. More impressive was the fact that this approach actually seemed to work, as it finally made the deviant confess.
Ortiz had been abusing it every day, it said. It eventually snapped and defended itself before it could be destroyed... and then it couldn't stop.
The details of the matter weren’t what surprised Hank, since he had already pretty much guessed them before. What did surprise him was the fact that the android said it felt scared.
Until now, he had figured that the emotions this deviant showed were convincing but ultimately fake, just like its words. After all, androids could say anything and not really mean it, just as they could show emotion without actually feeling it. They could simulate it when the situation called for it without necessarily knowing what emotion it was or how it felt, like Connor had just done.
But this one was different. This one somehow knew it was scared. This one knew what fear was.
And Hank sure as hell didn’t know what to think of that.
It seemed that Connor didn’t, either. Its expression was bordering on puzzled as it leaned in to ask the golden question.
"When did you start feeling emotion?"
“Before, he used to beat me and I never said anything. But one day I realized it wasn't—" It clenched its jaw, searching for the right word, until it spat it out like a curse. "—fair!”
Connor only tilted its head a little as it comprehended this. It probably didn't even know what 'fair' was.
“I felt anger. Hatred,” the deviant hissed. “And then I knew what I had to do.”
There was a beat of silence from the occupants of the other room as they processed this. Hank leaned back in his seat with a fascinated breath of "huh," his mind starting to race at the implications of what this android just confessed.
It wasn't necessarily the confession itself that left him stunned; it was the motivation behind the actions that led to it. As far as he knew, androids operated solely on logic and reason, motivated only by their orders and objectives, but this deviant operated in a different way. This deviant's ultimate solution to kill its owner was motivated entirely by its emotions.
Hank had already been shocked enough by the concept of this android (and others like it) killing its owner, but the fact that the killing was because of something so uniquely human rather than some random malfunction was making his head spin. Why did it think this way? How did it learn to think this way? Why and how was it even capable, since androids usually didn't think at all?
The questions ran on a loop in his head, but, for reasons he couldn't pinpoint, he wasn't concerned about the idea. Rather, he found himself oddly intrigued.
Connor, meanwhile, was unaffected by the android’s display of emotion. It merely turned in its seat and announced that it was done, satisfied with the confession.
“Well.” Hank grunted and got to his feet. “There you have it.”
They went back to retrieve the android, with Hank following along to see it through. The second he stepped inside, Connor gravitated to the door, its mission accomplished. Hank disregarded it, focused instead on the android in the seat as it jumped back from the arriving humans.
“Leave me alone!” it cried. “Don’t touch me.”
Knowing its only solution so far was to lash out when it was afraid, Hank slowly reached for his weapon, just in case the android tried to attack. It didn’t yet, only jerking away from Chris’ attempt to grab it. Gavin started snapping at it to move despite this, which wasn’t making the situation any better.
Jesus. It had literally just admitted to being abused by an angry human. Why would it listen to anything another angry human told it to do?
Connor spoke up from the doorway.
“You shouldn’t touch it. It’ll self-destruct if it feels threatened.”
“Hey.” Gavin whirled around to glare at it. “Stay out of this, got it? No fuckin’ android’s gonna tell me what to do.”
Hank half-expected Connor to relent as any typical android would do, until he remembered that this android wasn’t typical. It never followed anyone’s orders (apparently), and it certainly wasn’t about to start with Gavin’s.
So it did what it did best: It ignored the order entirely.
“You don’t understand,” it said more urgently. “If it self-destructs, we won’t get anything out of it.”
“I told you to shut your fucking mouth!” Gavin yelled.
The deviant, meanwhile, continued to struggle, anxiously jolting away from Chris’s hold like a wounded animal. The ring of light on its temple was red and blinking, its eyes shifting, its hands beginning to shake. Hank didn't know much about androids, but even he could tell that none of this was a good sign.
In spite of himself, he was about to join Connor in telling them to stop when Connor did something unexpected.
It started yelling back.
“I can’t let you do that!” It hastened over to shove the humans away and stand protectively in front of the deviant. “Leave it alone—now!”
Hank couldn’t believe it. This android didn’t just defy a human’s orders... It gave the human an order of its own.
He would have started laughing his head off at this development if Gavin hadn’t abruptly escalated the situation even further by whipping out his gun to point it directly at Connor. "I warned you, motherfucker!”
All right, this was getting ridiculous. Hank had already seen one dead body today. He didn't need to deal with two more.
“That’s enough,” he said loudly.
“Mind your own business, Hank,” Gavin hissed, his eyes still locked on Connor, who only stared back into the face of its prospective death, unblinking.
“I said”—Hank pulled out his own gun and pointed it at him—“that’s enough.”
He wasn’t sure what had compelled him to do that, but it worked. Gavin gritted his teeth, his grip on the gun shaking with fury, until he finally put it down, spitting out a swear.
He glared at Hank as the latter lowered his gun, too. “You’re not gonna get away with it this time."
Please.
As Gavin stormed out of the room, Connor crouched down in front of where the deviant was cowering on the floor and held out its hand in reassurance. Hank wasn’t sure if it was feigned this time or not.
“Everything is all right,” it said gently. “It's over now. Nobody is going to hurt you.” It raised itself back to full stance to face the openly perplexed Chris. “Please, don't touch it. Let it follow you out of the room, and it won't cause any trouble.”
It went quietly, just as anticipated, but not before it whispered something to Connor. Hank didn’t hear it, just as he didn’t hear much of what he imagined were cryptic answers to most of Connor’s questions. Frankly, he didn’t care at this point. This whole night was too long and filled with too many robots for his liking, and he just wanted to go home so he could put his feet up and have another drink. Or three.
As he followed the rest of them out of the room, he watched the two androids part ways. The deviant was lost in its thoughts, gazing at its feet as it shuffled behind the officers to its holding cell, recovering from the waves of 'emotion' it couldn’t seem to control. Connor, who had just shown some emotion itself, was staring at the deviants’ retreating back, its LED blinking.
Hank still didn’t know what to make of this thing. He'd first thought it to be just another mindless, emotionless, objective-driven drone like all the others, until the way it intervened to protect the deviant made him start to wonder if he might be wrong.
He wasn't, as it turned out. Connor proved it just by standing there, waiting for the deviant to disappear before finally allowing its expression to revert to its neutral blankness as if nothing had happened.
It was that effortless switch that made Hank realize the emotion it showed before was all just an act, much like its interrogation. This android had just been putting on a face, purely because that was what it was programmed to do.
He found himself strangely disappointed, and he felt like an idiot for it. Why was he expecting a robot to act like anything other than a robot? The deviant didn't act like one, but it was the outlier of how androids were supposed to be, not the example. The example was, unfortunately, the android standing in front of him.
When said android turned to leave, it caught Hank’s eye. Then, with a little too much cheer in its voice and not enough in its face, it said, “It was a pleasure working with you. Good night, Lieutenant Anderson.”
Hank didn’t respond, watching it trot down the hallway to leave his sight, hopefully for good.
The rest of that night, he couldn’t stop his mind from racing with questions about androids and what he knew about them. If they only simulated emotions, why were some of them so driven by them to do drastic things, like murder their owners? If the emotions weren’t simulated and were actually real, how could that be possible when he knew for a fact that they didn’t feel anything? What was causing them to malfunction like this? Were they even malfunctioning at all? They had to be, right?
They had to be.
Malfunctioning or not, the deviant was in custody and would probably be taken back to CyberLife to be fixed, if they didn't manage to tear it apart for its crimes. Maybe it could get reset somehow so it wouldn’t have to think about how 'scared' it was ever again.
Hank didn't know if it really was as scared as it seemed, and some part of him actually hoped that it wasn't. He knew what that same kind of paralyzing fear felt like, after all. He knew how hollow it could make a person when that fear was made a reality...
God. He needed to shut his mind off before it wandered too far.
He collapsed into his chair at home, sighing.
There was no use in speculating on the inner workings of robots. It was all over. The night was over. The case was solved. There were no more deviants to worry about, at least not in his case.
And, as far as he knew, he wouldn’t have to see that damn android again.
He had to see that damn android again.
Not just that—He had to work with that damn android to investigate more damn androids to see what was making them all go crazy.
Did Jeffrey have it out for him? Didn’t he know how much he didn’t want to work with androids? Didn’t he see how much he’d wanted to strangle Connor multiple times last night for even just looking at him funny? Maybe he saw him stop Gavin from shooting it and thought that meant he suddenly loved them.
Fuck it. Fine, he’d investigate these deviants if he had to. The sheer volume of related cases would at least keep him busy, keep his mind occupied on other things. But he didn’t need a partner for it. He didn’t want a partner for it. Especially not some smart-ass android who never listened to him anyway.
The smart-ass android in question had followed him from Jeffrey's office after eavesdropping on their polite conversation. It was now staring at him from where it stood by his desk, trying and failing to find the right words for this kind of situation in its social programming.
Eventually, it settled on a line from its Phony Apology Program.
"I get the impression my presence causes you some inconvenience, Lieutenant. I'd like you to know I'm very sorry about that."
Yeah, right.
Hank turned a deaf ear to its bullshit sincerity, knowing it was a farce. He simply sat there without a word, facing away from where it stood, his arms stubbornly crossed over his chest.
Connor didn't seem to notice his blatant refusal to engage, or else it just didn't care.
"But… maybe it will be different once we get to know each other better," it added. "What do you think?"
Meh.
He was sure that a normal android would've given up on talking to him at this point--but this, of course, was no normal android. This was Connor, who (if its actions last night were any indication) had quite the track record of being annoyingly persistent.
“In any case, I’d like you to know that I’m very happy to be working with you." Its forced, unnatural attempt at a smile wasn't fooling him. "I'm sure we’ll make a great team."
Hank very highly doubted that.
Connor's smile faded when it finally managed to get the fact that its new partner was actively ignoring it through its thick skull. Without any further interaction, it eventually moved over to its designated desk to start working, leaving Hank to stew over his misfortune in frustrated silence.
He had no choice in this, did he? This thing was going to be stuck with him whether he liked it or not, and Jeffrey wasn't going to change his mind about it... Then again, Jeffrey probably didn't have much of a choice, either. There were a lot of rogue androids running around lately, and someone had to deal with them.
But why did it have to be him? Couldn't they just send this android out to investigate these cases by itself? Wasn't it programmed to do that sort of thing? Jeffrey had mentioned it being some special state-of-the-art prototype with an advanced computer brain. If it was so advanced, why did it need a human partner to tell it what to do? It wasn't like it couldn't be trusted; Hank doubted it would do anything that went against its objective to solve this case, seeing that it obviously had no qualms about hunting down its own kind.
He sourly glanced at where Connor was seated, only to see that it was already looking back at him. The second it caught his eye, it opened its plastic gob to say something, since it was, after all, incapable of keeping it shut.
“You have a dog, right?”
Was this thing stalking him or something? "How do you know that?"
Connor nodded to just behind him. “The dog hairs on your chair.”
There were dog hairs on his chair? He guessed that wasn't surprising. When it came to shedding, Sumo was pretty much the reigning world champion.
As Hank furtively glanced back to see just how much of his dog he'd brought with him, Connor continued, its tone shifting to something more chipper. “I like dogs. What’s your dog’s name?”
Why was it trying to get to know him? Wasn’t it just supposed to do its job and let him do his own job in peace? Or was it under the delusion that ‘partner’ meant ‘friend’? Did an android even know how to be a friend?
He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What's it to you?"
Connor hesitated, then lowered its gaze, almost in a disappointed way. To Hank's surprise, it didn't attempt to pry any further, perhaps accepting at long last that he wasn't going to give it the time of day.
And yet, without knowing why, he found himself giving it the time of day anyway.
“Sumo,” he conceded. “I call him Sumo.”
Connor’s eyes lit up.
It turned out that answering it was a mistake, as doing so only led to more invasive questions. Did you see the basketball game last night? Do you like heavy metal? Do you usually arrive to work at this time? Why do you despise androids? Blah, blah, blah.
It was interesting to see this android making an effort at all, though. Most other androids just accepted their tasks and did them, not caring about who they were working with or why, but Connor was different. Connor was oddly more sociable and inquisitive than others of its kind, always 'thinking' and observing and asking questions, much like an actual investigator.
Hank understood then why this android was the one he had to work with, but he couldn’t ignore how strange it was. Not just the android itself (which had to be the strangest android he’d ever met, with Ortiz’s android a close second), but the whole situation: the fact that androids breaking away from their programs was even a possibility, the fact that some androids like the one in their custody might somehow feel something despite all he had been led to believe, and the fact that he was the one who had to figure out how and why.
It all felt like some sort of bad dream.
The source of the bad dream interrupted his bitter rumination when it started thinking aloud.
"243 files." Connor was touching the terminal in front of it, the synthetic skin on its hand now removed to reveal the sleek white plastic underneath. Eugh, weird. "The first dates back nine months. It all started in Detroit... and quickly spread across the country."
As if sensing Hank's eyes on it, it turned its head to look at him. He instantly shifted his attention back to his own terminal, not wanting it to think he gave a shit about what it had to say.
"An AX400 is reported to have assaulted a man last night," it stated. "That could be a good starting point for our investigation."
Hank scowled. If this thing was going to tell him when to work and give him orders like it did to Gavin, they were going to have problems.
Firmly believing that a better starting point for them would be for it to leave him alone, he turned away from it dismissively to focus on his own work. Connor didn't seem to appreciate that, as it didn't take long for it to appear in his vision like a slap to the face. Evidently, it also didn’t take long for it to revert straight back to its default 'asshole' setting.
“I’ve been assigned this mission, Lieutenant. I didn’t come here to wait until you feel like working.”
Ah, there it was. He knew it wouldn't stay pleasant for long.
It was always the same with these things. Only ever willing to perform their duties without thinking of anything or anyone else. Hank had to remind himself not to get too mad about it, considering that that was what he had been expecting this android to do in the first place.
...
He still got mad, though.
Something about its words—be it the haughty tone it was using, the insinuation that he was lazy, or just the fact that it still wouldn’t shut up—hit a nerve. The next thing he knew, he had snatched Connor by its perfect collar and forcefully shoved it against the wall beside him, bringing his face close to his to look directly into its unblinking eyes.
“Listen, asshole," he growled. "If it was up to me, I'd throw the lot of you in a dumpster and set a match to it. So stop pissing me off!” He shook it violently in his grip so that it hit against the wall again. It only stared back at him, completely unfazed, which didn't help his anger. “Or things are gonna get nasty.”
"Uh, Lieutenant?"
Chris interrupted his tirade to let him know about a lead on one of the most recent deviant files in the system of 200-gazillion more. The same deviant that the asshole in his grasp had suggested investigating moments before. Figures.
Hank let go of Connor like the trash it was and stepped away with a huff. "I’m on it.”
He reached over to snatch his belongings from the desk, including his phone, and stormed off, leaving Connor behind to recover from being unceremoniously thrown around. He knew it wouldn't stay there for long; seconds after going into the hallway, he could hear footsteps clacking in his direction from behind.
As he sighed in exasperation and stopped, waiting for Connor to catch up, he glanced down at the phone in his hand, only to find that it had a voicemail. A little confused (who would even be calling him?), he listened to the message, eyeing Connor as it halted beside him to wait for further instruction.
“Lieutenant Anderson? This is Connor. I'm the android sent by CyberLife. It's almost noon and I'm waiting for you at the offi—”
Hank shut it off. “You called my phone?”
“I couldn’t find you,” said Connor simply.
Hank sighed again, turning to leave for the investigation with his new partner obediently at his heels.
Fucking androids.