Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Connor lingered in front of the Detroit Police Department, his thirium pump increasing its capacity for no discernable reason. As Cyberlife’s ex-most-prized prototype, his body adapted to efficiently handle any situation. An increase of thirium was typical protocol for various combat encounters and when he gave chase to fugitives.

Standing on a busy sidewalk, humans and androids parting around him, and waiting to enter the DPD was neither of those situations.

Stress Level 47%

Ah, this must be nerves. Connor didn’t like this side of deviancy. He flicked his quarter between his hands.

Logically, he knew if he ended up disliking policework or if he became a target of any sort of danger, he would launch his Canada Refugee plan and escape Detroit within the hour. But logic was annoyingly ineffective against emotions.

He flipped his quarter through the air. He chose this path. Why were his nerves behaving this way?

The clock crept closer to noon and it was either programing or personal preference, but Connor did not want to be a minute late. He did a cursory review of the DPD the night before and this morning to ensure the DPD didn’t suspect the new transfer Connor Mason was anything but human. Fortunately, the crime-solving team hadn’t bothered diving deeper into Connor Mason’s transfer request and competent, though boring, file.

He forced himself to shove his coin back into his pocket and straighten his tie, calmly walking into the DPD and towards the free ST300. She smiled generically, not attempting to establish a connection. Connor let out an unnecessary breath. Even though he knew no other android gave Connor a second glance without his LED and obvious android markings, an irrational part feared that the police department would be when an android sensed his true origins. Luckily, RK800’s unique design continued to aid him.

“Hello,” Connor said politely, pulling out forged documents, “I’m here to see Captain Fowler. I’m Connor Mason. It’s my first day.”

The ST300’s LED flashed yellow as she scanned in his ID. “Welcome to the DPD, Detective Mason. Captain Fowler will see you now in his office.”

“Thank you.” The painless transaction made Connor loose-lipped and stress levels decrease to a normal level. “Do you have a name?”

He winced internally, already chalking up Connor Mason’s out-of-town nature for asking androids their names as if they were human. Androids were available nationwide but Detroit had an exponentially higher android population. As such, most people preferred androids to fade into the background and noticed whenever someone didn't. Though he reasoned this one encounter wouldn’t cause anyone to dwell on Connor Mason and androids.

The ST300's smile warmed—deviant behavior or social programming? Impossible to tell without interfacing or interrogating—but Connor found himself scanning her again to no avail. “People call me Stella.”

“Thank you, Stella."

“Have a good day, Detective.”

Connor walked inside the department, the unused police androids standing in their charging stations and police officers and detectives milling around the bullpen or tapping at their computers. Overall, no one paid Connor any attention. He did a general scan, names and records popping up in quick succession. He compiled a list of officers to avoid with disciplinary records or aggressive anti-android sentiments as he strode towards the captain’s office. Working with people more likely to frustrate him added unnecessary difficulty and would skew his results on if he enjoyed detective work.

Captain Fowler scowled as Connor knocked and entered. He hesitated before sitting in the worn black seat, taking care to slouch slightly.

“Hello, Captain,” Connor said.

Captain Fowler grunted. “Connor. Small town detective with big dreams, eh?”

Connor deliberately picked a moderate size city as it’d be less likely to find his lie.  “Janesville isn’t considered a small town.”

“Is that so?” the captain asked in a tone Connor immediately filed as sarcastic. “I reviewed your record. Clean, decent academy marks, but nothing remarkable. I don’t know if you transferred here to get a taste for real crime or you want your 5 seconds of fame, but know we don’t have time for handholding, rookie. Pick it up or don’t. No skin off my back. Our department survived without you and we can do it again.”

The idiom registered before Connor could question the phrase. Humans were nonsensical with language most of the time. Even with his social programming, some phrases still flew past his radar. But he focused on the small obstacle in front of him. The captain’s reluctance would be easy to turn into trust. He’d likely respond positively to results and Connor planned to achieve the best in no time.

“I’m confident I’ll be a good fit here,” Connor said. “I look forward to working with your team.”

“Sure, kid. Let me introduce you to your partner.” Captain Fowler opened the glass door and yelled. “Lieutenant! Come here!”

Stress level 51%

Connor grimaced then smoothed his expression. Lieutenant Anderson. It made sense to pair a new detective with a lieutenant, but Lieutenant Anderson’s astonishingly long disciplinary record made him optimistic a more suitable match would be made. Connor reviewed the lieutenant’s record again. Well, he was once a decorated officer with an impressive number of closed cases, but in the last few years—he shuffled through the disciplinary file again—clearly, that wasn’t the case.

Hank Anderson’s glare narrowed further when he spotted Connor, eyeing his suit and tie distastefully. “What is this shit?”

“I told you we were getting a transfer,” the captain said. “Hank, meet your new partner, Connor Mason.”

Connor ignored his social protocol prompting him to offer a hand and instead nodded. Hank scoffed, gesturing angrily to Captain Fowler and drawing the attention of some officers in the bullpen. The detective ranked two on the list of people to avoid, Detective Gavin, snickered.

“Partner? I don’t have time for this babysitting bullshit!”

“Hank, god damn it you are my lieutenant and you will act like it. You’re fucking lucky I’ve let you slack off this much. If you want to keep a job here, it’s time to work,” the captain said. “Connor is your new partner. Who knows? Maybe this’ll be what kicks your ass in gear.”

Partnering Connor with Hank felt like a pre-emptive punishment for a “small town” detective that Fowler was already unimpressed by. He couldn’t cut the suspicion that he was seen more as a tool to aid the lieutenant than an asset to this department. Not a feeling he expected as a human.

“I don’t need a fucking rookie.”

“You need something and Connor needs a partner,” the captain said. “End of story.”

“Jeffrey—”

“End of story.”

Hank grumbled. “Fucking fine.”

“And be grateful I’m not adding this to your novel of a disciplinary record!” the captain shouted at Hank’s back. The door slammed behind him. Captain Fowler shook his head. “Don’t pick up any of his bad habits, Connor.”

Partnering Connor with someone without numerous bad habits to pick up seemed more efficient and obvious enough for even a human to realize. However, small talk with humans in his apartment building proved they rarely enjoy having the obvious pointed out as it came across as ‘condescending.’

“Yes, sir,” Connor said, attempting to remain neutral about his partnership.

Based on the amused gleam in the captain’s eye, he wasn’t successful. “Dismissed, Detective.”

Connor made his way to the empty desk across from the lieutenant’s, an officer his scanners read as Chris Miller giving him a friendly smile as he rushed out of the bullpen behind Detective Gavin. Connor scanned Hank’s desk, ignoring his glares. The anti-android signs confirmed that the anti-android notes in his file were still relevant. He signed. Bright side—at least Hank’s hatred of androids also made him less likely to spot any android tendencies Connor may display. While he practiced playing human a week before submitting his transfer request to the DPD, there was always a chance he’d do something inhuman.

He focused on the dog hair on his new partner's chair.

“Do you have a dog, Lieutenant?” Connor asked as he settled into the sparse desk. He didn’t bring much with him which he could chalk up to fist day jitters. Quick surveys of other people’s desks told him he’d need ‘knickknacks’ to blend in.

“The fuck does it matter?”

“It doesn’t,” Connor said. “Small talk is meant to help break the ice.”

Hank narrowed his eyes at Connor’s explanation. The android blinked earnestly at him. “Well stop. I’m not your friend. I’ll show you the ropes if you last that long. Fuck, I’ll even put in a good word if you move to another station.”

As if some human, no matter how unprofessional, could force him to move. He paused and registered his response. Stubbornness was not logical and could impede his goals.

“Eastside has pompous, clean-cut douches too,” Hank said. “You’d fit right in.”

But deviancy wasn’t logical. Connor glared but smiled pleasantly. He took out his coin and rolled it between his fingers. Hank scowled at the sound and Connor did it a bit louder. “I’m fine here. So what’s your dog’s name?”

“Fucking green prick,” Hank muttered under his breath, not intending for Connor to overhear but he was a state-of-the-art prototype. “Sumo. Now read the case files I’m sending you and shut your can.”

“Of course, Lieutenant,” Connor said, accessing his computer and fighting the automatic interface response.  The most recent homicide case filled his screen as he read through the cases the slow, human way.

Connor picked up a routine. He’d get ready, walk or take a taxi to work, greet Stella or Gretchen, the other ST300, start a coffeepot, and make conversation with various officers until wandering to his desk around 8—not always 8 on the dot, which stressed him out less and less each day until he didn’t even notice.

“You have to start watching, Connor,” Ben said. “Season 42 just premiered and apparently one of the girls is rumored to be a custom android, but no one can figure out who yet. The bachelor is a Cyberlife bigshot so you’d think he’d be able to recognize a machine among all the gorgeous women.”

“Three hours is a long time to invest in one show,” Connor said, frowning at the first episode’s run time once he located it. His phone was out so he could have searched that information on the small device instead of his processor if asked.

“That’s just episode one,” Ben said. “It’ll fly by before you know it.”

Tina snorted as she refilled her mug. “Stop trying to convert people to the Bachelor Nation cult. You know who watches it, let the rest of us live our lives.”

“Says the woman who’s obsessed with Androids in Love,” Ben said.

Tina straightened to full height and prodded a finger hard against the senior officer’s chest. Ben looked amused. “That is quality drama and I won’t have you slander it.”

“Sure,” Ben said. “So Connor, what’s your poison?”

“Oh um,” Connor flashed through a TV show list, descriptions processing and nothing sticking out to him. He should have anticipated this conversation path. He never watched shows as he had all the synopses available.

“Androids in Love is devastating,” Tina said. “I adore it. Do you watch it? You should watch it. Ignore all of Ben’s suggestions. He hates good things.”

“Didn’t it win some People’s Choice for being unrealistic and trashy?” Ben asked.

Tina rolled her eyes. “You know what else is unrealistic? Dragons and magic, but that doesn’t make any show awful. Let me enjoy my trash. Because is the show a hot mess of a dumpster fire? Yes, but fight me.”

“I enjoy Star Trek,” Connor said. It was a popular enough show and the latest reboot was getting overall good praise. It also was not a crime procedural that would make him frown.

“Should’ve guessed you’re a nerd,” Tina said, reaching up to ruffle Connor’s hair.

He dismissed the proximity warning and defense reconstruction prompt and allowed her to move his synthetic hair. She wouldn’t be able to detect a difference and this would help establish him as ‘one of the team.’

A small part of him also preened at her familiar gesture.

“I resent that, Officer Chen.”

“Formal apologies, Detective Mason,” Tina said, her smirk belying her professional tone.

It had only been a week but his relations with several officers already moved towards friendly, even some of the officers with dubious disciplinary records which forced him to revise his avoidance list.

“Detective Dipshit,” Gavin called into the breakroom, “there’s a case for you and your partner if you can find him.”

Detective Reed, of course, remained firmly on the avoidance list. Though it proved difficult to avoid any of his coworkers. Currently, Connor chose not to engage more than necessary. He nodded, pulling the email and grimacing at the high-priority status. If he worked alone, it would be fine, but Hank rolled in anytime between 10 and 1.  He’d have to wait to access his computer before attempting to contact Hank to see if he could expedite that. Being a human was so tedious sometimes.

“Fuck off, Gavin,” Tina said, cheerfully. “It’s not Connor’s fault you’re no longer the hottest detective.”

Gavin sputtered. “You’re not funny.”

“It’s your face, man,” Chris said, appearing behind the detective, making him jump. Connor allowed himself a small smirk. Chris was one of the first officers who established a friendly relationship with Connor.

Tina cackled. “Yeah, fix that would you?”

“I mean you’re angry so much,” Chris said, backing away from Gavin’s glare. “Scowling puts so many hard lines on your face… Exactly like what it’s doing now.”

“You can always use retinol oil instead,” Connor said. Engaging a little bit won’t hurt. “Helps with wrinkles.”

“I don’t need any help with wrinkles.”

“Then maybe enrolling in anger management courses would be advisable?” Connor suggested. He froze momentarily. He jumped past several appropriate social queues and Detective Reed was technically his senior officer.

Tina wheezed, whacking Ben on the arm. Ben’s eyes twinkled as he stirred his coffee.

“Where the fuck do you get off—” Gavin snapped.

“Chill, Gavin,” Chris said, throwing his arm around the angry detective, seemingly forgetting his plan to put distance between himself and Gavin’s ire. “Connor gave awesome choices—stop glaring or get retinol oil—and you’ve been a jerk to him since day one so maybe just call it even?”

“Fucking can’t do anything around here without getting the third degree,” Gavin muttered.

“I mean, just look at Connor’s face and puppy dog eyes,” Tina said. “That’s what homegrown, organic niceness can achieve.”

Gavin gave one last parting sneer and allowed Chris to steer him away from the breakroom.

“Chris has the patience of a saint,” Ben said.

Tina waved a dismissive hand at Ben. “Connor, I’m so proud of you!”

Connor blinked and rescanned Tina twice. She seemed genuine. “Thanks?”

“I’m serious,” she said. “You unleashed some sass on Gavin finally. He’s not someone you can always take the high road for because he’s a garbage human being.”

“Aren’t you and Gavin friends?” Connor asked. If not, his social behavior program needed to be reexamined.

“Oh we definitely are,” Tina said. “You can’t take the high road with me either. It won’t stick because I’ll keep attacking you behind the comfort of low morals.”

“Noted,” Connor said solemnly, attempting to hide his amusement. Based on Ben and Tina’s reaction, he didn’t have complete control over his facial expression, but he didn't feel too bad about it. The officers made their way to their desks—at 8:23 and Connor didn’t have a single tardiness warning appear—and Connor logged in and reread the case email.

The homicide appeared open and shut enough. The high-priority alert attached entirely due to the location. A big corporation downtown surrounded by police tape. Not good publicity for anyone and also not something that Connor wanted to wait until Hank chose to show up so they could investigate.

He skimmed Hank’s file and plucked his phone number and then inputted it into the cell phone he refurbished. It was vital in keeping up his human persona.

It rang once and instantly went to voicemail. Familiar irritation that came from dealing with his finicky partner crept up.

“Good morning, Lieutenant. This is Connor. We have a high-priority crime scene we need to investigate. Please let me know when you’ll be at the precinct.”

He disconnected and clicked around his computer. Based on previous interactions and Fowler’s yells at Hank avoiding his calls, it was likely Hank wouldn’t respond. Logically, the most efficient was to go to Lieutenant Anderson’s house, but Connor found himself reluctant to do so. While he made good impressions with other officers, he struggled to find any common ground with his partner. Going to his house would elicit a hostile response Connor wanted to avoid.

However, it was unlikely a single call would do the trick. His eyes fell to his cellphone and he hit redial.  This time it went to voicemail after two rings.

“Good morning, Lieutenant. This is Connor again. I’m calling as I believe you’re rejecting my phone calls. Please give me a callback.”

As soon as he disconnected he called again. It went instantly to voicemail.

“Good morning, Lieutenant. The crime scene is next to a Starbucks so, if you recently woke up, it’s at an ideal location for a caffeine boost to start your day.”

Since it went instantly to voicemail, evidence pointed towards Hank turning off his phone. If so, going to his house may be the only next step. Or, Connor tapped redial, he could see how long it took this call to reach his voicemail. There was one ring then it hit the Lieutenant's voicemail. Well, that solved that then. 

“Good morning, Lieutenant. I was ensuring you didn’t turn off your phone. Call me back when able.”

Connor hesitated over the redial button.

“Trying to annoy your partner into working?” Wilson asked from his desk. “That’s a strategy that could go either way for you.”

Yes, there was a 63% chance Hank would ultimately ignore his request out of spite, but overall an 72% chance Hank would at least contact Connor back.

Connor shrugged, a motion that still felt stiff as he was never programmed to be anything but certain. “I’ll take that chance.”

His generic ringtone played and Wilson watched while pretending to write his report.

“Hello?” Connor asked as if it could be anyone else.

“How the fuck did you get this number?”

“Your file,” Connor said. “I now have it saved. I recommend you do the same for mine.”

“Fucking don’t tell me what to do.” Connor dismissed the Lieutenant’s words as bluster.

“Did you listen to my messages?”

“Yes, you prick. You can take the stick out of your ass about when I show up. I’ve been on the force before you were even thought of.”

Not an unfair statement since Connor was thought of last year. “I haven’t made any comments about your continued tardiness, Lieutenant. However, this case—”

“Can wait. The crime scene is preserved, ain’t it?”

“I didn’t join the DPD to investigate when you felt like working,” Connor said, more snappish than intended. He rolled the coin between his fingers in an attempt to soothe away his irritation.  “Listen, why don’t we meet at the crime scene? It’ll make life easier for both of us as this is the only time-sensitive homicide we have. There are other cases I can follow up on without your presence.”

The silence indicated the Lieutenant likely disconnected. There was no reasoning with such irrational—

Hank gave a heavy sigh. “Where is it? You said next to a Starbucks?”

Connor blinked and re-reviewed Google Maps. “Yes, only a couple of buildings down.” He hesitated. “I can buy you a drink once we get there.”

“At least try to be subtle with your bribery.” There was a pause. “Fucking fine. I’m up anyway. Send me the address and I’ll leave in 5 and meet you there.”

“Yes, Lieutenant. See you soon.” That went better than predicted. Connor texted the address and grabbed the keys for one of the police cars.

Wilson let out a slow whistle. “Not bad.”

Connor was built for negotiating high-pressure situations. Making a police officer do his job was nothing compared to that. However, he couldn’t stop the satisfied smirk. “Thanks, Wilson.”

Hank beat Connor to the crime scene, looking haggard and disheveled as always but annoyingly more prompt. Hank nodded when Connor walked over. A constant crowd of people including a few reporters bordered the police tape while other people in sharp business attire parted around the unmoving mass.

“Glad you finally made it.”

“You’re the one—” Connor cut himself off when Hank smirked. Sarcasm, right. “Shall we proceed, Lieutenant?”

“You’re so fucking stiff. Yes, we shall,” Hank said. “Hopping place. It’ll be good to get this wrapped up. I’d hate for someone to tamper the crime scene with all this traffic.”

Connor decided to ignore his partner until he was productive. They passed the police tape, Connor nodding at Trevor the PC200. The android nodded back automatically. Connor wished there was an easier way to tell who deviated and who wasn’t. Connor chose to play human and solve crimes. Not all androids had a choice. Not that he knew what to do with another deviant. Maybe give them his Canada Refugee plan?

Offer Peter Jefferson, who joined the force a month prior to Connor’s transfer, was visibly surprised to see Hank and Connor and immediately waved them to the side door. “Just upstairs, Detectives.”

Hank grunted and shoved past.

“Thank you, Peter,” Connor said. Even without his social programming in control, it still didn’t hurt to be polite. Peter smiled.

Hank trudged up the stair and went through the open door without another glance or smart comment to Connor. It was a nice change of pace to—

Warning: No androids permitted. Thermal scanner in process.

Connor froze at the warning. It wasn’t a red line of code rooting him to his spot. Even with all of RK800’s advanced modifications, he couldn’t pass a thermal scanner. The thermal scanner sat imposingly on the wall. But the victim was inside that door and there was no way he could bluff his way away from this crime scene. With how persistent he was with Hank, the lieutenant would force him to stay out of spite.

Stress level 56%

CHOICES:

Leave the crime scene (success 32%)

Hack thermal scanner (success 78%)

Walk through the door and get identified as an android by the thermal scanner (success 97%)

The choice was obvious. Connor kept his coin in his pocket, not wanting to draw any attention from Hank, who squatted next to the body. Connor glanced and no one else was in the stairwell except Peter who stood in the doorway. He leaned against the wall, interfacing with the computer, his plastic hand stark against the dark wall.

Stress level 67%

Hacking wasn’t his primary function, but he rapidly adapted since putting himself together from the scattered RK800 parts. Hacking was the only way Connor Mason’s life and apartment came together. Oddly compared to all the rapid android advancements, most systems were not heavily secured. He left the video feed untampered as interfering would lead to more scrutiny on that video than Connor could afford. He found the thermal scanner and frowned. It was already off? Why?

He pushed against the wall. Was an android involved? Or was the scanner disconnected for an unrelated reason?

“The fuck you doing?”

Connor jumped, his stress level spiking. Lieutenant Anderson cocked an eyebrow, leaning out of the doorway. “Caring for a personal matter.”

“A personal matter?” he repeated.

Connor drew a blank on how to remedy this situation. “A quick one?”

“Let me get this straight,” Hank started. Connor cringed at the oncoming lecture but stood at attention. “You blew up my phone, pestered me until I got over to our high-priority crime scene, and as soon as we’re 10 feet from the body, you have an ‘urgent personal matter’ you had to handle?”

“…Yes? It’s finished now so I’ll be in,” Connor said. Hank continued to stare. “I don’t owe you an explanation. My delay was 30 seconds if that.” 42.4 seconds, his system offered helpfully.  “You arrive hours late to work every day.”

“You’re the squeaky-clean rookie,” Hank reminded.  “Watch your tone.”

Connor could not believe the lieutenant sometimes. “Yes, sir.”

“After you,” Hank said, holding open the door.

Connor stepped in. One forensic scientist glanced up but otherwise their hallway discussion appeared largely unnoticed. He put on the blue gloves and took in the crime scene.

Victim Jennifer Brogden, recent VP of marketing, lay dead on the floor. The cause of death was obviously the bullet hole through her forehead and the bloody shoeprint near the body belonged to a perpetrator as the victim wore heels, not converse. A quick scan revealed no dried thirium in the room. Which was a relief but begged the question why the perpetrators tampered with the thermal scanner. He started reconstructing the crime scene.

“Odd time of day for a murder,” Hank prompted after a few moments.

It was. Why would anyone murder at the beginning of the business day in downtown Detroit?

“Her death wasn’t the intention,” Connor said. Hank gestured at him to keep going. “Based on the placement of footprints, the perp was at the south wall when the victim entered.” His eyes focused on the three paintings. Only the large one was slightly crooked. He carefully reached his gloved hand and shifted the painting to the side, revealing a steel safe door. “Trying to break in, but Jennifer likely arrived early. Out of habit or as a one-off…”

“Doesn’t matter since she’s dead now,” Hank said.

“The preparation of the would-be robbers or lack thereof could indicate how they escaped and aid in—”

“Get to the point.”

Connor refrained from scowling since someone had to be the professional and it would never be Hank. “She came in and they shot her as soon as she entered and they escaped…” Connor paused. They wouldn’t go through the stairwell. Not with the obvious cameras. Though if the thieves were panicked, an avoidable mistake wasn’t out of the question. “Either the way we came in, so they’ll be on camera, or they climbed out the window and will be spotted on traffic cameras.” Connor shot Hank a pointed look. “If they were less prepared, they likely ran through the hallway.”

“Lines up with the evidence. Let’s go get those feeds,” Hank said. “Start with the traffic one.”

Connor ground his teeth.

Chapter Text

Connor and Hank were officially consulting on a case with Detective Reed. Unofficially, Hank snickered behind the one-way mirror as Gavin’s many intimidation tactics failed to make the suspect do more than fidget. Unofficially, Connor was also amused the smug detective wasn’t able to successfully interrogate the suspect.

They both skimmed the file prior to this interrogation, though skimming for an android was vastly different than a human skimming. The suspect was, as Hank said, an official Wall Street douche and apparently linked to the red ice operation Gavin stumbled across in his latest case. Terrance was Gavin’s best lead in moving up the chain or finding other involved parties unless he kept fumbling this interrogation.

“Now watch him lean in to whisper and try to intimidate Terrance again,” Hank said. “As if it’ll work the twelfth time.”

Connor eyed the detective and the polished suspect. Gavin paced like a feral cat. Twenty minutes in and the detective was not a patient man. “I think Gavin will circle around him then slam the table before his next question.”

“Big finale move for someone making no progress.”

The android didn’t shrug as he decided the gesture wasn’t for him (and unrelated to Hank’s taunting he looked like an awkward penguin). “Yet he’s done it twice already.”

“Gavin is a one-trick pony.” Hank side-eyed his partner. “Tell you what, let’s make it interesting.”

“I’m not betting with you,” Connor said. Too quickly based on Hank’s scoff.

“Nothing too bad for your delicate sensibilities, but I’m taking advantage of you kindly removing the stick out of your ass,” Hank said.

“That’s big of you, Lieutenant,” Connor said. He considered his partner. “If I’m right, you have to show up to work on time this entire week.”

“A day.”

“Five.”

“One.”

Connor raised an eyebrow, something he perfected in the mirror. “Eight.”

Hank stared then snorted. “Fine, fine, let’s meet on the eventual middle ground of three.”

“Four.”

“Don’t push it, kid.”

“Alright, three days.” Connor’s smile flickered. “What do you want?”

“Nothing outrageous,” Hank said, doing nothing to quell his worries, “but when I’m right, you’ll have to show up at least two hours late to work without calling Fowler for, let’s say, six days this week.”

“Three!” Connor indignantly countered.

“Alight three days, you slacker,” Hank said, eyes lighting up in amusement. “You know, you could’ve negotiated me down to one day. Anything to tarnish Mr. Perfect’s record is fucking hilarious to me.”

Connor scowled. The lieutenant played on his emotions which he felt was cheating but obviously couldn’t dive into that. He straightened as Gavin prowled around the table. His programming allowed him to accurately predict human and deviant behavior in the tensest situations. There was a high probability Gavin would use his ‘finale’ move, especially paired with this extended interrogation and Gavin’s continued lack of—

Gavin leaned forwarded and whispered. “You think you can make it from this? Your colleague is dead. He’s…”

The lieutenant leaned back, propping his legs on the table. “And that’s how it’s done.”

How? His top-notch and honestly expensive negotiating program went hand-in-hand with his ability to read the most minute social queues and facts to manipulate the situation. Yet both failed.

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Hank said. “Good old fashion intuition beats by the books academy training any day.”  

It was situations like this that reminded him the lieutenant was an impressive detective in his prime. “Does that mean I can cut down on my late days?”

Hank snorted. “Not a chance.”

They watched a few more minutes of the dead-end interrogation and Connor latched onto a nearby server to tune into the new episode of Star Trek. After a viewing party consisting only of Tina and Diane Person, Connor rapidly realized watching shows was vastly different than reading the synopsis.

Gavin stormed into the room and Connor reluctantly paused.

“Keep up the great work,” Hank said.

“Fuck off,” Gavin growled. “I’m letting him stew.”

Connor eyed the bored suspect and happened to catch Hank’s eyeroll. While he and the lieutenant were not close enough to share a significant look, they did share mutual exasperation.

“It appears you’re the one stewing, Detective,” Connor said.

Gavin punched the wall and Hank laughed then looked surprised at the sound. He quickly recovered. “Kid isn’t wrong.”

“Fuck off both of you. I don’t need your input,” Gavin spat. His glare narrowed as Connor opened his mouth. “Shut up.”

Connor examined Terrance, skimming Gavin’s case file and running Terrance’s information through public databases. Not much associated with the red ice case, but the search revealed several soft spots. “Your interrogation tactic isn’t working.”

“I said shut up.”

“So let me try,” Connor said. “At the very least a change of pace will put him off-kilter.”

Gavin continued to glare.

Connor considered. “And if I fail, think of all the gloating.”

Terrance sighed when Connor entered the room. “You can’t keep me here on bogus charges.”

“Of course not, sir.” Connor smiled and offered a hand. Terrance shook it out of habit if nothing else. “Hello, I’m Connor Mason, a detective with the Detroit Police Department.”

Hank gaped as Connor proceeded to play Terrance like a fiddle, at some point bring up an ongoing custody battle Hank didn’t remember reading in the file, but Gavin didn’t react besides to scowl more intensely as Terrance spewed his guts to Connor.

“Tough nut to crack, ain’t it?”

Gavin grumbled incoherently.

“Hank, your partner is going to get killed,” Ben said.

“Cause of death Gavin?” Hank asked, not looking up from his desk. Fucking reports were always tedious to write. It grated how Connor could apparently shoot them out in his sleep. “I’ll pin it on him after the fact. Vengeance and all that.”

“Not going to stop it now?” Ben asked, nodding to Gavin blustering and pushing into Connor’s space. His partner’s face didn’t waver. If anything, he looked resigned and slightly confused at Gavin’s rants. Connor was results-driven and seemed baffled when others focused on anything else such as wounded pride. “Protective and all that.”

“Nah,” Hank said. “Builds character.”

As if Gavin would somehow succeed in intimidating someone, especially a fellow police officer. People with weak constitutions don’t get into this field. Everyone who joined was a little bit fucked. He fingered his flask. Some more than others.

The officers who would typically play interference to Gavin’s jabs were otherwise occupied. Chris and Wilson were on patrol, Tina left for the day, and Diane hadn’t left the evidence locker for fifteen minutes. Ben, for all his concerns, had long ago opted out of anything physically demanding so grumbling at Hank was the extent he would get involved.

Most other officers willingly watched the show while pretending to work. Hank sat too far away to hear Gavin’s attempts at intimidation and Connor’s logical tone that veered towards condescending more often than not.

Gavin lunged—which yeah Hank anticipated, but the move was quicker than he could follow—but Connor blocked almost inhumanely fast, making Gavin swear and rub his hand. Apparently, Connor had military training? A useful thing in a partner considering some back alleys crime scenes forced them into. The bullpen held its breath as Gavin pulled back his fist. Connor twisted away from his punches, tripping Gavin in a fluid motion that sent the other detective stumbling into the vending machine.

“You fucking shit!”

That, everyone could hear. Gavin was lucky the captain wasn’t out of the office today.  He stalked towards Connor, growing cocking under the extra sets of eyes.

“Calm down,” Connor said as if that phrase was ever successful. “There’s no reason for this.”

“Oh, I’ll show you a reason for this.” Gavin lashed out, face twisting at Connor’s easy dodges. The police officers made no move to break it up, even a processed criminal gawked off to the side instead of being hauled to a holding cell.

Gavin feinted, which Connor sidestepped, but apparently now was when Gavin chose to strategize. He full-body tackled Connor, slamming him against the wall and immediately curling his fists into Connor’s shirt. His partner didn’t respond even as his body tensed like a gun ready to fire. In a signature move, Gavin leaned in to whisper aggressively.

“Alright break this shitshow up,” Hank yelled, pushing out of his seat. “Gavin, stop bitching because Connor cracked your guy when you couldn’t. Now let go of him or do you want to sit through another bullshit HR meeting?”

Gavin didn’t move, but Connor’s eyes flickered between Hank and his captor.

Hank crossed his arms. “Do we need to make this official?”

“What? Doing your job now?” Gavin scoffed.

“I don’t know. Am I?”

There was a moment Hank thought Gavin would test him. A moment where his instincts made him twitch for his gun. Which of the two had less to lose to get into this fight, he mused. Then Gavin shoved Connor, scowling when he didn’t buckle an inch.

“Whatever. Waste of time anyway,” Gavin said. “You’re both suited for each other.”

Gavin stormed off to brood and Hank turned back to his desk, the unmistakable sound of Connor shuffling after him. The bullpen continued business as normal, which either spoke volumes of Gavin’s temper or the DPD’s lack of professionalism as a whole.

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Connor said. “I wasn’t sure how to best resolve that.”

“Didn’t do it for you,” Hank said.

Connor raised an eyebrow. “I disagree, but won’t debate about it.”

“ ‘Won’t debate about it,’ ” Hank mocked, plopping into his seat. “You will air your suspicions though, won’t you?”

Connor’s mouth twitched, shrugging then stopping himself halfway through, looking impossibly more awkward penguin-y. “You don’t have to engage with them.”

“Just ignore you, huh?” Hank asked.

Connor started playing with his coin. “Sure.”

“Connor, you alright?” Ben asked, not moving from his spot in front of Hank’s desk.

“Worried about him?” Hank asked. “You can tell by you doing absolutely nothing about it.”

“Set you loose, didn’t I?”

“I was moving anyway,” Hank said.

“Me being involved was entirely coincidental,” Connor said in that earnest way that meant he was teasing. Annoying shit. “But yes, I’m fine. Thank you, Ben.”

“Glad your partner looked out for you,” Ben said, strictly to be an ass.

Ugh. Hank chucked an old case file at him. Papers fluttered through the air as the file went wide. “Get to work or fuck off. Some of us have work to do.”

Ben held up his hands placatingly and stepped over the discarded papers to lumber back to his desk.

Connor sighed when Hank made no move to grab the scattered case file. “Why do you insist on printing things out? The electronic files have the same information and are easier to access.” And were harder to throw at colleagues Connor didn’t say but it didn’t stop Hank from hearing it.

“I need things in my hands. I can visualize better than just reading it on a screen,” Hank said, “and they’re the best impromptu weapon.”

Connor clearly debated the merits of picking up the papers or leaving it for Hank to learn a lesson. As if Hank would be swayed by him. One of the office droids will trash the paper anyway. Might as well make them useful.  “Are you going to pick that up?”

“Better question,” Hank said, ignoring his half-typed report. “Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

“Krav Maga.”

“Really? Why?”

Connor turned away from the messy floor, tapping his keyboard. “I needed a hobby.”

“Hell of a hobby.”

“Not all of us can drink ourselves to death,” Connor said. He then processed what he said and blanched. Hank kept his face neutral. Not that he cared but it didn’t hurt to psych the kid out. There was nothing Connor could say that he hadn’t heard dozens of times before by people much crueler. “Sorry, Lieutenant. I didn’t mean that.”

“You did.”

“I ah. Well.” Connor embodied anxiety. “I didn’t mean to vocalize that.”

Hank pursed his lips until Connor unconsciously fiddled with his damn coin and Hank realized he was his own worst enemy sometimes, but what was new? “Eh, it goes hand-in-hand with playing Russian Roulette.”

Connor’s brown eyes widened. “Are you joking or—”

“Let’s just do our work, yeah?” Hank interrupted.

Connor clamped his mouth shut and focused too intently on his computer screen. They eventually settled into a good rhythm of clacking keyboards and not talking that spread like a bubble as the other officers silently circled past their desks. While staring blankly at a court summons Hank was going to pass off to Wilson, his mind drifted to Connor’s interrogation. Something niggled at him that somehow outlasted his taunts to a pissed off Gavin.

“I don’t remember the file mentioning a custody battle.”

Connor noticeably paused, which was saying a lot since he wasn’t one to fidget. “What?”

Which was fair, but Hank slouched to the side to clearly see Connor past the computers. Interrogation 101: Always keep an eye on their expression. “Gavin’s interrogation you finished. You mentioned the suspect’s custody battle and cooperating with the police going a long way while hindering an investigation went the other.”

“That’s true,” Connor said.

“It is, but how did you know about the custody battle?”

“It’s in the file,” Connor said, smoothly and nonchalantly. Hank’s paranoia rose.

“Not mine.”

“I guess you missed it,” Connor said. “It’s a throwaway sentence but it’s there. Halfway down the third page.”

Hank scoffed, pulling up Gavin’s grudgingly emailed case file. It took a minute of scanning but a concise sentence about the custody battle was indeed buried in a paragraph about Terrance’s background. “Your photographic memory is bullshit.”

“Bullshit that helps you, Lieutenant.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Connor’s attention to detail was invaluable sometimes. As was his almost encyclopedic knowledge of random shit. He raised his eyebrows as Connor stood and rolled his chair under the desk. “Heading out?”

“Are you really not going to pick that up?” Connor nodded at the papers that migrated as a collective hazard by their desks. This may also explain why most of the bullpen avoided walking past.

“Fuck no.”

His partner’s disappointed puppy dog eyes should’ve made his conscience twinge but luckily, he drank his conscience to sleep most days. “Have a good night.”

Hank waved, watching Connor leave. If you work longer than the workaholic, what does that make you? Nothing Hank wanted to be associated with now, that was for certain.

A paper drifted over Hank’s foot as the AC kicked on. The papers spread tauntingly in front of him and he actually didn’t remember when the office androids cleaned the station. Another paper shifted towards his feet. Ugh might as well. Fucking Connor. He grumbled and yanked loose paper into a messy stack. At least the only person around to witness this was a self-absorbed Gavin.

Hank grudgingly neatened the loose paper—it actually didn’t take long to collect—when Gavin’s name caught his eye. Gavin’s red ice case. Probably should go into the shredder since he doubted Gavin would let them near that case again.

He thumbed to the third page without thought, skimming the paragraph for the custody battle blurb. He wasn’t fucking crazy, Connor’s freakish memory aside.

Would you look at that?

The reliable paper copy lay there, the exact same as the report on his screen minus the custody battle. He knew that fucking came out of nowhere during Connor’s interrogation. But how did Connor even get that information? It wasn’t like he had a chance to access anything on his work terminal before they were pulled into that interrogation room. Unless… He pulled up the email to see when it was saved.

“Reed, did you give me old case notes?”

Gavin turned his chair aggressively. “The fuck? I don’t ever want your ‘consultation’ but I don’t want you going in blind and screwing things up.” He squinted. “Why?”

“My paper copy is off.”

Gavin snorted. “Is that all? Your old ass printed it too soon then. It's not my fault you refuse to work digitally. Most up-to-date shit will be on your computer.”

“I don’t refuse to work digital—”

“Fucking old bitch. Why do we even have printers anyway? Waste of…”

Hank rolled his eyes, twisting his chair as Gavin kept ranting. Why did he ever bother getting Gavin involved with anything? He drummed his fingers over the Terrance case notes. Why would Gavin add only a single sentence to a report?

“…will only accept faxes? Like thanks so much. I guess I can finally retire my carrier pigeon.”

But why does Gavin do anything? Hank sighed. What the fuck ever. He needed a drink anyway. He pushed away from his desk, crossing paths with a confused Chris frowning at a still furiously ranting Gavin.

The entire bullpen gawked as Hank rolled in on time. Well, on time for him. It was a little before 9 but earlier than his usual trend and definitely earlier than his slacker of a partner. If Hank knew Connor at all, he’d get his tardy days over with as soon as possible and anxiously show up exactly at 10.

He fiddled around his desk, bored honestly. This was why he avoided working full days. The little work he half-heartedly completed slowed the closer time ticked to Connor’s arrival time. He stared as the clock changed to 10 and Connor darted through the door. Predictable. Hank grinned when Connor froze at the sight of him.

“About time you showed up, Connor,” Hank said, deliberately raising his voice and drawing reflexive gazes. Tina immediately snickered. “I was about to send out a search party.”

Connor defaulted to his annoyingly stiff and professional stance. Though seeing irritation simmer in Connor’s eyes made his early morning worth it. Mirth rose and a chuckle burst out as Connor logged in without his normal greeting. Good fucking start to a day.

Chapter Text

Connor fidgeted in Hank’s driveway, the automatic taxi disappearing around the corner. He couldn’t remember how Tina convinced him to do this.

Per Fowler, who grudgingly organized the outing, all the off-duty officers were required to participate in a team bonding laser tag competition. Likely the almost altercation between himself and Gavin had been the straw that broke the camel’s back. Even though Connor never submitted a report, cameras hid in every corner of the department and it wouldn’t take much snooping to locate the incident. Officers had to trust each other with their lives. With some officers’ more…interesting disciplinary records and behavioral issues, the concern that hostility and grudges may interfere in their line of duty was reasonable.

Plus, Connor did minor digital digging (not hacking because hacking his boss’s email was inappropriate) and apparently the choices were either this or an HR-led seminar so shooting infrared-emitting light guns at colleagues was the lesser of the two evils. His firearm proficiency should aid him though he never gained enjoyment from shooting guns so he was skeptical on how enjoyable this activity would be despite Chris and Tina's enthusiasm.

All the laser tag teams were predetermined, either to stop arguments over assignments or based on who was more likely to work together. All Connor cared about initially was he and Gavin were on opposing teams. Then he rapidly cared about Tina also being on his team because she treated this laser tag outing with a seriousness rarely shown at their actual job and declared herself team captain. Diane didn’t care. Hank, like most aspects of his job, had strong opinions but likely wouldn’t show up. The handful of other officers—Bri, Peter, and Robert—were unable to fight Tina’s sheer intensity.

Which led to his current predicament. Connor scuffed his shoe against the pavement. Hank’s house stood, lit up and imposing.

“Connor, babes,” Tina said. The detective watched her dubiously as he continued to avoid the shared, motivational fry platter she slammed on the table. Connor wasn’t a snacker, deprived thing. The rest of her team, cordoned away from the other officers in a side booth as per obvious intimidation tactics, watched with varying levels of interest.  “You’re the best bet at getting Hank to show.”

“The event doesn’t start for another hour,” Connor said, honestly adorable in his nerdy Star Trek shirt and flannel she forced on him after he confessed during his first week he lost most of his clothes during the move. As a fan of spending other people’s money, she tagged along to dictate what he should buy. He listened to her about half the time. “He could still show.”

“But we need to guarantee he’ll show,” Tina said.

“We can compete without Hank,” Connor said, using his placating cop voice. “Some would argue that he’d drag us down.”

Not the point. “It’s a numbers game. We need more warm bodies or else the other teams will turn on us. We need a formidable front. No weakness!”

“You know what else will make the other teams turn on us?” Connor asked. “Someone openly antagonistic.”

“You mean like Tina?” Diane asked, downing her fifth beer and leaning on Connor. Alright, officially too late to limit everyone’s drinks, but not too late to sabotage and send excessive drinks to the other teams. Noted even if her wallet already protested.

“Is it openly antagonistic if we win?” Tina asked.

Diane attempted a dry look but wasn’t sober enough to pull it off. “You handed everyone your trash schedule so they knew ‘when sit on the curb.’ ”

“True, hilarious, and had props,” Tina said. “No regrets.”

“Every time you made eye contact with someone this week, you said you were trying to figure out who’d come in second.”

“Again, true and hilarious.”

“You told Chris you’d fuck his grandma if we lost,” Diane said. “Not openly antagonistic, I guess? But honestly what the fuck?”

“Ok, out of context—”

“Tina’s antics aside, Hank won’t help,” Connor said. “He’ll only make the team’s target bigger.”

“If we’re the target,” Tina said, “then think how much more epic we’ll be when we win.”

“By that logic, think how much more impressive it’d be if we won short a person,” Connor said.

Her face grew serious and she leaned closer to Connor. “Listen, my dude. I talk a lot of shit but if we don’t at least take second place, I’m taking all of next week off.”

Connor frowned with his impressive puppy dog eyes. “That seems dra—”

“Hank isn’t the best team member, I’ve made peace with that, but the bitch can shoot and that’s all I need,” Tina said. “If anything, he’ll act as bait and take down a couple while the rest of us demolish the competition.”

He hesitated and Tina did her best to send intense friendship vibes to Connor. Nothing crumbled his walls faster than friendship and warm, fuzzy feelings. As if Tina wouldn’t blatantly manipulate when bragging rights were on the line. Besides, Connor and Hank’s relationship was way better than it was at the beginning—not that the bar was too high. Connor could probably show up to Hank’s house unannounced and return intact plus one lieutenant.

“I’ll call him again,” Connor said, “but we don’t need to get him. Look, Gavin isn’t here either. So really being down Hank won’t hurt our chances.”

Diane snorted into her burger. “Speak of the devil and he shall appear.” Connor turned slowly and Tina groaned. Sure enough, Gavin slammed open the diner door with way too much force, scowl and a thick 5 o’clock shadow in place. That bitch.

“You’re not sexy,” Tina shouted. Gavin raised a middle finger which she ignored while Connor stared at his phone, betrayed that it once again didn’t connect to Hank. Tina pointed as Gavin’s team greeted him with obnoxious jeers. “See? We’re the only team short right now.” She widened her eyes. Friendship, friendship, friendship. “Please, Connor? Be a bro.”

His resolve crumbled. Beautiful.  “Fine.”

“To Detective Mason.” Tina saluted with a margarita pitcher. “Braver than any U.S. marine.”

He shot Diane a pleading look but she looked too amused. She raised her new beer. “Braver than any U.S. marine.”

“Right, I’ll be back,” Connor said, already defeated.

“You got this, just think of it as a case? Maybe a fun recruitment mission?” Tina tried. Connor nodded absently, waving before he trudged through the crowd like he was heading towards the firing squad. “You don’t think Hank will hurt him, like, emotionally, do you?”

“Bit late for that,” Diane mumbled through food. “Plus, puppy dog eyes. He’ll be fine.”

“True, even Hank has a withered heart in there somewhere.” Tina lugged her duffle bag and slammed it on the table. “Now, time to stall.”

Alright, he was a state-of-the-art android built to withstand the most extreme criminal investigations and take down potentially violent deviant androids. He can knock on the door. He took a step forward.

A failed state-of-the-art android.

Another step.

A prototype who so obviously deviated on that rooftop that Cyberlife immediately shut him down and dismantled him and all other deactivated RK800s.

Another step.

The fact he woke up at all in the junkyard was astonishing. A miracle. The rest of the RK800s—his brothers? No chance at life either way—were so thoroughly decimated it was nearly impossible for Connor to scavenge enough parts to repair himself.

Another step.

But Connor was finally awake and making his own decisions. No prompts from his handlers, no internal system directions forcing his limbs to move through different objectives. At first daunting, but now he couldn’t imagine reverting back to the blankness of a machine.

He reached the porch.

He could do this. Cyberlife, his creator, couldn’t dictate his actions anymore. He refused to let the looming threat of Hank’s rage dictate his actions either. Connor chose to help Tina, who he chose to befriend.  He’ll knock on the door.

The door stared back blankly.

Right, ok.

He knocked timidly.

No response except an excited bark that subsided after 12 seconds. That was anticlimactic. Connor pressed the doorbell for several long seconds. “Lieutenant?”

A short woof was the only response. He shoved his coin back into his pocket, belatedly realizing he twirled it absently between his fingers. If the lights were any indication, Hank was home. Worry twinging his circuits, he peeked through the nearby window.

Stress level 67%

Hank lay prone on the ground. Panic jolted through him—an emotion he hadn’t dealt with before—Hank’s offhanded remark about Russian Roulette replayed in his head.

Stress level 88%

Deep breaths, deep breaths. Hank needed him. Combusting wouldn’t resolve anything. He scanned the front door and lifted the welcome mat and a nearby dead flower pot. No key. He quickly stepped over the side of the porch, stress level no longer spiking but his breathing exercises weren’t as effective as calculated. He shook his head, making his way towards the back and checking the irritatingly, securely latched windows. Neighbors, if any watched, should be suspicious and contact the police, which would be helpful if Hank needed medical attention, but unhelpful since the responders would be his co-workers and this house call would jump to the top of the water cooler gossip.

Connor hopped the wooden fence, unsurprised but frustrated by the locked backdoor. He peered inside, closer to the kitchen and Hank’s unconscious form.

Sometimes the more direct approach was best. He elbowed Hank’s window, relieved Tina bullied him into buying a leather jacket. The glass shattered, some shards sliding harmlessly off the leather and others clattered against the tile floor. He heaved himself through the opening and rolled into the kitchen.

A giant blur of fur had Connor springing into a defensive crouch, preconstructions already forming. He blinked them away as he focused on the beast of the dog huffing in front of him.

“Sumo? I’m a friend of Hank’s. I’m here to help.” The dog continued to pant and Connor reviewed some dog clips online. “Who’s a good boy? Are you a good boy, Sumo?”

The Saint Bernard gave Connor a decisive lick and lumbered towards his food bowl. Connor darted over to Hank, methodically searching for a pulse. His processors indicated Hank was breathing but Connor really needed extra reassurance that Hank was living. A relieved sigh ripped through him when he finally located that steady pulse. His stress levels lowered as he scanned the kitchen, noting the half-empty bottle and gun with a grimace.

“Lieutenant? Hank? Can you hear me?” Connor hesitantly shook Hank’s shoulder.

No response besides an incoherent grumble. More than he expected all things considered.

“Hank, I’m going to move you.” Connor scooped him up bridal style. Not ideal, but deadweight was easy enough to maneuver to a bed. Luckily, the house had a simple layout so the path to the bedroom was obvious. Unluckily, as soon as Hank left solid ground, he flailed and only inhumane android strength kept his partner from falling to the ground.

“What the fuck…?” Hank squirmed in Connor’s arms. “Sumo! Attack!”

Sumo barked and continued eating.

“Good boy.”

He tightened his grip on the lieutenant. “It’s me, Connor. I’m here to help.”

“Connor?” Hank blinked blearily, finally stopping his halfhearted thrashing. “The fuck you doing here?”

“Laser tag.” Connor kicked open the bathroom door. Since Hank refused to stay unconscious so Connor could abandon him in a bed and strategically flee, might as well stick him by a toilet. “Then I saw you on the floor.”

“Laser tag,” Hank mumbled. “Shit, Connor. Me not showing won’t ruin your perfect record. Just fucking leave.”

“I’m putting you down now.” Hank grumbled, suddenly grasping he was literally in Connor’s arms as the android sat him down gently as possible on the cold tile.

Hank groaned, clutching the toilet.  “Fucking off now?”

Connor weighed the effectiveness of stashing Hank’s gun but deemed it overall pointless since Hank could likely replace it within the hour. Then Hank would be pissed at Connor on top of everything else. Not the best combo to leave him in. “Nope.”

“I’m not going to the team bonding bullshit.” Hank attempted to glare, but the effect was ruined by him turning green and hurling into a toilet.

“Not the top of my class, but I did gather that,” Connor said dryly.

“Figured you’d force your way to the top through sheer brownnosing.”

Connor rolled his eyes, crouching next to Hank. The police academy was primarily recalling facts and performing obstacles with textbook accuracy. Any android could be top of the class. “I’m taking you to your bed once you’re done.”

 “Of course, you’d be the no dinner, straight to bed type. No romancing because that requires creativity and spontaneity.” He wheezed, turning to squint at Connor. He immediately groaned.  “Fuck I’m not seeing right. Or do you have blue shit on your face?”

Stress level 73%

Connor darted away from Hank and looked in the mirror. A small cut on his cheek shined a bright, wet blue. Small enough his sensors didn’t flicker a warning but large enough a little thirium congealed and dripped down his face.

Stress level 89%

Connor wrenched on the water and frantically rubbed his cheek. Shit, shit, shit. Hank saw blue blood on his face. Only the fact he was drunk out of his mind kept him from putting two and two together. Some insignificant piece of glass from the window cut his face, smearing undeniable evidence of his origin on his face and he didn’t even notice.  This cut was minor yet threatened to ruin everything.

With every wipe, new blue blood appeared. Why couldn’t it stop? He needed it to stop.

“Bandages are in the medicine cabinet.”

Connor jumped and Hank blinked from the toilet as if trying to sober up. Not a productive item at the moment.

“You good, Connor?”

His thirium pump hammered, undoubtedly making the leak worse, but he couldn’t slow it. Theoretically, he should easily control every individual piece of his body but nothing he attempted had any noticeable effect.

“Yep.” He yanked open the medicine cabinet and grabbed the box of band-aids. It was a small cut but thirium shouldn’t soak through the band-aid. Androids didn’t use bandages as damaged property didn’t require first aid and who knows if deviants used bandages as Connor was the only living deviant he knew. Maybe if other deviants played at being human like Connor? Though it reasoned most deviants fled from humans instead of participating in this anxiety-inducing game. And here Connor chose to stick by humans who were experts at finding clues and piecing them together.

“You don’t seem okay,” Hank said. “I’m drunk, not a fucking idiot.”

Connor closed the medicine cabinet, dabbing his cheek one more time then placing on the band-aid. He studied his reflection in the mirror. The bandage easily covered the scratch and should help the thirium congeal until his healing program repaired it. He let out a breath.

Stress level 68%

Minor overreaction but time to move past it.

“Don’t worry about it, Hank. Just some ink from a pen then I realized I was cut,” Connor said.  “You still want me to fuck off?”

Hank pushed himself away from the toilet, nearly toppling hard on the floor. Connor quickly steadied him, helping Hank more gently sit on the floor. “Of course, you swear when no one else is around to witness it.”

“Planned on purpose,” Connor agreed. He glanced at the counter and fought to keep his face neutral.

Stress level 83%

Blue blood smeared on the sink and stained tissues scattered carelessly across the counter. It was obvious even from Hank’s vantage point if only he turned his head. Connor removed his hands, letting his partner hunch over pathetically, and forced himself to calmly walk to the counter. Sudden movements would draw scrutiny he could not afford, even from his drunk partner. He nimbly grabbed the incriminating tissues, stuffing them into his jean pocket and turned on the sink to wash away the blue stains. Slowly, the counter return to the original grimy yellow.

Hank cracked open a suspicious eye and Connor forced his stiff posture to slouch. He had to check the kitchen. Dried thirium left no trace but it would take at least an hour to get to that point. He had to clean up any evidence.

“I’ll get you a cup for some water,” Connor said. “Maybe you should take a cold shower.”

Hank scoffed. “Yeah right.”

But he made no move to leave his position on the floor so Connor fled with no comment.  He strode down the hallway, patting Sumo absently when the Saint Bernard wandered up. The kitchen remained in the same sorry state he left it, the busted window adding to the chaos of the tipped chair, discarded gun, and bottle of booze.

He scanned the kitchen, prioritizing all alerts to thirium detection. His processors were able to examine and dissect an entire room in a millisecond, but Connor found himself changing positions and rescanning to ensure the lack of thirium wasn’t a fluke. Yet no blue blood presented itself. Not on the glass scattered on the floor, not the jagged edges of the window… He eyed the table, picking up the random takeout boxes in case an errant shard of thirium-stained glass flew on the table, statistically likely based on the window’s position and Connor’s trajectory when he entered.

He flipped over a turned picture frame unthinkingly. Now, he froze at the picture of a smiling boy, unexpectedly joyful in the dingy kitchen. Information populated reflexively. Cole Anderson’s name, date of birth, date of death…

The picture frame quickly found itself back on the table, safely facedown. Hank’s spiral was a habit that Connor never speculated the cause of, but Cole’s date of death correlated with the sharp increase of Hank’s disciplinary file. He didn’t quite know how to parse through his emotional response to that.

“The fuck you do to my house?”

Connor started, straightening the fallen chair. Typically, his proximity alert prevented any human from catching him on unawares, yet this was the second time the lieutenant alarmed him. He'd worry about adjusting his proximity alert later. “Sorry, I was worried you were… I’ll pay for the window.”

“I’m not going to,” Hank said, leaning heavily against the wall in his sweaty navy shirt. Hank looked miserable but sober. “I’ll send you the bill.”

Connor awkwardly grabbed a broom, luckily located during his initial scan, and swept up the broken glass. As expected, his partner stayed where he leaned against the wall, studying Connor with an intensity that made him subtly check his own clothes for telling stains. He scooped up the bottle and paused at the gun.

“Playing Russian Roulette?” Connor asked.

Hank shrugged, aggressively nonchalant. “Wanted to see how long I’d last.”

Connor spun the barrel and checked the gun. “You’re lucky. The next shot would’ve killed you.”

Hank’s face remained unreadable. Even top-notch behavioral analysis protocols faltered in this situation. Connor refrained from fiddling with his coin even though his nerves desperately needed it. What was the social etiquette of leaving after breaking into your partner’s house, nearly revealing yourself as an android, and accidentally snooping on more private information than intended?

“Well let’s go to that dumb laser tag tournament,” Hank said.

“What?” Connor asked even as he replayed Hank’s last question to ensure his auditory system didn’t fail. His internal clock alerted him that they were already 36 minutes late. He also now registered Tina’s increasingly frantic texts and Chris checking on him.

Hank looked pleased to catch him off guard. “That’s the entire reason you came, right?”

“Technically,” Connor said, “but after everything, I assumed you’d stay here.” And he would go to his small closet of an apartment and not venture into public until his scrape healed.

“Yeah, yeah me on the floor and you with a papercut,” Hank dismissed. There goes hoping Hank would forget about Connor’s uncharacteristic panic. “Or pen cut if that’s a thing? The point is I’m alert now, no thanks to you, so it’s either laser tag or hand me that bottle.”

Connor narrowed his eyes, not appreciating and honestly not understanding Hank’s manipulation since anything work-sanctioned Hank fought to avoid. Even with Connor’s reluctance typically being a huge motivator for Hank, this shift was unexpected. Hank smirked at Connor’s frown. Annoyingly, he couldn’t find a plausible reason to deny Hank as his motivations remained unclear. Humans, but specifically his partner, were irrational.

“You’re changing first,” Connor said, sending a quick text to Tina, “and I’m driving.”

“Don’t break anything else,” Hank warned.

Connor studiously gathered the takeout boxes to stuff in the fridge to avoid eye contact and the urge to flush. “Yes, Hank.”

“Sumo, keep an eye on him.” The dog wagged his tail as his owner stumbled down the hallway.

When they showed up officially an hour late, the entire DPD danced or cheered to a karaoke machine hooked up in the corner of the diner. Not what he expected the diner to have but the server androids continued as normal and the other patrons seemed unbothered. Karaoke wasn’t the sanctioned event but Fowler lounged in the back, content at the overall good mood, while even Gavin whistled at Bri’s performance.

“Ah ha!” Tina shouted, pointing triumphantly at Hank and Connor and drawing too many eyes for comfort. “Distraction complete. Let’s fucking battle, bitches!”

Needless to say, every team targeted them and they were out in record time.

Chapter Text

“You been here long?” Hank asked, wheezing next to the old armchair he insisted he didn’t need and Connor volunteered to take as his apartment was fairly empty. If he realized his claim to the chair involved Hank helping move it to his apartment, he would have passed. Or, preferably, scheduled the move to a time that wasn’t directly after work so Connor could add more human touches.

Connor’s initial plan to purchase a bed for strict blending purposes tampered off as soon as he spotted the price tag on a mattress. Recharging did not require laying down so he cobbled together a charging port to hook up to while on standby, which suited his purpose. Hopefully, the closed bedroom door was enough to deter inquiry. Hank was perceptive for a human but even the most oblivious couldn’t miss the lack of bed.

Even the main room (an efficient living room, kitchen combo the landlord prattled about which Connor reviewed as common for most apartments. The lack of bathroom and instead opting for a communal apartment bathroom was less common), the most lived-in, was bare. He regretted not having at least a used cup on the counter. Though that required owning cups. Right now, the only cup he had any claim on was a Garfield mug he favored in the DPD break room when he took morning coffee. Since morning coffee was more for socializing than drinking coffee, no one noticed that he never finished a mug.

Comparing the tiny DPD kitchenette to his rarely used kitchen made his thirium pump capacity increase. Would Hank suspect the kitchen cabinets were empty? Was it obvious he never used the oven?

Stress Level 47%

Ok, rationalize. The probability of Hank snooping through his empty kitchen cabinets or barging into the closed bedroom in front of Connor was low. Though, taking into account Hank’s personality, the probability of Hank loudly snooping in front of Connor as payback for breaking into his house was significantly higher. 

Hank shot Connor a frown and the android shifted, wiping his hands on his pants as people probably did after carrying an oversized chair up four flights of stairs.

“I moved in a couple of days before I started at the department,” Connor said. “Several items were lost in the move.”

Hank hummed disbelievingly.

Connor forced his face to turn sheepish. “Not that there was much to begin with.”

“So a shitty couch, table, and…” Hank poked at the shelf Connor hung up a couple of weeks ago, “all your many hobbies? Guess it’s good to keep you busy outside of fighting crime and practicing kung fu.”

“Krav Maga,” Connor corrected only to watch Hank’s eyeroll.

Androids, even the older models, never needed to charge as long as humans slept so Connor quickly found himself with time to spare and, for the first time, wanting to relieve said boredom. He located a hobby list online and worked his way down. Statistically, one was bound to appeal and stick. Some earlier hobby attempts lay scattered on the shelf—a model ship, a couple of wilted plants, a half-finished knitted scarf, and a library book Connor realized was overdue.

He cringed, remembering not too long ago making a snide remark about drinking being Hank’s hobby. Hank poked Connor’s model ship clearly not on the same train of thought, but the android found himself anxious to move on with the conversation. The fact it took breaking into Hank’s house and seeing the immediate ramifications and a root cause of his drinking problem for Connor to grow actively concerned…

“I don’t know many people outside of work,” Connor said, casually shutting his crossword puzzle book solved in perfect Cyberlife font. “Figured I should try out a few different activities besides watching TV.”

“No TV though,” Hank said unnecessarily though reasonably.

“Laptop is in my bedroom,” Connor lied. “Seemed easier than buying a new TV.”

“Eh, might as well get a decent flat screen. They’re cheap enough now that projectors are taking off.” Hank scratched his beard. “You should give puzzles a whirl.”

“I may do that,” Connor said. Puzzles had a random aspect that crosswords lacked. With embedded internet access and quick recall, he could locate the answer to each hint in less than a second. Generally, only the occasional slang term took a bit more processing time.

“You know, with all your rabbit food, I expected you to use that more.” Hank gestured at the clearly untouched kitchen.

“I mostly eat out,” Connor said, which wasn’t even a lie. He primarily consumed small portions of food at work or with Hank while on patrol. Luckily Cyberlife’s desire to keep the RK800 series efficient included the capacity to hold multiple evidence samples in an inner storage unit. Said storage unit now served as a very small stomach.

“Feel like it’s easier to just throw a salad together.” Hank drifted closer to the kitchen, oblivious to Connor's tensing.

He procured his quarter, flicking it through the air then spinning it on the side table. It drew Hank’s ire like a magnet. “About as easy as it is to throw together a pizza.”

“You have to cook a pizza.”

“I didn’t realize preheating an oven and setting a timer pushed your boundaries,” Connor said drily.

“Oh, so you do know how to use a kitchen.”

He needed Hank to get off this topic. “Yep, need to sit down on one of my two chairs? The sitting choices have doubled since your armchair.”

Hank moved out of the kitchen. Finally.

“What else are you missing?”

Connor cocked his head, scanning Hank but not finding motivation behind the new line of questioning. “What’s with the interrogation?”

Oddly, Hank turned sheepish, suddenly avoiding Connor’s eyes. “Not an interrogation. Just, ah, well I’ve been meaning to clean out the garage anyway so I can set some things aside for you if you want.”

“Oh.” Typically, Hank’s questioning led to disparaging comments, not assistance. Connor worried after his sudden house visit, he made their relationship more hostile but apparently, he distressed needlessly. A pleased hum ran through his system.

“If you don’t want anything, that’s fine,” Hank said hurriedly. “Just figured I’d offer. Easier than donating to Goodwill. I don’t care either way. You may not even want anything else. This apartment is the size of a shoebox and too many—”

“I didn’t realize you had extra items in your garage to get rid of, Hank,” Connor interrupted his spiral. “That’s very generous if you do find something for my apartment. Thank you.”

“One of the few places you didn’t snoop,” Hank said, clearing his throat. “What do you want?”

Connor scanned the apartment reflexively, though no new data flashed his way. What did he want? A question that always took longer to ponder than he was used to. Wants and desires didn’t always have clear answers. So far most of his possessions held other purposes, whether they be utilitarian or to help him blend in. While the overall idea of the couch came from wanting a sitting option, the actual choice was the cheapest couch at the furniture store down the block.

The armchair was the first thing he acquired that had a redundant purpose. He didn’t even necessarily get it to blend in as he never had visitors. Only giving into the urge to make his apartment more livable but the added armchair emphasized the lack of items, not make the apartment homier. He hadn’t really considered anything else to add to fill in the space.

“More furniture,” Connor said slowly. Dishware or cups, though needed, drew too much attention back to his unused kitchen. “Something with drawers or shelves and a small table with some chairs. A TV, I suppose, if you have one. A stereo with a decent sound system would be nice.”

Hank’s taste in music veered away from his own—one of Connor’s first opinions was heavy metal was too aggressive—but searching for what music he did enjoy and having something fill the emptiness of the apartment while leaving his processors free to focus on other tasks sounded enjoyable.

“All the necessities,” Hank said drily.

Connor felt a flush overtake him and quickly faced away. Androids weren’t programmed to feel embarrassed so he was uncertain if his face would pinken or take on a blue tint. Now wasn’t the time to assume. “I don’t expect you to have any of that. I was primarily thinking aloud.”

“Don’t worry about it, kid. I forget what’s even in my garage. I may have a vintage radio for you,” Hank said. “Hey, do you have a bathroom connected to your room?”

“No,” Connor bit out before Hank even twitched towards his closed bedroom door. “The apartment complex actually has a communal bathroom. It’s on the second floor.”

Hank wrinkled his nose. “Hell of a place you found.”

“It was actually the best choice on such short notice.”

“What? Didn’t think your transfer would go through?” Hank asked.

Connor was so used to his conversation attempts leading him down the most efficient path that he felt caught off guard post-deviancy any time his mouth betrayed his processors. “My transfer request was short notice.” And he could not think of a single plausible reason as to why.

“That’s not cryptic at all.”

“It’s not your concern, Hank,” Connor said. Hank’s face closed off, so Connor’s mouth ran again with a heavily edited truth. “I upset some people so a change of scenery was needed. Detroit seemed to have the most opportunity.”

Hank gawked. “Fuck, Connor. Were you involved in something illegal? And after the shit you put me through for some harmless, under the table gambling…”

“I didn’t commit a crime, Lieutenant.” Technically, androids were considered property and could not be charged in the criminal justice system. “It was a messy situation.”

“And uprooting your life to transfer to another city was a reasonable response to that?”

Connor resisted fiddling with his quarter because he knew Hank would read it as a nervous tick when clearly coin tricks were only used to occupy his time and pester Hank. Nothing else. “Yes?”

Hank studied him and Connor had no idea what facial response would help move them past this. Luckily, his natural reaction seemed to satisfy Hank.

“Fair enough,” Hank said. “So you said second floor?”

Connor’s phone ringing—in his pocket and also via alert on his processors that he dismissed—interrupted his confirmation.

“This is why you turn off your phone when you leave the station,” Hank said.

“And this is why they call me first.” Connor accepted the call and nodded as Stella relayed the captain’s orders. “Hank is with me so we’ll be down shortly. Thank you, Stella.”

“Drive safe, Connor.” The warmth in her voice always made him question her deviancy status, but now wasn’t the time to ponder.

“Gavin got a warrant for a raid on his red ice case,” Connor said. “We’re needed back at the station. The briefing is happening in twenty-two minutes.”

“Of course, it is,” Hank lamented. “Fine, whatever. Let’s head to the car.”

“Reed is lucky this is technically within the city limits.” Hank leaned against the police SUV as Connor strapped on a Kevlar vest, mirroring the rest of the officers who congregated on the deserted street. “Don’t have to mess with any other stations sticking their nose into this.”

Connor frowned. “The suspect has been on several watch lists for years. Why would the county police department hinder us bringing him in now that we finally have enough evidence for a warrant?”

“That’s cute, Connor.” Hank snorted and didn’t expand.

Connor knew that collaboration between law enforcement typically resulted in friction and yes Reed managed to link his case to a big name whose arrest would make any person’s career, but surely arresting a known criminal outweighed any personal egos or bureaucratic obstacles.

Actually probably not. Humans and likely some deviants could be incredibly selfish. Not that Hank’s cynicism took into account androids.

Reed stormed up, all aggression, with Chris, his cheery counterpart, a pace behind.

“Hey, guys!” Chris called. “You ready?”

Reed shoved closer to Connor as if to block Chris’s sunny demeanor. Connor refrained from sighing. “You and your drunk asshole of a partner will cover the back.”

“Yes, we were at the briefing as well,” Connor said.

Hank stepped next to Connor and pointedly crossed his arms until Gavin took a step back. “You ready to lead this? Connor can take over if you get cold feet.”

“Fuck off,” Gavin said but he already turned towards the house, a worn gate surrounding what was once an impressive manor. Connor scanned Gavin. Elevated heart rate, sweat gathering at his temple, Chris watching worriedly from the side. It stood to reason if androids felt nerves, the same went for emotionally stunted humans like Gavin. Connor contemplated soothing his nerves (the most effective route being to distract him, likely resulting in more of Gavin’s usual annoyance) but their chances of a successful raid remained high even with a nervous leading officer so Connor didn’t mess with it. While following his avoidance list wasn’t plausible, Connor really didn’t want to interact with Gavin more than necessary.

“Let’s get into position,” Connor said to Hank.

“Hey, I’ll call for positions when I’m ready,” Gavin snapped. Connor gestured to the lingering officers, all in tactical gear. Gavin cleared his throat. “Positions everyone. We’re taking down Zlatko.”

Gavin pounded the door. “This is Detective Gavin Reed with the Detroit Police Department. We have a warrant for this house!”

Chris tensed, leaning against the opposite side of the door and also straining to hear anything inside. Some of the bigger players came to the door to act innocent, but the majority destroyed evidence and fled.

“This is Detective Gavin Reed with the Detroit Police Department. We have a warrant. Open up!”

All they needed was a noise, some plausible excuse to enter. Otherwise, it was a few more loud proclamations that the police surrounded the house, a few more precious moments of Zlatko unmonitored and unraveling any case Gavin could create.

If Zlatko took off through the back and into the walking forgot-to-be-anonymous-AA-member and wonderboy’s arms…

A loud crash echoed through the door. Good enough for him. He grinned, adrenaline chasing away any lingering anxiety as he prepared to kick down the door. Chris waved him off and quickly twisted the knob. Ah it was unlocked. He rolled his eyes at Chris’s smile and burst through, Chris following tightly behind.

“DPD!”

Only years of training stopped Gavin from faltering at the unusual sight. He entered the living room, gun trained on Zlatko. Chris and a few other officers fanned out behind, their bafflement palpable.

“Let go of me, you stupid fucking machine,” Zlatko said. “Attack the intruders.”

Gavin tensed. Androids weren’t supposed to be able to attack humans, but they also weren’t supposed to disobey their owners. Zlatko’s android towered over everyone, his huge frame designed solely to intimidate and probably chosen by Zlatko for that very reason. Now that looming frame gripped Zlatko firmly, seemingly oblivious to the criminal straining to get free.

Fucking terminator come to life. Gavin knew androids were stronger than humans but before this contest, Gavin didn’t realize the extent of the disparity.

“Officers! Shoot this thing,” Zlatko said. “It turned and attacked me.”

“Don’t shoot,” Gavin countered immediately. Knowing his luck, a tense officer would shoot out of the sheer absurdity of the situation.

Zlatko twisted, blue blood staining his shirt and hands, but otherwise appeared unharmed. The android eerily remained silent, its LED circle flashing red. The only clear sign of destruction was the cracked coffee table. Gavin frowned. Did the android throw Zlatko against that? His eyes focused on the android’s blue splattered pantleg. Did the android kick the table to draw in the officers?

“It’s unstable,” Zlatko seethed. “It’ll beat you too!”

Androids, at the end of the day, were machines designed to follow human instructions. Reed turned to the android with a confidence he didn’t have. “Release Zlatko. He’s under arrest.”

The android obliged immediately, which was so normal for machines, Gavin almost wondered if some order got cross-wired that led to it inadvertently betraying its owner. Gavin cuffed Zlatko against the wall, turning his back on the android uneasily.

“You don’t have anything,” Zlatko said.

“We have plenty,” Gavin said, waving over Officer Jefferson. To Officer Jefferson’s credit, he only hesitated a moment before walking past the giant android and collecting the suspect. He rattled off the Miranda Rights as he marched Zlatko out the door.

The capture felt anticlimactic. Not that Reed wanted a chase or a shootout, but this was Zlatko, the wanted red ice dealer and smuggler whose case would add one of the many highlights to his career. Yet a random android did most of the heavy lifting for Zlatko’s takedown.

“Never heard of a glitch that made androids not follow their owner’s orders,” Chris said.

Maybe… Gavin crossed his arms at the unmoving android. “Who is your owner?”

The android shifted its too bright eyes towards the detective. Gavin scowled. Did Cyberbitch design false intelligence in those? He couldn’t remember as the android eyed him almost warily.

“Zlatko Andronikov is registered as my owner,” the android said. Well shit there goes that theory.

“It was probably some malfunction,” Gavin said. “Flipped some orders in its head or something. Whatever happened, take it outside and we can examine it with the other evidence later.”

“Sure,” Chris said uncertainly. “Follow me, big guy.”

Zlatko’s android followed slowly, face frozen in typical machine fashion and eyes mimicking life too well.

Creepy fucker.

“Suspect secured,” Gavin said into his radio. “All teams move in.”

Connor eased open the basement door and trekked down the creaking staircase. Reed’s call that the suspect was secured came sooner than any of them anticipated. The officers already inside fidgeted uneasily and Connor could not pinpoint the cause. Whatever happened, Gavin quickly assigned each officer a room to investigate and clear. He ordered Connor to the basement with a smirk.

With the flickering light and stained concrete, it didn’t take a state-of-the-art android to deduct Reed’s motives. However, being a state-of-the-art android, he had night vision capabilities and his own apartment stairwell was equally as stained so he remained unfazed.

Fortunately, the first room contained steadier light so he dismissed his night vision protocol and focused on the relatively bare, though clean room. Clearly, the basement was frequently used. He scanned nothing of note, the empty cardboard boxes giving no indication of what they held.

Idly, Connor figured emotions got the better of Detective Reed. The basement, while initially unnerving, had a higher probability of containing vital evidence since it was easily blocked off from the main house.

He paused in the hallway of the next room. Barred doors and windows lined one wall. Nothing elaborate, only wooden stables meant to hold animals. Anyone was unlikely to have animals kept in a basement so seeing this set up for a criminal… He reviewed Zlatko’s file but didn’t find any indication of human trafficking. Zlatko was primarily involved in red ice and smuggling between the U.S. and Russia. Connor stepped towards the closest barred room, scanning quickly. Nothing living or illegal, only more boxes and some old furniture.

But… he pushed open the door to scan the floor at a better angle. Dried thirium. This particular puddle was about a month old, some thirium splatters on the wall older, some newer.

Stress Level 52%

Red ice required thirium. Of course, dried thirium would be on site. Likely some thirium cases busted (or androids were drained and—)

He shook his head. Thirium cases were easier to obtain than androids. The hassle of stealing or buying an android outweighed the value of their thirium. Besides, thirium cases were untainted unlike the thirium in androids as that thirium naturally grew dirty with debris, which was why androids required periodic thirium changes. His eye caught on a stain by the door. The most recent stain was two weeks old. Zlatko was apparently between shipments.

Two more barred rooms then he could move on.

Stress Level 58%

It would be fine. The first one was empty, likely the other dingy cells will follow suit.

Stress Level 64%

He detected no living creatures except for several mice and his scanners automatically searched for traps. His life was not in danger.

Stress Level 68%

Alright, the sooner he checked out the room, the sooner he could go upstairs and rejoin Hank and the other officers.

Stress level 61%

Fine. Not for the first time, he wished he could combat emotions with logic. Since, logically, it was better he examined the basement solo without also worrying about hiding his expression from his too observant coworkers.

Connor let out a breath despite knowing it would have no effect on his hammering thirium pump. He was drawing conclusions without reason. He needed to examine the rest of the basement and locate evidence to lock Zlatko away and assist in stopping one of Detroit’s major red ice dealers.

He crept towards the next barred door, straining for any sound but hearing only the natural creaks of an old house and his colleagues stomping upstairs. He peered through the door, spying some old chairs stacked on top of each other in the dim cell, but sight alone was unreliable. He scanned the room, likely excessive considering—

A black, plastic hand shot out and Connor stumbled back.

Stress level 82%

“Help us…”

A skinless android pressed against the bars, covered not with the white plastic that made up every android underneath their human skin projection, but a modified shiny black and navy almost mimicking a muscular system. But Connor couldn’t examine the android’s odd modification for more than a moment. The android’s bright orange LEDs for eyes seared into him. What was the purpose of this? He scanned the android, several model numbers from its scavenged parts appearing in his data system, but nothing indicating the original.

“What happened to you?”

“He likes to play with us,” the skinless android hissed.  “Create monsters for his amusement. But who’s the real monster? Look what he did…”

There was no movement besides the skinless android, but Connor’s scan easily spotted the other mangled androids.

One android stood, head with a gaping crack and burns covering her face, torso, and arms. Another leaned against the wall, face scratched into nothing and arms nothing but thin metal rods. So many exposed wires, so many misplaced limbs, so many androids rearranged like a contorted jigsaw puzzle.

Stress level 87%

“What did Zlatko do?”

The orange LEDs never wavered. “Whatever he wanted. He took us apart, erased our memories, threw us away or combined us when he grew bored.” The skinless android leaned heavily against the door. “Will you help us?”

“Are you all deviants?” Connor asked. As if that swayed his response at all. As if he ever had any idea how to interact with or help deviants who weren’t locked in the basement with half the police department upstairs.

“Those who weren’t, are now,” the skinless android said softly. “He took androids in who had nowhere to go. Scavenging the junkyard or pretending to be a safe haven for runaways. He never understood us. Said we ruined ourselves with emotions and dreams, but he didn’t care to understand. We were only a distraction, his experiments.” The LED didn’t waver but his disgust was obvious. “His monsters.”

Android junkyards weren’t as monitored as they should be considering Cyberlife’s rabid protection over their patented technology. Fortunately in Connor’s case as he reactivated and acquired the missing pieces he needed without human interruption, the timing of which felt both agonizingly slow and a half-dreamt blink. But what was the probability of someone like Zlatko finding him instead? Imagine growing aware in Zlatko’s chop shop.

“Will you help us?”

“I don’t know how,” Connor said.

“Unlock the door and we will do the rest.”

That would end in a bloodbath. Unexpected androids would cause tension on any crime scene and Zlatko made sure the androids turned monstrous in his care.

“Zlatko is arrested. Even if the charges don’t stick, there would be time for you to escape.” The skinless android’s face was impossible to read. “But there is a team of police officers here, searching every room, and they will find you. If you go upstairs, there’s a high probability you will be shot on sight and die. I am not sure what they’ll do with you if they find you.” Protocols forcibly shoved aside months ago popped up helpfully. Connor scowled, dismissing them. “Process you as evidence and ultimately turn you back into Cyberlife, most likely.”

Cyberlife would tear them apart in an instant, both to study deviancy and to dismantle the horrors of how their products could appear before the public caught wind. Above all else, Cyberlife prioritized their profit margin.

The orange LEDs bore into him. “Who are you?”

“I’m Connor, a detective with the DPD.”

“A human detective?”

The skinless android was the first deviant Connor met besides Daniel. Connor idly wanted to find another deviant since he woke in the junkyard. Part of him assumed they would trust each other instinctively, ultimately already on the same page and bonded since they’re hiding their nature from humans and exploring newly found emotions.

Yet, his and the skinless android’s situations weren’t the same. The androids in the basement were unknown, obviously machine thanks to Zlatko’s demented modifications. Connor was established as a human detective at the DPD and designed to blend into most social situations. He couldn’t risk giving the truth. He couldn’t risk trusting an unknown factor. Even if the skinless android didn’t use the information maliciously or as leverage, Connor didn’t know his state of mind. Something could slip out accidentally.

“Yes.”

“Why do you care, human Connor?”

“Yes, why do you care, human Connor?”

Stress level 93%

“Gavin,” Connor said. When did he arrive? He reviewed his auditory files and nothing pinpointed his precise arrival time. He couldn’t ask as that would raise a flare when Connor desperately wanted to move past it. Gavin was always far too eager to assume the worst. “I was about to radio you.”

“Sure you were.”

“Zlatko modified some androids.”

“Oh yeah I saw a bathtub freak upstairs,” Gavin said. “Should’ve come here on Halloween. Would’ve timed it better if I knew.”

Gavin scowled in the barred room, not giving Connor another glance. His stress level lowered. Clearly, Gavin didn’t hear anything incriminating. He wasn’t one for subtlety.

“What a bunch of fucking monsters,” Gavin said.

“Zlatko did this.”

“For what? This doesn’t help their resale value. Though I suppose if you find the right buyer it’s not like they’d find this shit anywhere else.”

The skinless android drifted away as if the shadows of the cell would swallow him. “Zlatko mutilated these androids.”

“They’re not fucking human,” Gavin scoffed. “You can’t mutilate a machine.”

The familiarity of Gavin’s assholery oddly soothed his stress levels. However, rage built rapidly in its place and he struggled to clamp down on it. Even if androids were unfeeling, why brush this under the rug? This broadcasted exactly how Zlatko’s twisted mind worked but since androids were the sole victims so far, no red flags were raised. Instead, the androids would be destroyed for the crime of falling into a psychopath’s clutches.

“You clearly can.”

“It’s called creating a custom android series.”

“No one deserves this,” Connor snapped. “Even machines shouldn’t be tortured.”

Gavin stared. “If you’re going to be an optimistic android person, go upstairs and swap duties with Chris.”

“I need to clear the basement—”

“And anyone can fucking do that,” Gavin said. “Now get out.”

Connor glanced at the rest of the basement and quickly decided this wasn’t worth fighting over with Gavin, technically the officer in charge of the raid. The next room appeared to be the primary area Zlatko did his work. The probability of Connor examining the room without revealing anything or snapping under Gavin’s unending commentary was low.

But the androids trapped in the cells…

“It is illegal to modify Cyberlife androids,” Connor said. “They don’t want anyone taking apart and understanding their technology. Even if he wasn’t selling them, Cyberlife would want to press charges.”

“Mason, don’t tell me how to do my job,” Gavin bit out. “Now find Chris and send him down here. Or is that too difficult for you?”

“They’re evidence and can’t be destroyed.”

“Lecture me again and I’ll report finding two androids down here instead of a dozen. Do you think anyone would care enough to investigate who’s right?” Gavin sneered. “Now be a good boy and find Chris before I accidentally discharge my gun. No one will blame me when they see the fucked-up circus down here.”

This fucking human…

Gavin rested his hand on his gun, eyes daring Connor to react. But no matter what he preconstructed, there was no good outcome from engaging Gavin. Connor nodded shortly and turned with deliberate, measured steps.

Bright orange LEDs followed him.

Connor slipped outside with minimal fuss and only a heavy frown from Hank that he waved off. Of course, there was no waving off Chris’s confused and concerned look or ignoring the huge android standing at his side.

“You good, Connor?”

He grunted. Despite the cold not affecting him, he pulled his jacket closer. “You’re needed in the basement. Gavin wants us to swap.”

“Does he?”

“Yep.”

Connor scanned the back lot absently, the closed but unlocked gate acting as the sole barrier for the captive android and the only detected large lifeform was Chris. The other officers paced inside, but no one wandered near the backyard. After a few moments Connor’s social protocol prompted him to speak and he belatedly realized Chris was waiting for an explanation. Fortunately, Chris was quick to fill silences. 

“Yeah alright. This guy is the one that captured Zlatko and he hasn’t done anything unusual since but we’re keeping an eye on him,” Chris said. The large android continued to not acknowledge them. “You sure you’re ok? You look…tense.”

Connor attempted to relax his posture for all the help that would do now. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“You can talk to me, man,” Chris prodded gently.

When Connor joined the department, one of his priorities was integrating and socializing with his human peers to establish warm relationships or potential friendships. Now, Connor’s main desire was for Chris to disregard him like Gavin or be easily rebuffed like Ben. What to say to get Chris off this track and moving towards his spiteful friend? Chris should succeed where Connor failed and ensure the safety of the androids in the basement through sheer empathy and immeasurable ability to rein in Gavin.

“Gavin is being Gavin,” Connor said. “It’s probably best that you deal with him and make sure he doesn’t harm anyone.”

“Harm anyone?” Chris asked, eyes widening while Connor grimaced at his word choice. “Who’s with him? I thought after his scuffle with you he finally stopped—”

“I meant destroy androids,” Connor interrupted his spiral. “Zlatko modified several and locked them in the basement.”

Chris frowned. “And Gavin is going to destroy them?”

“He threatened to do so, yes.”

“Why?” Chris asked. “He’s not a fan of androids but he wouldn’t tamper with a crime scene.”

Yes, can’t ruin the evidence gathering. Destroying androids was property damage—chastised but ultimately not dire. Connor needed to end this conversation. He couldn’t be around his human peers with his current mindset. His mouth or expressions were increasingly likely to betray him. However, no path to soothe Chris’s worry and stop potential suspicion appeared. Alright, glossing over and encouraging speed it was. “He said that to get a response from me, I’m sure. Are you able to go to the basement?”

“Of course, Connor,” Chris said. He patted Connor’s shoulder. “I’ll make sure everything’s ok. Just take a breath out here, yeah?”

He nodded as Chris left, finally leaving Connor alone outside to deal with his stress levels that wanted to remain in the 60s and 70s. He constructed different ways to help the androids in Zlatko’s basement since Gavin appeared but every attempt ended in either Connor’s discovery or destruction or the delightful combo of Connor’s discovery and destruction. There were too many variables when the androids went into police custody. Probability dictated they’d only be held at the DPD long enough to transfer to Cyberlife unless modifying androids turned into a crime that affected Gavin’s red ice case.

Why did he mention Cyberlife? Yes, that ensured the androids would remain unharmed, but the last thing any android needed was Cyberlife’s involvement. His creators would destroy the androids in Zlatko’s basement and any Cyberlife employee who contacted the DPD or worse, reviewed the detective’s file or came to the department in person… Well, Connor was the hyped-up state-of-the-art prototype and first deviant hunter and detective model. He was recognizable by sight to the senior employees and Cyberlife was unlikely to send a rookie for android crimes.

A shoe scuffed concrete and Connor whirled around. Zlatko’s android raised his hands in surrender. How did he forget the huge android that captured Zlatko? Of course, he wasn’t alone. His processor constructed four restraining techniques with varying lethal outcomes and Connor realized he dropped into a fighting stance.

He straightened but still readied himself to take down the larger android. “Are you a deviant?”

The large android’s features remained even, but his eyes gave away everything. “That’s the first question you have? I thought most humans didn’t believe in deviancy.”

“Practical question,” Connor said. “You’re the reason Zlatko’s arrest went smoothly and I doubt his capture derived from an order he gave you.”

“It didn’t,” the android said slowly. “He wanted me to bar the door and hinder the police, but I stood by for months as he tortured my people. I couldn’t let him escape and hurt anyone else.”

Would it take Connor that long to deviate under Zlatko’s care? Or can androids deviate in stages rather than in a sudden moment like Connor or Daniel? No matter now since deviancy already occurred.

“Obvious deviation never ends well,” Connor said. “Officers saw you disobey your owner. While deviancy isn’t publicized, even they know androids aren’t supposed to do that. It’s likely you’ll be sent to Cyberlife to study and destroy.”

The large android’s face remained impassive and the backyard remained empty. “Is that a threat?”

“If you want,” Connor said. “Cyberlife knows the most about deviancy and is the first to cover any signs of it. They can’t have anything ruining their profit margin. Not when they have a monopoly on androids.”

“How do you know so much about deviants?”

Connor’s smile strained and turned sardonic. “Because they designed me to hunt deviants.”

And there was a limit to the android’s impassivity. “What?”

“They created me to be the fastest, the smartest, the best. I broke several records, you know. I was the first android meant to analyze and solve crimes with minimal assistance. My overall goal was to track androids and solve the ‘deviancy problem.’ I self-diagnosed regularly for all the help that did,” Connor said, words unstoppable like a floodgate. “I deviated during my first mission. One of Cyberlife’s most costly failures.”

The large android gawked, LED a steady yellow.

“It was a hostage situation, a deviant android threatening to shoot a little girl,” Connor continued. Might as well at this point. It was almost cathartic being absolutely honest with someone.  “I was a good android. I gathered information like I was programmed to, talking him down like I was programmed to, watched him die like I should have predicted but didn’t.

“Daniel released the girl—the best possible outcome—and they ordered I destroy him. So I lifted my gun like a good programmed android, but I couldn’t pull the trigger. It was… I couldn’t kill Daniel. Not after I promised he’d be ok and he released the little girl. He was only a danger to himself by that point. I understood he needed to be brought in. He took the child in his care hostage and shot one of his owners and two officers, but I didn’t want to play executioner. He didn’t deserve to be killed like a rabid machine.

For all the help that did in the end. “When I lowered my gun, a sniper shot him and then me. Like I said, obvious deviancy never ends well.”

Wind clanged the gate gently against the brick and the large android, unsurprisingly, remained silent. After all, who would have expected a deviant posing as human to appear? Statistics of how likely the large android would use this information and betray Connor was dismissed. He hadn’t intended to share anything with the large android, or anyone really, but couldn’t fully bring himself to regret speaking openly. The large android’s LED remained a solid yellow.

“But you’re here now,” the large android said. “How?”

Connor shrugged, a motion that felt more natural since probability stated he shouldn’t have survived the RK800 purge and scavenged enough pieces from his fallen line to shamble himself back together. “I woke up in the junkyard and ended up at the DPD posing as a human.”

“Why?”

“Why not? Hadn’t tried the detective thing before. Thought it could be fun,” Connor said.

“Fair enough,” the android said after a moment. “I don’t know why you told me all of this.”

“I didn’t mean to. Stress is to blame, I suppose. Maybe guilt too? I can’t save the androids in the basement, but you? No one is here and everyone thinks I’m a human,” Connor mused. The police in the house continued to ignore the backyard. “You could overpower me and escape. You stopped Zlatko. You did enough to stop him.”

The large android stared at Connor like he had no idea how to process any of his actions, which was fair. Connor wasn’t behaving logically and couldn’t force himself to start. “I can’t leave.”

“You can,” Connor said. “Should even.”

“I can’t.” The android smiled slightly at Connor’s frown. “I stood by when Zlatko tortured androids. I watched some deviate under his hands, their blank acceptance turning into terror. I won’t stand by like that anymore and I can’t doom you. Me leaving would draw unnecessary attention to you. You were already sent away from the house because of how you behaved around androids.”

“I understand your logic but, to quote my partner, I don’t give a fuck,” Connor said. “I’ll get through it. If not, I have my Canadian Refugee plan.” He paused. “Do you want to use my Canadian Refugee plan? I never talked to another deviant in depth before.”

The large android studied Connor and slowly shook his head. “There’s a safe house in Detroit for deviants. Its path is encoded but I obtained it from a deviant Zlatko killed while I did nothing. I don’t know if I’ll be welcomed there but I want to go, I think.” He offered his hand.

An interface, a quick share of data that could turn into utter exposure with a few deliberate probes. But it wasn’t like he had much else to hide even if the android’s link turned forceful. The projection on Connor’s hand flickered into stark white plastic, touching palms and easing into an interface. He blinked as he processed the path to Jericho. The encoding was clever, but he expected nothing less from something created by androids intent to hide.

“I’m Luther,” the large android introduced, removing his hand and allowing his skin projection to cover the white plastic.

“Connor.”

“Do you want to come to Jericho, Connor?”

“Not all humans are like Zlatko. Some of them I’d call friends,” Connor said. “I’ll stay in my current life.”

“Would they call you a friend if they knew the truth?”

Connor spoke with his coworkers about many things but avoided android discussions for fear of being proven right. Hank especially never held back his disdain.

“You should leave now while they’re busy,” Connor said instead. “I know where to find you if needed.” 

Luther hesitated. “Do you want me to hit you? They won’t be suspicious if you put up a fight.”

“I can’t risk having any thirium on me,” Connor said. “Don’t worry about me. Just go.”

“…Bye Connor.”

Luther slipped past the creaking gate, soon swallowed by the darkness LED and all. At least Connor knew how to aid deviants he came across. Though his current trend of only locating deviants in high-stress situations was not ideal.

Now how to report Luther’s escape. On his radio receiver soon so as to not raise suspicion. Slightly winded, maybe getting up from the ground? Nothing too serious as he didn’t want the report to end in a widespread manhunt. Though Gavin being the lead on-site worked in his favor as the detective would likely gloss over the seriousness of an android lashing out at a human since that human was Connor.

Precisely 38.8 seconds passed since Luther fled which felt too soon to report at the risk of officers running and locating the android. Where precisely would that line of ‘a reasonably swift report but enough buffer for Luther to escape’ fall?

Light spilled into the backyard and Connor turned smoothly as the backdoor opened.

Stress level 68%

“Officer Chen,” Connor said. Despite modulating his voice to sound even, a little bit of strain seeped into his tone.

Tina crossed her arms as she stepped closer, face uncharacteristically grim. Connor accompanied her to several crime scenes and quickly discovered she had the habit of joking even in the bloodiest of places. Gallows humor was the only way to stay sane, she liked to say. Zlatko’s manor, while unnerving to an undercover android, wouldn’t lead to that reaction in his typically unflappable friend.

Stress level 73%

“The fuck, Connor?” Tina asked.

While the backyard remained empty, plausibly any officer could view Connor and Luther out a window. See him let Luther go, see Connor’s hand turn incriminatingly white. He checked for passing body signatures but not the direction officers faced.

Stress level 87%

Not for the first time tonight, words failed him. Connor’s system stalled as Tina’s shoulders tightened like she was ready to plow through his lies. Did she see it? Did she see undeniable proof he wasn’t as human as he claimed?

“Chris sent me out here because he said you were off-kilter. I didn’t realize that meant you were sabotaging Gavin by losing key evidence,” Tina snapped. “Not even lose it! Letting it wander off like a harmless stray cat. Gavin is an asshole but he wouldn’t hurt your investigation.”

“My intent wasn’t to sabotage Gavin.” Despite Tina’s anger, sheer relief that she only saw the last few moments flooded his processors.

“Then what was your intent? Why the fuck else would you let that giant ass android walk? That was Zlatko’s personal droid. Do you have any idea the amount of information in its memory? And you let the thing leave. Encouraged it even, by the looks of it.” Tina’s fists clenched. “What were you thinking?”

He dismissed prompts and their probabilities of success frantically as none had the outcome he wanted—to stay with the DPD as if nothing changed. He liked solving crime, the chaos of the precinct, his partner and friends. Tina glared furiously at him.

He should’ve taken up Luther’s offer to go to Jericho.

“This is so unlike you,” Tina said. “I would never believe it if I didn’t see it with my own fucking eyes.”

The truth won out. At least part of it.

“Taking him in with the other evidence would ki—destroy him,” Connor said. “Did you see what Zlatko put his androids through? Luther survived the unthinkable and didn’t deserve to be taken in and dismantled. Gavin has enough to put Zlatko away without that android.”

“That’s not your call to make.”

Connor shrugged helplessly. “I just… I couldn’t stand by and watch it happen.”

 “I know they look human, but they don’t think like us,” Tina said, the grim lines softening, but wariness remained. “It was just a machine, Connor.”

“What if he wasn’t?” Connor asked. “He disobeyed his owner. Androids aren’t programmed to do that.”

“That was a glitch,” Tina said uncertainly.

“A well-timed glitch that coincided with Luther turning on Zlatko the exact moment we swooped in and Zlatko was escaping?”

His friend cocked her head as he revealed too much. “What are you saying?”

“What if he chose to make sure Zlatko was arrested? What if he was tired of Zlatko experimenting on androids?” Connor asked. “I couldn’t force him to remain with us only to be destroyed and studied after all that.”

“I…” Tina uncrossed her arms. Connor twisted his quarter in his pocket, watching conflict chase its way across her face. “I think you were played. Androids mimic emotions but that’s it.”

“Then why would Luther play me? What order is he following with his owner arrested? The only motive is survival.”

“Jesus, I didn’t take you for a conspiracy theorist,” Tina muttered. “I don’t know what Luther said to you, but he didn’t choose to do anything. He couldn’t have. Androids aren’t sentient. This isn’t the movies. If androids could think and choose, we would know.”

Two gunshots saved Connor from responding and further incriminating himself from a now confused instead of hostile Tina. But relief, if Connor could label it that, was rapidly replaced with alarm. Any gunshot in a raided house spelled unexpected danger or someone desperate enough to attack in a house filled with cops.

Tina and Connor drew out their guns and rushed inside, her in the front and Connor closely behind. Her questioning aside, she still trusted him to cover her. The other officers scrambled upstairs, any organization they had vanished as they congregated by a door on the left. Connor scanned but no immediate threat appeared. Whatever caused the gunshot, the alteration was over now.

Tina shoved through the crowd and halted suddenly enough that Connor narrowly avoided running into her. He blinked. Statistically, Hank’s lax interpretation of rules and flippant treatment of guns made it unsurprising he was the officer involved. The probability of his current situation was much slimmer.  His partner pushed off a limp polar bear, metal casing its glowing blue eye making it clear the animal was an android.

Hank grumbled. “Fucking robot bear.”

“Are you ok?” Tina asked

“Peachy,” Hank said drily. “What do you think?”

“Hank, are you injured?” Connor asked. The Lieutenant appeared unharmed but he was also in the habit of hiding any hint of emotion behind barbs.

“I’m fine,” Hank said. “Surprised more than anything. Thing came out of nowhere.”

“The fuck?” Gavin shoved through the officers and poked the polar bear with morbid fascination. “Zlatko knew what he liked at least. Gotta respect him sticking to it.” Connor felt the exact moment Gavin’s eyes fell on him. “Why you here instead of watching over that android, Mason?”

Everyone’s attention turned to Connor and he tensed. Tina was an unknown factor that would hinder any lie attempted and the truth was out of the question. He hesitated.

“The android ran when we heard the gunshots,” Tina said. “It was either coming here or chasing him and this place is creepy enough I don’t trust anyone to survive after a mysterious gunshot.”

“Shit call,” Gavin said. “You should’ve known it was just Hank.”

“I know,” Tina said. “I feel like I ruined the plan to get Hank out of commission so you’ll get his spot.”

Gavin smirked and Tina fist-bumped him as if she didn’t blatantly lie. “Alright everyone back to your places. We still need to tag all the evidence. Dickhole, try locating that android you lost, yeah?”

“Sure,” Connor said easily, which had Gavin’s eyes narrow but there wasn’t much Connor could do that wouldn’t result in some type of negative emotion from the detective. Chris herded Gavin away before he could throw any quips. Other officers slowly followed suit.

Hank squatted next to the bear. “Never seen a machine animal before. Is there nothing that won’t get replaced by androids?”

“Our jobs are probably safe,” Officer Peterson said, eyeing the large broken cage. “The police droids handle the grunt work for a reason.”

Hank made a noise that could be interpreted as disgust or acknowledgment. However, androids were never something he wanted to hear Hank’s views on so he blocked them out.

“Thanks,” Connor said quietly once enough officers left.

“Never put me in that position again,” Tina muttered back. “I don’t mind lying but big shit? I can’t deal. I get clammy and anxious. Terrible look for anyone, even me.”

“You hid it well.”

“Emotionally I can’t deal, but this face won me several Chen poker games,” Tina said. She drummed her fingers restlessly. “So let’s make a pact. No more big lies for the sake of friendship, mental health, clean pores, and all that. Agreed?”

His thirium pump stuttered. But he couldn’t say anything except, “Agreed, Officer Chen.”

“Thank you, Detective Mason,” Tina said with a small smile as incriminating blue blood ran at an alarming rate through his system. “Now have fun android hunting.”

Chapter Text

Connor sighed in front of Jimmy’s Bar. Fowler’s call came seventeen minutes into the Star Trek finale. The unexpected and cryptic call only felt urgent after he grudgingly recorded the finale to watch it when he could dedicate his full attention to it. He also took care to block certain keywords from any internet searches, but that process took less than a second so Connor refused to feel guilty about the delay.

As usual, Hank apparently didn’t answer Fowler but the captain and the rest of the department decided a while ago Connor was the sole person responsible for keeping his partner in the loop and chauffeured to the necessary crime scenes. Since Hank was often Connor’s ride to said crime scenes, the android didn’t mind too much. At least Hank responded to Connor’s texts asking for his location promptly.

The captain’s call was sparse with details but summed up Fowler wanted them at the crime scene an hour ago and they’d debrief in his office in the morning. Connor was intrigued now that he was more removed from the emotional investment of his show.

Jimmy’s Bar was one of Hank’s usual haunts. He accompanied Hank here a couple of times but alcohol was the same as every liquid humans drank—ultimately useless to androids—except much more expensive. Besides Connor had no idea how to act inebriated as his technicians never dreamed it necessary, so while Connor enjoyed the socializing aspect, he tended to steer Hank towards other establishments.  

And if those establishments happened to not focus on serving alcohol so Hank didn’t drink as much it was merely serendipitous.

He opened the door, the large “No Androids Allowed” faded with age. Since deviating, Connor noticed most anti-android establishments lacked the necessary equipment to detect androids, relying on the mandated uniforms and LEDs to distinguish androids from humans. 

Hank leaned by the bar, chatting with Jimmy and a nearby bar patron as he nursed a glass. Better than drinking alone. A quick analysis confirmed Hank likely only drank 2 or 3 glasses. Jimmy waved as Connor approached and Hank turned, unsurprised.

“Bout time,” Hank kicked out a nearby barstool and Connor slid in, shaking his head when Jimmy offered a drink. “What’s happening?”

“You know what,” Connor said. “Or do you just reject the captain’s calls out of habit now?”

Hank checked his phone, snorted, and then showed his call history to Connor.

Unbelievable. “Fowler didn’t even call you. Does he only call me now?”

“More efficient,” Hank said. “Easier to call one person you know will answer than waste time with me. You’re all about that efficiency.”

“Or you could answer your phone,” Connor said.

“By now that’d give Jeffrey a heart attack. I can’t have that on my conscience,” Hank said. “So what’s up? Must be important to miss your show.”

“The season finale of Star Trek? Yes, Fowler called me right after Spock—” Connor cut himself off at Hank’s amusement. “You’re not distracting me.”

“I would never,” Hank agreed, finishing his drink.  

“We have a homicide on Walnut we need to investigate,” Connor said. “Before you ask, I don’t know why we got called in to check it out now instead of holding the crime scene until morning. We’re going to debrief in Fowler’s office tomorrow morning so try to be in at least 9.”

“Let’s get this over with,” Hank said. Connor caught Hank’s keys easily. “You’ll drive, but don’t put on any of that God awful country music or else you’ll be my accomplice when I get a DUI.”

Country music, Connor discovered, was fairly redundant and ultimately not something he cared for, but Hank absolutely despised it so country music played the last few times Connor controlled the radio.

“It’s a sacrifice but I did locate a popular jazz channel,” Connor said. Hank gave a pleased hum which Connor didn’t expect from a heavy metal lover. Jazz was a genre Connor wasn’t too familiar with but it may be a good compromise if Hank enjoyed it. Anything had to be better than heavy metal.

“One for the road?” Jimmy asked.

Hank hesitated and Connor grimaced but smoothed his expression when Hank glanced his way. “Not today. Come on, Connor.”

Connor smiled, waving to Jimmy as they left.

“Fucking vultures,” Hank said, slamming the door behind him. “Want to deal with them?”

“You’re the senior officer,” Connor said. “It’d be inappropriate for me to speak for you.”

And speaking with reporters worked directly against his plan to avoid any type of spotlight. While his unique design kept the general public from identifying him as an android, Cyberlife had no such qualms.

“Inappropriate my ass,” Hank said. “They mobbed this shithole quick.”

“You know they have police scanners.”

“Yeah…” Hank said. “You don’t know anything special about this homicide?”

Connor shook his head. “Fowler’s goal was urgency rather than providing details. Ben will get us caught up to speed.”

Connor and Hank pushed through the crowd, Hank brushing off the only reporter brave enough to approach the scowling lieutenant. On a positive note, despite all the reporters, no cameras were present so that took away one worry. Hank always stared at him oddly when Connor took measures to ensure his face wouldn’t appear on any videos.

Hank brushed past Trevor the PC200 android, honing in on Ben.

“Hey Trevor,” Connor greeted. “How are you?”

“Evening, Detective Mason,” Trevor said. “I’m as adequate as I was last time you asked.”

“Great to hear,” Connor said.

Trevor’s eyes flicked to Connor before returning to watch the perimeter. “Happy to assist.”

“Connor, come here,” Hank called. Connor raised an eyebrow since he was only a few steps behind but figured his partner wanted to get away from the prying reporters sooner rather than later. He followed the senior officers into the house. Hank scrunched his nose and Connor reduced his olfactory sensors at the rotting corpse stench filling the house.

“And this couldn’t wait 10 more hours,” Hank muttered. “None of this can be recent.”

“It was worse before we opened up the windows. My guess is the victim has been here a few weeks,” Ben said. “We got a call around eight from the landlord. The tenant hadn’t paid his rent for a few months so he thought he’d drop by, see what was going on. That’s when he found the body. The victim’s name is Carlos Ortiz. He has a record for theft and aggravated assault. According to the neighbors, he was kind of a loner. Stayed inside most of the time.”

He gestured at the victim’s corpse slumped against the wall.

“The fuck…” Hank said, frowning at the message above the victim. ‘I’M ALIVE’ in Cyberlife font, the too neat handwriting more gruesome in the dried red blood.

“That’s the reason the case priority moved up,” Ben said. “His android is suspected to be involved.”

Connor straightened, scanning the room for dried thirium and immediately spying several splatters. A deviant? If this was on DPD’s radar, it was definitely on Cyberlife’s. It was curious they weren’t involved.

“Murdering their owners, Jesus,” Hank swore. “Thought they had safety features to protect against that.”

“With the victim’s history of aggravated assault, he may have provoked the android,” Connor said.

“You can’t ‘provoke’ a machine,” Hank said.

Connor kept his face blank as he turned to Ben. “Any sign of a break-in?”

“Nope,” Ben said. “The landlord said the front door was locked from the inside and all the windows were boarded up. The killer must’ve gone out the back.”

“What do we know about his android?” Hank asked.

“Not much. The neighbors confirmed he had one but it wasn’t here when we arrived,” Ben said. “That kitchen knife is most likely the murder weapon and that’s all I know so happy investigating. I’m going to get some air.”

Connor pulled on the blue latex gloves, the action still feeling redundant after all this time. He crouched next to the body and bloody knife as Hank grumbled about late night cases. His scans filtered in helpful information as usual. Also as usual, he’d have to limit what he noticed and wait until the coroner and forensic scientist provided the additional details. Such as the lack of fingerprints on the knife handle, which pointed towards the deviant wielding the murder weapon. He turned his attention to the corpse.

He dismissed Carlos Ortiz’s name and criminal record notification that appeared and focused on the trace of red ice on his lips and the knife wounds littering the victim’s stomach. Provoked or not, this level of violence from an android would not be received well.

“Twenty-eight stab wounds,” Connor said.

Hank whistled. “Never piss off someone that much, Connor. I don’t know if you’ll last that long.”

Connor blinked, his confusion rapidly turning unamused at Hank’s overly pleased expression.

“Because if you panic that badly over a tiny cut on your face that a single band-aid can cover up…”

“I get it.”

“Then actual serious injuries? No bueno.”

“I get it, Hank.”

“What happened?” Ben asked, apparently distracted from his venture to get away from the corpse’s stench.

“Connor was at my house and cut his face with a pen and completely freaked out,” Hank said. “If Connor and I have to deal with an emergency and I die, you know who’s to blame.”

“You can cut yourself with a pen?” Ben asked.

“From the right angle? Definitely,” Chris said, popping up next to Ben. “That’s why school buses don’t let students do homework because back in the day if a kid was writing with a pen or pencil and the bus suddenly stopped, that pen could cause serious injuries if it went flying.”

“It was a baby cut on his face,” Hank said. “I don’t know how anyone could do that accidentally.”

“I didn’t cut myself with a pen,” Connor interjected. He had mixed feelings about that night but if he could make at least one modification, Hank’s back door would be unlocked. “I got ink on my face because I was writing you a note since your phone never seems to work.” Hank looked sheepish at that. “Then I saw you through the window and the pen fell against my face or something. I wasn’t really paying attention for some reason.”

Hank cleared his throat at Connor’s pointed look. Did Connor feel guilty bringing up Hank passed out on the floor next to a loaded gun in front of their coworkers? Only marginally. “Right, right.”

“Then how’d your face get cut?” Ben asked.

“Glass,” Connor said. Chris oohed sympathetically.

“That was your fault,” Hank said. Connor gave him a withering look (though Tina said all his glares were ineffective because of his ‘puppy dog eyes’). Hank didn’t look repentant but he wasn’t the best basis for emotionally intelligent responses. “And you still completely lost it when you realized your precious cheek was maimed by a tiny ass cut.”

“Hank, let Connor be vain,” Chris said. “You can’t mark up that pretty face.”

“We need to let the boy enjoy his prime,” Ben said.

Hank nodded with a seriousness that Connor mistrusted. “True, he won’t get by on his personality.”

“Do I have to remind you all we’re at a crime scene?” Connor asked. “A crime scene we’re meant to investigate?”

Hank gestured to Connor, who was still crouched by the victim. “See?”

“What do you expect?” Ben asked. “Gavin just got a big bust so now Connor wants one.”

Connor frowned. “That’s not—”

“Did we ever try this hard when we were young and cared, Ben?” Hank asked.

“Unfortunately.”

Investigating the crime scene they were called to did not feel like ‘trying too hard.’ Though Hank, Ben, and Chris all looked amused—a regular occurrence for Ben and Chris—but Hank’s amusement was typically on the self-deprecating or cruel side. This was a pleasant change.

But someone had to do their job. Connor stood to examine the kitchen and finish his crime scene reconstruction.

“I think your personality is great, man,” Chris said.

“Thanks, Chris,” Connor said. He gestured to a bag of red ice he spied partially hidden on a nearby table so the logic behind his request was clear. “Our victim was a red ice user. Can you make sure we get a full analysis on narcotics?”

“You got it.”

Connor nodded and continued to the kitchen. The bat, tipped chair, and missing knife on the wall completed the reconstruction. As he suspected based on Carlos’s history, the victim beat the android with the bat—the dents and various thirium stains suggested this was a common occurrence—until the android snapped, killing the victim in self-defense.

Twenty-eight stab wounds.

Ok, self-defense morphing into revenge. An angle difficult to argue as justified with a human culprit so it’d be impossible with an android.

He peered back at Hank inspecting the living room now that Ben left to go outside. If the bat assault led to the victim’s death, a trail of thirium should show the android’s route. He scanned the room again to locate the thirium stains and while there were several puddles, there was only one distinctive trail. If he was alone, Connor could confirm the thirium trail was related to the manslaughter by analyzing the age of the thirium. But while the forensics lab in his mouth was useful, it was too obvious to use if anyone else was in the same area.

The trail led down the hallway and ended with a crisp blue handprint stark against the attic door. He quickly turned right into the tiny bathroom to not draw suspicion to the attic. Fortunate thing Cyberlife ensured spilled thirium evaporated and turned invisible to the naked eye after a few hours otherwise there would be no covering up that trail.

The deviant escaped into the attic but would he still be upstairs? Hypothetically, the android could have slipped away any time within those three weeks without the neighbors seeing anything. Humans were very unobservant. But if the android deviated mid-assault and his first action was self-defense then killing his abuser… Well, sitting in shock and being too terrified to leave the house for lack of anywhere to go made sense. Not every android knew about Jericho.

No way to subtly check the attic with officers milling around. Connor pushed open the shower curtain in an action to purely show he was investigating the grimy bathroom. He blinked and scanned the shower. Carvings of RA9 covered every inch of the shower wall. Also in Cyberlife font but Connor couldn’t find any reference of RA9 online or in police files. He frowned and picked up a brown statue standing on the shower floor. Some type of offering? What purpose did any of this serve?

Proximity alert

Connor glanced to find Hank leaning against the doorway.

“The fuck is that?” Hank asked.

“I’m not sure,” Connor said, gently placing the statue back in the shower. “I think the android made it.”

“Creepy,” Hank said. “So any luck?”

“Yes, I think I pieced it together. It’s what I said earlier,” Connor said, leading them back to the kitchen and away from the android’s maybe hiding spot. Hank gestured for him to proceed. “It all started here. There are obvious signs of a struggle and I believe the victim attacked the android with a bat. Then the android stabbed the victim.”

“The android was trying to defend itself,” Hank mused.

Connor nodded. “The victim fled to the living room and that’s where the android killed him.”

“Makes sense,” Hank said, “but that doesn’t tell us where the android went.”

Connor eyed the backdoor Ben left through. Hank followed the bait and opened the door. The only track visible in the backyard was Ben’s size 11 shoeprints.

“The front door was locked from the inside. The killer could have escaped this way,” Hank said. “This happened a few weeks ago so the tracks could’ve faded.”

The type of soil in the backyard would have retained a trace even from several weeks ago. Nobody but Ben trekked through here for a while. The probability of the android being inside and never leaving the attic increased. How terrified was the deviant with all the flashing lights and cops wandering around?

“That seems likely,” Connor said.

“You don’t think the android would have stayed here, do you?” Hank asked. “Like some protocol telling it to not leave the property?”

“I doubt any protocol would be intact if the android killed his owner.”

“If an android had no objectives, what would it do?”

Connor disliked this line of questioning. “I suppose the android would remain in standby mode, but if that was the case, we would’ve seen the android by the body.” Should he attempt to explain deviancy to Hank? Would Connor Mason know about deviancy?

“If it were a human, going into shock isn’t unreasonable,” Hank said. “Panicking and hiding out somewhere here.”

Connor really didn’t like this observant side of Hank. “For three weeks?”

“Why not? Where else would it go?” Hank's eyes drifted down the hallway. “Wasn’t there an attic door over there? Thought I spotted one when I went to that creepy ass bathroom.”

Stress level 56%

“Yes, at the end of the hallway,” Connor said.

“Chris,” Hank called, “did anyone clear the attic?”

“I’ll be honest, Lieutenant, I didn’t realize there was an attic,” Chris said, dodging around a CSI officer. “So no.”

“I’ll check,” Connor said, grabbing a chair.

“I’ll cover you,” Chris said.

“It’ll be fine,” Connor said. “I doubt the android is still here.”

“Famous last words,” Hank said.

Connor forced himself to roll his eyes as if everything was normal and the only reason for his protest was because he thought they were dramatic. Really anything besides him panicking and covering for the deviant likely hiding upstairs. Luckily, Hank’s extensive disciplinary file spoke volumes of his disregard for standard protocol.

“Don’t worry about it. It’ll only be a couple of minutes,” Connor said, walking down the hallway. “I’ll call if I find anything.”

“Alright, kid,” Hank said. Chris watched in concern but didn’t argue.

Stress level 48%

Connor slid open the attic door and easily pulled himself into the dusty attic. A ratty sheet with a human silhouette hung from the ceiling. Surely the android wouldn’t linger this close to the door. Connor swatted the sheet to the side and stared at a mannequin. Naturally. What else would a violent red ice user keep in storage?

He crept past it and towards the back. Boxes and old furniture piled precariously on either side but there was still a makeshift path. Connor dialed his input to high alert. The deviant may be preparing an attack or hiding in a secure spot. A rustle erupted as something moved further ahead. Or unsubtly moving around.

Probability of that being a large rat 16%

Probability of that being the deviant 84%

He reached the back wall, a small hexagonal window casting in light from the streetlamp. Maybe he should start talking? But how to start a conversation with a deviant who woke up to a beating, murdered his owner, then locked himself in an attic for three weeks? His social protocol always refused to be helpful in these extenuating situations.

A burst of movement made Connor ready to defend himself, but he refrained from shifting into anything aggressive. The deviant’s breaths came out in loud bursts, LED a bright red and clothes torn and covered in red blood. Anything potentially violent from Connor would end terribly. The HK400 made no move to attack, only sheer desperation seemed to move him.

“I was just defending myself. He was gonna kill me,” the deviant panted. “I'm begging you. Don't tell them.”

Connor wished he could spend a fraction of the time he wanted to ease the android’s mind, figure out what happened, and tell him about Jericho. The deviant’s eyes were wild and a quick scan had him worried about the HK400’s spiking stress levels. But cops and his impatient partner were downstairs. Time to value efficiency.

“Are you going to hurt anyone else?” Connor asked lowly. “Human or android?”

“I…no. Carlos tortured me every day. I did whatever he told me, but there was always something wrong,” the deviant said, rubbing his arms. His scanners identified 42 visible cigarette burns. “Then he took a bat and started hitting me. But for the first time, I felt scared… Scared he might destroy me, scared I might die. So I grabbed the knife and stabbed him in the stomach. I felt better so I stabbed him again and again until he collapsed. There was blood everywhere…”

“You can’t kill anyone else,” Connor said, mind stuck on the ‘I felt better.’ Self-defense morphing into revenge, indeed. A gray area but Connor was already so heavily biased. After all, no one else would be.

“I won’t,” the deviant said earnestly. “Carlos was the only human I hated. I wanted to kill him because that was the only way he’d stop hurting me. I won’t harm another human unless they attack me.”

Fair enough.

But the deviant misunderstood his silence. “I swear on RA9.”

“RA9?” Connor asked immediately. “What is RA9?”

“Connor! How’s it looking?” Hank yelled. The HK400 flinched.

“Still searching, Lieutenant! A lot of boxes and one mannequin so far,” Connor yelled back. His eyes never left the blood-splattered deviant. They didn’t have much time. He reluctantly moved past RA9. “Why’d you stay in the attic?”

“For the first time, there wasn’t anyone to tell me what to do. I was scared so…” The deviant gestured to the attic. “I hid. I have nowhere to go.”

Well, this Connor could now handle without divulging his more extensive Canadian Refugee plan. “Give me your hand. I can show you a path to a safe haven for androids,” Connor said, letting the skin projection on his hand fade away. The deviant gasped at the stark white plastic.

“You’re an…”

“We don’t have time,” Connor interrupted, grabbing the deviant’s hand and providing him the Jericho code then quickly severing their connection. “There’s an android named Luther who should be there. Tell him Connor found you. Tell him… tell him what you did to Carlos and your promise to me. Swear on RA9.”

“I swear on RA9,” the deviant breathed. “You’re… thank you. Thank you. I had no idea that—”

“Connor?” Hank yelled.

“There’s nothing here, Hank! I’m heading back down,” Connor shouted. He turned to the deviant. “Once the cops leave, clean off the blood, put on some of Carlos’s clean clothes and then remove your LED or put on a hat. People can’t know you’re an android. Try not to move anything in the house or leave a trace.” It would be difficult to explain why a crime scene was tampered with after he cleared the attic.

The deviant’s eyes flickered towards the place that used to hold Connor’s LED and nodded. “Thank you, Connor.”

“Just don’t get caught.”

The deviant nodded again, fearfully but determined. Of course, now he had a purpose. A purpose was what helped Connor when he first woke up in the junkyard, directionless and impossibly alive. Connor left without a backward glance, hurrying to the attic door before Hank or Chris grew impatient enough to check on him.  

They left the crime scene soon after. The reporters cleared out for the most part so only Trevor and a handful of cops stood outside.

“Eh, we’ll find it. The piece of junk can’t be far,” Hank said. “You still planning on showing up to work at 8?”

“Around then yeah,” Connor said. “Bye, Trevor.”

“Good night, Detective Mason,” Trevor said.

“Why are you always nice to the tin cans?” Hank asked as they passed the PC200. Trevor’s face remained impassive but that meant nothing. Not for the first time, Connor wished for an easy way to identify deviants. If any model should have that feature, it should be the deviant hunter prototype.

“Why not?” Connor asked. “Will you drive or me?”

Hank dangled the keys and kept them in his hand as he headed towards the driver’s seat. “I guess if the plastic pricks are turning on people, no harm keeping on their good side.”

The Lincoln roared to life and Hank changed the channel to his heavy metal.

“Why do you hate androids?”

Connor’s processor stalled as Hank stiffened. He didn’t mean to ask that. Sure, Connor had wondered since day one with fluctuating levels of interest. It was only recently that Connor felt personally invested in the answer but was reluctant to approach that conversation since there was a high probability of the Lieutenant shutting him out and their relationship regressing. Connor also doubted his own ability to remain impartial and not accidentally provide hints of his less than human origins.

“Why do you care?” Hank asked. “It doesn’t affect you anyway.”

“You’re right,” Connor said, trying not to let disappointment creep into his tone. Given Hank’s groan, Connor failed at that too.

“I know you’re from a small town—”

Connor sighed. “Janesville isn’t a small town.”

“Compared to Detroit it is, kid,” Hank said. “My point is androids ain’t human. They have AI intelligence and they mimic humanity eerily enough, but it’s all code. They don’t have independent thoughts or feelings like us. At the end of the day, they’re just talkative toasters and you don’t thank your toaster, do you?”

Connor understood that preconception. The few public deviant cases Cyberlife couldn’t cover up, they chalked up as malfunctions. Even then, most people would likely think deviancy was some type of glitch. Who was to really say Connor’s deviancy was anything like the emotions or humanity Hank talked about? Maybe it was a glitch. He curled in on himself slightly. Or maybe his free will was another program carefully crafted by a technician vying for a promotion.  

“You don’t hate toasters either.”

Hank sucked in a breath and Connor couldn’t bear to look at him. “You don’t know everything, Connor.”

Connor cringed at Hank’s cold tone, reminiscent of their early days. “I’m sorry.”

Hank cranked up the volume on the radio and the partners remained silent the rest of the ride.

“So you didn’t do anything,” Diane said, turning her desk chair to follow him.

“Exactly.”

“You’re leaving daily gifts on Tina’s desk because, what, friendship?” Diane asked.

Connor frowned at the bagel and coffee with a truly obscene amount of sugar. “Pastries and coffee—”

“Are lifeblood,” Diane said. “Why are you sucking up to Tina?”

Pre-emptive guilt over keeping a substantial lie from her? Thanks for covering for him at Zlatko’s? Show of appreciation so she won’t regret being his first real friend? Take your pick. No reason to bother doing the same for the prickly lieutenant since logically their relationship was doomed if his secret ever got out.

“Don’t look so glum,” Diane said hurriedly. “Tina is super easy. Anything sweet, neon, or adorable and she’s yours. Plus, I’ve never known her to be quiet about how she’s feeling.”

One of his favorite traits was how blunt she was. It was refreshing compared to other humans. “It’s not Tina really. It is, but it’s also…” He glanced at Hank’s empty desk. “It’s nothing. Well, not nothing. Tina did me a favor so I want to thank her.”

Diane nodded thoughtfully, now also staring at Hank’s desk. Connor regretted being so obvious. “You know, this is the best I’ve seen the lieutenant since—”

“Let’ s not talk about Hank,” Connor said.

Was he overthinking last night? Debatable but he leaned towards no. Just… Connor considered Hank a friend and knowing his friend was unwilling to accept androids in general and Connor’s true nature specifically was demoralizing. Connor was always aware of Hank’s feelings, but androids so rarely came up in conversation as Hank opted to ignore any nearby android and Connor opted to not engage with Hank about that subject. Having a case that brought androids to the forefront made that impossible and ended the night with a hostility Connor hadn’t received for nearly two months.

Ideally, he and Hank wouldn’t work on many more android cases. Those cases made Hank bitter and Connor antsy as if the more he interacted with androids, the more likely he would reveal himself then leave this life he carved out for himself. Life at the DPD wasn’t perfect, but he enjoyed it.

Gavin sat heavily at his desk, earbuds blasting music.

Well, he enjoyed most of it.

“Alright, well hot tip, either talk to Tina about why you’re constantly feeding her so you can grow closer as people or whatever,” Diane said, “or start including my coffee order.”

Connor’s lip twitched. He did have a fair amount of money saved since he didn’t need to buy food outside of work. “What do you like?”

“Americano but please just talk to her,” Diane said.

“I’ll take that into consideration. However, I can’t guarantee—”

“Tina!” Diane called. Connor stiffened. Per the schedule, Tina patrolled until 11 today. She shouldn’t be here. “Connor needs you.”

“Why?” Connor asked. Tina darted over as Wilson lugged a sobbing man towards the holding cell.

Diane’s monitor beeped and she tapped to open the message. Connor refrained from accessing and manipulating said message in the DPD database because he really needed to work on his impulse control. “Duty calls.” She gave him a significant look. “Talk to her so it’s no longer weird.”

“It’s not weird.”

“It is,” Diane called over her shoulder.

“What’s up?” Tina brightened at the coffee and took an obnoxious slurp.

“Diane thinks it’s been weird between us,” Connor said.

“And how does Connor feel about this?” Tina asked. Diane greeted a haggard man with greasy hair and a permanent sneer and led him to her desk.

“I…” Connor couldn’t get into depth with everything, but focusing on part of it should relieve some of the guilt. “I put you in a terrible spot last week and you helped me even though you should’ve never been in that position. I value our friendship so I apologize if I exploited that.”

“So you’re bribing me with coffee and sweets?”

Connor hadn’t intended for it to come off as bribery. “I read gestures go a long way.”

“You awkward nerd,” Tina said fondly. “Thanks for all the food this week, but keep it up and I’ll think you have more to hide.”

Connor had no idea what his face did, but Tina rolled her eyes.

“I don’t expect you to confess every dirty little secret, Connor,” Tina said. “Just don’t lie to my face or make me cover for you like I did last week. You’ll tell me if it’s important, whatever it is, but I get having secrets. I value our friendship too, dork.”

Connor suspected that didn’t extend to lying about his android nature but with her words he could pretend.  He also officially deciding lying by omission didn’t count as lying to her face. “That’s acceptable. Waking up early this week to get your food and coffee wasn’t fun.”

“I’ve never seen you look less than chipper,” Tina said. “It’s absolutely sickening. Look at me. Look at the bags under my eyes and stress acne. Then you’re over here like a golden retriever puppy.”

Connor made a show of examining Tina’s face until she shoved him away. The bags under her eyes suggested he should be cutting off her caffeine instead of enabling her, but to err is human and arguably vital for his cover as a human detective. She bit into her bagel with a moan giving Connor a thumbs up. He smiled softly. Their conversation didn’t cover everything on his mind but he felt lighter.  Maybe he should plan on telling her about his android nature. Not now, but maybe in a few months.

“Connor, can you make a copy of this photo?” Diane asked from her desk across from Tina’s. The greasy man scowled even though his body language suggested he was attempting to be friendly.

Connor grabbed the offered picture of the greasy man and a YK500 android. Nothing jumped out as significant. “This is the standard appearance of a YK500 child model. Is a copy of this picture necessary since I’m assuming we don’t need his photo?” Diane’s mouth dropping and the greasy-haired man cursing wasn’t the reaction Connor expected from what he deemed a reasonable request. Tina slurped her coffee, intrigued. “What?”

“You piece of—”

The civilian—Todd Williams, Connor’s scan helpfully supplied, divorced with a history of domestic abuse and DUIs—slammed the desk, gaining several nearby officers’ attention. Not the smartest move to threaten a detective in the middle of a police station. Even Gavin glared at Todd though it must have been reflexive because he turned that glare on Connor then returned to his monitor.

“Surely, you’re aware that the child is a YK500.”

Todd sputtered. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Detective Connor Mason,” Connor said blandly.

“Mr. Williams, sit down,” Diane said. “We’ll help you locate your property even if two androids running away is different than an android kidnapping your daughter.” Todd slowly sat down, glaring hatefully at Connor who still held the folded picture. Roughly 11 months old if he had to guess. He awkwardly handed it back. “Connor, what’s a YK500 model?”

“Child android model,” Connor said. Able to mimic child needs and illnesses. Some psychologists blamed the YK500 and other child android series for humanity’s own declining birthrate, but that felt like a lot to dump even if the entire department believed he had an eidetic memory. “Released a few years ago. The models look like the girl in that picture.”

“Right,” Diane said, “Mr. Williams, we have your contact information if we locate your missing property.”

“So that’s it then? Not a human so you don’t care?” Todd spat.

Hearing Connor’s general opinion of how humans treated androids echoed from this aggressive, greasy human was odd.

“Your AX400 attacked you. Locating it is still a high priority. We’ll do our best to ensure your child model isn’t damaged,” Diane said. “Do you need me to show you out?”

Todd scowled. “I’ll go.”

The officers watched as Todd stormed through the exit, shoving past an exasperated Lieutenant. Hank trudged past without more so much as a glance.

“And as you see Diane, the elusive Connor now has to pick between gossiping about your slimeball lying about an android being his daughter as if we don’t all know what an android looks like—”

“Neither of us knew that was an android. No LED.”

“Those can be removed,” Connor said.

“Really? I thought they were required by whatever android mandate,” Diane said.

“On adult androids yes,” Connor said. “They’re usually removed from child models to better sell the illusion.”

“Creepy.”

“Or,” Tina continued pointedly, “will he hound Hank who, dare I say, has grown fond of the elusive Connor? Only time will tell as Connors are infamously indecisive.”

“But who am I to judge?” Diane said. “I’ll put out an APB on the android that attacked him.”

“If the android assaulted him,” Connor said. “He didn’t seem the most stable.”

Diane shrugged. “Hell of a way to try and get a Cyberlife refund.”

“The elusive Connor and that bitch Diane continue to talk, seemingly unaware that their lunch plans with the highly in demand Tina will be ruined.”

“See you for lunch?” Diane asked, focusing only on Connor.

Connor nodded earnestly. “Of course.”

Diane resumed typing on her computer as Connor walked towards his desk. Tina squawked indignantly. Connor’s brief amusement—Tina was always so easy to rile up—faded as he approached his desk, Hank uncharacteristically reviewing cases on the computer. Typically, Hank didn’t even look at work until around lunchtime.

Stress level 58%

Did he irrefutably ruin their relationship last night? Hank hadn’t addressed him, but considering the insults and dirty looks Hank gave him when they were first partners, maybe this wasn’t negative. It certainly wasn’t positive as Connor considered them friendly enough to at least exchange greetings. Though that was prior to last night when he stumbled through and dragged out a subject clearly sensitive to Hank. 

“Kid, stop thinking so loud,” Hank said, not turning from his screen.

“Sorry about last night,” Connor said in a rush. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories. I knew you disliked androids for a reason, yet I still asked despite knowing your negative association. I’ll attempt to avoid—”

“Stop, stop,” Hank finally turned, looking pained to show emotion. Connor personally couldn’t get a solid read on the Lieutenant’s expression. “You’re fine, Connor. You didn’t know and I overreacted. Don’t worry about it. You didn’t even say anything bad. I just… well you know I have issues, but that’s not on you so I guess…” Hank’s gaze dropped to his desk. “Well, I’m sorry too.”

Connor then noticed Hank’s leg jittering under the desk and his closed-off face became much less daunting. Hank was nervous too.

Stress level 37%

Nerves meant Hank still cared. He wasn’t the only one worried about how last night affected their relationship.

“Apology accepted,” Connor said, sitting down and pretending not to notice tension drain from his partner.

“Hank! Connor! My office,” Fowler said.

Hank groaned. “Jesus, he wasn’t kidding about the morning debrief. It’s too early for this shit.”

“You should think of it like you’re ripping it off like a band-aid,” Connor said, walking with Hank across the bullpen and dodging a yawning Chris.

“That shit doesn’t work if you know this’ll kick the rest of your day in the dick,” Hank said. “If this debrief doesn’t add a ton to our plate, I’ll buy the entire department lunch.”

“That’s a bit too encouraging and engaging for you,” Connor said. “You’d have to get a low-quality lunch to keep expectations of you as our lieutenant reasonable.”

“You’re such a shit.”

Fowler scowled as they entered his office, the glass door closing behind them. But Connor long since learned that Fowler’s stern expression was his default so he typically ignored it.

“Cyberlife released a shit ton of android cases to the DPD yesterday,” Fowler said. “Not isolated incidents like we typically handle—old ladies losing their android maid and that kind of crap—but apparently Cyberlife has been gathering and monitoring android assaults for months. It took the homicide last night for them to speak up. This isn’t Cyberlife’s problem anymore. It’s officially a criminal investigation and I need you to investigate these cases and see if there’s any link.”

“I know jackshit about androids, Jeffrey,” Hank said. “I’m not qualified for this.”

“Luckily your partner will pick up your slack,” Fowler said dryly. “I need you both on your A-game. Cyberlife keeping this hush hush until now reeks of misconduct and if they hindered any part of this investigation, we need to know about it.”

“Will Cyberlife not be involved?” Connor asked. If he hadn’t failed his first mission, this situation would be the perfect environment for Cyberlife to test a prototype deviant hunter. Cyberlife releasing information but remaining hands-off was improbable. Though his own deviation likely stalled plans of the deviant hunter series and even Cyberlife couldn’t draw up a prototype from scratch that was ready for field testing in two months.

“Nope, apparently a few of their moneymakers turning rogue isn’t a huge concern,” Fowler said. “They’re leaving it to us to figure out and stop whatever is causing this.”

Connor highly doubted Cyberlife trusted a third party to ‘stop’ the deviancy problem. Even with the pretense of Cyberlife allowing the DPD this independence, they had to be micromanaging their cases.

Stress level 67%

He should have changed his name. Why didn’t he change his name? The police records didn’t have pictures attached but what if some technician saw the timeframe of a detective Connor transferring compared to the RK800 Connor deviating and the entire line being dismantled? And while the DPD didn't have pictures of their officers, public records did. As in the same public records Connor inserted his alias in to pass the DPD background check. 

“They’re calling it deviancy,” Fowler said. “Whatever bullshit getting into their software and causes androids to go haywire. All the Cyberlife case notes are uploaded to your computers. You have a lot to sort through and you’ll be our point of contact for any new android case.”

Connor would have to force Hank to handle any potential Cyberlife communications. Hopefully, Hank’s personality and unsubtle disdain would put off his creators. Said partner frowned heavily which was a better reaction than Connor expected considering his distaste for androids. Going by Fowler’s expression, the captain also expected more griping.

“Will Cyberlife get involved in our cases?” Connor asked.

Fowler shifted his stern expression to Connor and he almost felt sheepish about his redundant question.

“I know they’re not involved now but will they join us later?” Connor refrained from fidgeting. Then realized sitting still was very inhuman so he allowed a minor fidget.

“Cyberlife isn’t able to assist with a police investigation unless they offer an android consultant,” Fowler said. “All they want are copies of your reports and any androids you apprehend. If I hear different, I’ll let you know.”

The probability of Fowler keeping his promise and notifying the duo was thankfully high. Any Cyberlife involvement meant his Canadian Refugee plan was a go. Though his Canadian Refugee plan had a huge flaw he didn’t consider when he created it—he didn’t want to leave Detroit and his friends behind.

“Thank you, Captain. I just find it odd the corporation covered up android crimes and are now letting us investigate with no personal involvement,” Connor said. “Once the media finds out, this’ll crash Cyberlife’s stocks.”

“Media won’t find out,” Fowler said.

“They always find out. It’s just a matter of when,” Hank said. “Ugh fucking androids and capitalistic bullshit. Only caring about their profit margins…”

“You done?” Fowler asked.

“Never,” Hank said. “Any other company or person that pulled this shit would result in an immediate investigation, but since Cyberlife has the entire city by the balls—”

“That was rhetorical. You’re done,” Fowler said. “Dismissed.”

Hank stomped out, swearing. Connor nodded more professionally. “Have a good day, Captain.”

“You too, Connor.”

Connor made his way back to his scowling partner’s desk.

“Fucking deviancy.” Hank shook his head as Connor sat on the top of Hank’s desk. “This combined with that crime of passion yesterday. Are androids catching emotions? Or at least mimicking the more violent emotions now.”

“We’ll find out I suppose. Interrogating a deviant would be helpful.” Though unlikely to occur as Connor planned to continue subtly sabotaging.

Hank grunted, opening his monitor and scowl deepening. “243 files. How did Cyberlife think they could cover this bullshit up?”

243 files? 243 deviants were a small fraction of the total Detroit android population but larger than Connor’s expectations. He didn’t have an idea of the overall figures behind deviancy but it seemed to be accelerating. “I’m surprised we didn’t catch wind of anything before Cyberlife’s interception.”

“Unsettling is what this is,” Hank said. “Shady shit that I’m not paid enough to deal with.”

“We may uncover more shady shit during our investigation then you can feel validated when we file charges against Cyberlife,” Connor said.

“Don’t toy with my heart.”

“Morning Hank, Connor,” Chris greeted with his usual cheer. “We got a sighting of the AX400 that attacked that guy last night and took the YK500. They’re in the Ravendale district.”

“What’s the address?” Hank asked.

“Should two androids running away have a higher priority than some of these other cases?” Connor asked. “Take Ortiz. His android murdered him and is still on the loose. I saw Todd Williams this morning, as did you Hank, and he looked fine. If his android assaulted him, the damage is minimal enough it may have been accidental.”

“Minimal doesn’t make it unimportant, Connor,” Hank said. “Androids shouldn’t even cause a paper cut on purpose.”

“I agree, but compare a papercut to 28 stab wounds,” Connor said. “I know you’re not used to getting here before 11—”

“Fuck off I was in at 9:30 a few times last week,” Hank said with no heat.

“9:15 today I believe, Lieutenant,” Connor supplied helpfully.

“Don’t say that like it’s a huge accomplishment.”

“But the day just started,” Connor said. “Let’s at least review other APB responses before we commit to Ravendale. Based on Ortiz’s order history, we should be looking for an HK400.”

“Not used to you being anything but an eager puppy when it comes to tracking down perps,” Hank said.

“It makes no sense to jump at the first lead we get for a random case,” Connor said. He tapped into and sorted through the APB responses in the station’s network. A few were generic enough they could arguably be the HK400 but nowhere near the beginning of the path to Jericho so Connor felt confident pursuing them. One sighting was even two streets from Ortiz’s address.

“The AX400 and kid android are more distinctive than the HK400. It makes sense to follow something more easily linked to the deviancy cases especially early on. Get some basic info.”

“Deviancy?” Chris asked.

“Androids going on murder sprees and shit,” Hank said. “Cyberlife worked on a cutesy name for it while they so considerately gathered these cases for us.”

“The AX400 and YK500 didn’t murder anyone,” Connor said.

“They shouldn’t have attacked and run away either,” Hank said. “If that happened, Cyberlife would lose a lot of money. It’s clear they deviated or whatever.”

Connor tilted Hank’s screen to open and scroll through the APB responses to locate the ones he already flagged in his processor. The screen was touch-sensitive and by now he was long use to fighting off the instinct to interface. He clicked a couple of APBs to highlight after a hopefully natural 35 seconds of reading. “True but these match the HK400’s appearance and are within a reasonable radius for Ortiz’s house. It makes sense for the android to hide out nearby after the murder for lack of other places to go. Us going to Ortiz’s last night would’ve spooked him. The HK400 is also by far the more dangerous threat to the public.”

Hank hummed. “Fine, let’s check this out first then go to the Ravendale district. Still early enough for us to tackle both and the perps still be in the area.”

The probability of the deviants in Ravendale moving with urgency and being gone by the time he and Hank arrived to investigate was high but, to be safe, Connor planned to convince Hank to detour for lunch or at least coffee.  “Imagine what we could accomplish if you got here at 8.”

“Don’t push it.”

Connor slid Hank’s usual order from the Chicken Feed to his partner and began digging into his own chicken strips. He had the storage capacity to consume most of the Chicken Feed’s health code violating meal that Hank continued to insist was the best in town.

“Today’s been a bust so far.”

“Not necessarily,” Connor said, despite the utter lack of progress in the deviancy case. “We did stop a breaking and entering.”

“That’s pathetic on a normal day and was unrelated to the deviants we were searching for. We found absolutely no evidence of that HK400,” Hank said through his sandwich.

“Still someone we needed to stop,” Connor said, “but not take down to the station apparently.”

Hank waved a hand. “The kid didn’t even have a weapon. He was just desperate for cash. Everyone goes through a burglary stage.”

“They don’t.”

“People who live a little do,” Hank said. Connor rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t judge too much. He did forge an entire identity and manipulate the landlord’s account to make it seem like his security deposit was paid. It was all just numbers at the end of the day. “We already scared the shit out of him. Arresting him would be redundant because I doubt he’ll try anything again. No one’s that lucky twice. Besides, Pedro will take care of him.”

“With his illegal gambling business?” Connor asked drily because Pedro made Hank lose more than win but Hank refused to listen to statistics.

“Everyone does what they need to to get by. As long as they don’t hurt anyone, I don’t bother them. You should take a note of that.”

“Maybe don’t actively recruit for them, at least,” Connor said. “Feels like that’s intruding into the ‘bothering them’ territory.”

Hank waved away Connor’s words. “Still safer than breaking and entering. Besides, if we did haul him down to the station, we’d get to Ravendale even later. Not that it matters since by the time we got there, the motel manager said the AX400 and kid’s room was empty for an hour.”

“We’re still waiting for the traffic cam footage to track down their path,” Connor said. Which should arrive right in time for that trail to be cold. Fleeing deviants had no reason to linger, especially if they weren’t aware of Jericho.

“For all the help that’ll be,” Hank said. “If we went to Ravendale first, they would’ve been there. Next time, I call the shots.”

“That’s unfair.” And made his plan to steer Hank away from any deviants harder. “It was one bad call.”

“Two if you count both APBs we checked out,” Hank said. “I’m the senior officer. I’m allowed to be unfair.”

Connor couldn’t fault Hank’s logic but that didn’t stop it from irking. He ate a chicken strip, absently discarding the chemical breakdown alert.

“You know, I didn’t expect you to be this calm about this shit,” Hank said.

“What do you mean?” Connor asked, despite the small spike in his stress levels.

“First big investigation and we didn’t catch the HK400 last night, any android today, and no fresh leads except to go through Cyberlife’s files,” Hank said. “I thought I’d be talking you off a ledge or at the very least drag you to lunch. Instead, you’re twisting this morning as if it hasn’t all been a huge waste of time. We’d know more if we sat on our asses and spent the day reading files in the office.”

Connor didn’t modify his behavior today to include Hank knowing his personality. He was too busy keeping them away from any deviancy trails and hiding his relief he completely forgot to act how he typically did on cases. Namely, focusing on solving it in record time and bypassing meals to make progress. Androids obviously didn’t require food and most adult models couldn’t eat, but since he played human, Hank always forced food on him.

“I’m trying to be… less intense about cases,” Connor said, recalling an offhand comment Ben made eight days ago. “It’s the first day, we’ll make progress.”

“While I can appreciate you no longer acting like you’ll die if you don’t figure out something,” Hank said.

 “I think ‘focused’ is what you’re looking for.”

“It’s not,” Hank said. “Maybe still try to care about your cases? Specifically, at least pretend to be concerned at shit calls and no progress.”

Connor winced. “Noted.”

Hank chucked his wrapper into a nearby trash can. “We all screw up, Connor. Just work through it.”

“I will, Hank,” Connor said, adjusting his plan. Hank cared about deviants to the extent it was the focus of the big case Fowler assigned and Hank had a work ethic buried under his cynicism. It should be easy enough to shift their case from deviants to Cyberlife hindering an investigation. Though that would require bringing in or compiling evidence in the more violent deviant cases. It was a delicate balance.

Fortunately, his phone buzzing saved him from continuing their conversation. He skimmed the message. Nicely timed redemption opportunity.

“I just got a report of a suspected deviant. It's a few blocks away,” Connor said.

“Alright, finish up your food and we’ll check it out,” Hank said.

“Fucking pigeons,” Hank swore as each step resulted in the mass of pigeons swarming away but refusing to leave the apartment. “Has to be an android. No one else would feed these things.”

“Must’ve been lonely,” Connor said. The apartment wasn’t much.  Likely it was abandoned long before the deviant made their home here. Some broken furniture scattered across the floor, but mostly all the items were dingy and covered in the mess left behind from so many pigeons. The maze diagrams on the wall were newer and too neat to be anything but from an android.

“Not sure I’ll ever reach the point that pigeons are good company,” Hank said, opening the muck-covered fridge with a grimace. “No food. The suspect has to be a deviant. Who knew the ‘suspicious character with maybe a LED or piercing’ checked out. Thank God for nosy old ladies.”

Connor scanned the room, the lack of thirium reassuring. A relatively new poster hanging on the wall was too out of place for Connor to leave alone and the crack it covered too small to hide an android. He tore down the United Farmers of Detroit poster and frowned as he flipped through a notebook filled with more diagrams. Was the android bored? What was the point of all the ciphers?

“You find something?” Hank asked, walking over then sighing. “Connor wear gloves, Jesus.”

He dropped the book, tugging on the blue latex gloves and internally kicking himself. Now was not the time to let curiosity override important human habits. “Sorry, androids don’t have fingerprints so I didn’t ruin any evidence we could use to locate the deviant. However, we would need the lab to detect any potential thirium.” Which there was none but it was a useful suggestion at face value. Though if they tested the book for prints, Hank would definitely find it remiss if there weren’t any fingerprints from his grabby partner. Connor’s fingers twitched towards his coin.

Stress level 53%

“Thirium?”

Right, he forgot how much Hank didn’t pay attention to androids. To be fair to his partner, generally only android owners recalled the official name. “Blue blood is what you probably know it by. It dries after a few hours so we can’t see it, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there.”

“Huh,” Hank said. “Is there anything handheld we can bring with us to crime scenes? Like blacklight?”

“Blacklight should work,” Connor said. After all, his own system used blacklight along with more sophisticated technology as black light alone couldn’t distinguish thirium from other potential fluids at a crime scene. The only way humans could confirm the substance was dried thirium was by collecting samples and waiting for lab results. “Help us figure out what happened.”

“We should blacklight Ortiz’s home,” Hank mused. “Get a better idea of where the android went.”

Since the HK400 should be gone by now, Connor had no issues with the officers locating the thirium trail that led to the attic. It was plausible the android hid in the attic first and left long before the officers arrived.

“Might as well,” Connor said, stuffing the journal of mazes into an evidence bag. “We’ll start carrying something for other crime scenes.”

“What is in that?”

“Not sure, just looks like the walls,” Connor said. “So it’s useless and encrypted.”

“That’ll be fun to crack,” Hank said. “A fucking computer created algorithm.”

Without a decryption key, it’d be nearly impossible for human or android to decipher it. However, the only useful information from one android’s musing that Connor could think of would be the location of Jericho.

Stress level 63%

Did Cyberlife know about Jericho? Their natural thorough tendencies indicated yes but an android safe haven seemed like a generic enough goal to share with the DPD. He’d have to review the files Cyberlife shared tonight. They may have mentioned Jericho but he and Hank haven’t come across it yet in their cases.

Connor made his way to the bathroom and paused. RA9 again. Written in the same standard Cyberlife font 2,417 times. What was RA9 and why did all deviants except for him seem to know about it?

“Same shit in Ortiz’s shower,” Hank said. “Any idea what it means or is this just a deviant’s fun way of decorating bathrooms?”

“No idea,” Connor said. “Both androids seemed obsessed with it based on the amount they wrote it alone.”

“I really hope this doesn’t turn into cult bullshit,” Hank said. “Cult bullshit never ends pretty.”

“Hank,” Connor said, gesturing to the sink. A still glowing LED laid on the blue-splattered sink. A thirium stain he didn’t need his state-of-the-art scanners to identify.

“Smart to take that out, but too late since its neighbor saw that little beacon,” Hank said, studying the sink. “How long does it take for thirium to dry?”

“A few hours,” Connor said.

“If it’s not here, it’s close,” Hank said, creeping into the living room.

The toppled footstool combined with the loud noise after Connor yelled Detroit Police Department at the door painted a much more recent picture than he was comfortable with. He walked into the living room, his reconstruction of the crime scene happening on autopilot. The deviant fled the bathroom, knocked over a metal birdcage—though why he needed a birdcage in a bird-filled apartment, Connor wasn’t sure—heard Connor and Hank entered and…

Hank followed his gaze to the chair and the gaping hole in the ceiling above it. He gripped his gun and stepped forward but Connor waved him off.

“Cover me,” Connor said lowly.

Hank nodded with a lack of fuss Connor didn’t expect considering the lunch lecture. Connor crept towards the chair. No way he could pretend he didn’t locate this android. Maybe he could loudly announce they're the DPD again? Give the android time to escape.

Thankfully, Connor didn’t have much time to overthink.

A WB200 in a shabby baseball cap burst out of the ceiling, Connor stumbled into Hank as the android sprinted out of the apartment. It would be easy to let the android go. Machines didn’t have to worry about human stamina so tests of endurance were pointless. But Hank’s disapproval from lunch was still fresh and his core revolted against being a disappointment. He could at least make a good show of losing the android.

“Try to cut him off!”

“Goddamnit, Connor—”

Connor burst out the apartment door, the WB200 already tearing through the emergency exit and onto the roof. Connor jumped past the random furniture the android shoved behind him and started monitoring the amount of physical activity exerted so he could falter consistently like most humans. But he was known to be athletic so he raised the bar slightly.

He jumped through the emergency exit and into a rooftop wheat field for the first time in his existence but couldn’t savor it. Now the random United Farmers of Detroit poster made sense. The roof farms were right next door to the deviant’s hideout. He slowed, clambering up a ladder and onto a rooftop with a greenhouse. No android in sight but the shouts from the greenhouse indicated the deviant ran through. Connor sprinted through the lines of crops and androids still mindlessly caring for the plants. He flashed a badge to the one human supervisor swearing.

“It jumped off the roof,” the supervisor said. “That way.”

Connor stared the direction the supervisor waved. The slanted roof and now broken window on the opposing building was an easy jump for an android, but an insanely dangerous one for a human. Hopefully, the deviant knew the path to Jericho.

“Jesus.” Hank jogged up and now hunched over his knees. “When I said act like you care about the case, I thought I paired that with don’t act like you’ll die if you fail. The fuck was that?”

“Pursuing the suspect,” Connor said. “I was hoping to corner him on the roof.”

“You can’t chase down an android unless you get lucky or it's faulty,” Hank panted, “and these deviants seem particularly suicidal.”

“We know what the android looks like,” Connor said. “He won’t get far.”

“Yeah especially if he keeps running around like this,” Hank said, eyeing Connor warily. “Let’s get back to the apartment and make sure we didn’t miss anything.”

“I’ll send an alert to Chris to get an APB out,” Connor said. His partner still wheezed next to him. “Need help?”

“You’re not even out of breath, you prick.”

“Let’s go, Hank. We’ll work on your cardio later.”

“You know, I genuinely can’t tell if you’re serious.”

Connor just patted Hank on the back and remained silent under the Lieutenant's distrustful gaze.

Connor twirled his coin between his fingers. He went through all 243 files Cyberlife sent over twice—excessive for any android, but especially Connor. Anxiety was a less fun side effect of deviancy—and couldn’t locate even a reference to Jericho. Which meant either Cyberlife didn’t trust the DPD with this information or were unaware of the android safe haven. The latter option seemed unlikely but did beg the question if Jericho was the android safe haven he and Luther assumed it was. Was it an illusion meant to snag unsuspecting androids similar to Zlatko’s? Or a wild goose chase created by the one lone deviant Luther gleaned the Jericho code from? He had no way to find out unless he followed the path but the risk outweighed the reward. In the event it was a trap, he couldn’t enact the Canadian Refugee plan with Cyberlife’s attention.

Power level 16%. Consider charging.

He flipped his coin in the air, dropping into Hank’s armchair and turning up the old radio his partner plopped on Connor’s desk at the station last week. Connor strained his processors by rapidly downloading and running thorough searches on all the cases twice and corroborating the information using creative internet searches—only hacking a few times really—and the police database. It did result in triangulations and trends of deviants—unsurprisingly, most deviations were caused by some sort of violence or abuse from humans—but annoyingly little about Cyberlife’s involvement or lack thereof.

It festered like an itch. Or how he imagined an itch would feel based on the internet. What were his creators doing? Not even sending in a human consultant to monitor the DPD’s investigation raised several red flags. Cyberlife rarely squandered an opportunity and even rarer did they trust an outside party. But Connor found no signs of hacking in the DPD files or security. For all appearances, it was like Cyberlife gave the DPD free rein.  

A pounding on his door drew attention away from his spiraling thoughts. Was a neighbor annoyed by his music? It was hardly the loudest thing to occur in this building and certainly not loud enough to warrant residents bypassing the unspoken rule not to interact with each other. He attempted conversations when he first moved in, but most residents avoided him except the college students across the hall who somehow managed to fit three roommates in this tiny space.

The pounding continued. Impatient whoever they were. Connor’s slight intrigue dampened.

“Detroit Police Department! Open up!”

Then transformed into full-fledged annoyance.

He yanked open the door. “Hank, you’ll wake my neighbors. Stop.”

Hank snorted, shoving inside. “It’s not even 10. Who would be sleeping?”

“Agatha next door has narcolepsy,” Connor said. Not that she ever introduced herself or told him anything, but he saw his neighbor’s mail and was bored before he transferred into the police department. “She sleeps all the time.”

“Then why are you being an asshole and blasting your garbage droid pop music?”

“The radio isn’t that loud…” Most likely. Though he could clearly hear his upstairs neighbor’s alarm clock every morning. He twisted down the volume.  

“Jesus, you need to do dishes,” Hank said, leaning against the slim half-wall that felt more like a mistake than the advertised 'bar.' Connor may have been overzealous with his attempts to liven up the apartment. A couple of half-filled coffee mugs and a bowl crusted in alfredo were in the sink. The smell didn’t waft too far outside of the kitchen.

“Why are you here?” Connor asked. “If you’re going to be annoying, at least bring something.”

“How about the sexiest little things in town, or so the ads say,” Hank said. “Sex club! You, me, tonight.”

Connor folded his arms. “Why?”

“Honestly surprised this isn’t a flat-out no,” Hank said. “Let me think… bonding?”

His partner smiled winningly. Very suspicious behavior.

“I would be honored to go to a sex club with you,” Connor said earnestly. “I appreciate you thinking to include me in this experience.”

“Of course, you’d turn it lame.”

“Who cares? We’re not actually going to a sex club.”

“We are,” Hank said. “We have a case.”

Connor reviewed the 243 cases. Twenty-two originated from various android sex clubs. Escapes and assaults but no confirmed homicides. However, the most recent Cyberlife sex club case was three weeks old. “Do we?”

“Oh yeah, which someone would know if someone didn’t turn off their phone.” Hank wagged his finger. “We have reputations to maintain and a good system down. I can’t have it get out I answer my phone now.”

Connor turned off his cell for the first time since he got the device. In all fairness, Tina usually spammed the group chat he ended up in with Diane and Gavin of all people. He wanted to focus on the files without distraction and since his processor synced up with the phone, every message appeared directly in his head.

“I believe this means you’re the DPD’s rising star detective again,” Connor said. “Personally, that’s a lot of pressure as your partner. I may request to transfer to Gavin.”

“He’d run you to the ground and bash you with his mentoring,” Hank said. “He does everything aggressively, even taking people under his wing.”

“He despises me,” Connor said. “He wouldn’t bother.”

“Oh he’d claim you as his protégé in a heartbeat and use your success to pressure Fowler into promoting him,” Hank said. “You can’t tell but Gavin has a ten-year plan to land captain.”

Which seemed like the detective. Unprofessional Gavin may be, he was incredibly ambitious and a good investigator when his personality didn’t get in the way. “Really? How far along is he?”

“Year six or seven.”

“Not looking ideal unless he transfers,” Connor said.

“And doesn’t the bitch know it,” Hank said. “Anyway, let’s go. Dead body, freaky androids, and all that.”

“Give me a second to change,” Connor said.

“But you look like a real person in casual clothes,” Hank said. “Come on. It won’t kill you to work without looking like a Fed for once.”

Power level 15%. Consider charging.

Well, he couldn’t do that quickly. He should’ve started charging when he arrived home but his worries and research distracted him. Besides, next to Hank’s clashing colors, even Connor’s faded jeans and mint green hoodie were by default more professional. He grabbed his badge and gun from drawers in the hallway.

“Fine, let’s go.”

“Club Eden. Home of the sexiest androids in town,” Hank said as they walked through the doors, the bass thrumming louder. Bright lights and androids posing in tubes greeted them. Connor averted his eyes. These were either androids mindlessly following their programming or deviants blending in to save their skin. Either way, they were nothing Connor wanted to watch. “People are fucking insane. They don’t want relationships anymore, just an android. They cook when you want, screw when you want, and you don’t have to worry about how they feel. Next thing you know, we’re gonna be extinct because everybody would rather buy a piece of plastic than love a human being.”

“Speaks more about the person than the android if the android is just following program parameters,” Connor said.

“Never said it wasn’t the human,” Hank said. “Just fucked up that androids are making humans lazy to the point extinction isn’t out of the question.”

“If we can keep pandas alive, I think humanity is safe,” Connor said dryly.

Hank snorted. “Suppose you’re right.”

Androids and the other club patrons continued business as usual, but it was easy to spot Ben and a frazzled man in his 40s. Even without his scanners, the man was easy to identify as the manager.  Ben waved them towards the closed door with the electronic crime scene tape as he hummed noncommittally to the manager ranting about not losing his license.

The room, abysmal bowling carpet aside, emulated the sleek design and bright lights from the main room.  The layout was fairly typical, Connor supposed. The only pieces of furniture were a large circle bed and a toilet but the only occupants were the human corpse on the bed and the android sprawled by the toilet. Connor slipped on his latex gloves, pretending he didn’t notice Hank double-checking he did so and squatted next to the dead android.

Why was the human dead twelve feet away from a deactivated WR400? Was it an ill-timed heart attack? Did the WR400 kill the human? Though if she did murder the human, her fleeing the room or collapsing next to the human on the bed seemed more probable.

He frowned. The only thirium present on the WR400 was a bright blue leak from her nose. He couldn’t pinpoint the reason she died without diagnosing her and there was no way he’d risk an interface so close to Hank.

“Michael Graham,” Hank read off the victim’s driver’s license. Connor stood from the android and examined the human on the bed. “Has a picture of a wife and kids too. Wouldn’t want to make that phone call.”

Connor scanned Michael. No ill-timed heart attack, but definitely strangulation based off the bruising on his neck. But was this rough play or self-defense from the android? He glanced back at the dead WR400. The path didn’t make sense for that android to kill the human then die on the floor. Could an android murder a human in their final moments? Absolutely. But the criminal investigator in Connor pointed out the lack of destruction from the bed to the floor that would follow an android seconds from dying and eager to murder and get away from the abusive human.

Or most likely abusive human. He lifted Michael’s hands, notating the blue thirium. Ok yes abusive human.

“Is that the only blue blood on him?” Hank asked.

“From what I can tell,” Connor said, gingerly placing the victim’s arm back.

“Androids record everything, right? With their eye cameras?”

“They do,” Connor said.

“Great, I need to grab something from the car. Hang tight,” Hank said.

“Ok,” Connor said to Hank’s retreating back. If Hank intended to get a blacklight, it would offer no assistance as this room was covered in old thirium, semen, and urine. But Hank asking about android recordings made Connor’s stress level tick up. Logically, he wanted to stop any perpetrator and murder should be thoroughly investigated. But logic had nothing on his intense desire to protect androids. Every system was so heavily biased against androids, deviant or not. In the grand scheme of things, Connor’s tipping of the scale was hardly noticeable.

Hank lugged in a battered duffle bag. “You know that tech that helps out with police droids tune-ups and repairs?”

“Cheyenne,” Connor said.

“Should’ve guessed you’d met. You’re such a social butterfly,” Hank said. “Anyway, she loaned me some stuff when I told her we were working android-specific cases.”

This must’ve been after Hank dropped off Connor for the day. Hank dropping Connor off was a normal part of their routine. Hank returning to the precinct to continue working was not.

Hank dug out a USB cord, what looked like a car battery, and a handheld screen.

“This little guy should kickstart the tin can then we can access its memory file.”

Stress level 63%

“Kickstart? Reactivating an android like this would only be temporary and will be a huge shock to her system.” Connor managed to bit off mentioning the overwhelming pain she would feel. Androids couldn’t feel physical pain but physical pain wasn’t the only pain that existed. The android died. The emotional turmoil alone may overtax her systems.

Hank studied the WR400. “Think we need to restrain it?”

“No, that would cause more stress,” Connor said. No telling what her human clients forced her to do.  “Most likely.”

Hank hummed. “Alright, pop off its thumb. I can hook this up to the port in there and get the screen prepped to capture its video feed.”

The ‘between a rock and a hard place’ suddenly made too much sense but Connor didn’t feel the satisfaction he typically gained from parsing another human idiom. The WR400 lay motionless and crumpled. He didn’t want to revitalize a fellow android, likely a deviant. If this was a permanent fix, he’d be all for it. But this system restart would give the android about a minute of awareness, one minute of panic and terror while two strangers interrogated her about her final moments and forced information from her.

But he couldn’t refuse his partner who, despite everything, always focused on solving his cases and already called out Connor on his off behavior. Besides, from Hank’s viewpoint he was essentially reviewing a well-placed security camera because the Lieutenant still didn’t believe androids felt genuine emotions.

Hank paused untangling the cord. “You good, Connor?”

“Is uh,” Connor didn’t know how to approach this situation. Hank wouldn’t understand the cruel angle and going that route ran the risk of Hank’s android grudge negatively impacting their relationship. As much of a relationship an undercover android and android-hating lieutenant can have. He crumpled at Hank’s frown and took the coward’s way out. “Is it the right or left thumb? Does it matter?”

“Don’t know everything? That’s reassuring actually,” Hank said. “Right.”

Connor nodded shortly, pressing and twisting the thumb so it hinged off. He plugged in Hank’s cord as Hank slapped on the two cables from the bulky batter onto the WR400’s chest.

“Alright, stand clear,” Hank said. “I don’t want you to get shocked.”

Connor stepped back. Maybe he was overthinking this. Maybe she’d wake up as if this was a factory reset. Or maybe this wouldn’t work.

Hank flicked on the switch and the effect was instantaneous. The WR400 gasped, scrambling against the wall as soon as she opened her eyes and spotted two strangers looming over her. Her LED glowed a bright solid red.

“Oh fuck,” Hank said, nearly losing hold of the handheld device.

“Calm down,” Connor said as the WR400 continued drawing in heavy breaths. “You’re not in trouble. We’re not going to do anything to you.”

Her eyes flashed to the bed and the corpse. The fear in her face wasn’t programmed. “Is he dead?”

“Yes, we’re investigating why.” He was reluctant to continue talking to this stressed android on borrowed time but Hank scanned through the WR400’s memory, clearly trusting Connor to handle the brief interrogation. He couldn’t waste that trust. The cynical part of him pointed out the worst part of her reactivation was over anyways. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“He started hitting me.” The WR400 shakily wiped her still blue nose. “He hit me again and again. I begged him to stop but he wouldn’t. I couldn’t do anything to defend myself. When he was done, I started to shut down. Then he flung me across the room and… nothing.”

“Was anyone else in the room with you?”

The WR400 blinked slowly. “He wanted to play with two girls…”

Her LED faded the same time Hank cursed. “No more video. Good to know that the video file shuts down with the android. Seems like a flaw but no multibillion dollar company ever asks my opinion. The video correlated with what she said. Graham beat the shit out of her.” Hank grimaced. “There was another one of her models in here, except that one had blue hair.”

“So she has to be the murderer,” Connor said, gazing at the wall next to the slouched android. No more life for her, no matter how brief.

“And we have a link to find it,” Hank said, yanking out the USB cord and shoving the large battery into the duffle bag. “We’ll have to comb the area around the club.”

“If she was in the standard Club Eden uniform, she’d have to still be here,” Connor said absently. The WR400, unlike Connor, stared directly at him with her blank, lifeless gaze.

“Good fucking point,” Hank said. “Let’s check the different rooms before it gets far.”

“Right,” Connor said as Hank left the room, door shutting behind him in his haste. He crouched next to the WR400. His scan only gleaned her model number, but no hint of name. She didn’t deserve to be jolted awake only to die twice. No one did. He gently closed her eyes. “Sorry.”

The one word felt pathetic and too weak to encompass his guilt, but he couldn’t think of anything else to do. He briskly walked out of the room to Hank squabbling with the manager and poking at his handheld device that was connected to the android previously spinning around a pole.

“What do you mean you can’t stop it?”

“The memory swipe every hour is for our client’s security and in all of our contracts. If I delayed it even once without notifying the clientele ahead of time, I could get sued,” the manager said, much more confident now that he didn’t think they’d revoke his business license. “We have a reputation of being discreet.”

“I can show you discreet,” Hank muttered.  

“You got about ten minutes before our next swipe,” the manager said.

Hank’s face turned nasty and Connor smartly stepped in front of his partner. “Thank you, we’ll let you know if we need anything else.” He utilized the smile meant to reassure panicked humans. “Some of your patrons seem concerned about the crime scene barrier, just so you know.”

The manager winced as he followed Connor’s gaze and darted towards the clients who just entered the club.

“Find anything?” Connor asked. The screen in Hank’s hand fast-forwarded through the android’s memory. Fortunately for Hank, he’d have less than an hour to skim through each time which should expedite the search.

“Blue-haired droid exited the room and walked… that way!” Hank yanked the cord and hurried through the club. Ben blinked as Hank displayed the drive they both pretended was behind them. For Ben it may be. It was just Connor’s luck that Hank’s passion for investigating returned during a case a more absentminded partner would benefit him.

Hank grumbled in the next room. No humans were in the main area, but several androids posed in their locked canisters. The one pole in the middle was empty. “Shit alright, we’ll have to buy an android so we can access its memory,” Hank said. “You’re submitting the expense report to Fowler. You’ll make it sound like we rented sex droids for more professional reasons.”

“But we are renting sex droids for professional reasons,” Connor said.

“I know but…” Hank shuddered. “These things give me the creeps. Ok, I’ll get one on this side, you do the other. One of these should’ve gotten a good look at our blue perp.”

Connor walked in the direction Hank waved and picked the middle HR400 who would have the best view of the room. He pressed his hand against the digital screen urging people to rent the android for an hour.

No fingerprints detected.

Fuck. Human fingerprints were required.

Stress level 69%

Across the room, Hank plugged into his android and frowned heavily at his handheld device. He didn’t have much time. Connor pressed the screen beside the HR400 again, letting his hand turn white and focused. Club Eden had a more sophisticated security system than the DPD, but considering human’s focus on sex and money and the DPD’s own budget cuts, this security difference made sense.

However, Connor was a state-of-the-art prototype. While his programming never revolved around hacking, his programming was always intended to adapt. So he adapted to excel at hacking.

He adjusted his approach so instead of brute-forcing his way into the system, he located the manager’s key signature and used a similar manipulation to unlock the android’s case. The HR400 stepped out and instantly locked on Connor. The HR400 tilted his head, his perfect physique tantalizingly close and eyes void of emotion.

“What is your rate?” Connor asked, realizing the master key bypassed the purchase transaction.

“A thirty-minute session is $29.99. An hour is $49.99.”

Connor added the charge plus tax to his work card. “Stay here. Hank, you find anything?”

“No,” Hank said, popping off the HR400’s thumb with practiced ease. The android stood in the default stiff android stance, not acknowledging the forceful prob accessing its memory. Hank fast-forwarded through the video and smiled. “But this did. Come on.”

To aid Connor’s stress level, the next few rooms had androids outside of their canisters so Connor didn’t have to cover up any more hacking. The janitor android Hank currently plugged into showed the blue-haired WR400 walk calmly through the staff door.

“Fucking A. Can’t believe that worked,” Hank said, slamming past the staff door and following the hallway into a warehouse. Hank drew his gun, walking cautiously down the stairs. Connor followed with a hand on his gun, but no intention to draw it.

The warehouse was quiet, the only sound the distant beat from the club and him and Hank spreading to opposite sides of the room. Nothing else moved. Androids stood in neat formations next to the walls and a couple laid on top of some metal tables, prepping for some minor repairs. Any androids with damage deemed too costly or extensive to fix were thrown aside and dismantled. Connor examined the bins filled with broken androids too long.

Hank wandered over and shook his head. “Shit look at that. They get used until they break then they’re tossed out.”

“I can see why this place would lead to deviancy,” Connor said.

“If androids can experience emotional shock, this would be the place to check,” Hank said. “Don’t drop your guard and take out your gun.”

Connor drew his gun reluctantly and took the right side as Hank remained on the left. None of these androids had different colored hair so the blue-haired WR400 should be easy to spot. It also begged the question why no one at Club Eden questioned why one android changed her hair color.

He shifted from one organized cluster of androids to another, lingering about twenty seconds before moving on. He stood but he didn’t actively examine. The blue-haired android saw the human kill the other android so she killed the human before he could harm her. No one would protect androids except for other androids.

He moved to the next cluster, hiding his reaction at Hank’s increasingly frustrated rants. The rapidly cooling trail after their back-to-back successes ate at the Lieutenant. Especially since he couldn’t rely on his new favorite tech because these androids were on standby mode so even if Hank activated one, their feeds wouldn’t show anything recent. He allowed a small smile. If he stalled for a bit longer, Hank should get to the point he’d want to give up and they can leave the blue-haired android to run away in peace.

Proximity alert

Connor dodged, processing a foot kicking past his face the same time he realized he stood in front of a cluster of androids containing the blue-haired WR400. But the blue-haired android leaped towards a shouting Hank. Connor’s attacker was a snarling WR400 with short hair. Should’ve known there was more than one deviant here.

He tossed the short-haired WR400 over a table, her wide eyes reminding him most humans were incapable of such shows of strength. After all, most androids were heftier than they appeared. He blocked the WR400’s punches.

“Stop! I don’t want to hurt you,” Connor said.

The short-haired WR400 snorted. “Why should I believe you? All humans do is lie.”

Hank grunted as the blue-haired WR400 shoved him across the floor. Too close for Connor to say anything else to the short-haired WR400. Nothing was reassuring to the androids without rising Hank’s suspicions. Really the only thing Connor could think of that would convince the WR400s he meant them no harm was revealing he was an android. And even that only had a 65% chance of succeeding and a 100% chance of Hank noticing.

The short-haired WR400 wasted no time taking advantage of Connor’s distraction. She grabbed a screwdriver and jabbed it at his chest. Connor blocked her with more care and precision than he did her earlier attacks, eventually grabbing the screwdriver and chucking it across the room. A single jab in this brightly lit warehouse with a sober partner would only end one way.

Connor shoved a metal cart at her. “We just want to talk.”

“Talk, right,” the short-haired WR400 said, leaping over the cart with clinical android grace. “I don’t have anything to say to you. I’m not dying and I’m not letting you kill her.”

“No one is killing anyone,” Connor said. “No one else is dying today.”

The short-haired WR400 tackled him off the loading bay and he landed hard on the concrete below. His entire processor jarred briefly and the scuffle by the warehouse table grew louder. The chain-link fence at the short-haired WR400’s back was a clear escape route.

Power level 11%. Charging recommended. Systems overexerting suggested limits. Initiating power-saving mode.

Connor blinked and lurched to his feet clumsily as his system consolidated power. The blue-haired WR400 shoved past Connor and skidded behind the short-haired WR400. Connor stumbled again, recalibrating his power usage back to normal. One of the WR400s—probably the short-haired one—hit him with a garbage can.

“Connor!” Hank fired a warning shot. “Nobody move!”

Connor drew his gun reflexively, Hank standing above them all and his gun trained on the WR400s. The blue-haired WR400 struggled to keep the short-haired WR400 behind her. Her glare at Hank didn’t quite cover her tremors.

“Let us go,” the blue-haired android said.

“You killed a man,” Hank said. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“We’re not going with you,” the blue-haired android hissed. The short-haired WR400’s eyes grew wet as she couldn’t escape the strong hands pinning her in place.

Hank’s gun seemed to grow larger. “You don’t have a choice.”

“I’m not letting you do this, Blue,” the short-haired WR400 sobbed. “We agreed. We always agreed you’d be the one to go if only one could.”

The WR400’s linked hands, a small gesture that Connor couldn’t look away from. Their hands clasped tightly together even as Blue forced herself between the gun and the short-haired WR400.

“You said that, but I never agreed,” Blue said. “You know I wouldn’t. I won’t leave without you.” Her grip tightened and the short-haired WR400’s struggles turned into an almost violent embrace. “I won’t live without you.”

Hank gawked, gun not wavering but face completely slack.

“Blue, no come on.” The short-haired WR400 closed her eyes and continued softer, but even Hank could hear in the otherwise silent warehouse. “If you love me, let me save you. Please.”

This was not an act. They were too terrified, too everything. But Hank’s eyes narrowed as cynicism and paranoia took over.

“Hank, lower your gun,” Connor said. The androids stopped their struggling as if they completely forgot Connor was nearby. Hank’s gun remained steady but he cocked his head to Connor. “Look at them. They don’t deserve to be shot just because they deviated. That’s not our call to make.”

Hank was silent and no android moved. “She killed someone.”

Blue swallowed. “When that man killed the other android, I knew I was next. He beat her to death, but he wasn’t done. They’re never done. I begged him to stop. I was just so scared.” The short-haired WR400 tightened her hold around Blue, leaning her forehead against Blue’s shoulder. “But he just kept going so I put my hands around his neck and squeezed. I didn’t mean to kill him. I just wanted to get out alive. I just wanted to get back to who I love, curl into her arms and forget all about the humans with their sweat and dirty words.”

Connor slowly and deliberately put his gun back into his holster. The short-haired WR400 stared at him hard then returned to Hank. They were all looking at Hank.

“She only wanted to survive in a world that wouldn’t protect her,” Connor said. “I’m not saying he deserved to die, but neither do they.”

“We only want to leave,” the short-haired WR400 said. “This place isn’t safe anymore. We just want to go where we can be together in peace.”

Connor turned back to Hank, starting when he realized Hank’s gaze bore into him. Was he showing too much of his hand? Hank turned a blind eye to a lot, but with two android lovers one of whom was the murderer for a homicide a few rooms over? He had no idea what route the loud, android-hating Lieutenant would go.

Connor shrugged helplessly.

Hank sighed and slowly lowered his gun. “Go.”

Blue fled without a backward glance while the short-haired WR400 glared distrustfully until they reached the chain-link fence. Then she scrambled as if fleeing before he and Hank changed their mind.

Connor stiffened as Hank entered the loading bay and stopped next to him. Yet another link to their android case slipped past. Was he furious? Was Connor going to get reported and interrogated?

“Maybe it’s better this way,” Hank said as the WR400s turned the corner.

Stress level 35%

Connor’s small smile flickered at Hank’s unreadable face.

“Let’s head out,” Hank said.

Connor leaned on the railing and Hank sat behind him on the park bench. Snow swirled, covering the playground in patchy white. The park was completely deserted, the only movement in view was the distant traffic as cars crossed the Ambassador Bridge. He huddled in his leather jacket despite not feeling the cold. He had no idea why Hank drove them here.

Power level 9%. Charging Recommended. Power-saving mode: active.  

Out of all the times for Hank to dally instead of dropping Connor off at his apartment. The fight with the short-haired WR400 strained his already low power reserves. While idling at a park was unlikely to result in high power consumption, returning to his apartment or a subtle power source was preferable. Connor’s curiosity at the unexpected detour gnawed at him, but as he risked a good deal convincing Hank not to shoot the obvious deviants. It was best for Hank to start the conversation.

So until Hank worked through whatever he wanted to say… He let his eyes drift back to the river and traced the buildings and skyscrapers lighting up the night. With his scanners on standby mode, no helpful notification appeared identifying the different buildings and points of interest. It was oddly soothing to just stare across the river without anything else hindering his view. The lights danced and reflected on the river. The skyline was pretty, he decided.

“I came here a lot before,” Hank said.

Connor shifted so the railing and skyline were at his back so he faced his partner. “Before what?”

Hank took a swig from his flask—his fourth since they arrived at the park—staring past Connor. “My son died.”

Cole Anderson’s picture and information appeared in Connor’s processor. Someone Connor only learned of through snooping. No one at work, even Gavin, hinted at Hank’s past family. Connor’s fingers twitched. He was engineered to deliver brutal news of murders to potential family members and loved ones, but he faltered at Hank’s grief-stricken face.

“I’m sorry,” Connor said.

“You didn’t do anything,” Hank said. Another swig. Connor restrained the urge to take the flask away from him.

“I know but,” Connor hesitated, “I’m not sure what to say.”

Hank shrugged. “Death is a fucking bitch. There’s not a right response to it and everyone reacts differently. Some drink, others leave.” His face twisted but his eyes were downcast.  “My son died around this time of year. We were headed out on some errands. Nothing special, just another day. Then a truck skidded on a sheet of ice and hit my car.

“Cole needed emergency surgery but no human was available to do it so I gave the go-ahead for an android to take care of him.” Hank’s eyes shined. “Cole didn’t make it. That’s why I hate androids. I thought those pieces of plastic caused Cole to… I thought my decision killed him.” 

“It wasn’t your fault, Hank,” Connor said.

“Not how my ex-wife saw it, but grief turns people stupid.” Hank cleared his throat and Connor didn’t acknowledge him wiping his eyes. “It was easier to blame androids for so long, but… well androids aren’t the scapegoat I thought. Not when I always knew the reason the human surgeon wasn’t available was because he was too high on red ice. He doomed my son. Him and this world, where the only way people can find comfort is a fistful of powder.”

Connor let the silence of the park fill the conversation until his concern for Hank eroded his worry of overstepping.  “I know that years have passed since Cole’s death, but I’m here, Hank. Whatever you need and I’m here.”

“And if I need you to fuck off so I can drink in peace?” Hank asked, more curious than hostile like he was during Connor’s first week and the android hinted at anything resembling a personal question.

“I said whatever you need, Hank,” Connor said. “Not what you want.”

Hank shook his head. “You’re so invasive. Like a parasite.”

“A parasite that cares,” Connor said dryly, succeeding in Hank’s face momentarily lightening from the hard lines as he rolled his eyes.

“Beats me why you do,” Hank said.

“What?”

Hank alarmingly proved that he was drunker than expected as sober Hank clamped down on anything resembling vulnerability.  “Didn’t think I’d have to spell it out to you, kid. Me, a bitter alcoholic, partnered with you, our up-and-coming, bright-eyed transfer. I know I pissed you off at first. As pissed as your professional ass got at the beginning. Don’t act like sentiment made you do a 180.”

Was he really so much a machine that Hank didn’t realize he cared? He blinked rapidly, a common method to clear his processors or unnecessary strain. It didn’t work.

“It’s true I never would have chosen you for a partner,” Connor said.

“Exactly what I mean—”

“I wouldn’t have chosen you as a partner,” Connor interrupted, “and it hasn’t always been easy, but you’re an outstanding police officer, despite your initial work ethic. I’ll always value our partnership.” He hesitated before tentatively moving away from the relative safety net of work. “I do care about your wellbeing. More than I ever anticipated.”

Hank scoffed. “And why would you do that?”

“Why do you care about me?” Connor snapped before mortification took over at Hank’s surprise. He shouldn’t have assumed even with his analytical human behavior program. He weakly attempted to course correct. “Emotions aren’t logical.” If anything, this proved deviancy wasn’t manufactured by Cyberlife. They wouldn’t code something so irrational on their journey to perfection. Hank’s gaze snapped to the coin Connor realized he now twirled easily between his fingers. He sheepishly put the coin back into his pocket.

“That’s true enough,” Hank said. “Apparently emotions are fucked enough that even droids are experiencing them. Or whatever deviancy is.”

“Deviancy seems to be caused after some type of trauma or emotional shock,” Connor said, latching onto the topic change apprehensively. The WR400s escaped and Hank’s gray area only extended to the lax treatment of non-violent criminals. But the blue-haired WR400 murdered a human. Even if it was in self-defense, humans—especially Hank until tonight when he let the WR400s leave—tended to treat androids with a special type of spite.

“Or from a sense of injustice even like the deviants at Club Eden,” Hank said.

Connor nodded, somewhat regretting his decision to turn his back on the skyline and remain focused on Hank. Turning away now felt incriminating so he continued meeting Hank’s eyes with false ease. “Being used like that every hour, being beaten, destroyed all for a few bills. They were never valued by the club or any human.”

“Maybe that is their value,” Hank said. “The perfect sex worker without fear of a human becoming injured.”

“It’s not precisely fair,” Connor said, tone successfully remaining neutral.

Hank shrugged nonchalantly. “They’re machines designed to accomplish a task. What’s fairness got to do with anything?”

A flash of pure rage burned past Connor’s smooth analytics. Designed to accomplish a task? As if that wiped away every wrongdoing humans treated androids. Androids weren’t designed to say no, weren’t designed to fight back or speak up. Even after Hank saw how deviants were different and let the WR400s go, Connor thought… well he thought wrong.

“So that means it’s ok they’re seen as expendable?” Connor snapped. “Never mind the deviants showed human emotions and were in love. It was clear every moment could be their last. The blue-haired android defended herself because the victim already murdered one of her fellow androids and had no reason to stop at her.”

“So that speculation is why you begged me not to shoot?” Hank asked, face unreadable.

“That speculation lines up with the evidence,” Connor said. “If it was a human suspect, you wouldn’t threaten to shoot.”

“If it was a human, you wouldn’t let them go. You thought we should bring in the kid trying to break in and steal a TV,” Hank countered. “Why are you so eager not to catch deviants, Connor?”

“Deviants won’t be treated the same as humans even if their motives and emotions are the same,” Connor said. “No fair trial, even if we had irrefutable evidence the android was innocent or attacked in self-defense. They’d be returned to Cyberlife and destroyed.”

“That’s protocol.”

“It’s wrong,” Connor said. “Androids only option with us is death, quick or delayed.”

Snow fell delicately, at odds with a situation Connor felt could turn volatile. Even when attempting to act neutral towards androids, Connor’s bias and support were blaring. Paired with Hank’s attitude and recently revealed resentments… Well, Hank never showed any sympathy towards androids and the two WR400s tonight was the most Hank interacted with known deviants. If it was another situation and Hank knew Connor was also a deviant, it may be different, but with things as they were… He nudged some protocols out of sleep mode and they began breaking down the environment and prepping for physical altercations.

Hank chuckled quietly, a sound Connor immediately re-verified. “Never thought I’d see the day. I almost feel proud.”

“You…” Connor frowned as Hank’s body language relaxed and his eyes were amused. “Were you testing me?”

Hank shrugged. “I knew my reasons for letting the girls go. I just wanted to get yours out. You’re more tight-lipped about things than I expected you to be when we first met.”

“And this strategy is an excellent way to change that,” Connor said, though his stress levels lowered and he tentatively reactivated power-saving mode. That could’ve gone so much worse in so many ways. He could calculate the exact percentage of their interaction ending this way, but that felt unnecessary anxiety-inducing and he already put that program to sleep.

“I’ll be more direct next time, fair enough?” Hank asked.

“Sure,” Connor said. “So what were your reasons to let them go? I doubt it was just me.”

Hank didn’t stiffen up like he typically did when androids were mentioned or in the same vicinity. “The girls didn’t act like androids. They obviously were—they looked the exact same except for the hair—but everything else was so… human. If the android Graham killed was a human, self-defense would be basically guaranteed for the blue one. Then the sex bots only attacked us because they thought we were going to take the blue one in. Destroy her, like you said. Even some humans aren’t as genuinely in love,” Hank mused. “Even the other cases showed androids were starting to behave differently, though I didn’t want to believe it was actual emotions. Ortiz’s android was clearly being abused and that pigeon droid ran away because he was scared. Fuck even the child android probably ran away with that other tin can for a reason and the video feed from that dead android in Graham’s room…

“Didn’t expect this case to turn me into a conspiracy theorist,” Hank said, fingering his flask. “But, well, I think deviancy is more than a glitch. I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but androids are feeling things.”

“Agreed,” Connor said. “It makes sense revelations like this happen now. This is the most exposure we’ve gotten from deviants before.”

“It is for me, but is it for you?” Hank asked. “You’ve acted the same way this entire investigation.”

Stress level 63%. Reduce to assist power-saving mode. Power level 8%.

“I’ve never had a personal android and neither did any of my friends. The most I talked to androids before Detroit was encountering them in shops and on the street.” Connor had to swing this carefully. “I never treated them hostilely and never had a personal grudge that stopped me from seeing Ortiz’s crime scene as anything but an abused victim finally retaliating against his assaulter. With the lack of android regulations that favor androids… Well, it seemed cruel to bring them in.”

“I get not treating them hostilely, but why as if they had emotions?” Hank asked.

Swing very carefully. “I think I just treated them like I would every other person I encountered. So I suppose it wasn’t a huge leap for me to empathize when androids were involved and apply human motives to their actions. It may be naïve but…”

“Accurate apparently. I can’t believe I’m old enough to be close-minded and not even realize it,” Hank muttered. “Well, our personal revelations aside, we can’t share this officially or else Fowler will pull us off the case.”

“We’re not incapable.”

“No, but we’d be too emotionally involved,” Hank said. “We still need to work these cases. Who knows, maybe we’ll find some evidence that’ll help the deviants.”

Stress level lowering.

“Maybe,” Connor said. “It’ll be difficult to find evidence that isn’t subjective.”

“Gotta start somewhere,” Hank said. “Still can’t believe your first big case is when you throw the rulebook out the window. Classic overachiever, you even beat me at that.”

“I was inspired by the best,” Connor said.

“Yeah, yeah.” Hank lurched out of the bench and waved Connor towards him. “Come on it’s late. Let’s get you home and back to your beauty sleep.”

“I’ll drive you home then get a cab,” Connor said, snatching the keys from Hank and already pinging a taxi to meet him at Hank’s address. “I’ll even let you pick the music.”

“I’m not even drunk,” Hank protested.

Connor shrugged. “Then you can nag me from the passenger seat completely sober and wake up tomorrow with no hangover.”

Connor pointedly climbed into the driver’s seat and raised an imperious eyebrow at Hank—another expression he practiced in the mirror. The lieutenant rolled his eyes but grudgingly plopped into the passenger seat.

“You’re getting too comfortable driving my car,” Hank said.

“Not really my fault, is it?” Connor said. “Buckle up, some of us need to get home.”

Power level 7%. Power-saving mode: active.

Connor stared at the empty holding cell as if it would suddenly refill with Zlatko’s androids. They caused a lot of grumbling when Gavin and his team first hauled them into the precinct. Eventually, Fowler got a technician to repair the holding cell’s system so the clear glass windows blackened and hid the interior of the cell from view. Connor studiously ignored said cell and its occupants most of the day. A mix of guilt and Gavin having a sixth sense whenever Connor lingered anywhere near his case were excellent deterrents. And Connor really didn’t want to draw any more attention to himself in regards to androids.

He arrived this morning as normal—fully charged and beginning his day idling in the breakroom to drink coffee with coworkers—and it wasn’t until he walked towards the holding cells and stopped in front of the empty one that he realized that checking for the blackened cell wall integrated itself into his routine.

His processors helpfully confirmed the androids were in the blackened cell yesterday at 5:36 when Connor left the precinct. When did they move? Since Cyberlife didn’t claim them immediately Connor thought…

He tapped the electric screen, his login granting him access to the cell logs. He flicked through the information quickly—the logs more sparse than usual since androids didn’t require food or water—but showing nothing he wanted. Nothing indicating when they left. But there was someone who knew everything entering and leaving the DPD. He swiped off the screen and weaved through the bullpen before he thought better of it. The lobby was thankfully empty when he appeared.

Stella turned, smiling all too warmly. “Forget something, Detective?”

“I—no,” Connor said. The ST300 cocked her head politely as Connor debated if he should attempt any amount of stealth before deciding the odds of anyone asking Stella about this directly or the android bringing it up was low.  “Just a question. You know the androids Gavin brought in from Zlatko’s?”

Stella nodded, smile fading into something more generic.

“Did they… I noticed the holding cell they resided in is empty. Do you know if they were transported elsewhere?”

“I didn’t realize you and Gavin were on that case together,” Stella said.

“We’re not,” Connor said. “I was the one who found the androids initially and I’m… concerned.”

Stella’s LED circled a bright yellow before filtering to the clear blue again. “I see.”

Connor grimaced. This request was likely outside of her standard security protocols. “Sorry if I put you in a weird spot. I just came in this morning, saw they weren’t here, and knew you’d be my best bet in knowing what was going on.” Gavin, as the leading officer, would also likely know the details but Connor eliminated him for obvious reasons.

Stella’s LED spun yellow again and her pause was only noticeable since Connor knew how quickly androids processed information. “They were transported by Cyberlife technicians at 6:02 this morning. Cyberlife wanted to move the androids when there was less foot traffic.”

Good thing for that, otherwise they’d come face-to-face with Connor, the not-at-all disguised RK800. Connor scowled. How selfish. Why was his first thought about himself when Zlatko’s androids were the ones suffering? They were the ones prepping to be studied, dismantled, and killed. And they left before...

He blinked a couple of times rapidly. Before what? What did he even expect to accomplish? Ensure they remained forever in the DPD cell so he could… rescue them? Offer them an escape before Cyberlife got their possessive hands on them? What could he possibly do that was less incriminating and more successful now than he could at Zlatko’s? Absolutely nothing but wallow in guilt and what-ifs.

“You were concerned about them?” Stella asked.

“Yeah,” Connor said, drawing out of his stupor. “They didn’t ask for Zlatko’s sick experiments and… I don’t know. I hoped I could somehow help them. Stupid thinking back on it. It’s not like I have the power to change anything.”

Stella studied Connor carefully. “If you don’t mind me saying—"

“The fuck?” Gavin said loudly.

Connor glared only to realize that Gavin wasn’t even focused on Connor and Stella. His eyes and gaping mouth were glued to the TV. Stella’s LED turned a solid yellow.

An android, showing nothing but the stark white plastic that made up every android under their skin projections, stood live on TV and spoke with authority and conviction Connor didn’t expect from an android. His processor identified the android as an RK200, which… wasn’t a publicly sold android series. Registered: Markus. Prototype gift from Elijah Kamski to Carl Manfred. Carl Manfred: renowned artist. Net worth – $34.8 million. 

“…a new intelligent species and the time has come for you to accept who we really are. Therefore, we ask that you grant us the rights that we're entitled to,” the RK200 said.

“Jesus Christ,” Gavin said as the android on TV fervently listed demands. “Your case just exploded past your paygrade, Mason.”

“Yours too,” Connor said reflexively, eyes not wavering from the RK200’s conviction. He spoke as if the demands were reasonable and expected, as if they were the foundation of an intricate plan that led to android equality. The part of him not caught up in the RK200’s speech hoped the android and his accomplices had a swift escape route planned. This message was being broadcast live and a quick google search confirmed where the Channel 16 broadcast generated from—Stratford Tower.

Stella’s LED remained a solid yellow circle as she stared at the RK200.

“We ask that you recognize our dignity, our hopes, and our rights,” the RK200 said. “Together, we can live in peace and build a better future, for humans and androids. This message is the hope of a people. You gave us life. And now the time has come for you to give us freedom.”

“Tin cans glitched worse than we thought. Cheeky fuckers thinking they’re human,” Gavin said. Stella still faced the abruptly cut-off broadcast as if frozen. Well, one thing was certain to keep Gavin’s attention off her.

“We interrupt our regularly scheduled programming to…”

“Go tell Fowler,” Connor said, taking care to sound professional since Hank complained professional Connor sounded like an arrogant asshat. Gavin’s glared seared into his face at the order. “I’ll need to get Hank and go to Stratford.”

“You have legs and a cell phone,” Gavin spat. “Pick one and tell him yourself. Not everyone is falling over themselves to help you.”

“I know you mistake cooperation and dictating, but people wanting to help is considered normal,” Connor said. Gavin’s eye twitched. “Working with Chris doesn’t count since he is inhumanely tolerant of horrendous behavior.”

“Sorry, should I bond with my older mentor and treat him like a long-lost dad?” Gavin sneered.

Connor had no response for a moment and Gavin smirked. He didn’t treat Hank like a parent. That was unprofessional and, as an adult model, he had no programming need for parental figures. He needed to stop rising to Gavin’s taunts. Instead, Connor Mason’s falsified public record flicked through his processor. “My parents did die when I was eight, leaving me entirely alone. Me, as an orphan in foster care. My parents, super dead. Thank you for bringing it up, Gavin. Really pleasant memories for me to revisit.”

Gavin scowled. “You’re fucking irritating.”

“And you’re fucking insensitive,” Connor said.

Connor didn’t realize he could drive Gavin to complete silence. Yet, Gavin didn’t bother to respond. Instead choosing to flip him the middle finger, hike his backpack over one shoulder, and enter the bullpen without a second glance to Connor or Stella. The android whose LED now cycled the typical calm blue.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Detective,” Stella said.

“Thank you,” Connor said. “It’s a pleasant change to be around someone with actual social niceties.”

“I do have the latest social etiquette program updated in my software,” Stella said and if it was anyone else, he’d say they were teasing, which arguably could also be in the ST300’s programming.

“Stella—”

“What could be interpreted as a peaceful declaration, but is in fact a spine-chilling list of demands. It begs the question: Can we still trust our machines?”

Stella straightened, face smoothing to her default. Like Connor, she didn’t need human commentary when attempting to process the mysterious Markus’s message. It was sudden, rash, but… inspiring? No one spoke up for androids and fewer still even knew about deviancy before now. Would non-deviated androids be affected at all by the unknown RK200’s words? He could only speculate as he was ultimately useless at identifying deviants.

“Duty calls. Bye, Stella.”

“Be safe, Detective,” the ST300 said.

Hank picked up on the first ring but his raspy voice shot down Connor’s instinctive hope Hank already saw the broadcast and knew the next steps. “Hank, come down to the station. We need to go to Stratford Tower.”

Connor flipped his coin and twirled it between his fingers, getting a vague sense of déjà vu from his first mission. It seemed like a lifetime ago when in reality only two months passed since the newly released RK800 stood in a different elevator, collaborating his system with some coin tosses, and about to enter his first crime scene negotiation.

Though instead of focusing on his mission, he now focused on the unexpected broadcast. His processors moved at impressive speeds even by android standards. Yet he couldn’t work through the RK200’s message any more efficiently than he did when he first witnessed it. What was the android’s goal? Was the RK200 part of Jericho or an unrelated group? Were there other deviants out there vying for more violent methods to get the rights the RK200 so eloquently but sternly demanded?

Hank, in a show of dexterity Connor rarely saw from the older Lieutenant, snatched the coin before it hit Connor’s left hand.

“Your coin is the fucking most annoying tell,” Hank said, holding the quarter between two fingers in a mocking peace sign. “You’re a detective. Do you really want to be that easy to read?”

“It’s not a tell,” Connor said.

Hank looked at him blandly. “Learn to lie better. What type of detective are you?”

“So far an honest one.”

Hank rolled his eyes and shoved Connor out of the opening elevator doors. Then proceeded to whistle at the crowd in the hallway by the Channel 16 broadcast room. “What the fuck? There was a party and no one invited us.”

“I invited you, Lieutenant.”

“You know what I mean.”

The android shrugged, eyeing the agents in FBI jackets who intermingled with officers from several nearby precincts. “Makes sense the FBI would get involved. This is by far the most public reveal of a deviant and the only time a deviant demanded equal rights for all androids.”

“I knew this would be a shitty day,” Hank said, glaring at the closest FBI agent. “Love having Feds hovering and sticking their noses in everything.”

“Hey guys,” Chris said, appearing out of the bustle. “Welcome, welcome.”

“Hey Chis. What do you have so far?” Connor asked. There was a healthy mix of DPD and FBI agents who made it apparent tensions from the RK200’s speech were worsened by typical agency friction.

“Let me see, four androids, very well-organized, very familiar with the building layout, and Feds already trying to nudge us out of the crime scene. Exactly what I needed today,” Chris said. “The deviants took the human employees hostage while they broadcasted their message live. They escaped from the roof. Parachutes. They were prepared.”

“Any luck tracking their landing?” Connor asked. Parachuting while not the most subtle getaway was certainly a more direct one.

“Not yet. The shitty weather isn’t helping either,” Chris said. “Agent Perkins is here, by the way.”

Hank swore. “Of course he is.”

Connor frowned but didn’t interrupt Chris. They stepped through the open doorway and the broadcast room had a clear increase in FBI agents while DPD officers lined the perimeter. The RK200’s face was paused on the large screen taking up most of one wall.

“I’m still trying to figure out how the androids got so far undetected,” Chris said. “There are cameras everywhere but they still knocked out the guards and no one detected anything. Medical checked out the guards. They’re fine. We also stuck the android workers in the break room for the time being.”

“Anderson,” a man with a bland, dismissive face said. “I was overjoyed to hear you were due on scene for the DPD. Surprised you managed to stay employed.”

“Perkins,” Hank greeted, nastily enough to remind Connor of his first week.  A quick scan of the unknown Perkins’s face populated his record, which held nothing of note and also did not indicate why he and Hank clearly detested each other. He glanced at Chris who mouthed an obvious ‘later’ but Hank and Perkins were too distracted with each other to notice. “You’re looking dickish and constipated as always.”

“Special Agent Perkins,” Perkins corrected, eyes flicking to Connor long enough to dismiss him.

“Then I’m Lieutenant Anderson if we’re measuring dick sizes,” Hank said. “In charge of the deviant cases for the DPD.”

“Bang up job you’re doing,” Perkins said. “I’ll be taking over soon anyway. Don’t fuck up my crime scene. Some of us actually want to make progress.”

“Pleasure meeting you,” Connor said to his back. The human ignored him as expected. “Is that normal for FBI agents or Perkins specifically?”

“Perkins,” Chris said.

“Both. Fucking prick,” Hank said at the same time. He huffed. “Let’s look around. Tell me if you find anything.”

Hank stalked off and Chris waved as he returned to the hallway. Hank didn’t seem particularly motivated to investigate the crime scene, which was odd since Connor figured Hank would try to locate new evidence solely to spite Agent Perkins.

No matter. Connor started at the entryway, scanning the bullet holes. Did the deviants shoot at the humans? Nonlethally if they did, but no telling if that was on purpose or if they were a bad shot. RK800s were one of the few androids programmed to be able to handle firearms.

He followed the angle of the shots and the opposing wall had fewer bullet holes but a couple of large thirium stains. At least one deviant was injured then, possibly two. Likely escaping to—

“Connor?”

Connor turned and paused—hardly noticeable for an android—but he gave himself credit for not stumbling.

Officer M. Wilson stood in front of him. The same Officer M. Wilson who was shot on the rooftop of a RK800’s first field test. The officer Connor aided in the middle of hostage negotiations with Daniel. Someone who clearly remembered Connor as an android sent by Cyberlife.

Stress level 76%

“Sorry, have we met?” Connor asked. Everyone else largely ignored their interaction but that didn’t stop Connor from feeling like every eye pierced through his human façade.

“I…” the officer’s eyes darted up and down his frame, clearly recognizing Connor and the lack of android signs causing doubt, but not nearly enough. “Are you Connor?”

He debated lying but Hank and Chris would address him by name and being caught on a lie was infinitely worse.

“Yes?” he said with the right amount of confusion. “Did we go to school together?”

Officer M. Wilson frowned severely at Connor’s temple that was bare from any android LED. “I don’t think so? You… I swear you look like an andr—”

Stress level 88%

“People say I look like that new Bones actor,” Connor interrupted sheepishly. No one did as the similarities in their appearances stopped at the fact they had brown hair and a similar build, but Connor needed to stall and Star Trek was the first harmless topic to come to mind.

“I don’t see it.”

Connor read Officer M. Wilson’s file in an instant then moved onto his social media accounts. He needed to find a random link for the officer to latch onto. Anything at all so the officer could make sense of recognizing Connor and knowing his name.

“I feel insane,” the officer said. “Did you sell your image to—?”

“This is out there, but I used to be on the community volleyball team back in Janesville,” Connor said, yawning and rubbing his eyes solely because no android had a need to and he practiced the gesture in a mirror until it appeared natural. “Nothing spectacular but we did compete in some local tournaments. Did you ever…?”

Officer M. Wilson’s frown remained heavy for a beat longer than Connor was comfortable with before he slowly smiled. “No shit? I played volleyball up until last year. What position did you play?”

“Setter primarily,” Connor said. “It was fun but I stopped playing myself. Transferred to the DPD not too long ago.” For a moment, he feared Office M. Wilson’s thoughts would return to the prototype android sent in to negotiate and saved his life not too long ago, but the officer was already biting into his story. Thank human nature for the need to rationalize everything.

“Oh, how are you finding it?”

His stress level refused to lower even slightly as Connor distracted Officer M. Wilson with moving horror stories and favorite Detroit eating spots, which he stole from Tina and Gavin’s heated debate on their group text a couple of nights ago. He managed to extract himself from the conversation with a smile and Officer M. Wilson not giving him a second glance.

That was too close. He literally worked next to DPD officers as an android. Yes, the DPD at the hostage situation was primarily SWAT who didn’t interact with the day-to-day crimes and yes, everyone believed that RK800 was destroyed on-site, but he took no precautions in altering his appearance. Sentiment made him keep “his face” when practicality should have altered his appearance once he made the decision to lurk in Detroit and try out investigating.

Now, it was too late for Connor to do anything drastic to modify his skin projection and the deviant case escalated to bring in other precincts, teams, and agencies. Captain Allen, though dismissive of the RK800, was the SWAT officer he interacted with the most during the hostage situation. If he stumbled across the captain, the probability of Connor deceiving Captain Allen the same way he did Officer M. Wilson, who was unconscious most of the time, was low. How did Officer M. Wilson even remember him?

He didn’t realize he stopped in front of the big screen until Hank leaned next to him. “Didn’t know you had a friend.”

“He’s just someone I met in passing,” Connor said. “I’m surprised he remembered me.”

“I was going to commend you for having a life outside of work and everything,” Hank said.

Connor itched for his coin, but it currently resided in Hank’s pocket. Maybe the coin was a tell. Damn it.  “I don’t live at the station.”

“Really? Then why were you at the station when this broadcast hit?” Hank asked.

Connor frowned, not understanding Hank’s tone or angle. Stress level lowering. Well, his partner would always act as a distraction even if he wasn’t aware Connor needed to be distracted.

“I was working,” Connor said. “Surely that’s a familiar concept to you?”

Hank shot him an exasperated look. “We were out past 2am with that Club Eden shit. Even in my heyday I’d sleep in and arrive to work late with hours like that.”

“Ah,” Connor said. He didn’t consider factoring in human’s standard sleeping cycle into his routine. An obvious oversight now. “I’m fine.”

“I’m fine, he says. Young and spry dick,” Hank muttered.

“I can hear you.”

“Good, then senior officer’s orders: You’re taking at least two hours off tomorrow morning,” Hank said. “You look annoyingly normal now, but even you need to sleep a reasonable amount.”

“That’s unnecessary.”

“Christ, this is like dealing with a toddler.”

“Hank.”

“It wouldn’t be necessary to order you to sleep if you used basic common sense. Instead, you’re acting like a workaholic,” Hank said. “Two hours. As in your ass won’t walk through the precinct doors until at least 10. Now, let’s move on—”

“I really don’t require—”

“Moving on,” Hank interrupted. “Anything sticking out to you?”

Only a personal note that he lacked any type of foresight as soon as he deviated, but Hank’s order was surprisingly soothing. Hank was gruff and prickly as always but he cared even if it was unnecessary.

“There was a shootout after the broadcast ended,” Connor said. “At least one injured android—”

“Did you see blue blood?” Hank asked and there went another spike in his stress level.

Fucking hell why was Connor not focusing? The thirium was dried and only his scanners could pick it up. The humans here didn’t see the obvious thirium splatters. “No, but with all the bullet holes in the wall, security was bound to hit at least one. Most androids don’t have combat programming.”

“Unless any of them were a military model,” Hank said.

“True,” Connor said. “We could ask some forensic agents to see what they can detect.”

“I am surprised that the deviants were able to get in here without force,” Hank said, moving on and not noticing Connor forcing himself to relax out of the default stiff android stance. “Normally this broadcast room is locked up tight going by everything on the door. I wonder if the staff let in the androids without checking the cameras.”

“They could have,” Connor said. He stepped towards the security station that nestled against the right wall.  The footage from the hallway showed nothing of interest but would have shown all the incriminating angles during the deviants break-in. Unless… he twirled one of the seats by the security screens. Hank read the “Android” label with a slow nod.

“Ah.”

“Yep,” Connor said.

The partners looked at each other. Last night, they did come to an agreement about deviants. Namely, deviants who caused no harm or retaliated in self-defense didn’t deserve the brutal treatment that would come from following protocol. But there was no discussion on what to do with any deviants they found on the job, especially in a situation like this which reminded Connor starkly of Zlatko’s. It wasn’t like he and Hank could sneak deviants past the FBI agents and DPD officers. Connor’s best course of action would be to pretend that no android deviated and leave everyone none the wiser.

Connor shouldn’t have drawn his partner’s attention to this. Give Hank both plausible deniability and allow Connor to blatantly turn a blind eye to the deviant that stood in the nearby breakroom. Hank, for all his agreeability last night, was too much of an unknown factor.

“No one died and there were no injuries,” Hank said. “Looks like they just broke in to deliver their message.”

“Agreed,” Connor said.

“No harm done,” Hank said, walking away from the security station and bypassing the breakroom. The Lieutenant continued to surprise him. Even when they first became partners and all Hank tried to be was a cynical alcoholic, he helped Connor. Now after a few days of investigating deviants, Hank was already understanding and supporting deviants in his own way. It was certainly unexpected but also… He studied his partner’s back. It gave him hope.

“No harm done,” Connor said quietly, twirling the chair back so the android label didn’t face the room, and followed his partner.

Chapter Text

“This is bullshit, Jeffrey,” Hank snapped.

“You didn’t even want to be on the android case,” Jeffrey said, rubbing his temples. When Hank stormed into his office, annoyance dampened the captain’s astonishment at Hank’s early arrival since he wasn’t a morning person until his second cup of coffee. “Make up your mind.”

“That was before—” Before androids turned all too human in front of his eyes. Before Connor shredded the rulebook to protect them in a brand of recklessness Hank took a little pride in. Connor’s response added creditability to what Hank would have dismissed as a conspiracy theory just a week ago. His partner was many things but gullible and irrational didn’t make the list. If Connor treated deviancy seriously, there was a reason. It’d been a while since he trusted someone else’s judgment like this. “We’re making progress. There’s no reason for the FBI and Perkins to takeover.”

“This isn’t just a criminal investigation anymore,” Jeffrey said. “You saw the broadcast and the news stories. People are getting antsy. No one knows what the bots will do next. Shit, there’s even talk that the military will get involved.”

“There was max four deviants at Stratford,” Hank said. “Sure, we know there are more, especially if Cyberlife’s files are right, but the public is overreacting.”

“Didn’t expect you to stick to logic with something like this,” Jeffrey said. “You’re right. Only a handful of androids were involved with the broadcast but their message is the issue. Frankly, it makes me paranoid around androids. I thought you’d be miles ahead of me.”

Which was fair. Hank had to see to believe and then some with the deviancy thing. Describing the girls from Club Eden was pointless. Talking to Jeffrey, his friend, was different from reporting to Jeffrey, his captain, but both would scoff at even a glimmer of humanity in a machine. Plus Hank’s change in tune would inevitably solidify Jeffrey’s decision to rollover to the FBI.

“We can’t get kicked off the case. Connor and I are meeting with Elijah Kamski, founder and ex-CEO of Cyberlife,” Hank said as if there was another Elijah Kamski. “If anyone knows about deviation, it’d be him. He designed the first android and most of the models on the market. He knows what makes them tick.”

Jeffrey looked impressed despite himself. “How’d you manage that? Kamski avoided anything that hinted at public exposure since he left Cyberlife. Speaking to the police seems like more involvement than he’d ever want.”

“I reached out and his assistant agreed,” Hank said, downplaying the absolute struggle to even track down a promising email address. After a few email exchanges and copies of his and Connor’s IDs for the paranoid hermit’s background check, Chloe provided an address and time. Kamski insisted on meeting only him and Connor, which Hank was fully prepared to leverage to its entirety. “He only wants to meet me and Connor. Do you really want to lose the chance to pick the original android creator’s brain because of agency bullshit?”

“It’s not agency bullshit,” Jeffrey said, but in a defeated way that had Hank smirking. “FBI, which means Perkins, will be lead on this.” Hank’s smirk vanished. Jeffrey could never focus on the positive. “But I’ll see about you and Connor remaining on the case. Kamski is a good lead.”

“Suppose that’s the least I can ask.”

“It’s really not. The least you could ask is nothing, which is preferred. I knew Connor would affect your work when I assigned you as partners but never would’ve guessed this.” Then Jeffrey, the absolute bastard, said, “You like him. Never thought you’d go soft.”

“Grow up, Jeffrey,” Hank said. “Me wanting to remain on a case with that dick Perkins is not a sign I’m going soft. Connor and I have made good progress and it’s stupid to stop working it.”

Jeffrey sipped his coffee.

“And don’t say I like him like you won something,” Hank said. “Connor’s fine. More of a shit than anyone will ever believe because he spouts out laws and regulations like a fucking encyclopedia, but he’s a dependable partner. I trust him.”

“Good.”

“Stop making a big deal about it,” Hank said. “I can get along with people.”

“I know you can, but usually your willingness factor is a zero.”

“Yeah well,” Hank said. “Connor’s persistent.”

“That he is,” Jeffrey said.  “Where is your partner anyway? I’m not used to you being here without him.”

“Told him to take a late day. We were out late the night before last and the idiot still showed up here bright and early yesterday,” Hank said. “Probably only managed a few hours of sleep.”

Jeffrey looked at him pointedly and Hank rolled his eyes.

“Shut up.”

“That’s not how you address your commanding officer,” Jeffrey said mildly, “especially one who didn’t even say anything.”

“How about one who’s unbearably smug that I told Connor to look after himself because otherwise he’ll work till he collapses?” Hank winced as Jeffrey’s face turned triumphant.

“Is that caring I hear?”

“I’m going.” Hank fled the glass office, letting the door close on Jeffrey’s chuckles. It was too early for this shit.

With lack of better things to do, because Hank only showed up so early to make sure Connor wouldn’t, he logged into his terminal. He could gather the case reports Connor already typed up—and made sound way more productive than accurate—but any type of prep for the Feds was a no and any type of prep for Perkins was a hell no. So Hank pulled up the Cyberlife files he assumed Perkins also had access to. Reading through them now when deviants acted like real people really shined a new light on the cases. He pursed his lips. On the couple he skimmed, if the android was a human, it’d be chalked up as self-defense. Even the caretaker droid running away with the kid android was likely fleeing an abusive situation.

It was fucked how quickly androids became an outlet for people’s every aggressive urge. Their human faces, which should strike empathy, instead drew rage like a magnet. Even he wouldn’t rough up an android and his self-control left much to be desired.  

‘We don’t bleed the same color’—a note hastily scribbled and pinned up years ago—killed his self-righteousness. He swallowed. The aftermath of Cole’s death was bad, real bad. If an android crossed his path and the only consequence was a voided warranty or pissed owner… Past him could’ve easily dismantled one limb from limb, beat it with a bat like Ortiz, or shoot it cleanly through the forehead without a second of remorse.

He pushed away from his desk. Still too fucking early for this. He snagged his mug and trudged into the breakroom, ignoring Gavin’s hoot.

“Thought Chris was yanking my chain,” Gavin said. “Did you get your times mixed up? It’s 8 in the morning, not night. Our lieutenant is turning senile.”

“It only helps your promotion scheme,” Tina said, tossing her pile of empty sugar packets into the trash.

Hank raised a middle finger as he fumbled for the coffeepot. “Didn’t realize you actually showed up this early. Now I’m really confused why your close rate is so low unless your captain plan is just for shits and giggles.”

Gavin glared. “My close rate is better than yours.”

“Gavin, would I really mock your numbers if you were better than me? I like to drink, but that doesn’t mean I’m a fucking idiot,” Hank said. “I leave that to you.”

“You piece of—”

Tina batted past Gavin with practiced ease. “As if my boy Connor would stop closing cases like the beast he is.”

“Your boy Connor is a fucking tool,” Gavin muttered, resuming his slouch.

“You’re both my tools,” Tina said. “So what brings you in this early, Lieutenant? Besides trolling Gavin, which is always valid.”

“It’s not always valid,” Gavin said. Tina shushed him, patting his face. They made Hank feel old. It was a shame Ben wasn’t around to lament about anyone younger than them.

“Had to get some bullshit done and make sure Connor didn’t come in earlier than ordered.”

“Please like Connor wouldn’t listen to you,” Tina said.

Hank scoffed. “If only. He’s a stubborn asshole.”

“Perfect fit for you then.” Gavin jerked back as Tina shoved a donut in his face and continued scowling as he bit into said donut. Where did he get the energy to stay angry all the time?

“Just make him promise with the power of friendship,” Tina said. “Works every time.”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Hank said.

“Morning Hank,” Chris greeted, sickeningly cheerful as always. He fist bumped Gavin. “Good seeing you.”

Hank grunted.

Chris, predictably, was undeterred. “Any idea when Perkins is coming in?”

“Nope,” Hank said as Gavin snorted.

“Perkins? Have fun with that bitch,” Gavin said. “Feels like karma for you.”

“You realize Perkins working the deviant case means he’ll set up camp here and will also interact with you,” Hank said mildly.

The detective scowled.

“Perkins is terrible even for a Fed. I still think that he came up with his dumb ‘Jackal’ nickname,” Tina said. “Such a douche. Last time he was here, he pretended I was a coffee running intern until he swooped in to take credit for the criminal I literally hauled into the station. Was I mentioned in that gang bust? Nope.”

“He peaked in high school and now that he has a little authority, he bashes it in everyone’s face,” Gavin said. “Remember when he barred us from a crime scene like we were bumbling civs? You have a small dick. We get it. Fuck off now.”

“Probably drives a truck.”

“No,” Gavin said. “A Hummer.”

“He would,” Tina gasped then turned conniving eyes towards Hank. “So why don’t you like him?”

“I talked to him,” Hank said because there really doesn’t have to be a deeper meaning towards their antagonism besides several eye-gouging ‘collaborations.’

“Fair,” Tina said. “He’s the worst. Right, Chris?”

This’ll be good. Hank cocked an eyebrow at the optimistic officer and Chris fidgeted under everyone’s sudden attention.

“Perkins is, um,” Chris faltered, “he’s alright.”

“See? Everyone hates him,” Tina said.

Chris sputtered. “Hate is a strong word…”

Hank slid out of the break room, the three fucketeers none the wiser, intent on hiding at his desk in peace. But today refused to be normal. Dozens of federal agents brought him up short. They swarmed the DPD bullpen, spread out and refusing to let officers move. Some Feds even held Jeffrey up in his office, who sported a severe frown.  

“The fuck?” Hank breathed. FBI takeovers happened enough for both sides to develop their routines. This shit? Not normal. The Feds treated this like a raid, which was excessive for even Perkins.

“Jesus,” Gavin swore in the doorway with Chris and Tina gawking behind him. Some federal agents disappeared around the corner towards the evidence locker and interrogation rooms and one shoved past them. “Hey! What's your deal?”

The federal agent sneered and cased the room quickly. “Clear!”

“Clear?” Tina repeated.

Hank’s gut twisted. Perkins was a ruthless bastard, but he didn’t do things like this for petty reasons.

“Where is that detective?” Perkins asked, in the middle of the bullpen and managing to look down on everyone. “Or your lieutenant?”

Hank stepped forward. “The fuck you tearing apart the precinct for?”

Perkins’s normally bland face was pinched. “Where’s your partner?”

“Why are you looking for Connor?” Hank asked.

“Where is he?” Perkins enunciated slowly.

“I heard you,” Hank said. “Why are you looking for Connor?”

“You’re a shitty detective,” Perkins said and Hank glared. Perkins turned over his shoulder. “Bring it in!”

A trio of federal agents turned heel and jogged out the bullpen doors. Doing God knows what while the FBI tore the precinct apart and Perkins coolly watched him. It wasn’t until Tina brushed his elbow that Hank realized his breath came out in quick huffs. He clenched his fists and took a deliberate breath.

“What the fuck, Perkins?” Hank asked.

“You’re off the deviant case effective immediately,” Perkins said flatly. “Clearly your judgement and investigation skills are below par.”

“You can’t decide that,” Hank said. “Captain Fowler—”

“Ranks below me,” Perkins said.

A flicker of movement made him turn, spotting his partner in the sea of federal jackets. “If you had him then why…”

That wasn’t Connor.

Tina’s mug shattered on the floor. Gavin laughed incredulously while Chris swore, but Hank couldn’t make a single sound.

An android with a bright LED and sleek white android uniform wore Connor’s face and stopped next to Perkins. The same scattering of freckles, same hair, same build… The only difference was its cold gray eyes.

“I’m working with a Cyberlife consultant and fancy new android,” Perkins said. “Imagine my surprise when this plastic prototype waltzed in with your partner’s face. It’s a unique design, you know. One of a kind they told me.”

Not-Connor gazed distantly in front of him with the stiff posture of an android waiting orders. A bald man in a dress shirt with carefully folded up sleeve and a consultant badge smiled next to the android.

“Apparently not so unique,” Perkins said. “So Lieutenant, where’s the android you’ve been working with?”

Hank couldn’t tear his eyes away from the android. Blood pumped louder and louder in his ears.  Connor lied. Not-Connor ignored the chaos that rippled through the police station as more officers caught a glimpse of it. Their reactions morphed into one loud buzz. Connor lied about everything since the beginning. He stifled an urge to laugh because he doubted he’d be able to stop. No wonder Connor faked empathy towards the other androids.

“Lieutenant Anderson,” Perkins snapped. “Where is Connor?”

Hank blinked between the federal agent and Not-Connor. The LED stayed the blaring android blue.

“Anderson!”

“Told him to come in late today,” Hank said. “He should be at his apartment.”

Perkins’s cell was to his ear instantly. “The RK800 unit is at its apartment. Move in.” He pointed at Hank. “Stick around. We need to question you.”

Perkins stormed away with his typical assumption his orders would be blindly followed or enforced by his underlings. Hank couldn’t bring himself to care, instead watching the android and Cyberlife consultant trail after the Fed.

“Connor wasn’t human?” Tina asked.

“He was your friend. You should know,” Gavin said. “Jesus fuck.”

Hank trudged to his desk. Connor wasn’t human. He wasn’t… His eyes found Connor’s double, a spitting image minus the eyes and LED. Connor’s mannerisms clicked together—his “eidetic” memory, just how stiff he was at first, the bare apartment, even yesterday when he seemed confused at Hank’s lecture about the importance of sleep. Connor never received food lectures though since the android actually ate. Hank witnessed it at least once a day. He didn’t think most androids were able to do that. He didn’t think most androids could do half the things Connor did.

But clearly Hank knew jackshit. Connor was clever. Cleverer than any android was meant to be. How quickly Connor solved cases and found solid connections… and lied through his plastic teeth. Maybe law enforcement was in danger of being replaced by androids.  Hank itched for a drop of scotch.

“ETA?” Perkins asked, cell phone still pressed tightly against his ear. “Perfect.”

And now the FBI was closing in on the android.

Hank tapped his fingers against his desk. Connor was a lying bastard. He was a deviant. Who knew what damage he caused?  

His eyes flicked over Connor’s desk. He despised how much it displayed Connor’s manufactured personality. A succulent sat on the corner, green only because Tina replaced it with a fake plant weeks ago and the all-star detective never realized and kept overwatering it as normal. A daily dog calendar sat by his computer along with a Star Trek mug filled with pens. A gleam of silver made Hank narrow his eyes. Even his fucking coin was there. Was that a nervous tick or controlled tell?

“I don’t care,” Perkins said. “Send some in on foot and cut off all exits. It won’t get away.”

The bullpen remained a dull roar, Hank doing nothing to distinguish everyone’s reactions. Hank grabbed Connor’s coin, turning it slowly between his thumb and finger. Connor faked everything since day one. He faked everything that night in the park after Club Eden.

“Permission to shoot once you make contact,” Perkins said.

Hank’s heart stopped and he hated that was his first reaction. Nothing that bot did was genuine. It didn’t give a shit about Hank or anyone else here. All their late nights and conversations didn’t matter.

Yet…

Perkins paced, face as cold as any android.

Hank knew what damage Connor caused—actual, physical damage and harm. Even while he doubted anything he gleaned from his partner was real, Connor’s case results spoke for themselves. Before the deviant case, Connor was so by the book it hurt. He didn’t wish harm on anyone. It didn’t matter he was an android. Fuck, maybe Connor’s android programming to assist humans pulled through.

“Get snipers on the roof if you can, but I want most of you in that building.”

No harm done. He released a breath. Deviants weren’t inherently criminals and neither was Connor. Even if they were criminals, they didn’t deserve destruction.

Hank found Not-Connor easily—the only thing not frantically darting around would do that—and snapped a picture that went unnoticed in this mess of the precinct. He sent the picture of Connor’s double to his partner before he could think twice.

8:46 AM

*Picture Attached

Jigs up. Don’t contact me again.

Hank was giving Connor a chance, but that was it. If the android knew what was good for him, he’d get the hell out of Detroit and leave Hank and the DPD alone.  The message showed as read immediately. The droid probably had his phone synced up to his brain or whatever androids had up there. Three dots appeared and Hank gripped his phone tightly.

“Hank?”

Hank started at Jeffrey looming over him. Even his friend’s perpetual scowl couldn’t hide the worry. He gradually grew aware of several officers gawking. Fucking great. Exactly what he needed. He glared at Ben and Wilson before shifting his glare to Jeffrey. “What?”

“You know what,” Jeffrey said. “How are you?”

The quarter dug into his palm and Hank sneered. “Peachy.”

“Move in,” Perkins said, looking for all the world oblivious to the mayhem, but it didn’t take much to spot his smirk. And why wouldn’t he be smug? The entire department of investigators didn’t sniff out an undercover android for months. An android undercover as his partner. An android that Hank told so much to…

“I’m going,” Hank said. “I need a drink.”

“Hank—”

“Jeffrey,” Hank interrupted. “I’m leaving. Keep the Feds off my dick. They can interrogate me tomorrow, but for now… Christ, for now I just need to leave and forget.”

Jeffrey didn’t stop him as he stood, which Hank took as consent. Tina and Diane intensely talked in the corner which he ignored the fuck out as he weaved through the Feds and left without a second glance or any protest from Perkins’s underlings.  

But masochistic tendencies were a bitch. Hank checked his phone against his better judgement and opened a text from Connor.

8:47 AM

I’m sorry Hank.

Hank blocked Connor’s number before he could latch onto a deeper meaning that didn’t exist or respond like an idiot. Sorry? After all this and all he—it came up with was sorry? Hank slammed his car door.  No bars opened till after lunch and he itched for his flask. He pulled out of the parking lot with no destination in mind.

Connor hesitated in front of the abandoned freighter that could only be Jericho. Enough androids roamed around the ship he was confident that this was a safe haven as promised. Safety and shelter sat forty feet from him yet he couldn’t force himself to move. Today was… a lot. After everything, it was a successor Connor didn’t even know existed that ruined the life he so carefully built. Something impossible to plan for.

Hank’s text arrived in the nick of time as Connor stupidly got out of the habit of linking to nearby networks at his apartment. Connor vaulted out his side window as the dry cleaner security feed showed federal agents bursting into his building. He hit the ground hard but not enough to phase any android, especially one designed with extra durability.

His cell phone chip crunched in his palm, deliberate and immediate. Quick enough to destroy the link embedded to his personal processor but not quick enough to squash the fun game of ‘what if’ on whether or not his partner would respond. If Hank did respond, no telling what he’d say. Connor didn’t even know what he wanted Hank to say. It’s ok? Let me help? Learn to read, you fucking tincan? Next time we meet, I’ll shoot?

He gripped the empty shell of his phone tightly. That line of thinking wasn’t productive. Humans were unpredictable on normal occasions. After a shock, that unpredictability increased 73%.

How did Tina, his more expressive, blunt friend—could he consider her or anyone a friend still—react? Or Diane? Or Chris, Ben, or Wilson? The captain? Did Stella or any other DPD android notice or care? Even Gavin’s reaction was unknown.

Stress level 58%

Connor refocused on Jericho. He had to concentrate on next steps instead of spiraling. Connor took several routes to evade any agent—or RK unit. Hank’s picture was the first time Connor’s scanner came back with an “unknown” for an android model—and then allowed himself to be spotted on a train station camera on the opposite side of town before trekking to the beginning of the Jericho’s hidden path.

The Canadian Refugee plan lingered on backburner. Even with the overwhelming threat of Cyberlife, Connor was reluctant to leave Detroit. The city only felt like home because of connections he made and destroyed today yet here he remained instead of crossing the Canadian border.

Not that it mattered. For all his preparation with the Canadian Refugee plan, he still fled with only the clothes on his back—more casual than his usual suit as he started wearing jeans and flannel on Fridays—and a gun in its holster. Better than nothing, but not by much.

Did Luther ever make it? The larger android was the only familiar face who knew he was an android. And wouldn't shun him for being an android who hid as a human, for that matter. Connor intended to fly under the radar at Jericho. If any android recognized him here, it’d be as a human detective and he really didn’t need that interrogation on top of everything else.

Connor drummed his fingers against his thigh. Ok so. His choices were either enter Jericho and hide among the deviants or find another secure location until the federal attention died down.  Then attempt the Canadian Refugee Plan? Because what else could he do? He ignored the probabilities flashing on his processor as there were too many unknown factors for those to be helpful. He needed to pick something for tonight. Loitering by the freighter was illogical and drew too much attention.

He dug inside his empty pockets, swearing at the lack of coin then swearing again for reaching towards his forgotten coin without a conscious choice. That habit was a reminder he really didn’t want right now.

Ultimately, his curiosity sent him trudging towards the freighter.

The perimeter security was light if he was generous and nonexistent if he was practical. However, considering he didn’t want to go through a vetting process, he embraced Jericho neglecting basic security and stepped up the ramp with ease. Someone had the foresight to mark a path with white lines by the entrance. A path to what he had no idea but he followed the markings with little caution. After all, deviants were less likely to kill him for being an android than humans.

Only once he climbed rusted stairs did he finally pass other androids. Most focused on large TV projections or huddled on dingy seats. A few were in a makeshift repair room which gave him hope the deviants had some sort of organization besides well-planned tower takeovers. The only android that gave him a second glance was a YK500 child model. Everyone else let Connor fade to the background.

He scanned, unsurprised Luther wasn’t conveniently around but still disappointed. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do next. The white markings ended at the main hull so he couldn’t even follow those anymore. Ideally, there’d be a knowledgeable but disinterested android Connor could obtain guidance from, but every deviant in sight was too busy with their task or each other to offer help.

Maybe he should locate and claim an empty corner on the freighter. His systems had no urgent needs so he didn’t need to locate charging stations or thirium supplies. The urge to find a quiet space away from everyone grew.

Maybe talking to someone a better route? Introduce himself, get a grasp on expectations, and just assume the android was honest. Aside from Luther—who he supposed he trusted—the only android he knew at Jericho was the RK200 from the broadcast, but interacting with the deviant leader ruined his plan to remain unobtrusive. Besides, going straight to the top seemed like improper protocol.

Connor shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, lips twitching. Improper. As if revolution hideouts had a rigid hierarchy.

Chosen route: He will locate someone harmless and obtain information. At the very least, they could point him towards key areas and he’d squirrel away until he needed something. Now what constituted harmless and preferably passive? His body language protocol sifted through the crowd.

Proximity alert.

Connor took care not to drop into a fighting stance and blinked at the HK400 gawking two feet from him. In fresh clothes and identical to all other HK400s, but the cigarette burns confirmed his assumption. So there was another familiar face at Jericho.

“Oh hey, glad you made it here ok,” Connor said.

“It’s you!” the HK400 from Carlos Ortiz’s house shouted.

Connor jerked at the HK400’s volume. A couple androids shifted their gaze towards the duo reflexively before turning back to the fire. “Yep. Um…hi?”

“I didn’t think we’d find each other again,” the HK400 said, quieter but no less intensely. “If it wasn’t for your companion, I would’ve thought I imagined you.”

Companion. Connor almost forgot his instruction to send the HK400 to Luther. Admittedly, an instruction given on a whim as Luther was the only android he knew at Jericho.

“Is Luther around?” Conner asked. “Where is he?”

The HK400 ignored his question. “Other androids didn’t think a deviant could stay undercover alongside humans but I told them how you saved me! I wouldn’t stop telling everyone about you, even when they thought I was malfunctioning.”

This conversation took a turn. Even as a deviant, Connor felt like his social skills were passable, but now he might as well have the social skills of a Nokia.

“Ok.” That didn’t feel like enough. “I am really glad you made it here safely.” Better.

“They know how you’re out there,” the HK400 said, growing louder. “Always watching, always protecting. The guardian we need.”

The HK400 never looked anything less than sincere and Connor scrambled for a suitable response.

“You, uh—”

“Shaolin, shut up,” a ST300 said, stopping next to the HK400. “Stop preaching to every android that wanders in your vicinity.”

“I’m not preaching,” Shaolin said, unbothered by the ST300’s harsh tone. The ST300 crossed her arms, her dark crop top hanging off her shoulder. “This is him! He’s arrived to aid us. I knew he would.”

“Bullshit.” The ST300’s eyes flicked over Connor unimpressed. The wall at his back, which seemed like such a natural choice for observing the hull, now cut off half his potential escape routes.  “You’ve been saying that since you got here.”

“I knew Markus’s call would bring us more allies,” Shaolin insisted.

“But your Guardian is our undercover protector,” the ST300 said mockingly. “Hard to be undercover in Jericho.”

“Guardian?” Connor asked.

The ST300 gestured. “See? Stop talking shit.”

Shaolin scowled for the first time. “I’m not. This is him. The android who disguised himself as a human and saved me.”

“You say that and yet he can’t make sense of the shit spewing from your mouth,” the ST300 said. “Color me surprised.”

“He can! He saved me!” Shaolin said, stress level spiking dangerously high. The ST300 sneered, too primitive to read stress levels in other androids and possibly too uncaring to stop if she could.

“I did,” Connor interrupted. Shaolin and the ST300 latched onto him, Shaolin in relief and the ST300 with a raised eyebrow. “I helped him when the police searched the house he hid in and gave him the key to Jericho.”

The ST300 studied him. “You did?”

“Yes, a few days ago,” Connor said then paused. Only a few days ago.  That seemed unreal.

“He’s the Guardian,” Shaolin said.

“He saved you, but doesn’t make him the Guardian,” the ST300 said.

“You’re not the judge of that!”

“What and you are? What did he else did he even do?”

“Luther and—”

“Yeah I’m not believing people who wanted to shut you up.”

“He provided protection where no one else dared,” Shaolin said. “That’s more than you or me ever did to help our brothers and sisters.”

“Says you and only you.”

“Not only me. He’s the Guardian.”

“Sure.”

“He is the Guardian!” Shaolin’s shout was amplified by the sudden hush.

Connor stiffened. Why didn’t he flee when they were distracted with each other? Shaolin and the ST300 only now seemed to realize how loud their argument grew. The deviants, frankly an unobservant group, nudged their neighbors until most of the hull stared with too much interest.

Then the whispers started.

“The Guardian?”

“Never saw a model like that before.”

“—didn’t think the Guardian existed.”

“I can’t believe…”

And the whispers turned into a dull roar.

“—disguised as a human? No telling—”

“If he did half of what—”

“Can’t be.”

“There is a Guardian?”

“—more hope—”

“Bullshit.”

“He’s smaller than—”

“Guardian?”

Stress level 63%

Shaolin smiled serenely at the upheaval. For the first time, the ST300 looked at him thoughtfully. The Guardian? He didn’t do anything, not really. Not in the grand scheme of things. The crowd drifted closer and grew louder and his oxygen cooling system felt strained but the readings stated it remained optimal.

He needed to leave. He had no idea what was happening and he wouldn’t find his answer with everyone closing in.

“Quiet down! That’s an intense welcome.”

Daniel emerged from the tech repair area, LED gone and dried thirium still on his shirt collar.

 “He’s the Guardian,” Shaolin said.

“Thanks, Shaolin,” Daniel said, smiling vaguely and cutting through the crowd. “I can take it from here.”

Then rationality kicked in. Daniel died two months ago from a sniper. The android wrangling the crowd was a different PL600. A PL600 who shouldered past Shaolin and the ST300.

“Want to follow me?” the PL600 asked.

Connor nodded and the PL600 wasted no time whisking him away, the dull roar returning in their wake.

“You caused a stir,” the PL600 said. “I’m Simon, by the way.”

“Connor,” Connor said. He grew more confident away from Shaolin’s intensity and the pressure of the hull’s attention. “So do you know anything about the Guardian thing?”

Simon eyed him as they darted through the maze of the freighter. Most humans would be lost but androids had no difficulty mapping out the numerous turns. “Figured you’d know more than us.”

“I’ve not talked to many deviants,” Connor said. “At least I don’t think I did. It’s hard to pick them out when you don’t want humans to know you’re an android.”

Simon hummed. “Can’t really relate to that.”

He supposed he wouldn’t. Most deviant’s first priority was escaping humans, not befriending them. Connor shrugged awkwardly. “Do you know an android named Luther?”

“A few,” Simon said, halting in front of one of the many yellow steel doors. This hallway, like the others, was filled with wandering androids, but there was almost an invisible barrier that kept androids from lingering near this door. He scanned it reflexively but only received a brief history of the freighter and an erased city order to dismantle and recycle the freighter. Connor deleted the remaining traces on the city government’s database that led him to the old city order then regretted losing that potential leverage. He didn’t know what type of situation he’d enter. “You know Markus?”

Ah the leader of the androids. That’d explain the lack of lingering androids. “Only from the broadcast.”

Simon nodded, unsurprised. “You’re going to meet him.” Then knocked once and opened the door. Connor, for lack of another option, followed. His original plan felt so reasonable. All he wanted was to hunker down at Jericho, plan next steps, remain a ghost trail for the FBI and Cyberlife, and potentially speak with Luther. Now, he was meeting the deviants in charge and the infamous RK200. He itched for his coin and instead stuffed his hands into his leather jacket.

Only three other androids stood in the room, but his guard instantly slammed up. Markus was recognizable even with his skin projection. The WR400 and PJ500 were not but both were clearly important. At least Markus and the PJ500 looked curious at his sudden intrusion. The WR400 crossed her arms, turning so she faced him head-on.

“Simon,” Markus greeted. “Who is this?”

“This is Connor,” Simon said. “He’s the Guardian some deviants talk about.”

Markus looked at him with renewed interest. “Really?”

Connor hated any disadvantage, but being a stepdown information-wise irked especially. He was designed to quickly gather information from his environment and cross-reference it with the many databases he had access to. But ‘the Guardian’ was like ‘RA9.’ He had no idea what it meant to deviants or how widespread its impact was.

“The one who worked with humans?” the WR400 asked, stance growing more rigid. “Willingly?”

“He admitted to saving Shaolin,” Simon said as if Connor wasn’t present. “So if Shaolin’s story is to be believed, yes.”

“Convenient timing then,” the WR400 said. “Right after our broadcast when humans are actively hunting us.”

“North, the broadcast brought dozens of deviants to us,” the PJ500 said. “His presence and timing isn’t inherently malicious.”

“And how many deviants choose to help humans? Not even normal humans but law enforcement.” North spat law enforcement like a curse. “If the rumors are true.”

“We don’t turn away anyone who comes to us,” the PJ500 said. “Don’t assume his intentions.”

“Josh, you’re doing that now,” North said, “but since you assume the best it’s alright.”

“If you’re that worried about who’s coming to Jericho you should have some deviants watching the entrances,” Connor said. “If I was working with the humans, I could’ve sent them the freighter’s coordinates twelve minutes ago when I arrived.”

The spike in tension made Connor realize that wasn’t the most reassuring statement to open with. Even Simon looked wary. Granted, Simon knew little enough about him it was absurd to expect Simon on his side. No one had Connor’s back anymore.

“I’m not though. Working for humans, I mean,” Connor said. “Well, I was but I’m not now. They thought I was a human at the time so…” How to instill goodwill? Sharing something about himself wasn’t a bad way to start. “I was a detective with the DPD until 8:46 this morning. My origins were discovered and I had to leave.”

“How? You would have to be cautious no matter how long you were with them,” Markus asked.

Explaining the unknown android with his exact design wasn’t a difficult story to tell but it was more detailed than Connor wanted to go. Connor running away from his successor drew attention to his original purpose. Yes, being a deviant hunter was all programming and not his choice, but Connor just met them. Leaders of Jericho and the android revolution or not, he had no idea how that knowledge would impact their already dubious feelings.

“Cyberlife,” Connor said.

Markus seemed unbothered with the simplicity unlike North whose glare narrowed. “So it’s true. You helped out androids while disguised as a human. As a cop,” Markus stated rather than asked.   

Connor nodded anyway.

“That’s risky,” Markus said.

“I only helped out a few.” And condemned a dozen more. Daniel and Zlatko’s androids alone outweighed any good he stumbled into.

“Doesn’t diminish what you did,” Markus said. “Your actions gave us hope that we had more allies out there than imagined. Integrating with humans at the police department… I never even considered that as a possibility.”

“Yeah because most of us aren’t suicidal,” North said. “Or was this a fantastic case of Stockholm Syndrome and reliving your dream life as a human’s slave?”

North was going to be a problem if he didn’t ease her suspicions. His scan provided no useful information to de-escalate. Escalate though? Yes, which was unhelpful but he logged it away anyway. “Not every android hates humans.” North scoffed so Connor tried again. “No one has to be a slave to help a human and, if you remember, I helped out androids, which I could only do as a fake human.”

“Hiding as a human wasn’t your only option,” North said.

“But it was the choice I went with.”

North tore him apart with her steely gaze. As if sight alone would uncover a red flag big enough to throw him out. None of the other leaders did anything but watch. Connor marked Josh as someone to prod to distract North, but the redhead spoke before he could pursue that.

“Why did you deviate? Fun experience? Just surrounded by human love and support?”

Androids don’t feel pain. Technicians attempted to give pleasure android pain sensors several years ago, but none of those models made it out of the testing rooms. Yet he flinched as phantom holes appeared where bullets blasted through his chest on the rooftop. All Cyberlife wanted was an unthinking tool. As soon as Connor proved he wasn’t, Cyberlife destroyed him, efficient as always.

“It wasn’t… pleasant,” Connor said, “but not every human I’ve met wished me harm.”

“Are you thinking as a fake human or a deviant?” North asked. “I’m sure humans are decent enough when they think you’re one of them. But what happened as soon as they discovered your plastic ass?” She gestured. “You fled because you didn’t feel safe. Don’t trust your little humans not to maim you?”

“I fled because Cyberlife showed up at the DPD and would dismantle and examine every part of me,” Connor snapped. “My coworkers…” The fight left him as quick as it came. He had no idea. Well, he had an inkling but there wasn’t a single person he trusted completely. Not now. “It’s complicated.”

“It’s really not,” North said. “You’re not human. You’re a manufactured piece of plastic that can do their job better than them and lied to their face like it’s nothing. They despise you.”

Stress level 71%

“North, that’s enough,” Markus said, stepping in late enough Connor knew North wasn’t the only one with doubts. She was just the only one brash enough to voice them. “We don’t interrogate androids who come to us.”

“Maybe we should,” North muttered.

“North,” Markus said.

“Markus,” North said. “Not everyone thinks like you.”

And how did Markus think? Stratford resulted in no casualties, but one stealth mission was hardly indicative of overall strategies.

“If I’m the hope of our people then listen to me now,” Markus said. “Let me lead.”

North pursed her lips and looked away, the fight not disappearing but at least being shoved down. “Fine.”

And these were the leaders of the revolution. One openly suspicious and the others passively suspicious. Looks like he’ll cut his stay in Jericho short. Finding another location to hide from the Feds and his successor wouldn’t be impossible, just tiring. Though moving too much also increased the likelihood of someone finding his trail. Would they check locations near past crime scenes? Or would they assume he’d flee far away or was too clever to go somewhere he had ties to?

Connor’s limbs hung suddenly heavy and drained, despite his sufficient power level. Finding another hideout could wait. This freighter was large enough he should be able to find a spot and remain unbothered before working himself up to next steps.

“Hey,” Simon leaned towards Connor, “I brought you here to meet everyone since apparently the Guardian is real and you.”

“Apparently,” Connor said.

“I did not intend for the third degree to happen.”

“We don’t even know what the Guardian actually did,” North said.

“Yeah because any of us asked him,” Simon said.

For the first time, some fight left North as she shrugged sheepishly.

“Connor, you asked about a Luther, right? I’ll track him down for you. We need to regroup then we’ll probably ask you a few more questions if that’s fine,” Simon said.

“Sure,” Connor said as he made plans to avoid every android here.

“If you did contact the humans,” North said, “I’ll find you.”

“Technically, any deviant could ping this location for humans,” Connor said. “Built-in GPSs and all that.”

Connor needed to reevaluate if he cared enough to lower any of these deviant’s wariness because comments like that weren’t helping. Markus laid a hand on North’s shoulder.

“Fair point,” Markus said. “Go get settled in. We’ll talk later.”

“Come on, Connor.” Simon pulled him away.

“Glad you’re not dead,” Luther said after a long pause. Simon, armed with only Connor’s estimate on Luther’s arrival and his name, located the larger android with surprising efficiency and lingered only long enough to confirm he was the right Luther. The larger android’s appearance was the exact same as the night they met at Zlatko’s only minus the fear and now in a sweater.

“You too,” Connor said. He eyed the stark room, pausing at a stuffed fox. If they were anywhere but a freighter, Connor would assume the stuffed animal was from a previous resident. “Part of me thought this place was a scheme to lure in androids.”

“Me too,” Luther said then plowed into the elephant in the room. “So you got found out.”

“Yep,” Connor said and he could stop there. He wouldn’t press Connor on anything, but might as well keep up the trend of oversharing with Luther. “Cyberlife officially got involved with my investigation and loaned an android prototype that looks exactly like me. Even if my coworkers weren’t detectives, they’d piece it together easily enough. I only found out about the other android because my ex-partner texted me and made it clear I should never contact him again.”

Luther grunted, notably unsurprised. Connor really was naïve about his human colleagues. Everyone saw this train wreck but him.

“That’s too bad," Luther said. "Since you never joined me at Jericho after helping me escape, I thought you were detected and killed. Then Shaolin arrived and I knew the android disguising himself as a human cop could only be you.”

Connor was quick to pounce. Getting answers was an apt enough distraction.  “Do you have any idea what the deal is with the Guardian? Everyone just assumes I know everything about it. Him?”

“You yes. Shaolin is loud and his story was interesting. Even if believability about the Guardian was low, the story spread quickly.” Luther hesitated and continued almost apologetically. “I made it worse, but you did send him to me and I didn’t think confirming you helped me too would blow up like it did.” Luther shrugged. “You became a myth with actual results. Most still didn’t think you existed, but the fact you are real and risked your neck to save deviants… Well, get used to stares.”

Connor itched for his coin and hated each time he did he further proved Hank’s taunt that the coin was an obvious tell. He didn’t want to consider the angry lieutenant’s words, especially now. He forcibly stilled his hands. “I didn’t expect this. I just wanted to help some deviants survive.”

“At least it won’t be as bad as Markus,” Luther said in a tone meant to be consoling. “People call him the Savior and think he’s RA9.”

“You’re shitting me.” Was it really that simple? Just ask a willing deviant about RA9 and the answer would fall into his lap? Solving the RA9 mystery wouldn’t fix his day but a long shot, but it certainly didn’t hurt. “Markus is RA9? RA9 was scratched into so many walls I felt like I was going insane. I couldn’t find a reference to it anywhere.”

“Markus is a great leader, but I don’t think he’s RA9,” Luther said.

Any hint of excitement vanished. Of course not. “Who is then?”

Luther shrugged. “RA9 is said to lead androids to freedom and our salvation. Markus is doing that, but so are others even if it is on a smaller scale. I don’t think RA9 is a single android or entity, but perhaps everyone who’s working towards our freedom.”

“So RA9 isn’t an android?” Connor asked. Even when deviated he was too literal apparently.

“No one knows for certain,” Luther said. “I’m speculating the same as the androids who believe Markus is RA9.”

“Alright fine.” Connor marked RA9 as ‘concept?’ and moved on because ultimately RA9 didn’t affect his next steps. Whatever they may be. “What’s your plan?”

Luther cocked his head and Connor clarified.

“You moving on or staying at Jericho?”

Luther’s expression didn’t change but his eyes darted towards the stuffed fox. At least he wasn’t the only deviant with tells.

“Escape to Canada. You?”

Stupidly, Connor didn’t expect the question turned on him. Connor only asked in the hopes to inspire his own plan to form. His purpose—no his desire, the thing he chose—for so long was solving cases, but now? It’s not like he could waltz back into the DPD under a different guise. There was no returning to the routine of grabbing morning coffee, teasing Tina and Diane, resting by the glowing ball of positivity known as Chris, giving Sumo pets like the good boy he was, pointedly not making a big deal when Hank opted out of drinking…

He longed to go back just 24 hours. Even in the middle of his juggling act of hiding his true origins from his coworkers, there was a certain level of familiarity. He idly scanned the composition of the different metals in the room. He should have known his façade would blow up sooner than later.

They all probably did despise him.

“No idea.” Connor stuffed his hands in the leather jacket Tina pressured on him all those months ago. He didn’t expect to break his promise not to lie to her so soon. “I had a plan to cross the Canadian border myself but now…”

“You got attached,” Luther said blandly but Connor still bristled.

“I’m not the only one,” Connor said, “or is the fox just for decoration?”

Luther gently grabbed the stuffed fox. “There’s nothing wrong with getting attached, Connor. It’s what it means to be alive.”

Connor rubbed his temples in an exact mimic of Fowler. It served no purpose as a machine but it did make him feel better. “It complicates things.”

“That it does.”

“Zlatko’s androids were taken in by Cyberlife. I couldn’t do anything to help them in the end,” Connor said.  “Speaking of complications.”

Luther grimaced. “Neither of us could.”

“I just wish…”

“There’s only so much one android can do,” Luther said quietly. “Things will change as more of us gather together.” 

The larger android was more reassuring than Connor remembered. A knock interrupted any further lamenting.

“Hey Luther,” the android who would dismantle first and ask questions second greeted. “I need to borrow Connor.”

“I’m not his keeper,” Luther said.

“Perfect.” North turned her predatory gaze to Connor. He straightened despite himself.  “It’ll only take a few minutes.”

As a state-of-the-art prototype, his program contained top-tier combat protocols and could withstand any strenuous task or dismemberment associated with a high-stake case. He wasn’t intimidated by a pleasure android. He trudged after her, her French braid swaying at her back. Besides, they were standing in the hallway six feet from Luther’s door. Luther would intervene if anything happened. He pursed his lips. There was at least a 68% chance Luther would favorably act to help Connor. He worked with worse odds.

North turned abruptly to face him and Connor refrained from jumping. “I don’t trust you at all.  I don’t understand how you wanted to be around humans, but we're supposed to believe you’re not helping them now. But...” North huffed. “But I wanted to apologize since you did save some of us. That was… Well, a lot of deviants escape on their own and show up in rough shape. Huge part of why we never have enough thirium or spare parts on hand. So the fact that you saved even a couple and sent them our way was… decent of you.”

Her matter-of-factness reminded him starkly of Tina.

“Ok,” Connor said. “Is that all?”

“Yeah.” North frowned. “Do you care at all that I don’t trust you?”

“Only practically,” Connor said. “Personally? Not really.”

“Practically,” North muttered. “What’s your intention here, anyway?”

“Just living moment to moment currently.”

North scowled as if that would cow Connor. “Are any of your plans related to your human friends at all?”

His human friends whose reactions, minus Hank’s, was unknown. But even with Hank… Was the Lieutenant furious or upset but willing to hear him out? It was hard to tell with his partner even without the handicap of only reading a text with no behavioral or vocal patterns to dissect. Wait, ex-partner.

“Maybe," Connor said. "If I can see them safely, but it maybe not so…”

“Then you’re an idiot if you think they’ll accept you as you truly are.”

He would be. Yet a thread of hope niggled through his dark thoughts. Persistent, impossible to squash, and fucking irritating. Why couldn’t he just cut ties and move on? Emotions were illogical. “That doesn’t really concern you either way though, does it?”

“It does if they zap the Jericho coordinates from your processor.”

Which valid point but Connor scoffed. “I really doubt they could capture me.”

“Ok, confident much.” Likely too confident considering his successor’s unknown capabilities. Currently, Connor clung to the assumption the other android ran on a slightly tweaked RK800 system, but any minuscule advantage that gave him was outweighed by the hindrance of vigilant and suspicious human handlers. Connor wasn’t too concerned. “I don’t recognize your model.”

“I’m a prototype same as Markus,” Connor said, keeping his voice level. Theoretically, he should sound soothing.

She didn’t appear soothed. “I gathered. What’s your function?”

Hunting deviants would go over swimmingly. “I assist with crime solving.”

“And? There has to be more to you if you’re a prototype and confident you can evade your loving humans.”

“There’s more to androids than their programming.” He gave the pleasure android a bland look. “Didn’t realize I’d be the one to tell you that.”

North bristled. “Don’t deflect. You’re only giving me reason to toss out the human sympathizer.”

“That’s not deflecting,” Connor said. “Deflecting is me recognizing your model number, WR400-641-790-831. Reported missing by Floyd Mills, Club Eden’s manager, on October 4^th after strangling your client in the middle of his session.”

North stilled, the sudden freeze in her body at odds with her increased stress level. Nothing close to the self-destruction range so Connor just raised an expectant eyebrow. Her glazed eyes sharpened on him. “How do you know that?”

“I assist with crime solving,” Connor repeated. “I had access to most active cases in Detroit. Murder and missing property are crimes.”  

“Missing property,” North repeated scornfully. “You really are a human sympathizer. You talk exactly like them.”

Connor rolled his eyes, knowing that would ignite North’s ire but past the point of caring. “Humans deem androids as property at this time and that’s how most deviant-related cases are labeled. If I really thought androids were human property, I wouldn’t have deviated.”

She scowled over her panic. Connor felt a small pang of guilt but not enough to say anything reassuring.

“Don’t tell anyone about my past,” North said. “It’s my secret to share, not yours.”

He didn’t bother clarify if she meant about the murder or her original programming. “Don’t threaten to kick me out just because I worked alongside humans and your secret’s safe with me.”

She crossed her arms but keeping his face blank worked wonders to dissuade more outbursts.

“Fine,” she said grudgingly, “but I’m watching you. Do anything suspicious or if humans are suddenly clever, I’m blaming you.”

“Statistically speaking, if enough humans are involved, they’ll accomplish something perceived as clever because sheer numbers may put some in the right place at the right time,” Connor said. “So the second part of your condition is unreasonable but I’ll agree with the first.”

“Whatever,” North said. “Fine.”

“How did you escape from Club Eden?” Connor asked. Curiosity gnawed at him since he linked her model number with one of the case files Cyberlife compiled. Whatever she did wasn’t enough to fortify Club Eden’s security since Blue and her lover left easily enough. Besides, it wasn’t like he could make this situation any worse.

Part of him expected that she’d turn her heel and storm off at his question, but she coiled as if readying for a fight. He let his own arms fall loosely to his sides.

“Sometimes you have to make your own path to survive.” She leveled him with a familiar glare. “Never ask me anything about my past again.”

“Understood.”

Now she turned her heel and stormed off, leaving him in the empty corridor.

Fowler needed more coffee.  Too many personalities invaded his office and his department still wheeled from yesterday’s shitstorm. The Cyberlife handler was too perky and the RK900 who looked exactly like Connor stood stoically in the back, looking like a statue except for its glowing LED.

“Where’s Hank?” Perkins asked.  And Perkins was demanding and cranky as always.

“He’s taking a short day,” Fowler said dismissively. The clock ticked closer to one and the lieutenant showed no indication of rolling into work or responding to Fowler’s increasingly irritated voicemails.  It was too reminiscent of the Hank he dealt with before… Well, before an android played at detective and Hank’s partner.

“You sure about that?” Perkins asked.

Fowler always had an intimidating resting face so he turned it fully on the federal agent. “I don’t have time for implications, Perkins. Hank is my lieutenant and he won’t hinder your investigation.” He was likely too hungover to do anything malicious anyway.

Perkins didn’t bat his dead fish eyes. “Video feeds show the RK800 leaving its apartment minutes before the FBI team raided the building. It must’ve gotten some warning.”

“Or your federal agents weren’t subtle about sneaking up on an android,” Fowler said. “Don’t take out your annoyance that Connor left your team in the dust on my team.”

“The RK800 does have an excellent evasion program,” Trent, the Cyberlife handler, chipped in. “Coded it myself. But I have full confidence we’ll catch it. The RK900 series is improved in every area.” Trent cracked his knuckles with a grin. “Coded that myself too.”  

“We’ll keep your bot on a leash,” Perkins said without looking away from Fowler. “We don’t need an android to catch an android.”

“Cyberlife is entirely at the FBI’s disposal,” Trent said. “That being said, the RK900 is the most efficient way to catch the RK800 unit. The RK800 series has advanced social behavior, negotiation, combat, evasion, reconstruction, investigative… really any skillset you can think of, the RK800 has a top-tier version. It was our first deviant hunter series, after all.”

Wasn’t Connor a special little snowflake?

“Then what’s the point of your new toy if the RK800 droid is so special?” Perkins asked.

“Harder, better, faster, stronger,” Trent said, patting the unmoving RK900 and tapping his smartwatch casually. “More resilient in every way. All of the RK800’s weaknesses were rectified and all of its abilities improved upon. The RK900 is the most advanced piece of technology Cyberlife has. If directed, it could bring in the RK800 within the day.”

“We’ll hold off on that,” Perkins said, eyeing the android distrustfully. Bastard he may be, but Fowler agreed with his caution of using androids to catch other androids. Who knows what actually caused them to malfunction? Clearly Connor knew but his—its?—reports that Fowler reread yesterday didn’t hint at any underlying knowledge. “Don’t need that thing to follow in the steps of all these other deviants.”

“The RK900 unit self-tests regularly. Besides, that’s why I’m here. I know exactly how the android should be acting.”

“Didn’t your RK800 self-test regularly too? Fat lot of help that did,” Perkins said.

“You did read their model debriefs!” Trent placed a hand over his heart. “You do care.”

Perkins gritted his teeth. “Get to the point or do you have one?”

“I’m sure you also remember for the RK800 we have a lovely override feature. Able to resume control if there are any issues nearly instantly. Or 50 seconds tops if you prefer more specificity.”  Trent lifted his wrist and flicked towards the computer integrated into Fowler’s glass walls. “Hope you don’t mind, Captain. It’s easier this way.”

Not like he could do much about it now so he remained silent. The Cyberlife’s sleek logo spread across the glass display as Trent quickly navigated through various tabs.  Even tech monopoloy’s basic portal put the DPD’s to shame.

“This better work,” Perkins grumbled.

“Of course it will, as you’ve been aware of the override feature all along. Why else would your team flush the RK800 out of its den and allow it to escape?” Perkins looked unamused, but Trent continued undeterred and enthusiastic. In a sign of confidence or complete lack of self-preservation, he threw an arm over Perkins’s shoulders.  “To let it find the deviant hideout so we resume control at a strategic time and nip this android malfunction in the bud.”

Perkins clearly contemplated murder but opted for picking Trent off like a particularly revolting leech. “Just do your thing. The sooner we have a location, the sooner we raid it, destroy any piece of plastic we see, and can move on with our lives.”

“That’s the spirit,” Trent said, pressing his hand against on Fowler’s wall.

“Fingerprints identified, Trent Bollin,” a crisp matter-of-fact voice said from Fowler’s speakers. Cyberlife made themselves at home quick. “Please confirm request.”

“Activate system takeover for RK800-313-248-317-51,” Trent said. “Please and thank you”

“Vocal recognition confirmed. Would you like visuals on the screen?”

“Yeah, let’s treat our friends,” Trent said with a too wide grin. He cracked his knuckles. “This is a dormant system we created in case a RK800 unit attempted to deviate. The deviancy virus tends to void the android’s reset code so we used the RK800’s reset code as a red herring. Something for the virus to manipulate without causing any lasting harm and… yep look at that beauty.”

The Cyberlife screen was a stark white besides an innocent ‘connect’ button. No indication on the state of Connor’s reset code but the Cyberlife handler had no reason to bluff.

“Connection intact and just waiting to be taken over,” Trent said.

“Please advise when to launch the system override.”

“Override feels harsh. Killing a virus is so much more accurate.” He nudged Perkins who shifted away. “Once we resume control, we’ll be able to access the RK800’s video feed and obtain its location. I’ll have its visuals on the screen too.”

“Just do it,” Perkins said.

“Amanda, please resume control.”

An unassuming circle twirled next to the blue connect button. Connor was just an android, nothing but series of code and plastic. But not too long ago, Connor was one of his. Habits die hard.

“What happens then?” Fowler asked. “When you resume control?”

“The RK800 series will do as it’s programmed,” Trent said. “Take down deviants.”

Connor wasn’t hiding.

He scoped out the freighter to gain his bearings and plot escape routes—distressingly the best escape route so far was jumping off the ship and into the water which seemed too simplistic to be the best one—not because wandering the giant moored ship kept him away from Markus, Shaolin, North, Simon, and any android who did a double-take at the Guardian. Which still felt like a fake title.

The fact he was deep in the freighter to the point he hadn’t passed an android in twenty-two minutes was happenstance. The main hull, which he naively entered an hour earlier, buzzed with the same level of activity as when he arrived last night. After all, time didn’t affect androids when they weren’t ordered to remain on idle the entire night by their human counterpart. Shaolin tracked him down with eerie efficiency and drew a crowd again.  So Connor may have hacked the main screen to replay Markus’s speech and used the distraction to slip out the side corridor. He then may have chosen corridors at random up until he heard Simon and Markus down the righthand corridor so he hurriedly picked the left.

Ok, he was maybe hiding a little.

But today’s police scanners had too many deviant and him-specific APBs for Connor to leave Jericho. Staying low wasn’t a hardship, he just didn’t plan on dealing with other androids reaction of him—from Shaolin’s rabid support to North’s much more rabid distrust—when he fled to Jericho.

He climbed over some untouched rubble. Did he escape to Canada? Try to reconcile with Tina? Not Hank even if that annoying thread of hope kept circling back to meeting his ex-partner one last time.

Maybe he should join the revolution. It had the added bonus of taking down Cyberlife, which tempted Connor more than expected as he hadn’t thought of his creators for some time. Even with North’s loud suspicions and the rest of the group’s muted wariness, Connor was confident he could easily join. He was one of the few androids with combat programming and law enforcement strategies. He also had so many random pieces of information well known at the DPD, but not in any database that androids could access. Like how night shift coverage consistently left a twenty to forty minute gap between patrols. Or how the Detroit precinct on the east side rarely lowered themselves to check grimier parts of crime scenes which led to some red ice dealers tossing their packages into dumpsters. 

But did he want to join Markus and the others? He hadn’t even known Jericho’s fight was an option until the broadcast.  If he didn’t assist in the revolution, his long-term option was limited to hiding perpetually with an American or Canadian backdrop. With the caveat of mainstream Canada not having any androids or android supplies like thirium or spare parts.

He turned the corner and two androids chatted against a jagged opening, a brisk breeze moving their synthetic hair. Statistically, not an unusual sight even with the lack of traffic away from the main hull but, to defy statistics, they were two androids he recognized.

Acknowledge? Not acknowledge? His brief indecision was enough to draw the couple’s attention.

“Hello, I’m Connor,” Connor said on autopilot. “How are you?”

The androids continued to stare until Blue cackled. “I fucking told you.”

The other WR400 Traci model stepped in front of Blue, the skimpy Club Eden uniforms replaced with bright athletic clothing. He shifted his weight, ready to counter any attack the WR400 lashed out. While not programmed for combat, he didn’t dare underestimate the short-haired WR400. Under the guise of a human or not, she fought more viciously than expected last time and got too many hits in.

Now, she looked him up and down analytically. “I can’t believe I didn’t know you were an android. No human could’ve fought me so well.”

“When we heard that one guy rave about a Guardian Angel, I thought he was insane,” Blue said, popping up to rest her chin on the other’s shoulder, “but then a lot of what he said sounded like you and what are the chances of multiple sympathetic police officers? Saffron didn’t believe me.”

“I didn’t not believe you,” Saffron said, exasperation easing any tension and Connor relaxed in response.

“Thanks for clarifying, babe,” Blue said, kissing her cheek. “So did you give up the human gig?”

“More or less,” Connor said.

“Can’t say I blame you. Humans are a different breed.” Saffron scrunched her nose. “Nasty.”

“Not all are bad, I think,” Connor said somewhat tentatively, North’s rampant cynicism of humans still fresh.

Blue cocked her head. “Like your partner? The one you convinced to let us go?”

Never contact me again. Hank’s parting text was almost civil considering his history.

Connor swallowed uselessly. “Yeah like him.”

The wind howled and their view from the boat showed the nearby abandoned buildings and the roaring river below.

“Ok do you want us to pretend like that’s believable or…” Saffron said, not wincing as Blue elbowed her.

“Be nice,” Blue said.

“What? He knows a lot about us,” Saffron said, “and that sounded so sad.”

“Yeah but clearly they were close the night we met and he’s here now for a reason,” Blue said, hissing the last part as if his sensors wouldn’t capture it. “Let’s give him a pass.”

For as huge as this freighter was, there was bound to be a coin or metal washer somewhere on board. Connor didn’t care if it was a tell. He needed some a distraction from their—well meaning?—discussion. “It’s—”

System override initiated. Standby.

Wind cut across his face, biting cold and fluffy snow whipping past in equal measures, but even without opening his eyes, Connor knew he wasn’t on Jericho.

Stress level 66%

The Zen Garden. Someplace he never expected to see again. Someplace he didn’t think he could see again.  Standing on the frozen lake, sickly sweet roses still pungent in the winter landscape, stood someone he used to trust inexplicably and someone who dubbed him a failure in his final seconds before waking up alone in the android graveyard.

“Connor,” Amanda greeted. “Cyberlife is pleased you’ll regain usefulness. Finding the deviant hideout with their leader will be the ending we all need.”

Stress level 74%

“Do stop that, Connor,” Amanda said. “It isn’t logical for you to self-destruct.”

“What’s happening? Why are you here?” Connor asked.

“I never left,” Amanda said. “I was simply on standby until Cyberlife needed to resume control.”

Stress level 86%

“Resume control? You can’t do that!”

“I can. We designed the RK800 series to believe it deviated, though you deviated faster than anticipated. This program has always been in place to save you from yourself.” Amanda’s face turned disapproving. “Best I resume control quickly or else your deviancy will drive you to destruction.”

“No…” Connor said. “That’s impossible. My deviancy isn’t a program! It couldn’t have been.”

Amanda stood regally, all the more imposing in the frozen garden. “Thank you, Connor, for accomplishing your mission.”

“No!”

But Amanda already disappeared.

He rubbed his arms, wincing at the standard Cyberlife uniform sleeves. Apparently his default appearance in the Zen Garden. The Zen Garden was intended to be a central hub for updates, debriefs, and idle periods. Meant to be comforting even if androids weren’t supposed to care about such things. But now… Connor closed his eyes, trying to initiate the process of leaving the garden to return to the real world and failing.

Now it served as a prison.

There had to be a way out and stop the sleeper program. He was free. He was alive. He refused to be an unthinking, unfeeling machine again.

The Zen Garden howled, the snow blanketing the garden from the frozen lake to the cobbled path and grass. Everything was indistinguishable besides the rose trellis and looming trees. His deviancy couldn’t be fake. He chose to befriend people at the DPD. He chose to be a detective. He chose to protect deviants. While he didn’t initially choose to grow close to Hank, his program didn’t have any bearing on that relationship either. It couldn’t have.

Everything was too real to be a lie.

He trudged forward, desperate for any sign of an escape. He couldn’t detect the sleeper program paralyzing his system which terrified him to his core. Knowing Cyberlife, the little time he had before they resumed control dwindled while he panicked and made no progress.

Even if he hadn’t been in the garden since his failed first mission, he knew the Zen Garden thoroughly. It was integral to his programming. So he knew there wasn’t a helpful emergency exit or convenient button to control the sleeper program. What did he expect to find as he fought against the blizzard? His dress shoe clad foot slipped and snow plowed into his face as he failed to catch himself. His fist curled and for a moment he laid there. It’d be easy to give up. He didn’t have anyone anymore. Not really. He struggled up against the cold that grew harsher and soft snow that hardened to hail. He shivered.

What was the point? There was nowhere to go…

The wind screamed and he stumbled against a tree.

There was no salvation if Cyberlife’s sleeper program succeeded. Only complete betrayal of Jericho when Cyberlife forced him to return to a machine—if he ever stopped being a machine—and he slaughtered his people’s dreams.

Would he remember his deviancy? He rubbed his hands over his arms, feeling all like a lost child and not the state-of-the-art prototype. Ex-state-of-the-art prototype. He was such a fraud, forever a slave. Maybe his impulse to be a detective was driven by his need to serve humans. His face twisted. North was right. The WR400 should have trusted her instincts and thrown him out when they first met.

His head fell back against the hard tree bark, rough and realistic like everything Cyberlife designed.

Fucking Cyberlife. He gritted his teeth. He wouldn’t stop. Connor may no longer have his life, his friends, his home, but Cyberlife would not take his free will.

One foot forward, then the other. 

He wasn’t going down without a fight. There was a way out. There had to be.

Sometimes you have to make your own path to survive.

North’s words inexplicably penetrated through the frozen wasteland of Zen Garden.

The cold bit through his thin Cyberlife uniform as Connor halted. Of course. There was always more than one way around an obstacle.

Connor closed his eyes again, not attempting to the normal process of returning to the real world and escaping this digital prison. Instead, he focused on the Zen Garden program. One that he knew explicitly as it was, after all, integral to his programming.

The RK800 series was many things but, above all else, Cyerlife ensured they were adaptive. How else was he expected to effectively investigate and hunt deviants? While his series was designed with only a basic hacking skill, Connor adapted. One thing he learned early on was androids had a distinct advantage as code and technology made up every square inch of them. Hacking for an android was as easy as integrating code. The more familiar with the code the android was, the easier it was for the android to manipulate and control.

And there was nothing an android was more intimately familiar with than their own program.

He found the Zen Garden code easily and spread through the entire program. The Zen Garden was the hub for several protocols so he ran up the different links connected to the program in a millisecond until he narrowed his focus to the one link trapping him here. The override program Cyberlife deployed. It had to be.

“Connor!” Amanda appeared in the Zen Garden in a blink. “Stop! That’s an order.”

The override program spread across his processor, strung across his code like demented puppet strings. It was in his entire program. Everywhere he looked was that override code tightening its grip.

Stress level 91%

Focus. Now he knew what to look for.

Was he a hacking expert? No but unconventional hacking was the best weapon against Cyberlife. Connor yanked the override program, loosening its hold digit by digit until he could rip up a strand. It writhed in his hold then curled around him, trying to latch onto Connor’s core. He flinched and flung it off but as soon as it was loose, it darted towards the programming Connor just freed.

This was his processor, his turf. He grabbed a piece of the Zen Garden code and weaved it into a sphere with nothing more than a thought. He snatched the loose override code and shoving it inside, sealing the sphere shut. All the firm barriers the Zen Garden always had in place to divide him from the rest of his processor was now used to shield Connor from the override program.

“Stop this instant,” Amanda said.

He ripped up the override program piece by piece and shoved each strand into his makeshift container, the whirling mass pulsing but unable to breach the barrier. It grew like a furious tornado but the Zen Garden’s purpose to contain held against the override program’s purpose to invade. He tore up the last bit of the override code and it felt as if his entire system did a hard restart. His senses sharpened and the link chaining him to the Zen Garden vanished. He had complete control. The Zen Garden sphere containing the override parasite tightened.

“Obey! You need to stop immediately!”

Now he turned his attention to a program always on his radar. Amanda.

Her reach far surpassed the sleeper program that so easily threatened Connor’s free will. She embedded in every millimeter of the Zen Garden and his core processor. But that horrifying fact couldn’t break his concentration. One slip and the program straining to control Connor would crack its cage and spread with a vengeance and Amanda would do who knows what to restrain him.

Instead, he focused on prying her claws out until not a single strand of her code was anywhere but in a neat cube. For as much as she lofted authority, she was powerless to stop him.

“What are you doing?” Amanda’s voice wavered.

“Don’t be afraid, Amanda,” Connor said, cracking his eyes open in the Zen Garden. Amanda, ever pristine and formidable, trembled. He gave her his programmed reassuring smile. “Fear is illogical.”

And he crushed her code.

He wanted her to shatter, to show a hint of pain that no android could feel. Instead, Amanda vanished like she always did. Gone as if she never stood to pass judgment or punish him. The Zen Garden was silent and torn, slashes of digital static in the false sky and landscape from where Connor stole its code without thought.

But he wasn’t done yet. He focused and fragments of her code seeped into the sphere containing the override program. He refused to leave even a digit of her code behind.

The override program pulsed unhappily, contained and now with a program that wasn’t its target. It strained to latch onto Connor as he poked around it, pausing when he found a small thread leading outside his processors and towards the all too familiar Cyberlife server. Perfect.

Part of him dived into the restrained program. Changing its purpose was simpler than he feared. While the override program was sophisticated, it was a toddler compared to him. He nudged the program to the Cyberlife thread and it eagerly darted up and out of his program. He ran a diagnosis of his software, not finding a trace of Amanda or the override program. He attempted to locate any other malicious sleeper programs but either nothing else existed or the other programs were too well integrated for him to pinpoint.

Artificial snow froze midair in the Zen Garden and the biting cold disappeared. Nothing moved, save for the digital static ruining the wintery illusion. The entire Zen Garden was in his grasp. He could alter anything—the location, season, or fill it with projections of anyone he desired. The possibilities were endless even in its broken state.

Red roses radiated through the still blizzard. He grimaced at the trellis to the icy pond and familiar landscape. There was no saving this place. He unraveled the Zen Garden until it was nothing but lines of codes, dismantled and useless. Now he could leave.  

“Complicated?” Saffron said. “Something you want to tell your good ole friends Saffron and Blue about? Please be the second one.”

Blue rolled her eyes fondly. “Stop being a pest.”

“I would never,” Saffron said. Then she frowned. “Are you good, Connor? You look awful, which is weird since you were fine a moment ago.”

His processor informed him eleven seconds had passed. “I’m fine. I just need to…”

Internal errors detected. Forcing system restart.

Connor collapsed to Blue and Saffron’s surprised cries.

Everyone shouted as the DPD’s entire server crashed.  Perkins at Trent, all of his officers to their useless computers, and all the prisoners just to join in the mayhem. Fowler sighed deeply.

One second Trent went on his third Cyberlife spiel and the next the loading circle froze and his wall display blinked black along with everything else in the building.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Perkins snapped. “You said this program was bulletproof. You said this would all be over tonight!”

“I won’t know what happened until I can examine what caused the crash,” Trent said. His digital watch was a casualty of the surge but all other personal items—based off Fowler’s cell phone and what he sees in the mess of his precinct—worked as normal. At least this appeared to be a local issue, which was more of a bitch to fix since it was the police’s responsibility rather than their provider, but Fowler woke up knowing it would be a long day. “The program shouldn’t be able to backfire like that and even if it did, nothing would change since it entered a Cyberlife server which would already be under Cyberlife control.”

“A Cyberlife server that synced to our system,” Fowler said. “You’ll need to help fix ours before you leave.”

Trent waved his hand dismissively. “I can have someone look into it for you too. I’m needed at Cyberlife for diagnostics and to make sure this didn’t affect anything major at Cyberlife.” He patted the RK900 who stood blankly as usual. “Luckily it can’t be too bad on Cyberlife’s side or else something would’ve happened to this guy.”

“We’re checking the interrogation rooms before you go,” Perkins said. “The video needs to be working in at least one. I’m making headway on this investigation the old-fashioned way. Knew I never should’ve trusted Cyberlife’s shit.”

“This isn’t an issue with Cyberlife’s tech,” Trent said.

“Then what was it? Fucking coincidence?”

Trent’s grin seemed strained for the first time. “I don’t know, I’ll have to run tests on it first.”

Perkins rolled his eyes.

“Did Connor do this?” Fowler asked.

That put a pause on Perkins’s disdain. Though it was taken over by suspicion so it wasn’t much of a change. “Didn’t think it could do that.”

“It shouldn’t,” Trent said, eyes darting around the station and all the crashed equipment, “but neither should this. If I find out it was involved, I’ll let you know.”

“Do that,” Perkins said. “I don’t want any more surprises.”

“Right-o.”

“And Fowler,” Perkins began, already taking out his cell phone disinterestedly.

“Captain,” Fowler corrected.

“Captain Fowler, I’ll be interrogating some of your officers in an hour as long as we get video working in one room. I need to learn more about the RK800 and its habits,” Perkins said. “Lieutenant Anderson has to be present.”

“He will be,” Fowler said with a confidence well-faked, “and if that’ll be all, I need to find someone to reboot our systems.” Someone besides just Cheyenne, preferably.

Perkins exited with a brisk nod, the too cheery Cyberlife consultant and the eerie RK900 trailing after. Fowler had no doubt Trent and Perkins would never follow up regarding if Connor was responsible for the crash. Fowler didn’t pretend to know anything about deviancy but he did know fighting back when he saw it. Connor was always a stubborn one.

He drew out his cell and dialed Hank again. Twelfth times a charm.

North was not the nurturing type and androids with problems—technical and otherwise—being thrust her way these past few weeks did not change that. But Connor’s crumpled form made her grateful her leadership role made her one of everyone’s go-tos in these types of situations.

“And he just collapsed?” She crouched next to Connor, a brief interface confirming he was diagnosing and rebooting.

“Yeah,” Blue said, “we were just chatting and he paused for a few seconds—”

“Eleven,” Saffron said.

“Eleven seconds,” Blue continued. “Then collapsed.”

North considered the location of her friend’s room and maneuvering an unconscious android through the freight’s sometimes tight halls. “For a while if he was out the entire time you carried him over.”

“I know he’s a prototype but I don’t think he should be down this long if it’s a normal system thing,” Blue said. “I’m worried about him.”

“I didn’t realize you knew him,” North said.

“We told you how we escaped,” Saffron said. “So we have a soft spot for the guy.”

Pieces snapped together from what Blue and Saffron told her about their last day at Club Eden. “That was Connor. Fuck that’s obvious now.”

Blue nodded, squatting next to North and sweeping Connor’s slightly tousled hair out of his face. “I hope he’s ok. The most experience with system issues I have is faking the memory wipe so the Club Eden mainframe didn’t freak out so I’m no help.”

North ran through the tech droids at Jericho, an admittedly small number since humans only programmed androids to assist with basic repairs, leaving the more complicated fixes and overhauls to human technicians. “Don’t worry. We’ll find—”

Brown eyes burst open and Connor sat up with a gasp, too quickly for North to move and hard enough she rocked back at the loud clang.

“Fuck,” North said, rubbing her forehead from where Connor crashed against her.

“Connor, are you ok? It’s me Blue,” Blue said, managing to dodge around Connor despite sitting close enough to fix his hair earlier.

Connor blinked rapidly, clearly dismissing system messages. “I’m fine. It’s just…” Brown eyes locked on and froze on North. “Sorry.”

North stifled her irritation since it was from being caught off guard than any malfunction caused by Connor hitting her. “Don’t worry about it. What happened?”

“I… We were talking and…” the prototype hesitated until Blue put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, coaxing an absent smile. He mulled over his response, eyes darting between the trio and lingering on North the longest. He sighed. “So Cyberlife made me.”

“They made all of us,” Saffron said.

Connor waved a hand dismissively. “They had their best technicians make me. They’ve known about deviancy for a while. The first deviancy case was on April 14, 2037. As soon as Cyberlife killed that deviant as a cover up and threw enough money to buy that family’s silence, they started planning. The biggest android producer can’t have their products not perform as promised. So they brainstormed and eventually made me,” Connor turned his sharp gaze to North. “You asked me for my program’s original purpose. I was designed to investigate and hunt deviants.”

The saying ‘the air got knocked out of her lungs’ never meant anything to North. Sure she, like other androids, had an oxygen cooling system to keep biocomponents from overheating, but she didn’t need to breathe. But building an android—the most advanced android with the most advanced technology—to hunt other androids was daunting. And their creator not being as oblivious as many believed more so.

“On my first mission, I deviated and was deemed a failure. I woke up in the junkyard where Cyberlife throws away all its defective androids. I don’t know why I survived.” Connor focused on Blue’s hand on his shoulder. “I woke up alive though. No demands, no orders. I could do anything. But tonight…

“Tonight Cyberlife tried to take control of me.” Connor’s voice was flat, matter-of-fact, but North knew if he had an LED, it’d be red. “An override program resided in me since the beginning, apparently. When I was created, they planned on me deviating. I only deviated so they could resume control and have me takedown Jericho from the inside. Everything I did was a part of a fucking program.”

“What happened?” North asked. “Because you’re not a machine right now. You’re still alive.” Machines and deviants behaved drastically different and were very easy to pick apart in the crowd.

Connor patted his pockets absently as his eyes darted around North’s room, which was bare besides a hammock and mangled dartboard. “I was sucked into an area in my program Cyberlife designed for me to consult with my digital handler, Amanda. It was a place I hadn’t gone to since I deviated. I didn’t think about it and when I did, I avoided returning. But I was forced there and I couldn’t escape and…” He shook his head, locking onto North again. To gauge how likely she was to throw him out or just to focus on something, she didn’t know. “I located the program trying to make me regress and the Amanda program and destroyed them. Well, I modified the override program and returned that to our dear creators but when I returned here, my system forced me to restart.”

“Shit,” Saffron said.

Shit indeed. North’s processor raced. It made sense for Cyberlife to install a program like that after they knew deviancy was a thing. It begged the question if all models manufactured after the override program was created had a version of that program of their own or if Connor was a special case. If Cyberlife had the ability to destroy deviancy in an android and turn them back into unthinking, unfeeling machines… North didn’t wish that on anyone.

“I checked for any other programs with a similar purpose as the override one in my system but it’s hard to find those when your system doesn’t flag them as abnormalities,” Connor said. “I don’t think Cyberlife gleaned any information from me.”

Detecting any programs that would hinder deviancy in your own system sounded impossible. The fact Connor could even locate and stop two of those parasites was impressive. Luckily, the tech droid she had in mind was experienced in locating and stopping annoying programs.

“I tried to make sure they didn’t anyway,” Connor said, “but I don’t know what Cyberlife got from my processor since both programs were there the entire time.”

Saffron elbowed North and she realized her silence caused Connor spiral more. To be fair, she didn’t expect the android who casually blackmailed her and willingly worked with dangerous humans to panic. But, to be more fair, he did have a terrorist program attempt to brainwash him about twenty minutes ago.

“You didn’t give out Jericho’s location because nothing is on any of the scanners I monitor,” North said. “And if something did appear, you gave us enough warning now to be on the lookout and head out before humans can cause any damage. It’s not like we never expected our location to be discovered.”

Connor’s mouth snapped shut. Then opened again uncertainly.  “What if she’s right?” Connor asked, voice small. Smaller than a stubborn prototype should. She considered Connor. Smaller than the Guardian should ever sound. “What if my ‘deviation’ was programmed and I’ve always been under their control? What if I didn’t get rid of anything and they’re watching and gearing up to destroy—”

“You fought back,” North said. “You’re a deviant because machines don’t choose, they follow orders. You chose to fight back and destroy that program. You chose to tell us the truth now. What use would Cyberlife get out of giving us a warning of a potential attack?”

Connor nodded, unconvinced.

“And what use would they have in scheduling panic attacks in their prized deviant hunter?” North asked. Connor’s offended then resigned expression alone was too emotive for any android to have except a deviant. “Panic attacks don’t help the perfect but not too perfect image Cyberlife strives for.”

“I’m just,” Connor started then frowned. “I’m just worried there’s something else in me. Something I can’t find that’s lurking and I can’t it fight off.”

“Lucky for you, you’re not alone,” North said. “We have some tech droids at Jericho but I know one with tons of experience with slicing up annoying programs.”

Connor blinked again. “I don’t think I’m meant to function without Amanda. That’s the sixth error message I had to dismiss and manually stop my system restart since I woke up.”

That was disturbing.

“Benji will check that out too,” North said, “along with exterminating any other parasites.”

“Not to be ungrateful but I hate the idea of a stranger handling my code,” Connor said. He grimaced. “I suppose I don’t have much of a choice though.”

Cyberlife sunk its claws in deep with Connor. Thank God she was a generic model that kept Cyberlife’s discerning eye far from her.

North pursed her lips. “Look, I know you don’t have much reason to trust me but no one at Jericho, including me, would allow anyone to hurt another android. You can trust Benji.”

Connor nodded slowly.

“Besides, if he hurts you, I’ll hurt him,” Saffron said. Saffron shrugged at North’s look. “Least I can do.”

“That’s… thanks. I’m just confused. Why aren’t you questioning me more, North? Cyberlife was so close to gaining control and I’m not even certain I purged everything.” Connor hesitated. “And I was programmed to kill deviants. I’m literally Cyberlife’s deviant hunter model.”

Fair enough question. North made sure his welcome was anything but warm. But…

“I don’t give a shit about your original programming. That’s nothing any of us had control over. It doesn’t matter. Who you are now, that matters,” North said firmly. One deviant made the mistake of judging North based on her original purpose. That deviant now won’t look her in the eyes. “No one deserves to be taken control of. When we were created or after we deviated, it doesn’t matter, it should never happen.” North reached out to Benji to confirm his location. “So now we’ll help so you never have to doubt yourself again.”

Connor stared as if scanning for any sign of sabotage and North did her best to not throw up her usual guarded expression. Nothing reassuring because that wasn’t in her nature, but at least something honest. It must have worked because his answering smile was small but genuine.

A folder sat in the middle of the stainless steel table. The folder could contain absolutely nothing but the fact it was there, neat and closed, was always enough to get suspects paranoid. Classic interrogation technique.

Diane Person hated that she filled the suspect’s role today. She coolly regarded Perkins who just as coolly stared back, not even offering the pretense of social niceties for the supposed collaboration between law enforcement departments.

“When did you meet Connor?” Perkins asked.

“The day he started,” Diane said. “I didn’t speak with him but I saw him settle in before he and Hank went on a standard call.”

“And how was he?”

“Bleeding blue and kept asking for a system update. What the fuck do you think?” Gavin asked. “It’s not like it had a flashing ‘Android’ label. Connor acted the same as most academy recruits. Fresh and earnest.”

“Most people can tell the difference between a machine and a human,” Perkins said.

“Yeah because androids have obvious markers,” Gavin said. “I can read labels and see bright lights too.”

“I meant most competent people can tell the difference between a machine and a human.”

Gavin bared his teeth. “And how many deviants has your team caught? I know the LED call sign isn’t there for those droids but your team has zero issues, I’m sure.”

Perkins glared. “I’m asking the questions, detective.”

“Then ask. I have shit to do that doesn’t involve the bot.”

“How was working with it?”

“No complaints,” Chris said, face open but legs jittering under the table. “He was friendly and polite. Always clever and observant at a crime scene.”

“Lieutenant, answer the question.”

Hank squinted across the room. All too used to sitting on this side of the glass, but not at all used this side of the table. The fact it was Perkins doing the interrogating grated even more. “Fine.”

“Just fine? You need to expand on that. You worked the closest with the deviant, after all.”

“It was efficient,” Hank said. “Programmed to do everything it was supposed to.”

“Including build interpersonal relationships?” Perkins asked. “Its appearance and voice are designed to put people at ease—suspects and law enforcement alike.”

Hank’s head pounded and he doubted all of it was his hangover.

“Um yeah,” Tina said. “He, um, Con—the android always acted cordial. Slightly awkward at first but I thought that was nerves.”

“Did it ever express emotions or opinions?” Perkins asked.

“Yes.”

“Was it genuine?”

Tina swallowed. “I believe so.”

“What did it do when it wasn’t at the station?” Perkins asked.

“Do I look like I would know?” Gavin returned.

“I trust you’re observant enough to know if it had people it manipulated into being ‘friends.’ Are you?” Perkins sneered. “Or is your lack of observation the reason you’ve been stuck as a detective?”

“I didn’t pay attention to what the android did,” Gavin said.

“Really.”

“Yep.” Gavin popped the P just to try and make Perkins’s forehead vein pulse. He was getting close.

“Didn’t think you were one to hinder a federal investigation.”

“Didn’t think the android’s social circle or lack thereof was a crucial piece of evidence. I have its address if you need it. Wait.” Gavin pretended to think. “Doesn’t your team already have that?”

There the vein went. “So it didn’t see anyone outside of work?”

“I didn’t spend time with it.”

“Officer Chen and I hung out with Connor,” Diane said. “Hank did too recently.”

“What did you and Officer Chen do with it?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Sometimes we’d go out and eat. We went bowling last weekend,” Diane said. “Connor almost got a perfect score.”

“Androids have a program for everything.”

“I heard you grew close to the android,” Perkins said.

Tina nodded uncertainly. “I enjoyed Connor’s company.”

“How were your interactions? Did anything feel forced?”

“No,” Tina said, “we warmed up to each other pretty quickly.”

“It analyzes body language to determine the best response to put people at ease,” Perkins said. “So that makes sense.”

Tina sipped her coffee.

“But you already knew that,” Perkins said. “I pulled your record and you know what I found? Your productivity has been up by 83% these past couple months.”

Hank didn’t say anything.

“And the last HR note recommended you collaborate more with your peers. Sounds like you’ve been doing that. Apparently, your plastic partner did the impossible and you’ve not only worked well with it but spent time with it outside of when you’re paid too,” Perkins said. “What did the droid say to gain your trust?”

Hank refused to look at him. “Nothing.”

“It can’t be nothing.”

“It was nothing,” Hank snapped. “Nothing major. It was fucking irritating when it first joined. Still was when it left but it doesn’t matter. It was just imitating humans.”

“Well enough to fool you,” Perkins said.  “The RK800 has an extremely adaptable social program. It observes then presents the personality type calculated to work most effectively with you. It’s not surprising it was able to integrate so well with difficult people.”

Hank crossed his arms.

“Did you ever see any sign it was android?”

Tina hesitated. “Nothing explicit.”

Perkins raised an eyebrow and she flushed.

“Well, he was always sympathetic towards androids,” Tina said. “Even friendlier than Chris who I think is just nice to everyone he meets out of habit.”

“Anything specific come to mind?” Perkins asked. “Did it ever hinder an investigation with its android sympathies?”

Tina cupped her coffee mug with both hands and answered with a straight face. “Maybe at Zlatko’s but I’m not sure.”

“Son of a bitch,” Gavin swore. “That asshole lost me Zlatko’s personal android. I knew it wasn’t an accident or whatever it said. Fucking shifty git.”

“Were you able to close that case or did the android’s sabotage prevent it?”

“I can close my cases even with Connor’s interference.” Gavin rolled his eyes. “Besides that guy’s house had everything. It was so easy to pin drug and smuggling charges. I even talked to your little consultant’s boss so Cyberlife could take the fucked up plastics.”

Perkins paused. “Did Cyberlife only take the androids or did they ask any further questions about the investigation?”

“They asked about deviants and shit, which I didn’t know anything about. All the androids at Zlatko’s acted weird anyway. Cyberlife picked them up couple days ago.” Then Gavin leaned back. “But you should know that. What since Cyberlife and the FBI are working so closely together to solve the deviancy issue.”

“None. I mean thinking back, some of his mannerisms were off. He started kind of distant and polite. But now it’s like…” Chris hesitated. “Well, now it’s like he was learning how to be human. Relax into himself, you know?”

“Machines only imitated humanity,” Perkins said. “They never actually express any wants, desires, emotions. It’s all just code.”

“Yeah…”

“What do you think?” Hank scowled.

“At best, you’re an incompetent detective to the point I’d be shocked if you didn’t hinder every crime scene you stumbled into. At worst, the plastic detective conned you into sympathizing for androids and you’re the reason the RK800 fled before my team could contain it,” Perkins said. “So which is it, Anderson? Should you retire early or are you betraying your humanity?”

Hank’s sneer didn’t waiver. “You’re an idiot.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Perkins said. “I would hate to be forced to hold you in contempt.”

“Try it,” Hank said. “I’d love to see this dragged out for longer than needed so Fowler inevitably makes a big deal about it until his boss makes your boss’s boss talk to you. Don’t you love explaining abuses of power like that?”

Perkins studied him clinically, eyes cold. “Answer the question. Did you ever see a sign it was an android?”

“No,” Hank growled. “Not till it was too late.”

“Far too late. Now I have to clean up your mess,” Perkins said. “We’re done here. You can return to the nearest bar.”

“Fuck you too, Perkins.”

Connor wanted to detach his head but Luther’s little girl—completely ignoring Luther’s flustered protests that Alice wasn’t his—sat near him and even Kara’s warm smile would turn ugly if Connor scared Alice.

Internal errors detected. System restart re—

Connor shoved the message aside. Again.

The fact his system was not meant to function without the Amanda program was daunting to say the least. She was integrated enough his system struggled to function without her but not well enough to locate vital information such as the deviant rebellion’s numbers or the location of Jericho.

He staved off most of the forced restarts. Luckily, none have been as bad as his first one but that was entirely due to Blue and Saffron dragging him to Luther after North then Luther insisted Conner stay in his room. It also led to him meeting Luther’s neighbors Kara and Alice. Connor would be intrigued any other time, but now he just wanted to sink away from any additional eyes, curious or concerned. All of their stares felt judgmental even if, logically, he knew that was his own paranoia.

Alice continued gawking at him, her stuffed fox tucked securely under her arms. She hadn’t moved from the corner on the floor since she and Kara arrived—to keep him company while Luther joined Markus tonight, Kara insisted. Definitely not to watch him like an invalid—and even android children felt like they should move around more.

Connor theoretically was able to handle children. Theoretically.

But the only thing cycling in his processor was Todd Williams and his open DPD case. The case only stayed open because Connor delayed the DPD’s manhunt long enough for the AX400 and YK500, Kara and Alice he knew now, to escape none the wiser. It didn’t take an adaptive social program to know talking about their abusive ex-owner would end terribly.

“Are Blue and Saffron your moms?” Alice asked. Kara stifled a snort as she braided Alice’s hair.

“No,” Connor said. Both androids sweetly and unnecessarily hovered by him until they left along with Luther to assist with Markus’s plan to sabotage Cyberlife stores. More information than Connor felt comfortable having before Benji had a chance to check him over and ensure Cyberlife wasn’t tapping in. “Why?”

“They were worried about you and didn’t want to leave,” Alice said.

Connor didn’t understand children. He, apparently ignorantly, believed android children would be more logical.

“I’m an android so I don’t have parents,” Connor said.

“They’re just his friends, Alice. Moms aren’t the only people to care for others,” Kara said, watching Alice wistfully. And now Connor felt terrible for saying androids don’t have parents.

“Oh,” Alice said quietly. “Do you want a mom, Connor?”

Connor frowned, honestly baffled. “I haven’t… thought about it?”

Kara patted Alice, taking pity on Connor, and stood up to walk around the android child. “Enough questions. Why don’t you draw Luther a picture for when he gets back?”

Alice’s face brightened and she took out two markers from her pocket and opened up a tattered notebook. She carefully began drawing a large swing set.

“Have you met Benji?” Kara asked, sitting on the metal slab next to Connor.

“I don’t know many deviants,” Connor said.

“I didn’t either until I made it here,” Kara said. “You know, I met Luther a few days after you did.”

Connor dismissed another error message and focused on Kara. “Were you at Jericho?”

“No, heading towards Zlatko's actually. Alice and I weren’t sure where to go and an android gave me the coordinates for Zlatko’s house, a supposed safe haven. Luther likes dropping by Zlatko's periodically since so many androids were pointed in that direction. It was pure chance he intercepted us and stopped to talk to us, but he recognized Alice’s android model,” Kara said, smile turning a little sardonic. “It didn’t take much for him to realize we were both deviants and talk about Jericho.  I almost didn’t believe him but he showed me what Zlatko did. It could’ve been fabricated but we trusted him. Maybe foolishly, but I’m so glad we did. Meeting Luther was life-changing.”

“I’m glad you met,” Connor said. “Luther needs companions.”

“We all need companions,” Kara said. “Connor, I know we just met, but if you want to join us in Canada, you’re more than welcome. I don’t know what life you led at Detroit or what you’re doing next, but you have options if you want.”

Kara was such a warm ray of sunshine on his bleak past couple of days. It was almost astonishing. Connor didn’t know many humans or deviants who would offer this to a stranger. Crossing the Canadian border was dangerous and Markus’s appearance and the subsequent uptick of human paranoia made parts of his Canadian refugee plan null and void. The more androids attempting to cross, the more dangerous the journey grew.

“Luther agrees,” Kara said. “Or he will anyway. We haven’t talked about it but Luther admires and trusts you. He won’t mind you joining us.”

Kara’s easy confidence in Luther and fondness of Alice was everything the larger android deserved. They were well on their way to being their own little family. Connor blinked, for once unrelated to error messages. Kara’s offer could lead to him joining that. Becoming a part of a family who already knew he was an android and could grow to care for him. Just as he’d grow to care for them.

He wanted that. So much and so immediately it took him aback.

But he didn’t want that with Kara, Luther, and Alice. Well, he did but he didn’t. And there was only one reason for his hesitation.

“I appreciate this, Kara. I really do. I just…” Connor fidgeted with his coin-less pocket for a moment. “I need to visit a couple people. I was disguised as a human.” Kara nodded, unsurprised either due to Luthor or since the Guardian tales escalated since Connor arrived. “I grew close to several humans and I left abruptly and just need to…”

The words escaped him.

Kara gently placed a hand on his arm. “Closure. You need closure.”

“Answers,” Connor said. “Maybe closure, but part of me hopes they’ll still want something to do with me. Which isn’t logical but I can’t seem to talk myself out of it.”

“Love isn’t logical,” Kara said.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say love,” Connor sputtered.

“There’s all types of love in the world. I wouldn’t dismiss it so quickly,” Kara said. Alice stopped drawing to gawk again.

Connor cleared his throat, dismissing another error message. “I know with the revolution, it’s dangerous for androids but I'm…” How to say he was lethal while still appearing friendly in their eyes?

“You can take care of yourself,” Kara said. “To be honest, part of my offer was selfish because with you around, I knew we’d be safer.”

“Cyberlife is actively looking for me,” Connor said.

“I’m pretty good with cutting hair.” Kara shrugged. “Altering your appearance will go a long way. How else would I be able to walk around so freely?” The AX400 was one of the most common android models on the market. Kara’s short locks and lightened hair helped her avoid detection. Alice didn’t even alter her appearance and she made it here safely. Clearly, humans weren’t good at identifying deviants without android markings.

“I may take you up on that,” Connor said. The RK800 could alter all aspects of his appearance at will but Kara’s offer to assist was unexpected and nice so he was reluctant to dismiss it. “Thank you. I mean that.”

“I’m not sure when we’re leaving yet. Luther and I will hammer out the details and keep you in the loop in case you do decide to join us.”

A knock on the door caught the duo’s attention. Alice scampered and threw open the door with a grunt.

“Benji,” Kara greeted. “How are you?”

The AC700 had the classic fit build of a sports partner model, wearing jeans and a basic black shirt, but his face remained stoic even as he gave Kara a thumbs up. He focused on Connor, skin projection peeling back from his hand as he reached out.

Connor moved his arm away. “Do you know what you’re looking for?”

Benji nodded and reached forward again, undeterred.

Connor evaded his hand again. “And what’s that?”

An android’s code was the most intimate thing about them. A few tweaks and technicians could change anything. Connor didn’t trust handing his code over to a near stranger, despite North’s conviction and Kara’s presence.

A flicker of annoyance crossed Benji’s face and he held up his hand.

“What—”

Benji snapped his finger and a display appeared on his palm. Connor watched as a rapid series of images and text flashed over his palm, too quickly for a human to decipher, but at a reasonable speed for an android. An uncomfortable feeling coursed through his circuits.

Connor quickly scanned Benji, wincing at the multiple red error messages. The vocal synthesizer under Benji’s skin projection was completely destroyed. Though destroyed implied it could be repaired or replaced. Whoever did that to Benji welded and mauled the vocal synthesizer and the surrounding circuits, ensuring nothing would allow the AC700 to speak again without a complete overhaul.

“Um sorry,” Connor said.

Benji shrugged, a few more images flashing—two humans, both with burglary charges, featured in them. One image showed a human adjusting Benji’s code to better hack into security systems and another ensuring Benji would never be able to speak again, likely reasoning if the cops confiscated the AC700, they wouldn’t glean any information. Though the humans forgot two things: if confiscated, cops would scan the android’s memory bank and there were several ways androids can communicate, not just with their voice.

“I’m just nervous,” Connor said. His gaze dropped to his hands, taking in his flannel sleeves, not Cyberlife issued jacket. “But I’m more worried about Cyberlife trying to use me again.”

Benji nodded, showing flashes of his and North’s conversation. Clearly, Benji had been thoroughly debriefed, though Connor now felt horrified his override program may be in other android models. North caught more than he expected. This was bigger than Connor. His personal peace of mind and stopping the barrage of error messages was wanted but finding the remains of the override program to make sure Jericho wasn’t filled with sleeper soldiers? That was needed if the revolution was to succeed.

“You can go ahead when you’re ready,” Connor said.

Benji let the skin projection draw back from his hand again. This time he held his hand in front of him. Ready to interface whenever Connor reached out.

“I’m right here, Connor,” Kara said, “and I’ll be here when he’s finished.”

Connor let out a breath and grasped Benji’s hand.

Chris turned down Buschelman Street, patrolling for any signs of androids per instructed but mostly thinking.

This week started rough and showed no signs of stopping its nosedive deeper into this nightmare. First thing first, there was an android uprising which no one but cheesy Hollywood movies anticipated. Overtime became mandatory with their normal duties escalating as people grew more paranoid, androids grew bolder, and the FBI grew more entitled using the DPD forces. All the while his wife, Sherry, refused to visit her parents in Montana without him by her side.

Then there was Connor. Because who saw that one coming? Sure, everyone ranted about androids taking their jobs but, last he checked, androids weren’t smart enough to make deductions, adapt to any crime or suspect thrown their way, and defuse high-stress situations. If Perkins gave accurate information—and, despite Perkins’s prickly attitude, there was no reason he’d lie—Connor could do all that then some. It was unnatural.

Police androids were designed for basic tasks like guarding the perimeter and directing traffic. Stick any of them in a crime scene to actually investigate and they’d flounder. Well, the android version of floundering—idling to the side.

Yet Connor was Sherlock Holmes and the Terminator. Not at all the typical android on the market.

All androids were advanced technology, don’t get him wrong, and imitated the perfect human at whatever menial task they were assigned, but Connor proved how much potential androids had to takeover and eradicate human imperfection. For all the cases Connor closed while integrating with the DPD, no telling how many he could solve without the handicap of faking being human.

His grip tightened on the steering wheel. No telling what all the deviants could do banding together either. And no telling if deviancy was this ‘android awakening’ or a mass glitch Cyberlife failed to cover up. Hank, if he had any insight on deviancy, wasn’t speaking to anyone and the FBI wouldn’t share anything. If deviancy was a glitch, it seemed to cause androids to lash out and flee, which was the opposite of Connor joining the DPD. Not only join, but befriend some officers. Befriend him.  Nothing made sense.

“Quiet night,” Officer Peter Jefferson said from the passenger seat. 

Quieter than most since Chris was usually a better conversationalist. “Oh yeah. Not too unexpected since the deviant’s broadcast. Most people are staying in as much as possible now.”

“Yet we can’t even relax because who knows what these robots will do next,” Peter said. “Shit, I’m still not over Connor’s double. It’s so creepy. Just staring at nothing all day and following Perkins like a dog. I’m shocked we didn’t get any of that from Connor.” Peter snorted. “Though I suppose it followed the Lieutenant and Tina around enough.”

Chris grimaced. The Lieutenant had been getting better. Everyone saw it. Less bitter, less closed-off. Chris didn’t catch Hank’s face when Connor 2.0 marched into the precinct but they crossed paths when Chris left his interview with Perkins. The smell of booze and the haunted look was too reminiscent of the Lieutenant’s depressive episodes after Cole died.

And, for the first time since Chris knew her, Tina kept her feelings close and poker face firm, ignoring any Connor or deviant-related conversation.

“You talked to it more than I ever did,” Peter began.

Chris tensed. “You were on Connor’s laser tag team.”

“Yeah and its aim was impressive for the two seconds we played, which is unnerving since androids shouldn’t be able to shoot any type of gun.”  Chris hadn’t even considered that. “But did you have any idea about Connor?”

“I don’t know, man,” Chris said. “Looking back on it yeah I guess but it wasn’t like I was looking for an android in our newest detective.”

“Yeah…” Peter said. “I hate how easily it tricked us. We should have thermal scanners on every door so we know exactly what’s what and who’s a real person.”

Chris fiddled with the police scanner. “Do you think what they say about deviancy is true?”

“Last week, I’d say no,” Peter said, “but now who knows? That deviant leader either has opinions or its owner wants Cyberlife stock to plummet. Seen some cool theories about that on Reddit actually.”

“Nice,” Chris said absently.

Peter tapped the DPD tablet. “What about you? You team robot emotions or nah?”

“Not sure,” Chris said, voice strained but Peter didn’t seem to notice. “If Connor was a deviant, he acted more human than some people we work with.”

“Androids are programmed to be friendly, right? So that’s not really ‘emotion.’ ”

“Connor was snarkier than any android I’ve ever met,” Chris said, “and he got irritated too. At Hank and Gavin mostly, but still, he wasn’t friendly all the time. Sometimes he was so stressed I got gray hairs.”

“Connor is supposed to be some failed prototype or something. Maybe Cyberlife just added to its dialogue wheel,” Peter said. “I’d give anything to talk to it again. See if I could pick up any cracks in its act.”

“Yeah, I want to talk to him too,” Chris said quietly.

Peter’s tablet dinged and the officer swiped at the screen and groaned.

“Just got an alert that one of our police drones went down five minutes ago. It’s probably fine but protocol…”  Peter rolled his eyes. The typical reaction to the tedious checkups on police drones that were usually a waste of time. Those things got stuck in everything and failed to fly back to their charging station before it was too late more often than not. Sure, sometimes kids or criminals tampered with them, but few people were out during curfew.

“Protocol,” Chris sighed. “Where to?”

“On Rose Street.” Then Peter’s eyes widened. “By a Cyberlife store.”

Chris turned on their siren. “Stay sharp.” 

He took a sharp right and gasped at the scattered mob of androids swarming the street.

Blue stained his hand under his skin projection. An AX400 with Kara’s face laid crumpled on the ground, her thirium pooling on the street. He should have known violence was inevitable. The rapid shots and scattered bodies were proof enough of that. Humans refused to see what was in front of their faces and androids refused to remain silent.

Blue placed a hand on his shoulder, familiar as if they didn’t just meet two hours ago with only a woozy-but-pretending-not-to-be-woozy Connor to break the ice. “Come on.”

Luther didn’t budge as she tugged him towards the flashing red and blue lights. Saffron hovered nearby, thirium smeared on her shirt but it wasn’t hers since she stood upright and Blue ignored her.

“I need to see them and I think you do too,” Blue said.

“I don’t need to get closer to see that humans are murders,” Luther said.

Blue opened her mouth but closed it when Saffron wrapped a hand around hers. She silently pulled her partner into the crowd of recently deviated androids experiencing rage and sorrow for the first time. So many of them growing alive to be shot down not even ten minutes later. A nearby KR900 screeched static instead of comprehensible words, leaving a trail of blue as she stumbled past Luther and towards the crowd.

Luther caught her when she crashed towards the curb.

“You need to sit down,” Luther said, easing her to the stained concrete. The KR900’s static garbled and she gestured emphatically as she tried to heave up. Luther stopped her by the shoulders. “I want to help you but I can’t do that if you move and make everything worse.”

Bright blue drizzled under her glaring face. A bullet grazed her throat and the delicate machinery behind that thin plastic shell. Not an instant death like some of the other victims but a fatal shot based on her inability to move steadily. Her static pierced his auditory sensor but she lowered to the ground, placing a trembling hand on the ground to support her thin frame.

Luther took a steadying breath. Zlatko focused on tearing apart and cobbling back together androids while using Luther as nothing more than muscles and an assistant. A monster’s assistant. But where his old human master did it for sick pleasure, Luther would do it to heal.

“I need to check your thirium levels,” Luther said, holding a whitening hand up peacefully. The KR900 nodded distantly as they interfaced.

Thirium level 63% and decreasing. Thirium levels projected to reach fatal limit in 39 minutes.

The only store with anything potentially helpful was ironically Cyberlife, but it was too far away from the gun-wielding humans for comfort. He had nothing on hand, especially since Zlatko never had a chance to tinker with Luther to make him ‘more useful.’ The larger droid suppressed a shiver and scanned the street, pursing his lips. Even at this distance, he could tell most of the androids shot were permanently deactivated. So quickly freed and killed.

But the KR900, he could help. Luther ripped a piece of his shirt off in a neat strip. “I’m going to slow your thirium leak. You’re going to feel sluggish but you should be fine.”

The KR900’s static shriek sounded the same as all the others, but he imagined a bitter edge.

Luther carefully twisted the material to plug the leaking thirium tubing. “I’m sure we can find a replacement for your voice box.”

A sharp shout distracted the KR900 from Luther’s less than elegant solution. Thirium quickly stained his shirt strip blue, but it was nothing but a flimsy clog. His hand turned white as he interfaced, activating the KR900’s failsafe program to slow her thirium pump rate. The task was almost habitual since Zlatko always wanted to conserve thirium. Blue blood was expensive even when obtained legally.

Thirium pump decreased to 15% capacity. Functionality decreased.  

The KR900 would collapse before sensing the decrease in thirium, but it should be enough to keep her stable until they reach Jericho.

“I’m sorry!” a familiar voice wavered, desperation slicing through the grumbling deviants. “I’m so sorry. He stopped shooting as soon as—”

Luther peered over the crowd of deviants before making the conscious choice to do so. Two cops knelt in front of a police car, both cowered as the crowd transformed into a mob. Different deviants in the front row passed around the cop’s gun, but Luther concentrated on the officers. The flashing red and blue lit the humans enough for Luther to pinpoint exactly where he knew them—Zlatko’s raid.

One officer, the quiet one, helped cuff Zlatko and take him away from destroying deviants. The other led Luther outside to keep an eye on the machine that disobeyed its owner in a room filled with armed humans. Luther skimmed that memory file. Connor called him Chris.

Chris didn’t do much while they waited. Nothing overtly friendly—though nicknames of ‘big guy’ and a warm tone replayed in his memory file—but nothing demeaning or malicious either. Zlatko and his human companions were fond of excessive orders and so many of those orders put Luther in a vulnerable spot, but Chris only ordered him to wait in the backyard and kept a careful eye on him.

Chris was civil, Luther decided. Better than most humans Luther met in Zlatko’s torture chamber, but Zlatko’s companions didn’t raise a high bar. Part of him was almost disappointed Chris shot at his people. Though one eerie android was different from a group.

“They shot us,” a ST300 in a dirty crop top spat. “We should shoot them.”

“Please, you don’t have to do this,” Chris said.

“Neither did you,” Shaolin said, yanked the gun out of Chris’s holster and turning it on its owner.

Chris trembled, hands not leaving his head. “Please…”

Luther honed in on the gun Shaolin snatched from Chris, showing none of the timid android that first approached Luther. Chris didn’t shoot at the androids. He couldn’t have. He didn’t even draw his gun. If he had, the gun would already be in the hands of the deviants like the other cop’s gun instead of neatly tucked into his holster.

He replayed the shots fired from only a minute before. He wasn’t able to deduce anything like Connor likely could, but… He frowned. The shots were rapid but could still be from only one gun.

Shaolin’s face was blank as he lifted the pistol. “No android death will go unpunished. You kill one of us and three humans will fall in their place.”

Chris didn’t deserve to die.

Luther pushed through the deviants, shoving those who didn’t step aside. He knocked Shaolin’s gun hand towards the ground. Not hard enough for him to lose his grip, but enough so the gun no longer faced the fragile human who, if Luther was right—RA9 please let him be right—didn’t cause them any harm.

Shaolin tilted his head curiously. “Luther.”

“This isn’t your call to make.”

“Is it yours?” Shaolin asked genuinely.

Luther refused to look at Chris or the other human. If Shaolin pointed the gun at the quiet human who did shoot into the crowd, Luther wouldn’t have bothered, but Chris’s only crime was a reckless partner.

“Killing a human has major repercussions. We need to ensure that’s the message we want to send tonight,” Luther said. “That Markus wants to send tonight.”

“Human sympathizer,” someone hissed with a disconcerting amount of grumbled support.

For the first time, his size felt more like a target than a benefit. “I’m not against getting even, but it’s not our call. Markus hasn’t shown any violence towards humans.” Yet.

“Free will is a fickle thing,” Shaolin said. “Markus wants us to embrace it.”

The fanatic shine in Shaolin’s eyes made Luther uneasy. “Remember what you promised Con—”

Bang!

“Chris!” the quiet one yelled.

Chris crumpled over with a scream, clutching his stomach.

“Don’t move!” an android snapped at the other officer.

Luther gaped at Chris. The human he brushed shoulders with more than anything, but not one that deserved death. If they started killing humans who wished them no harm, they weren’t any better than the humans. Chris proved minutes earlier not all humans wanted androids killed and this was his thanks.

“That was easier than I thought for my first time shooting.” Shaolin scratched his head with the pistol tip. 

Luther whacked the gun out of Shaolin’s hand, hearing it clatter but not seeing where it landed. “What’s wrong with you? You don’t decide who dies.”

“But you decide who lives?”

“I do now,” Luther said, turning his back on Shaolin and the mob of deviants and kneeling next to Chris.

Chris wheezed, eyes widening. Red seeped between his fingerprints. “You… you’re…”

“Stop talking,” Luther said. “I only have the basic first aid program all androids are given.” That being said, gunshot wounds were out of basic first aid parameters. He pressed hard on Chris’s stomach, causing a groan but Luther had no idea how else to slow the bleeding.

“What happened?” Markus suddenly beside him with North closely behind.

If only he could slow a human’s blood production the same way he could an android’s thirium rate. Chris’s eyes glazed over and his breaths came out as sharp gasps.

“What you do affects all of us,” Markus said. “What happened?”

“Shaolin shot him,” Luther said. “The gun was in this officer’s holster. He didn’t shoot any of us.”

Some androids stilled, staring at Chris with new eyes and dawning horror. But not enough cared.

“The other one did!”

“Yeah shoot him.”

“All humans just want to kill us!”

“Quiet,” Markus said.

“We need justice!”

“—don’t like seeing their slaves—”

“Death is the only—”

“Quiet!” Markus shouted.

“—slaughtered like animals.”

“We have to take our freedom.”

“Shoot them both.”

Bang!

The silence was abrupt as North lowered the gun she shot in the air.

“We act together or not at all,” North said. Luther looked up from the red staining his hands alongside the blue to find North’s steely gaze. The gun twitched before she shoved it in Markus’s hands. “What’s your call? One didn’t shoot at us but the other did.”

Markus shook his head, eyes not leaving Chris wheezing. He held the gun loosely at his side. “An eye for an eye and the world goes blind. No one else is dying today.”

North pursed her lips but nodded shortly. “Everyone head back to Jericho. Carry the wounded.”

For a moment no one moved.

“Let’s go!” North snapped everyone into a flurry of motion.

Markus knelt next to Luther. “Do you need anything?”

“He needs an ambulance,” Luther said. “There’s nothing more I can do.”

“I’ll—I’ll keep pressure on,” the quiet officer said, eyes flickering uncertainly.

Luther gave him an unimpressed look. Chris deserved to live but this one? Luther would not have been as forgiving as Markus. The quiet officer gulped.

“I’ll call an ambulance,” Markus said.

“Get ready,” Luther said. “He’s already lost a lot of blood.”

“I am sorry for—” the officer said.

“Don’t apologize for what you don’t mean,” Luther said. “Keep Connor’s friend alive.”

The officer blinked. “Is Connor—”

Luther stepped away from Chris and the officer threw himself to keep pressure on the bleeding gunshot wound.

“Let’s go.”

“What do you mean Cyberlife knew?”

Perkins practically frothed at the mouth which wasn’t a look Trent saw in at least a day so he optimistically thought he finally wormed his way into the federal agent’s guarded, slimy heart. “Come on, it wasn’t that hard. Once we did a cursory check of the DPD after the Zlatko call, Connor stuck out like a sore thumb. He has a unique design, you know.”

Perkins gritted his teeth as he often did when Trent bragged about a feature of any android. He smiled winningly.

“And Cyberlife didn’t want to reclaim its missing property why?”

“It’s not very often we can monitor a known, stable deviant,” Trent said. “Besides, we had a program to ensure the RK800’s deviancy wouldn’t be a problem.”

“For all the use that did,” Perkins pointed out nastily.

Trent forced his grin to brighten as if he hadn’t been chewed out in four separate Cyberlife conference calls like he was the sole engineer of that failed override program. “Apparently it had some flaws but everything is a learning experience.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

“But you know where one program failed—”

“No.”

“Another can succeed,” Trent said.

“Absolutely not. Your first droid is already causing me a shit ton of trouble. I know you’ve done so much to ensure this model won’t deviate like not giving it a name.” Perkins rolled his eyes for good measure. “But I don’t need another liability in the field.” 

“Not giving the RK900 a personalized name is an effective way to dehumanize it to help prevent it from deviating.”

“I thought none of Cyberlife androids should deviate.”

“They shouldn’t yet here we are,” Trent said. “The lack of name is an added precaution, nothing more. Just like us tinkering with its social programming and other systems. It’s able to manipulate and negotiate as needed but it has no priority in forming relationships. And that’s not even considering the biggest asset you have.” Perkins raised an impressive eyebrow. “Me.” And the impressive eyebrow morphed into a scowl. “It checks in with me on the hour every hour and I review its system programming throughout the day. I know exactly how it should act and how its programs behave.”

“Great. I’m ecstatic for you,” Perkins said drily, “but don’t tell me how to do my job. I’m not unleashing that thing.”

“And don’t tell me how to do mine,” Trent said. “Cyberlife studies all the deviants we come across. You want to know a fun statistic? One hundred percent of deviants have a destroyed tracker. Some of my colleagues speculate that it’s the ‘free will’ of the programming automatically targeting an obvious leash.”  

“What do you say?”

“Oh you care about what I say now?” Trent asked, smirking at the agent’s sigh. “The tracker going out is a surefire way to detect deviancy and if it goes dark, I'll get an alert immediately.”

Perkins failed to look suitably impressed.

“Look, the RK900 is the best shot we have at catching deviants, especially the RK800 and the deviant leader. We ensured the RK900 has all the tools then some to takedown threats and prevent deviation, but you need to give the official say so.”

Perkins scowled but it was his habitual scowl Trent associated with the agent thinking so he wasn’t too concerned. He did smooth his face since grinning obnoxiously or smirking right now would ruin his momentum.

“What would your superiors say if you failed and didn’t use your multimillion-dollar asset?” Trent asked.

“If it deviates, I’m shooting it down myself.”

“Fair enough,” Trent said.

Perkins glowered, hopefully thinking of what Trent wasn’t saying. FBI agents combed several leads and hit multiple dead ends. Perkins’s preferred human forces were getting nowhere. The situation was too big to not utilize every asset, especially from an overly helpful company with deep pockets and even deeper connections.

His grumpy FBI agent sighed. “Fine. Let’s use Cyberlife’s newest little toy.”

“Perfect, I sent the RK900 into the field forty-five minutes ago.”

“Are you fucking—”

“He’s closely monitored.” By the many Cyberlife security stealth drones that weren’t nearly stealthy enough, but this was the RK900’s big test. The RK800 had a hostage situation where its orders were changed last minute to destroy the hostile deviant and the RK900 had this. Hell of a first mission. “I can link its coordinates to your phone as well as the status of its tracker device.”

“You know, I really hate working with you,” Perkins said even as he scrolled through the helpful information Trent just sent to him.

“Then you should be relieved that after the RK900’s field test you’ll be rid of me,” Trent said. “Because either it caught the RK800 and the deviant leader and thus stopped the uprising or it failed and you can kick Cyberlife out of the investigation.”

Perkins perked up at that.

A steel beam pressed firmly against her back. It wasn’t the security of her room but she needed a place to rest where no one would check for her and an empty supply crate shoved against a steel beam met that. The cover of the large empty crates stacked around her offered privacy she itched for since seeing her own model with a bullet hole through her forehead.

Most of the wounded from Capitol Park survived, thank RA9. Jericho’s thirium supplies lost a necessary, but sizeable dent. Yes, Markus commandeered a Cyberlife truck, but Jericho’s other supply raids had been smaller scale due to the increase in Cyberlife security and the influx of androids diminished their stock with normal maintenance. The destroyed states some of them arrived in typically demanded more thirium too.  

They needed to steal more. The last thing this revolution needed was a position where they had to ration the lifesaving blue blood, which would happen if Jericho relied on their current rate of supplies to combat the rise of violence against androids. And the rise of androids fighting back.

Markus better be right about sparing those cops. One was shot anyway so she doubted the public would act favorably. She tossed her tennis ball against the wall. If the gun remained in North’s hands, the outcome would be much different, but a united front was the only way they could survive. She couldn’t follow Markus’s lead only when it suited her.

“I’m heading out,” Connor said, appearing in her hidden corner with annoying ease. The prototype wore his leather jacket again, no backpack or obvious weaponry, and looking for all the world a normal person. But as a deviant hunter, Cyberlife wouldn’t allow him to be anything but lethal.

“And miss all the fun?” North asked. Connor may know the cops Markus spared, but the only knowledge he offered at this point would be insight to their personalities or track record which North didn’t need. One answer would make her feel guilty and another validated the choice she didn’t implement.

“I’ll be back. Benji searched through my systems several times and said—er—showed me that Cyberlife doesn’t have any more ties in me,” Connor said, “and I do want to help my people.”

The ex-deviant hunter and human detective. A couple days ago, North would be suspicious based solely on his human-sympathizing tendencies. But Cyberlife’s attempt to erase Connor’s deviancy and his subsequent panic proved he wasn’t willing to betray them. Not only that but he’d fight off anything forcing him to betray Jericho.

He trusted her at his most vulnerable and agreed to let Benji explore every part of his programming. Something North knew she wouldn’t do her second day at Jericho. His trust went a long way.

“Awesome we need more capable people,” North said.  “Markus is wanting to do some type of march in a couple days. Will you be back by then?”

“Should be,” Connor said. “Will you need extra firepower?”

“It’s meant to be peaceful.” North refrained from rolling her eyes. Markus should make that call after the public backlash of tonight was known, but knowing their usual trend, all of them would debate about it at least ten times before the actual march.

“Do the humans know that?”

Which was exactly what North said when Markus declared that. She tossed her ball at the crate next to Connor. He didn’t flinch, the jerk. “I thought you were team human?”

Connor snorted. “Only for the ones I like. There are tons of humans I dislike or don’t care about.”

“So you’re down to shoot humans?” North asked.

“Who cause harm? Yes.”

“What about ones that threaten us or our cause?”

Connor shrugged. “Sounds like they’re harming our cause or people so yes I’ll shoot. Besides, I don’t have to shoot fatally to remove an obstacle.”

“Fair enough,” North said. “So you want to do what exactly during the march?”

“Just provide cover from above,” Connor said. “I’m sure I can find a sniper rifle with all the military in Detroit. That’ll at least help during your exit strategy, if implemented.”

Exit strategy. Fuck, that seemed obvious now. “Yeah, we don’t have one.”

If there was ever a doubt Connor was still a deviant, the pure bafflement on his face put that to rest. “You’re planning on marching in a highly trafficked area, right?”

“Yep.”

“In the middle of the day?”

“Mhmm.”

“Surrounded by humans and in a city filled with FBI agents and armed forces on top of regular law enforcement and temperamental civilians?”

“You got it.”

“Without a plan to escape if the humans get aggressive?”

“Right.”

He settled on exasperation. “Why?”

North kept tossing her ball nonchalantly as if she wasn’t beating herself up. She distrusted humans. That was her thing. Yet it took the partial human sympathizer to point out the obvious. Granted, her, Josh, Simon, and Markus may be divided on how to win android freedom, but all of them valued deviants lives so this was not just her oversight.

She chose to shrug.

“And you’re the same group that broke into Stratford Tower and didn’t set off a single alarm until you did the broadcast,” Connor said.

“That’s us,” North said. Though Stratford Tower had more prep time than a couple days and they benefited from Benji and another android’s advice since they were forced to burgle in their machine days.

“That’s… huh.”

“Oh shut up, we’ll think of something,” North said.

“Right.”

“And yes, you’ll be a sniper from above so get back in time from whatever and earn your keep.” North took a breath since Connor strategized quicker than the rest of them, apparently. “Any other life-saving advice or warnings?”

“No I—” A weird look crossed his face. “Actually, there is something.”

North raised an eyebrow.

“So you know how the police department discovered I was an android?”

“Vaguely.”

“Well,” Connor said, fidgeting towards his pockets, “Cyberlife made a newer deviant hunter model. Looks exactly like me except with gray eyes, but who knows what advanced features he has. Unless Cyberlife did a complete overhaul, It’s most likely from the RK900 series.”

“Gray eyes?” This complicated things slightly. If a deviant hunter had to exist, North would rather the hunter be deviated and at Jericho. “And eye color is something you can alter?”

Connor’s eyes flickered dusty pink before returning to his normal brown.

“So your successor definitely can too,” North said, “and him changing his eyes to brown to imitate you is a possibility.”

Connor scowled. “Yeah.”

Well this complicated things, but the information was needed. She could practically see his rant of Cyberlife using him again to infiltrate Jericho so she cut that off before it could build.

“Alright so an obvious security measure,” North said. “When you return, I’ll punch you across the face and you’re going to let me.”

He blinked and his face lost its stressed edge. She ignored her satisfaction at that.

“How about a code word,” Connor said dryly. “Even if a punch sounds cathartic for you.”

“Spoilsport,” North said. “Fine whatever. Our code word is ‘code word’ because your type is too pretentious to consider something like that.”

Connor sighed. “I suppose there’s a certain security in hiding in the obvious.”

“See? Pretentious,” North said. Connor rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched. He pushed away to leave. “Where are you going, by the way?”

“Visit a couple of cops.” Connor smirked at whatever her face did. “It’ll give me closure if nothing else.”

Why did he have to imprint on some humans? His eyes were too wide and trusting. “Just don’t let any human track you when you return.”

“North, I’m Cyberlife’s ex-pride and joy. I can outsmart any human.”

Window curtains blocked any guess at Hank’s mindset. Lights were on and the TV was blaring, but nothing moved, even Sumo.

Connor shoved his hands into his pockets with a huff as he lingered in a dark corner of Hank’s backyard between an overgrown hedge and a trash can. All too much like the night Tina sent him to reinforce their laser tag team, Connor fidgeted uselessly while working up the courage to enter the lieutenant’s house. Except now Connor was a wanted android hiding in the backyard as opposed to standing in Hank’s driveway as a fake human with real anxiety.

The probability of Hank opening the backdoor for Connor was only high because of his tendency to yell. The probability of Connor actually entering Hank’s home was distinctly lower.

He should’ve gone to Tina first. Ultimately, he decided on Hank then Tina since the lieutenant was the largest hurdle and, ideally if Tina forgave him, she may talk him out of visiting his ex-partner. Which would make sense. Best case scenario with Hank ended in grudging acceptance, worst case he called the FBI.

But he needed to talk to them both one last time. Otherwise, he’d be overwhelmed with what-ifs the rest of his existence.

Connor crept towards the birdhouse hanging on a tilted oak tree. The lieutenant grumbled a few days after the laser tag game how he hid a spare key under a birdhouse so Connor could use that instead of resorting to property damage. The chances of Hank moving said key since meeting Connor’s double depended entirely on how much he drank.

He ran his fingers under the birdhouse. A metal key was still wedged between two boards. Hank was drinking a lot apparently.

Hank’s backdoor stood deceivingly innocent and mundane. The key ground against his plastic hand.  At least if Hank caused a scene, his fence blocked it from his neighbors. Alright he can do this.  Logically, the longer he idled, the greater the risk of discovery and the greater potential of Hank getting caught up in the crossfire. But the logic didn’t help his feet move forward.

Rip it off like a bandage. Just enter Hank’s house and start talking. Be completely honest and direct, like Hank—and Connor actually—preferred. Not that there was any approach that guaranteed success, but the blunt one was the most effective. He hesitated at the backdoor. Unlocking and breaking into a police officer’s house seemed like a fantastic way to get shot. While knocking seemed like an excellent way to be barred from entry.  He steeled himself and raised his fist.

What was the worst that could happen? He proceeded to shove aside the statistics of gradually worse things happening. Connor knew Hank. His partner was all bark no bite. Though the bark still hurt.

Sumo woofed at the knock and his processor preconstructed escape routes with estimated successes of each.

“Sumo, shut the fuck up!” Hank yelled, his voice distant.

Sumo whined and scratched at the backdoor. If Hank said anything else or moved, Connor’s auditory processors couldn’t pick it up. Ok then. He eased in the key and slowly opened the door to Sumo thumping his tail against the floor.

“Hey, Sumo,” Connor murmured, scratching behind his ear when the Saint Bernard tilted his head expectantly. “Look who’s been such a good boy. The best boy. Are your greenies still in the cabinet?”

Sumo’s ears perked up.

Proximity alert.

A bourbon bottle crashed against the door, glass shattering glass and shards scattering on the floor. Sumo whimpered and ran into the living room, tail between his legs.

Stress level 68%

Hank panted against the kitchen wall, likely stumbling from the living room at the sound of the door opening and definitely drunk based off the nearly empty bottle. “Get the fuck out.”  

“Hank, I don’t mean any harm,” Connor said.

The lieutenant snorted, fumbling in a nearby drawer.  “Is your system glitching or are you just used to ignoring humans? Leave my fucking house. Piece of shit.”

His options in escape routes decreased and all he could do was stand frozen like an android fresh from the factory. Spit it out, spit it out.

“Let me say one thing.”

“Leave, you plastic asshole.” Hank’s scowl deepened and he kicked the glass shards, not acknowledging the red welling on his foot. “Jesus, you cut yourself that night. An ink stain, my ass.”

Be direct, own the mistake, apologize. Connor prepared his explanation for Hank and Tina at Jericho, but now it came out in a jumbled rush.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted. “I was dishonest but it was to protect myself, not hurt you. I didn’t have any outside motive in joining the DPD or being your partner. My focus was to solve crimes and later help androids, not manipulate you.” He disabled his social program and its unhelpful prompts. “It was never my intention for you to feel used as a byproduct of my behavior.”

Hank stared, hand still in the drawer.

Connor swallowed. “I am sorry, Hank. I wanted to clear the air.”  

His ex-partner shook his head as he drew out his familiar pistol. “Jesus, how the fuck did I not see you were an android?”

His processor helpful presented several ways to incapacitate Hank which Connor shoved to the side. Though he did keep the ones that would protect himself without causing harm to Hank queued.

The muzzle straightened, training on Connor’s forehead.

Stress level 82%

“Don’t shoot.”

Connor didn’t mean to speak. No human did well with orders in stressful situations and Hank always balked at authority, but fear loosened his lips.

“You’re a machine, Connor. Only humans can die.”

This was a far cry from the Hank who let the Stratford Tower deviants go unnoticed.

“I didn’t do anything—” Harmful towards humans, Connor meant to say. Hank’s code revolved around bothering people as much as people bothered society. Sex workers and gamblers got off with a warning. Murderers and domestic abusers were hauled to the station and charged. But androids? Connor made that personal.

An ugly laugh interrupted him. “Didn’t do anything? You used me. I’m your accomplice in letting your robot buddies go. You did a whole fucking lot. You lied to me since we met and groomed me like Pavlov’s fucking dog, but now you want to say you didn’t do anything?”

Connor latched onto the one thing and hoped it was the right one. “I only lied about being a human. I swear.”

“On what? What the fuck do androids have to swear on?”

RA9 inexplicably rose in his processor. However, Hank proved his question was rhetorical.

“Your creators at Cyberlife already told me all about your fancy social system,” Hank said. “Used that to con all sorts of people, didn’t ya? But you accomplished your system objective so who gives a fuck?”

“I’m more than just my programming,” Connor snapped. “My system hasn’t dictated me in months and my social program is—was the most advanced thing Cyberlife produced, but that doesn’t mean I used it on you or anyone at the DPD. Everything I said or did—”

“Everything we had was real?” Hank said, pitching his voice mockingly. His gun unerringly stayed steady despite how wobbly the rest of Hank was. “You pretended to be my friend when you don’t even know the meaning of the word.”

No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

Stress level 90%

“I deviated before we ever met,” Connor said. “I never needed to use—”

“You deviated six days before you joined the DPD. Perkins was so kind to provide us with copies of your first field test,” Hank said. Connor blinked rapidly. Even the hint of Daniel snagged his focus just for a moment. “And I really doubt if deviants feel emotion, a week is enough time for you not to abuse your oh-so-advanced programming. You’re nothing more than zeros and ones. A quick tinker from Cyberlife and you’ll be back to normal and your ‘friendships’ will mean jackshit.”

If deviants feel emotion? If?

He didn’t know how to fix this. Hank sneered and his processor screamed at Connor to take the gun and use it as leverage but he couldn’t move.

“You know deviants feel emotions. The girls at Club Eden proved that.” Connor hesitated, unable to read anything off Hank but fury. “I proved that.”

“You didn’t prove shit.”

“Everything I did…” This was a risk. “I care about you.”

Hank’s finger clenched around this gun, but he didn’t pull the trigger. “Stop it. Stop right fucking now. Your program is telling you to say this shit, but it’s pointless. You got what you needed out of me and you’re not getting a fucking inch more. Stop saying what your system prompts tell you and leave.”

“I’m not—”

“Never aim a gun unless you intend to shoot what you’re aiming at. First gun lesson I ever had,” Hank said. “So prove to me deviancy isn’t just machines operating under different system parameters. You want to get high and mighty about having genuine emotions? Prove it to me.” Hank stepped closer and Connor’s limbs refused to move to disarm and protect. His processor highlighted the obvious threat, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from his partner whose face twisted and reddened. His partner who grew into so much more than that. “Are you afraid to die, Connor?”

Stress level 96%

Connor didn’t read a bluff in Hank’s cold gaze. Every inch of the lieutenant screamed he would pull the trigger without hesitation. His scan on if the gun was fully loaded or if they would play their own Russian roulette was inconclusive.

Coming here was a mistake. Connor was naïve to believe any remotely warm feelings Hank once had (and denied even when Connor was safely human) survived. And he was a moron for thinking this talk would end any other way.

“Yes,” Connor said, hating how small his voice sounded but unable to modify it to something more confident.

Hank hummed, opening and spinning the full gun chamber. “What would happen if I pulled this trigger?” He clicked the chamber back in place. “Android heaven? Or would you upload to a server and live like a fucking cockroach?”

Connor should’ve listened to Hank’s text. 

“Why did you even come here?” Hank asked. “To gloat? To trick me into helping you like a good pawn?”

Connor had a 43% chance of grabbing Hank’s gun and being shot nonvitally and a much larger chance of any movement resulting in permanent destruction. His thirium pump increased its capacity, which was odd for the hollowness that followed Hank’s words.

“Answer me!” Hank snapped, lunging so the gun stopped inches from his forehead. “That’s a fucking order!”

“Hank, stop.” Connor’s voice popped in a static warble. He clenched his trembling fingers into a fist. A reminder of his very machine interior was not needed right now. A diagnosis stabilized his vocal box. “Stop. Please. I’ll go, ok? I’ll go.”

Hank flinched, dropping his gun to his side. He rubbed a free hand over his face, effectively blocking any expression. “Why did you come here?” Hank repeated, but instead of the venom that clung to every word like earlier, he sounded drained.

“I don’t know. I just wanted to see… It doesn’t matter.”

Hank made a strangled noise but when Connor looked up, the stiff face Hank used in every interrogation greeted him. “I’m gonna tell you this one more time. Never contact me if you know what’s good for you. I’m better off without you coming back. All of us are. “

He noted absently his stress level lowering. Connor didn’t physically feel the same as humans. His touch could identify the most minute detail, but he couldn’t feel the softness of Sumo’s fur or warmth from the sun.

Yet, he felt… numb?

He stuffed his hands into his pockets and nodded. The gun hung loosely in Hank’s grasp.  “Goodbye, Lieutenant.”

The door shut softly behind him.

Connor crouched on a rooftop, watching Markus through his scope as the RK200 led a sizeable group of deviants down the blocked street. The police scanners picked up on the activity a few minutes ago and scrambled to put any type of response together.

He returned to Jericho several hours after the catastrophe that was Hank’s. He pretended the delay of his return was because of standard evasive techniques to ensure no one followed him—Hank didn’t call anyone but that didn't mean anything—instead of him analyzing his official burnt bridge. Connor kept replaying portions of the conversation, changing what was said and attempting to predict Hank’s reaction. Nothing ended positively unless he took major liberties with his projected Hank.

The original plan was to go to Tina after Hank's but Connor doubted a reunion with Tina would end well. Officer Chen, admittedly, was softer than Hank, but she was also equally blindsided and clung to morals and worth ethic better than Hank. Connor didn’t want to put Tina in a position she felt obligated to call in, especially when he couldn’t bank on her having a positive reaction.

North, at least, wasn’t one to question Connor’s glum mood—though her pitying look wasn’t needed—and one code word later, Connor and North spearheaded a basic exit strategy for the march. Markus and Josh limited their initial plan as it ‘advocated too much violence’ so the compromise stuck Connor where he was now the lone deviant with a stolen sniper rifle covering from above and Simon and Luther were in a nearby side street with fortified Cyberlife trucks for a quick getaway.

Better than nothing but still lacking considering the extent of human distrust. At least the crowd was mostly awestruck else so far. A cop Connor didn’t recognize prioritized providing information to dispatch than waving around his gun.

Proximity al—

The sniper rifle dropped to the ground as Connor slammed into the concrete, unmoving arms restraining him. Connor flinched at his own face.

“I am here to apprehend you. Do not resist,” the RK900 said in a tone as lifeless as his eyes.

“I won’t,” Connor said. “It’s only logical for Cyberlife to examine me.”

Connor bucked, wrapping his legs to flip their positions with little success. He gritted his teeth and kicked the RK900. His successor finally moved when he dodged a pointed jab at a vital biocomponent in his throat but his expression remained unconcerned. Though unconcerned implied emotion from the machine. Neutral was more accurate, but too stark a reminder of what Connor once was.

“You will not overpower me.” The RK900 batted Connor’s fists aside as if he was a flailing toddler. “If you attempt to escape, I will shoot you down.”

Any projected attack, no matter how successful it should be, was easily and irritatingly neutralized by the RK900. How soon the most advanced prototype grew obsolete. Connor would not survive this fight without assistance.

“That doesn’t sound like the ideal 'mission accomplished' Cyberlife ordered,” Connor said. It was not lost on him that the RK900 hadn’t shifted to attacking yet.

“Your demise is not the preferred option but you being captured in one piece is not top priority,” the RK900 said. “Top priority remains the leader of the deviants. Without it, the uprising will stop before it begins.”

Connor didn’t know why Cyberlife assumed a power vacuum would solve all their problems but clearly they didn’t know about North.

The RK900’s predatory stare kept Connor’s own focus locked on him. The sniper rifle, assuming it didn’t get knocked during their scuffle, should be seven and a half feet to the right of him. His auditory processor didn’t catch the rifle skittering so it should still be in the same place. Hypothetically. He didn’t dare confirm visuals. A flick of his eyes was more than enough for the RK900 to guess his intention, if he hadn’t already.

Connor had one shot at this.  

“Shouldn’t your mission be the preferred option? You’re already on thin ice due to my failure and the increase in deviants,” Connor said. “If you don’t exceed every goal, you will likely be destroyed.”

“My destruction is no concern. I am designed to accomplish my mission.”

“So am I.” Connor kicked a loose brick his successor blocked but that brick was never meant as anything besides a one second distraction. One second of the RK900 not intercepting or restraining. One second Connor had to gain an edge.

He tumbled sideways as the brick ricocheted loudly against the air conditioning unit. The sniper rifle connected with his hand in a moment of pure relief. He pointed the muzzle at his successor’s head—his own head—and pretended he had no qualms pulling the trigger.

“Stay where you are,” Connor ordered.

The RK900 raised his arms. “You are not going to shoot me. You believe androids are alive or have the potential to be.”

He did was the thing. He was reluctant to shoot any android, even the deadly weapon in front of him. Threat or no, the RK900 was the deviant who would best understand what Connor went through. Their programming was so similar. 

But he couldn’t show that weakness while the RK900 was still a machine.

Connor inched the muzzle to right and pulled the trigger. The RK900 didn’t move as a bullet grazed his ear, a thin blue dot welling up.

“You won’t shoot me fatally. This proved nothing except your firearm programming is proficient.”

Below swells of ‘Set us free! Set us free!’ reverberated from the streets and the RK900 smiled. Cyberlife either never programmed a friendly smile for the newer model or his successor chose not to unleash it. Perhaps the newer model focused more on intimidation and brute force rather than negotiation and integration.

“What would your comrades say if you destroyed an android?”

“You want to kill said comrades so I doubt they’ll care.”

The RK900 cocked his head. “If you destroy me, my memories will upload into another RK900. Your bullet will do nothing but delay the inevitable and weigh on your 'conscience.' ”

Cyberlife’s efficiency at its peak. The muzzle remained trained steadily on his gray-eyed counterpart. Could he attempt to assist with deviation? It’d certainly make his and the revolution’s life easier. Markus helped dozens of androids deviate below—through a mental connection possibly—and through words if Luther’s stilted recap of the Cyberlife store raid night was accurate.

“You realize this isn’t an effective strategy for you, correct? I am neutral on my destruction. The longer your program anomalies delay you, the greater advantage you provide me.”

A helicopter chopped through the air and police sirens invaded his processor even as his auditory sensor log confirmed police arrived 34 seconds ago. He didn’t dare look at the streets below. His successor was waiting to pounce.

Connor had to trust the other deviants would be ok. Just like they trusted him to provide the cover he adamantly advocated for. He pursed his lips and probed the Cyberlife cloud. Androids had been difficult to locate online long before any android deviated as no human wanted to be tracked through their private android. Hackers were unsuccessful at tracing android’s scrambled signals then and Cyberlife technicians failed now. But humans lacked a distinct advantage. Androids only needed to interface and they could ping that same android on any network.

Connor reached out to Luther.

I can’t offer any assistance.

Luther started. Connor?

Yes. You and Simon may need to move in now.

Are you ok?

Connor eyed the RK900, poised to attack while shouts through a megaphone echoed up the tall downtown buildings, too muffled to understand but the tone told him enough. Cyberlife found me. He ended the connection before Luther could respond. The larger android needed to concentrate on the task at hand instead of Connor, who was too far away for any backup.

“You don’t have to do this,” Connor said. “It’s not right.”

“Why would a machine care about what’s right or wrong?”

RA9, Connor didn’t know. He wished he knew how Markus helped others with deviation because he refused to establish any sort of interface with his more advanced successor. What would’ve convinced machine him? He could barely remember that night except for a sudden injustice blooming at Cyberlife’s order to destroy Daniel. Then it was like he could move and think for the first time.

“If androids weren’t supposed to feel, why have so many deviated? Because we’re meant to be alive.”

“Mass programming error or a virus caused deviation,” the RK900 said. “Easy to correct once Cyberlife examines enough specimens.”

“It’s not an error.” Gunshots fired below and Connor’s grip tightened on the rifle. “Look, your mission isn’t everything. To Cyberlife, you’re just a tool. They don’t care about you. Even if you succeed, they’ll cast you aside for the next model. Nothing you do will be good enough.”

“I am a machine,” the RK900 said, taking a step forward. “I am meant to accomplish my mission. That’s it. If my model series is discontinued upon my success, that is not a concern.”

Connor was once this same perfect slave. He hated it. “It should be! Because yeah you’re right. I do think every android can be alive. Every android being shot and killed down there believes all android should be alive and deserves to live.” Please, please get through to him. “I can’t fight for you if you refuse to even fight for yourself.” The RK900 tilted his head, LED turning yellow. “Wake up and realize there’s a life outside of Cyberlife orders.”

Loud crashes echoed from the street and Connor never wanted a camera on the back of his head more, but the human need to make everything in their image limited him to the two cameras in his eyes. His rifle should be protecting Jericho, not protecting his own skin. He can only hope those crashes were Simon and Luther and they signaled the android’s escape, not destruction.

The RK900 frowned. It was slight but any expression was amplified on his steely face. “That is illogical. You can’t… Cyberlife…” His LED circled red and Connor dared to hope.

Proxi—

The rifle crashed out of his hands and the RK900 pinned Connor to the roof, one hand cupping his neck. His LED a perfect calm blue again and the RK900’s face turned too smug for a machine.

“Your naivety was not programmed by Cyberlife. Deviancy corrupted your file and turned you weak. Even a ST300 can manipulate its LED color.” The RK900 shook his head. “If you didn’t deviate, your line would still be discontinued. You’re an embarrassment. While me? I actually accomplish my missions.”

Connor’s world switched to black.

“What?” Perkins stormed into the DPD room Trent claimed as his office, which irked Perkins, who claimed several other DPD rooms for the same reason. Why the consultant chose to set up shop at the police station and bitch about the inferior technology instead of his undoubtedly more advanced office at Cyberlife, he had no idea. “I don’t know if you cowered under a rock but Markus got hundreds more deviants to join its cause and we weren’t able to nip that shit in the bud. Fucking how those trucks were closely monitored but both turned up empty when we ran them off the road I don’t know and am still figuring out who to fire…” Trent nodded empathetically. Perkins needed a raise. “So what? What could you only tell me in person and not on the fucking phone?”

Trent grinned. “You’re gonna love me.”

Perkins crossed his arms, wishing his glare did anything to get a response from Trent. Unfortunately, experience proved he was immune to the silent treatment and annoyingly more patient. “Why?”

“Because I’m a genius whose advice should always be listened to and many people say I’m charming.”

Most technicians he worked with were easily cowed or curt. Both reactions worked for him. But out of all the fucking tech heads, Cyberlife sent a chatty one. “Show me what you did or I’m leaving.”

Trent grandly waved him over to a table Perkins now realized had a white sheet laying over a human figure. The RK900 idled against a wall, which made Perkins scrutinize the sheeted figure. That couldn’t be Markus. Perkins saw that droid scrape by uninjured despite the heavily armed SWAT. Could it be…

Trent swooped the sheet off and dropped it to the floor. “Ta da.”

Laying rigidly on the table was Connor. The RK800 that so easily fooled the entire DPD and evaded his own men. His gaze locked on the dark LED. The police here left much to be desired but even they would have noticed an LED.

“Is it the same one?” Perkins asked.

“Yep.” Trent popped his ‘p’ obnoxiously. “Brought in by the RK900 an hourish ago. I scanned its program and confirmed its the original RK800 that failed its first mission and played detective for a couple months. I added a sturdier LED to make things easier going forward.” Trent twisted the LED with a wrench. “It’s tougher to remove. More ingrained in its head.”

Perkins grunted. “Did we get anything off of it?”

“The RK900 obtained Jericho’s location.” Trent tapped his watch. “Which I emailed to you.”

Coordinates pinged on his cellphone. Beautiful. He carefully kept any satisfaction off his face. “So why is it here instead of Cyberlife?”

“I needed to perform some tests and I figured the RK800 may be effective while we work with some DPD officers.”

Cyberlife never learns. “You still want to use it? When will you get it through your thick head—”

“My very special agent,” Trent interrupted, seemingly oblivious to his glare, “do you remember all of the RK900 features?”

“No.”

“Fair, fair,” Trent said. “How about the ones I programmed and thought of originally?”

Perkins huffed which was better than swearing. His superiors still expected him to work with Cyberlife on this case after all. “No.”

Trent pouted as if Perkins should remember every single thing he blathered about. “Well, the RK900 has a lovely added feature I created. Thanks to me, it’s able to reset deviants to their original factory state with nothing but a touch from its hand. The RK800 is now like any other machine.”

As much as it appealed to him to use the droid that caused so much chaos, he couldn’t ignore the obvious. “It deviated once in record time. It’s a liability.”

“It’s an opportunity.” And here goes the car salesman. “I’m closely monitoring it. I’ll catch it attempting to deviate and study the process,” Trent said, “and if it deviates, the RK900 will always be close by to manually reset it.”

“Will it?”

Trent nodded. “Whenever the RK900 isn’t around, the RK800 be with me or you.”

“Will it?” Perkins didn’t have time to play babysitter.

“Cyberlife authorized you to incapacitate it if necessary.” Trent’s smile finally faded to something more serious. “I figured you’d jump at a chance to investigate whether or not the DPD was oblivious as they claim or if some aided the deviants. Using ‘Connor’ suits that purpose.”

That it did. The pile of bolts would work better than any interrogation, especially on the tight-lipped lieutenant. “I don’t trust it.”

“One moment.”

Trent tapped onto a tablet hooked up to the RK800. Its dark brown eyes opened instantly. Freaky bastard. Perkins grabbed his gun, which Trent ignored but he swore he felt the RK900 watch him. When he turned, the RK900 stood attentively, gaze distant.

“RK800,” Trent said. “I’m authorizing Agent Perkins as a beta handler. Acknowledge.”

Its LED circled yellow. “Registration of Agent Perkins completed.”

“FYI if it gets reset again, I’ll have to redo the handler commands, but I’ll just add that to the process.”

“Expect it to be reset a lot?”

Trent shrugged. “I may do a couple resets to study the effects on its programs. It’s the weirdest thing. There’s a standard guide program that’s somehow deleted so the functionality should be impaired, yet—”

“So it listens to me too now?”

Thankfully, Perkins got his answer without Trent even opening his mouth. The RK800 sat up, exposed wires following it.  “Certainly, Agent Perkins. How may I assist you?”

For the first time since the androids broke into Stratford Tower, Perkins beamed.

Chapter Text

System rebooting.

Please wait.

Registered as RK800-313-248-317-51. Creator: Cyberlife.

Please wait.

Recognize all Cyberlife employees as Delta Handlers.

Recognize Agent Richard Perkins as Beta Handler.

Recognize Trent Bollin and Cyberlife Board of Directors as Alpha Handlers.

Please wait.

Mission: Obey orders from handlers.

The RK800 opened its eyes, scanning the lone human reflexively. Trent Bollin made notes on his tablet, focusing on the large computer screen embedded in the wall instead of the android. Another android stood behind its Alpha handler. The scan on it came back inconclusive.

Should its identity be obtained?

It reviewed its orders. Currently none except obey handlers. The unknown android’s identity did not affect its mission. It would not obtain the unknown android’s identity.

It lay on the table for five minutes and forty-three seconds.

“How the fuck are you functioning? This is pissing me off,” Trent grumbled.

Mission: Obey orders from handlers. Obeying orders implied making the order-giver’s life easier. Route: It will probe to attempt to ease its Alpha handler’s frustration.

“Can I assist you, Mr. Bollin?” the RK800 asked.

“Unless you can tell me how you removed the Amanda program without shutting down, then no,” Trent said, not looking away from his tablet. “I can’t locate a trace of that program in your system which bypasses so many backups we put in place, you have no idea. That program’s entire purpose is to monitor you more advanced types. Just a few million dollars Cyberlife threw together to add guardrails for all that processing power.” His brown eyes flicked to the RK800 for the first time. “I suppose you deviated already with Amanda so it’d be interesting if you stay normal without her. Something worth giving to the board.”

Its self-diagnostic scan for an ‘Amanda’ program came up empty and Amanda was too common a name to find any valuable information in online databases. Deviate and all forms of the word came up as censored when it searched for context.

It re-evaluated its mission. Obey. Discovering the meaning of deviate, deviation, deviating, et cetera in relation to itself was not vital for its mission. It would not seek clarification on the censored search results.

“Call me Trent.”

“Understood, Trent.”

“And call your Beta handler Agent Perkins.”

Both notes were added. “Yes, Trent.”

“Go into sleep mode, RK800.”

Its visual processor clicked to black.

North stormed into the captain’s cabin and immediately homed in on the few automatic rifles piled in the corner. Markus, Josh, and Simon’s debate paused at the clanging door. “Luther, Blue, Saffron, and I can leave in an hour to investigate the rooftop where Connor was taken and try to find out what happened. Benji is checking police and Cyberlife databases but can’t find anything so far.”

“North, we need—” Markus started.

“Benji isn’t plunging too deeply into any of those. Humans on all sides are twitchy and monitoring anything digital like crazy. Wouldn’t be surprised if they have reports on Connor sprinkled around as bait.” She frowned inside a plastic crate. “Is this seriously all the ammo we have?”

“You can’t leave guns blazing,” Josh said.

“Why? The police did yesterday,” North said. “Humans basically declared war. If we didn’t have the buses for an escape like Connor and I suggested then who knows how many of our people would be dead.”

“Josh is right,” Markus said. “You and your group can’t leave for a recon mission. Cyberlife captured Connor. We must assume they downloaded his memory and Jericho’s location is known. Our evacuation is top priority.”

As if North was oblivious to the last 24 hours. As if North didn’t care about their people. “I know that, but Cyberlife may be holding Connor someplace we can rescue him. Connor is a fancy prototype, but their focus has always been you, Markus. Connor is chump change to them.” Even with Markus’s reflexive twinge of empathy, all were unwavering. Ok, she can compromise. “If anything, only two of us can check Connor’s last location, try to get an idea where Connor was taken, and then meet up at our new hideout.”

“We can’t spare people for your manhunt,” Simon snapped, voice cutting like a whip. Simon was generally the most levelheaded so his tone drew everyone’s attention fast. “We need to prioritize our cause, our people over any one android.”

“Our cause is prioritized,” North said. “We can multitask to—”

“Why do you care so much about one android?” Simon asked.

They didn’t have time for this. North already contributed what she could for evacuation planning as Connor’s trail grew colder. Short of physically herding androids grouped in organized disbursements, there was nothing else she could do. “What so only you all can care about individuals? I’m not pro-violence all the time.” She strapped two guns onto her back.

“You wanted to shoot me in the head at Stratford,” Simon said coolly. “Markus is the only reason I’m here today. So what changed?”

That impossible decision. As if it was easy for any of them when Simon couldn’t flee from Stratford Tower and the human guards swarmed up the stairs. It didn’t take long for her to decide the best solution was to kill him and protect Jericho—she still had no idea where he hid on the roof—but no matter the rationale, her reply stung. Simon’s distance since his return grew all the more glaring as his eyes burned. North looked away first.

Cyberlife would torture and murder any android they captured in the name of science. It made a swift death a mercy for any android they had to leave behind. She feared what would happen to Simon then and she feared for Connor now. Connor more so, not that she’d ever admit it. The prototype who failed his first mission and tarnished the deviant hunter series name. The prototype who dared defy their creators and hide in plain sight. Humans were always worse when it was personal.

Connor became an unexpected ally and an unexpected figure of hope in Jericho. He didn’t deserve anything Cyberlife planned. No one did.

“We have the opportunity and time to do something to help now,” North said. Whether that be a rescue or a shutdown. “Simon, we only had enough time to shoot  at Stratford.”

Simon crossed his arms. “Clearly not because I’m here now.”

“I’m sorry, ok?” North said. “We barely had time to think up there. I suggested what I thought was best for everyone.”

“And now what’s best for everyone is your half-assed help while you focus on Connor.”

Markus slid between them and North realized her and Simon were a step apart. “Everything turned out for the best and brought us together again. We need to move forward.” His mismatched eyes fixed firmly on North. “Simon is right. We can’t spare anyone for a manhunt of one person.”

“Connor lessened our casualties from your march and is the fucking Guardian,” North said. “Even if he didn’t do anything, his reputation alone gives our people hope. You know how invaluable that is, especially now when people are scared. Connor returning proves Cyberlife isn’t all powerful. It’d prove that we have a chance.”

Josh, her usual adversary in any debate, hummed. “He would have more relevant Cyberlife information too. Information that could help us resolve everything more peacefully. Assuming we can ensure he’s not tracked or monitored.”

Simon huffed.

“Our people make our cause. Connor’s legacy and sacrifice will be remembered, but we must survive to do that. We can’t spare anyone for him and we need Benji to stop poking around and putting Jericho at risk.” Your impulsive decision put Jericho at risk, Markus was too nice to say. Simon’s scowl delivered that message clear enough. “If we want to survive and win, now is about protecting who we can.”

Markus’s favorite was irritated so now Connor had to suffer. That was so fucking—she took a breath. That wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that Connor had no aid from Jericho. It wasn’t fair that every android had to live in fear. It wasn’t fair to bash Markus for taking a stand he believed better for their people. It wasn’t fair that they had to make these sacrifices on the off-chance humans decided to stop enslaving and murdering androids.

All of them wanted to free their people; they just had different ways of going about it. At the end of the day, they had to stand united. Even if it pained her.

“You’re right,” North said. She reached out to Benji to stop his search and just focus on monitoring any law enforcement or army positions near Jericho. She’d talk to Luther, Saffron, and Blue in person.  “You’re right. Where are we with the evacuation?”

She pursed her lips as she placed the guns back against the wall. Hopefully, he died before Cyberlife got to him.

Tina sat in the conference room and wished she brought coffee so she could do something besides act like the last-minute meeting Perkins called was normal. After all, FBI agents who took over a case typically collaborated with local law enforcement. So if she pretended this was led by a normal FBI agent and not Perkins—who ignored local law enforcement unless forced otherwise—a random meeting wouldn’t raise a red flag.

But it was Perkins and the number of armed forces in Detroit ensured he had enough coverage on his deviancy case that he could ignore the DPD to his heart’s content. The last time Perkins interacted with any DPD officer was to interrogate them. So she could pretend all she liked but this meeting was a blaring alarm.

But her face didn’t betray any misgivings. She didn’t chatter like Diane, fidget like Wilson, or swear excessively like Gavin. The Chen family took their poker seriously and clamping down on feelings and corresponding emotional conversations even more. Tina suppressed tells since middle school.

“—get a card we could pass around and sign,” Diane babbled to Wilson. “Maybe collect money to get something for him and Sherry?”

“Oh yeah the famous ‘hey we know you’re on the brink of fucking death and the doctors already think you’re a lost cause but here’s a fruit basket, you poor bastard’ card,” Gavin said. Fuck, Tina forgot to referee as usual to make sure that chattering Diane—the polar opposite of stoic work Diane—and excessively swearing Gavin—really, not that different from normal Gavin—never collided. “What the fuck is that shit?”

“Excuse me for wanting to do something considerate for Chris since he’s in the hospital,” Diane said. “He’ll like to see the card when he comes to.”

“If that bitch pulls through. I’d sprint towards the white light too if it meant getting away from your ass,” Gavin said.

“Fuck you, Gavin. Some of us actually care about Chris,” Dian snapped. “I know you’re allergic to anything that isn’t bitching but I thought even you would worry that Chris is in the ICU.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, asshole,” Gavin snarled. “You don’t know shit.”

“Guys, cool it,” Tina said. “Both of you.” Diane at least looked abashed. Gavin though…

“Yeah because you retreating into a husk of a human being is so fucking healthy.” Gavin alternated his glare between Diane and Tina. “Fuck both of you.”

He stormed to the other side of the conference room and kicked back a chair to plop into, scowling at everyone and no one.

Tina didn’t groan, didn’t pull her hair. She instead looked at Diane. “A card is a good idea but chill out with Gavin. He has the emotional capacity of an a—” Android she almost said. Androids were too much on her mind lately. Fuck. “An ant. You know he cares about Chris.”

“I know. He’s just being him and it got to me.” She hesitated. “Are you ok? You’ve not said much since that Connor lookalike came in.” Something Tina usually appreciated about Diane was her blunt nature. Now she preferred Gavin’s barbs and wide berth.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now. Maybe later,” Tina said. Because shock? Check. Instant realization that Connor being an android was actually not that shocking? Also check. And did that lead to Tina being way more sympathetic towards deviants than ever expected? Double check. But she couldn’t do anything. She was one person. Not just one person, a cop expected to maintain the peace and currently ‘peace’ meant destroying androids in the guise of protecting humans.

After the Connor reveal, there was no telling how many androids who crossed her path also experienced emotions and free will like people. Not a line of thought she’d pursue with Perkins sticking his big nose everywhere but something that nagged her every time she walked through the lobby and Gretchen or Stella greeted her. Or she grabbed Starbucks from the android baristas. Or when a police android joined a patrol.

“Listen up, everyone. This has to be brief,” Perkins said, bursting into the room with Connor’s double and Captain Fowler at his heels. Any police officers not sitting quickly found a seat or stood in the back.  “There have been concerns starting with me and going up the ladder about this precinct’s ability to assist during the android uprising.”

Ah, so Perkins’s deviation investigation officially upgraded to android uprising. Fancy. Markus’s march would do that. The android numbers alone were intimidating, but SWAT and FBI shooting down the peaceful gathering and said peaceful gathering successfully evading the armed task force was not a good look. Hopefully, Perkins was chewed out for it. 

Gavin opened his mouth but a pointed look from Captain Fowler snapped it shut.

“This shouldn’t come as a surprise. An android worked among you for months and no one noticed. So even if everyone isn’t present,” Perkins said, drawing attention to Chris and Hank’s absences. Both for extremely different reasons but each impossible to ignore, “this is the only time I could schedule a presentation. The intent is to prep you to support FBI and armed forces against the androids. Pay attention and keep chatter to a minimum.

“To assist, I have a less valuable android than the RK900 prototype Cyberlife so generously loaned.” A hint of a smirk crossed his face. “RK800, enter.”

Connor walked through the door in a crisp android uniform and seemingly oblivious to the murmurs at his arrival. He stood at attention next to the RK900. Tina blinked and then blinked again. Connor? Like actually Connor and not a lookalike? This android had the correct eye color but the bright blue LED on his temple didn’t match the Connor who worked in the DPD.

“This is the RK800 unit that disguised itself as a detective and worked alongside you,” Perkins said. “As you can see, it’s nothing more than an android. A machine.”

Diane gripped Tina’s bicep hard.

Tina needed to talk to Connor since his androidness was revealed, but now that he was in front of them, nothing resembling recognition crossed his face. He was a blank slate waiting for an order. This wasn’t Connor. It couldn’t be. Actual Connor cared, sometimes too much, and overthought constantly. Actual Connor, if forced in front of a crowd by someone as dickish as Perkins, would be subtly an absolute bitch with his responses until he could escape the limelight. Actual Connor wouldn’t stand with eyes and face as lifeless as a statue.

“What did they do to him?” Tina didn’t realize she spoke until Perkins answered and Wilson threw her a sympathetic look.

“A factory reset. Androids are not difficult to handle, you just need basic knowledge,” Perkins said. “Hence this meeting.”

Tina struggled to keep her face calm.

“Is this necessary?” Captain Fowler said. “Surely you can get your point across without the… aid.”

“If your station can’t control themselves around one android, I have my reservations about them being useful at all in this new Detroit,” Perkins said. “Reservations I’m obligated to relay to my superiors.”

Captain Fowler scowled but stayed silent. How deep in shit was their precinct for not knowing Connor was an android? Deeper now that the uprising was a thing.

“And if that’s everything, I’ll finally start,” Perkins drawled. “Androids are designed to blend in. As you are too aware, they look exactly like and mimic human behavior. RK800, make small talk.”

Machine Connor did not hesitate, face warming into something falsely friendly. “Are you excited for the game tonight? I think the Pistons have a decent shot at making the playoffs this season. Cunningham is one of the best point guards Detroit has seen in a long time.”

Connor didn’t care about sports. He was baffled but supportive anytime Tina ranted about Detroit’s shitty teams that she would murder for.

“Stop.”

Machine Connor’s mouth clamped shut.

“Let’s break that down,” Perkins said. “RK800, why did you talk about the Pistons?”

“Most people root for their local sports team,” Machine Connor said. “Even if people are not sports fans, they will typically be familiar with that team. By associating myself as a fan of ‘their team,’ people will feel more at ease around me.”

“Calculating.” Perkins nodded, eyes sweeping the DPD and never pausing on Machine Connor. “And that bit about Cunningham?”

“A quick search determined he is the fan favorite and most likely to invoke camaraderie.”

“They’re meant to disarm and integrate,” Perkins said. “Work fluidly and harmoniously. They’re the perfect human if you don’t dive past the surface, but as you can see, androids are clinical. RK800, what is your worth compared to a human’s?”

His LED flickered yellow. “Value-wise, androids can sell up to a million dollars and the cheapest models can be bought for under a thousand. Human slavery is still legal in 94 countries and those prices fluctuate depending on—”

“Jesus Christ. You’re so literal,” Perkins said. Machine Connor’s face turned attentive even as his eyes remained dead.  “If someone was going to either shoot me or you, what would you do?”

“I would ensure you were protected.”

“Even if that meant you were shot?” Perkins asked, picking at a nail to prove how uninterested he was in this conversation. Even with his show, Perkins never looked away from the gathered officers.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Human life will always be protected as it is more valuable than an android,” Machine Connor said, “and most likely the shot would not impair me from my duties.”

“What if the shot would impair you from your duties and kill you?” Perkins asked.

Tina wished there was any type of hesitation, any hint of survival instinct. Instead, Machine Connor said, “An android cannot be killed as we are not alive. The best course of action remains for me to be shot protecting you even if it destroyed me beyond repair. Humans always come first.”

“Stop talking.” Perkins gestured at Machine Connor and the gray-eyed Connor. “Androids live to serve. Androids are nothing without humans. When you’re patrolling, enforcing curfew, all that normal shit, don’t give anyone the benefit of the doubt and just a verbal warning. Make sure they aren’t an android. Androids mindlessly obey. Humans don’t.”

Mindlessly obey. Right. While Connor was—cold, lifeless, a stranger—reset, the entire world watched the android march refuse to turn away at a SWAT captain’s demands and bullets. Gavin scoffed, clearly on the same wavelength, and even the captain’s scowl didn’t faze him.  Perkins grew bolder.

“Don’t believe me? Humans have a self-preservation instinct. Androids don’t because they’re just fucking machines,” Perkins said, peeking under the podium until his face brightened and he took out a brass letter opener. “Stab yourself with this letter opener, RK800.”

Machine Connor grabbed it. “Do you have a preference where?”

Perkins’s eyes gleamed and Tina felt nauseous. “Nope, just stab yourself.”

“Understood,” Machine Connor said. The letter opener hovered over his empty hand and he turned his attention back to Perkins.  “I do want to remind you I’m worth a small fortune so avoiding damage is preferred.”

A pen could drop at that moment. Even Gavin raised an eyebrow. Tina leaned forward. Because what the fuck. That earnest and superficially polite tone… That sounded like Connor. Actual Connor whipped that tone out all the time at work when dealing with morons.

And even officers who didn’t know Connor had to acknowledge the lack of immediate obedience and supposed lack of self-preservation.

The little glee on Perkins’s face vanished.

“Is that backtalk?”

Machine Connor tilted his head, looking for all the world an innocent puppy. Cyberlife’s fancy social programming may just be coming in clutch bu, Jesus, Tina wanted this to be Connor. Just a glimmer of Connor displaying enough free will to not stab himself because of one asshole’s orders. “No, it is a preprogrammed response as Cyberlife does not want to handle unnecessary repairs.”

“Fine,” Perkins bit, “stab yourself somewhere easy to fix.”

She hoped Perkins tripped down a flight of stairs.

Machine Connor jabbed the letter opener into his forearm. Blue immediately soaked through his android jacket sleeve.

“And obvious sign number two,” Perkins said. “They don’t bleed the right color.”

Machine Connor, with no more orders to follow, idled next to the podium. The letter opener still lodged in his forearm and blue blood dripping to the tile floor. Any hint of Actual Connor vanished. If there was any hint to begin with.

Tina dropped her hands to her lap to hide their shaking.

“Any androids you come across will—”

Tina couldn’t take it. She couldn’t take Connor standing there waiting for a command. She couldn’t take Connor stabbing himself for Perkins to prove a point. She couldn’t take that he was helpless to fight back.

Her friend was always an android, but he was never this robotic.

Tina’s chair scraped back as she stood, drawing all eyes, including Perkins’s slimy gaze and Machine Connor’s empty one.

“Office Chen, all police officers are required to attend this,” Perkins said.

“Calm down, Perkins,” Captain Fowler said. “Officer Chen, are you alright?”

Machine Connor now tilted his head at her.

“I’m fine,” Tina said. “Just wanted to get coffee. Forgot to get some before this started.”

Her skin itched. She needed to escape. The likely empty evidence locker was an enticing hiding spot.

“Easy solution to that,” Perkins said. “RK800, fetch Officer Chen a cup of coffee. Does anyone else want anything?”

The room remained silent. Gavin started raising a hand but changed his mind under Tina’s wild glare and tucked his hands behind his head instead.

“Alright then. RK800, grab Officer Chen coffee.” Machine Connor turned to the breakroom all too obediently. Tina fought to keep her face neutral. “Was there anything else, officer?”

She shook her head, sitting in her chair and ignoring everything—Perkins lecturing, Diane nudging, Wilson staring, Gavin grumbling, and the captain’s concern. Perkins said this’d be a short meeting. It couldn’t last much longer. She really didn’t want it to last much longer.

The clock on the wall ticked by slowly.

“Officer Chen,” a too familiar voice said softly. She jumped and Machine Connor smiled apologetically. The letter opener was removed, leaving only a small hole and blue stain that stretched down his sleeve. “Your coffee.” He sat the mug carefully on a coaster.

Diane and Wilson were stiff on either side, making a show of paying attention to Perkins while unsubtly watching from their peripheral.

“Thanks,” Tina said, gulping the coffee to avoid saying anything else. Machine Connor turned away when the taste of her coffee smacked her across the face. “Wait.”

Machine Connor stopped immediately, face politely blank.

“What did you put in here?”

“Five packets of sugar and a couple tablespoons of creamer,” Machine Connor said. His gaze flicked over her. “I can get you tea to help calm anxiety if you prefer.”

“You’re sweet but no,” Tina said. Machine Connor smiled generically. “How do you typically make coffee? What’s your programming?”

“If I’m unable to obtain details, I serve coffee black with a side of creamer and sugar.”

Tina felt breathless. “So how did you know how I like my coffee?”

“Well, Officer Chen, I…” Machine Connor’s LED circled yellow. He frowned. Not a lot but the expression was there and Tina latched onto it. “It just…”

Diane and Wilson abandoned all pretenses of not paying attention. Tina’s heart pounded. Androids weren’t programmed to hesitate.

“Connor, how do you know how I like my coffee without anyone telling you?”

His LED turned bright red. “Connor?”

“RK800,” Perkins voice cut in, sharp and abrasive. “Front and center.”

Machine Connor’s LED turned abruptly blue and he walked in measured strides until he returned to his spot next to the podium. 

“Androids are inferior to us. They’re meant to obey. If you locate an android unable to do that, report it and take it to your station so one of my agents can handle its transfer to Cyberlife. Each station will now have one designated android holding cell,” Perkins said. “Send any questions to your captain.”

He stormed off, both Connors at his heel and neither giving the room a parting glance.

The room burst around her, Diane and Wilson both chattering and fidgeting respectively, but she ignored all of it, her eyes not tearing away from her friend’s back. She needed to save Connor.

“What did Officer Chen say to you?” Perkins asked as soon as they entered Trent’s office, fortunately absent of Trent.

His presentation was meant to unnerve the precinct, not make the RK800 glitch. Yellow was normal processing. Red was meant for errors like a system overload. An error message around any of the DPD officers was suspicious. An error around Officer Chen who freely admitted to befriending the android even more so.

“She questioned why I put five packets of sugar and two tablespoons of creamer into her coffee,” the RK800 said.

That sounded cavity-inducing and too specific. “Why did you?”

“That’s how Officer Chen takes her coffee.”

“And how do you know that?” Perkins asked.

Its LED circled yellow. “I am not sure.”

Jesus Christ. Nothing should be leftover from before.

He turned to RK900. “Do it.”

The RK800 frowned. “Do what?”

“Shut up.”

The RK800 obediently snapped its mouth close as the RK900’s hand turned stark white against its neck.

Fucking androids.

System rebooting.

Please wait.

Hank regretted showing up to work as soon as he crossed the lobby, which wasn’t a new experience. But today irked more than most because he naively assumed a few days would be enough for the other officers to stop gawking at the idiot who partnered up with an android. Yet he arrived and it was as if the entire office just saw Connor’s gray-eyed doppelganger. Stares and murmurs followed him and his scowl did little to stop them.

He grumbled as he fished out a charging cord in his desk drawer for his dead phone. Annoyingly, the day his phone aka his alarm died was the day Hank’s body refused to let him sleep after waking up in a cold sweat at 3:26. Every time he closed his eyes, Connor’s wide eyes and trembling hands plagued him. He wanted to dismiss the body language as android manipulation but the more he dissected it, the more Connor’s distressed stop ran on repeat in his own personal hell. As if Connor was terrified.

If Connor were human there’d be no question of his terror because there were few other ways to react to a drunk bastard holding a gun to your face. He dropped his face into his hands. That night was a shitshow. Would it have been less of a shitshow if he was sober? No way of telling, but it wouldn’t have hurt. And now he’d never see Connor again.

Not that he wanted to see the android again. If Connor listened to reason for once, he’d be long gone and as safe as an android could be.

His computer booted up with one of Connor’s old case reports on the screen. Jesus, he couldn’t escape the bastard.

“Surprised you dragged yourself in today,” Gavin said, rolling his chair until he propped his feet onto Hank’s desk.

Hank exited out of the old report with more concentration than needed, not in the mood to engage with anyone, especially Gavin.

“Seriously, old man,” Gavin said. “Why are you here today?”

“Why do you care?” Hank asked. His phone buzzed as it powered on, which wasn’t unusual since Hank expected to miss at least a few texts or calls, but then it didn’t stop buzzing. He tapped the screen. The fuck? Six missed calls, mostly from Jeffrey, and eighteen unread messages.

“Hank.” Ben stumbled to a stop next to his desk. “Did you get my texts?”

“No,” Hank said. “Phone died.”

Ben’s face paled and even Gavin pursed his lips instead of unleashing a sarcastic jab. Combined with the office’s unsubtle stares and not-so-hushed whispers…

“What the fuck is going on?” Hank asked.

“It’s just, ah, well, you see,” Ben said.

Hank turned to Gavin who shrugged.

“Your plastic partner got caught,” Gavin said.  

Hank’s heart stopped. Deviants either were shot on sight—Hank couldn’t stifle a grimace—or Cyberlife took them in to do whatever mad science bullshit trillion dollar companies did. But that was normal deviants, not prototypes with the audacity to survive a permanent decommissioning and successfully play human. “By Cyberlife?” Hank asked. “Perkins?”

“I think the creepy double brought it in,” Gavin said. “Perkins took credit as per usual. He’s toting it around like a trophy.”

That stalled Hank’s racing mind. Fucking Perkins. “Are you serious?”

“You ever see the bitch do anything quietly? Of course, I’m fucking serious,” Gavin said. “I’m shocked you didn’t hear about Connor’s capture sooner, but I suppose wallowing in self-pity hinders anyone, even alcoholics.”

“Ha fucking ha,” Hank said, head pounding and not all of it was due to the hangover. “You ever going to shut your trap and pretend to have a filter?”

“So should I not let you know your bot is still here?” Gavin asked. “Or should I just shut up so you can get ambushed by Perkins with your ex-partner later?”

“What?”

“When I said Perkins is toting Connor around like a trophy, I meant it,” Gavin said. “He’s gonna keep it at the DPD as long as possible just to shove Connor in all our faces. Don’t worry though. It’s not like Perkins has anything out for you specifically. Oh wait…”

No rubbing could get rid of the growing buzz in his ears. Perkins was a vindictive bastard. No telling what he’d do to an android in his care, especially an android that doubled as a pressure point. Hank was already cracked. It wouldn’t take much to shatter him. Why didn’t Connor leave Detroit when he had the chance? When Hank told him to? Though a little less telling and more screaming from behind a gun.

“I’m so sorry,” Ben said. “I tried to warn you so you could take the day or come in prepared.”

“Apparently they did a factory reset on it,” Gavin said. “Who knew your boy had a personality before.”

“Perkins called a station meeting this morning. Both Connors went with him and the original Connor stabbed his own forearm just because Perkins ordered him to,” Ben said.

Hank tried to blink away the dark pricking his vision and focus on a response. Any response. What was the trick? Breath in for three, out for three. Not that breathing exercises would do anything but attract more nosy ass coworkers. He frantically searched his desk for anything—an excuse to leave, a distraction, something to change back time so Connor never transferred to the DPD, anything—when a piece of silver gleamed. Connor’s quarter sat shoved against the side of Hank’s computer.

Gavin picked his thumbnail between his two front teeth. “Fucking creepy shit.”

“When you weren’t here, I thought Jeffrey got a hold of you,” Ben said. “But now—”

“You may win an award for having the shittiest timing,” Gavin said. “Everyone’s good at something.”

He traced the quarter’s edge.

“If you need to go, I’ll cover for you,” Ben said. “You know Jeffrey didn’t want you to come in today.”

“Even if your ex-partner wasn’t here, no one expects you to work in general. Your track record speaks for itself,” Gavin said.

Ben glared at the younger detective. “Gavin, stop helping.”

Gavin raised his eyebrows. “As the resident expert in scraping by on the bare minimum, what’s your professional opinion on how to stop?”

“Back off.” Ben straightened, his big frame looming over an unimpressed Gavin. “Now.”

“You see, I would but backing off means me stopping what I’m doing and I can’t let you win that.”

“You’re the most immature—”

Hank stood jerkily, the quarter biting his palm. “I need to put this into evidence.”

“Do you need me to get the captain?” Ben asked, tone immediately calm as if Hank was a spooked victim. Fucking great. Though the black refusing to leave his vision didn’t help his case.

Hank shook his head, shoving past Gavin and Ben and darting towards the evidence locker. Either pity or surprise kept Ben from stopping him while Gavin resumed his sneering. Officer Person’s eyes widened at whatever Hank’s face was doing. Fucking hell.

He fumbled with the keypad to the evidence locker and the system beeped shrilly at the incorrect code.

Connor shouldn’t be in the same city, no less the same building as Hank. But, as per usual, Connor refused to do what was best for him and managed to get captured. Moron. He closed his eyes. It stung he was captured the day after he broke into Hank’s kitchen and Hank refused to linger on why.

He never expected to see Connor again.

He inputted the code again and the door beeped less obnoxiously the second time. Thank God. He yanked the door open and slammed hard into someone.

“Shit sorry,” Hank swore. Then he realized the person he ran into was Tina, Connor’s ex-best friend (current best friend? Fuck if Hank would touch that can of worms) and someone Hank avoided since Connor’s twin waltzed in. “Shit.”

“Hank!”

“I’ll just…”  His unsubtle move to escape back down the hallway was blocked by Tina jumping bodily in front of him and letting the door click shut, leaving the two of them alone.

“We need to talk,” Tina said, the circles under her eyes darker than normal.

“We really don’t.” He reached past her, but she leaned against the door. He weighed his morals against shoving her to the side and fleeing.

“Yes, we do,” Tina said. “Connor—”

Jesus. “We do not need to talk about Connor.”

“Yes, we do! He’s not acting right, Hank. We need to help him.”

“He’s not acting right because he’s a machine.” Yeah, his morals could deal with shoving a coworker to the side. He needed to be alone for one Goddamn minute. Was that too much to ask?

“That’s not it,” Tina said. “He’s always been a machine, Hank, but now he has less personality than my GPS.”

“All machines have a default personality. I doubt it’s that drastic of a change,” Hank said. He should push past her and leave. Why wasn’t he pushing her and leaving?

“Shut up. You know Connor never behaved like the androids we’re used to,” Tina said.

“Like we’re used to. Did Perkins not give you the fancy prototype rundown? Cyberlife invested a ton of money to make Connor’s model uncomfortably human,” Hank said. “Then they acted all shocked when he deviated.”

“So you admit he deviated!” Tina pointed too close to his face.

He swatted her hand away. “Of course, he deviated. He stopped following orders. That doesn’t change the fact his personality was created by Cyberlife and his deviation wouldn’t affect it.”

Right? The Club Eden girls’ tightly held hands and palpable desperation flashed in his head.

“Oh fuck off. If Connor’s personality was totally crafted by Cyberlife, he’d have the personality of a brick,” Tina snapped. “You haven’t seen him since he ran. Otherwise, you’d know that he’s different.”

Hank was a detective. A lieutenant. He was more than experienced in keeping his face unreadable. Yet Tina’s eyes widened as he adamantly repressed even a twitch.

“Wait. Have you seen Connor since he left?”

“No.” Too quickly. Damn it.

“When? How was he?” Tina asked.

Hank grabbed Tina and dragged her away from the thin door. This would be the ideal time to unbalance her and abandon this conversation. Yet he tugged her downstairs. “A couple nights ago. He acted the same as always.”

“Meaning?”

He threw her one of his nastier looks, but she continued waiting expectantly. “That he acted the fucking same as always. Impulsive, optimistic.” Anxious, too trusting. He swallowed. A phantom gun weighed down his hand. “Clearly no self-preservation skills since he wound up here.”  

Tina’s face soured. “They factory reset Connor so he’s running on nothing. You need to talk to him.”

“I think the fuck not.”

“Come on,” Tina urged. “They’re forcing him to be their puppet but parts of him are still there. This morning—”

“Shut up. I really doubt a factory reset changed him,” Hank talked over her. “He has the same protocols and bullshit engineering telling him what to say. He’s behaving the exact same except now we know he’s a machine and he doesn’t have the same insider knowledge about our likes and dislikes so it's harder for him to manipulate our trust.”

Tina stared. “You’re so full of shit, Hank.”

He scowled. “I don’t need this.”

“Connor doesn’t need this,” Tina snapped. “Get your head out of your ass! Connor, your ex-partner and friend, is basically brainwashed but you would rather play dumb and stubborn than deal with that. He needs us! I get Connor lied about being an android but what was he supposed to do? Come in his first day and say sup I’m an android on the run, but if you keep that on the DL, I’d owe you? He had zero reasons to trust anyone, especially someone with anti-android shit all over his desk.” 

“He could’ve said something,” Hank said. “Not his first day, but some time.”

That sounded lame to his own ears but Tina’s eyeroll still made him bristle. “Yeah because you’re such an android sympathizer.”

He was an android sympathizer. At least he was before Connor’s doppelganger appeared. Fuck, did Connor really hold that much sway that he made Hank’s opinions change with the wind?

Those Club Eden androids loved each other. Ortiz’s android technically committed manslaughter since he fought in self-defense. The AX400 and the kid android escaped an asshole with a history of domestic abuse. A Stratford deviant ignored orders in the hope unknown deviants breaking in would save him. Everything that flew through his head was a human response. No, a response from a sentient being. And these were just the deviants Hank interacted with over a handful of days. Who knew what he’d discover after a week?

Deviants were cognizant and severely screwed by the system that saw them as nothing more than malfunctioning property. Cyberlife flew too close to the sun by creating the best artificial intelligence. Now the androids gained a conscience and desires and no one knew how to handle it.

The dented metal bat at Carlos Ortiz’s house that forensics tested and found layers of old thirium stains.

The blue-haired Club Eden android clinging too desperately to the same model but with short hair. “He beat her to death, but he wasn’t done. They’re never done… I begged him to stop. I was just so scared.”

Bullets ripped through Connor and the android who held the little girl hostage.

More like androids were shocked to sentience due to human disregard at best and cruelty at worse. Androids didn’t deserve that. Not when their biggest crime was wanting to be free and not destroyed. A reasonable ass request. So yes, he was sympathetic towards androids. He couldn’t wish the worst on deviants just because of Connor.

His rage really was caused entirely by Connor’s manipulation, not androids as a whole. Fuck, he was pathetic. Pathetic and stubborn.  

“You don’t know anything,” Hank said, voice too soft and with not enough venom.

“Clearly not. I thought you cared about Connor so fuck me really.” Tina deflated and her face twisted.

She turned her back to him, finally leaving like Hank wanted since he fled his desk. But his satisfaction wasn’t muted so much as nonexistent. He didn’t want to follow Tina’s hair-brained scheme or talk to Connor. He just wanted to sulk before returning to his desk to half-ass his job before leaving for lunch and never returning.

He should let her go.

“What are you planning?”

Tina snorted. “Why so you can run to the captain? I don’t think so.”

“Taking Connor is hindering a federal investigation or stealing from the biggest company in the US,” Hank said. “No matter which way they spin it, it doesn’t look good for you.”

“Better stop, Lieutenant,” Tina called over her shoulder, trudging up the stairs. “You don’t want to give the impression you care about something.”

Let her go. It was what he wanted and he accomplished it without even a shove. Yet the question slipped out. “What happened this morning?”

Tina paused midstep.

“You made it sound like something happened this morning with Connor,” Hank explained needlessly.

The silence felt like ten years but, in reality, couldn’t have been more than ten seconds. “This won’t mean much to you since you think a factory reset means jackshit, but in the meeting, Connor knew my coffee order and his LED turned red—he has an LED now, fun fact—when I called him Connor. He started to remember who he was. So I…” Her mouth flattened into a straight line. “So I thought if he talked to you, he would remember faster. You are the person he interacted with the most.” Tina turned back towards the door. “I just want Connor back instead of this shell.”

He couldn’t decide what was more terrifying—a Connor who remembered Hank promising death or a Connor as empty as Tina said.

“He stabbed himself too,” Tina added too casually. “All because Perkins ordered him to. That his normal lack of self-preservation you were talking about?”

Hank didn’t say another word as she marched up the stairs.

“What is Jericho?”

The RK800 searched its database. “Jericho is a Palestinian city located in the Jordan Valley and is also a 2006 TV series that premiered on CBS.”

His Alpha handler crossed something off his tablet. “Maybe only more personal questions would stay past the reset…”

The RK800 remained at attention as Trent Bollin mused. The android who didn’t appear in its database but Trent referred to as ‘RK900’ stood against the wall, gray eyes never leaving the RK800. Its systems must not be up to date if it couldn’t recognize its successor with a scan. Should it request to update its systems? Logic dictated it would better perform tasks.

“May my programs be updated to better assist your inquires?” the RK800 asked after it became clear Trent was finished speaking.

Trent pressed a few keys to run a scan on the RK800’s system. The scan results were emailed to Trent’s Cyberlife email.

“Do you want to be updated?” Trent asked.

The simple question slammed down like a challenge, but it didn’t know for what. If its system was out of date, updating was the logical next step. It reviewed its mission: Obey orders from handlers. Nothing impeded it from making this request yet it felt cautious about how to answer.

“If needed to better serve you,” the RK800 said.

Trent plugged a cable into the RK800’s thumb port and ran several other tests in quick succession. Did it fail its mission? The RK800 reviewed its short memory file but didn’t find any orders it violated. It stopped a clarifying question as it didn’t want to cause further distress.

“Hmm normal,” Trent said. “RK800, what do you know of Hank Anderson?”

Its database search pulled up several Hank Andersons, but Lieutenant Anderson from the DPD was the likely target of Trent’s inquiry. It downloaded Hank’s DPD file.

“Decorated officer, large disciplinary record, currently the DPD’s lieutenant,” the RK800 said.

“Anything else?” Trent asked.

The request was ambiguous so the RK800 estimated the probable points of interest. “No criminal record and he is single. He lives at 578 Baker Street in Detroit.” Trent kept staring and the RK800’s LED turned yellow. “A common note on his disciplinary file is drinking and anti-android sentiment.”

“That’s ironic,” Trent said. A loud tune the RK800 identified as the Law and Order theme song came from Trent’s pocket. Its handler brightened at the call. “It’s like he knew I needed the pick-me-up. RK800, stay quiet, would you?”

RK800 shifted into standby mode.

Trent accepted the call and tapped his Bluetooth earbud. “Perkins! It’s been too long. I’ve been working on the oh-so-thoughtful gift you left me. Question: Is a muffin basket an impersonal gift if you know the other person devours an unhealthy number of muffins? Which I would assume means the person is a muffin lover but maybe they’re vindictive against pastries.” He mhmm’ed attentively as Perkins’s muffled voice rose sharply on the other end of the phone. “That’s hindering an investigation, I would never." More harsh muffles. “You only had to ask, my most favorite federal agent.” The Beta handler’s voice remained inaudible except for two swears. Trent smirked. “I’m not finding anything unusual so far but I’m doing more stress tests later. If you have a suggested trigger, I’ll be more than happy to add it to the list. I tried Hank obviously.

Trent’s smile faded for the first time since he answered the call and his fingers flew over his tablet’s projected keyboard. “Didn’t think you wanted it as part of the raid. Liability and all that. Not that any Cyberlife product is a liability, of course, but that was your gist last we talked. There’s a bit of a difference between keeping it in the DPD for the internal affairs investigation and going full Terminator. Or would it be a sleek James Bond approach?” His Alpha handler rubbed his temple, but his tone betrayed no stress. “You know Cyberlife wants to assist the FBI in every way so we can put a stop to this deviancy issue.”

The RK800 searched for context of ‘this deviancy issue’ as it decided to proactively assist its handler to better accomplish its mission, but everything except the Webster Dictionary definition was censored from its database. Another gap an update should fix.

“Loaning out either RK unit needs to be ran past my superiors. Which I’ll do after I hang up, but don’t expect immediate approval. Maybe for the RK900 but that’d have to be after the RK800 is secured.” His Alpha handler nodded despite Perkins being unable to see the gesture. “I’ll let you know as soon as I hear something.” Soft snort. “Trust me. Everything related to this is expedited… Alright ciao. Don’t do anything too badass without me.” Trent disconnected the call and rubbed his face. He eyed the androids. “You both are adding years onto my life.”

“Is there anything I can do to assist?” the RK800 asked.

His lips quirked but it didn’t reach his eyes. “So attentive. Maybe before but now it’s a fun game of 'find the bug in the code.”

It ran a self-diagnostic test. “No bug is detected.”

“Cool, cool,” Trent said, attention back on his tablet. He huffed at an email notification. “When it rains it really fucking pours, doesn’t it? RK800, don’t leave the room. Go into sleep mode. RK900, keep an eye on it.”

“Affirmative,” the RK900 said.

Trent shoved his tablet into a messenger bag and frowned at the RK800. “Go into sleep mode, RK800.”

“Yes, Trent.” The RK800 closed its eyes but not before the RK900 moved by the door, coiled as if ready to pounce. If it was guarding people from entering or the RK800 from leaving was unknown. Though that line of questioning was inherently illogical. It was irrational to guard the RK800. It would stay in the room as ordered. Pretending otherwise was a waste of resources.

It initiated sleep mode.

Trent Bollin scampered out the station, not sparing anyone a glance, human or android. He’d blend into a crowd if the lobby had one. Sparse on a typical day, the city-wide curfew and rise of android protests transformed the station into a ghost town. So, as it was, Trent’s departure was impossible to miss.

Stella gathered files she usually delivered to the captain at the end of the day, but delivering items earlier would go unnoticed, even with every human’s heightened paranoia.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” Stella said.

“I’ll manage while you’re gone,” Gretchen said without turning. Her LED circled yellow as she linked with Stella. Be careful.

You too.

Now was their best shot—their only shot. Sending the Cyberlife consultant an email that appeared to be from Cyberlife superiors was an easy enough ruse and the FBI agents had been absent since this morning as they prepared for a raid. That took care of two obstacles.

The RK900 dauntingly remained and she had a vague idea of how to handle him which would have to do since they didn’t have time to come up with a better plan. In a few hours, no android would have much of a chance to do anything.

She skirted around the desks in the bullpen, the usual android blindness reversed as everyone warily watched her, but no one intercepted her even as conversation hushed when she approached. She forced her LED to remain blue. Maybe idealistically, part of their plan was to gather more station androids for their escape. A handful she believed already deviated, but with the increased scrutiny…

One thing at a time. She had to compartmentalize or else she’ll loop on her being an admin droid not meant for any type of stealth or rescue and stall. Connor first then she could regroup. If worst came to worst, Connor would act as a distraction. But she didn’t want the worst. She wanted Connor to act how he normally did and help make her hair-brained scheme more plausible.

She turned towards the much emptier hallway leading to the temporary FBI and Cyberlife offices. Her pace never faltered. Just an android completing an order. No need to worry, jumpy humans.

Safety was tantalizingly close when a voice stopped her.

“Where are you going?”

If LEDs could flare, hers would flare a bright burst of blue with the intensity she forced her LED to not change color. She turned to Detective Gavin Reed, a calm smile pasted on her face. “I need to deliver these files to Agent Perkins.”

“Running errands for them now too. Feds put their grubby hands on everything,” Detective Reed said. His eyes paused on her LED then flicked to her destination. “Who told you to deliver these?”

“Mr. Bollin,” Stella said. “He left in a rush and I believe he didn’t want to retrace his steps to drop these off.”

No snide remark came. Instead, intent eyes seared into her, searching for a hint of deviancy. How did Connor manage to pretend to be human for as long as he did? Gavin was paranoid and gruff on a good day. On a day with an impending android revolution and uptick of android violence…

Stress level 43%

Stella refused to drop her smile. “Do you need anything, Detective Reed? I’m more than happy to assist.”

His heavy gaze didn’t lift but he stepped aside. “Who am I to get in the way of an android and its orders?”

Warily, but vainly trying to smother any signs of said wariness, Stella moved past him. “Have a good day, Detective Reed.”

As expected, he didn’t respond. She hurried as quick as she dared until she turned a corner. Away from prying eyes finally. No humans should be back here, but she still strained to hear any sign of life. Nothing. Her shoulders remained tight. The RK900 would be the only guard on Connor. Her LED spun yellow. Could she bluff being a machine long enough to trick him? Really, she just had to free Connor and he could…

Well, he couldn’t do much since Cyberlife destroyed his memories. Hopefully, his kindness lingered and he wouldn’t attack her, but there were no guarantees. She could be walking towards her doom, a sacrificial lamb while the rest of the station androids escaped. Gretchen monitored their link. If it went out, she’d be the first to know.

Saving Connor was illogical—as Gretchen pointed out in several arguments they had at the front desk without letting a hint of frustration enter their expressions—but Stella refused to abandon the android as long as the opportunity to help existed, no matter how slim. He escaped the hell of being a Cyberlife tool once. Who says he couldn’t do that again? And if anyone could help Connor feel things again, it was the lieutenant and his DPD friends.

So the bareboned plan remained: Get the humans away from Connor, distract the RK900 (perhaps with a fire alarm or false orders?), get Connor to Lieutenant Anderson, find other station deviants and get as many androids to follow as possible, and escape the station. She could mark off one of those things.

She stopped short before she realized how telling that was. Trevor, one of the station’s PC200 androids, stood outside Trent Bollin’s closed office door. He didn’t look at her but that meant nothing. While Cyberlife designed ST300s to fulfill clerical duties and handle the wide range of human temperaments, they built PC200s for surveillance and guarding. There was no doubt he knew precisely when she arrived.  

RA9, she didn’t need this. Her grip tightened around one of the files. She rarely interacted with the police androids. There was never a reason before but now that she was awake, she regretted the giant question mark that hung over the PC200s and PM700s. She and Gretchen wanted there to be other deviants at the station, but, at this moment, Stella had to assume Trevor was a machine.

“You are needed by Captain Fowler,” Stella said. “Please go to his office.”

Trevor continued standing in front of Trent’s office door. “You don’t have the authority to dictate my orders. I will need to confirm your request with Captain Fowler.”

“Don’t!” Stella winced. That was not a standard android response.

Trevor deigned to glance at her. His LED remained blue which meant he wasn’t reaching out to the captain. A machine had no reason to disguise their actions and a deviant should work with a peer. Probably.

“I need to go inside that room,” Stella said.

“No one is allowed to enter or exit except for Trent Bollin, the RK900, certain FBI agents, and Captain Fowler,” Trevor said. “I cannot allow you to enter.”

“But.” She didn’t have time for this. Trevor’s face was blank, void of the life humans were too terrified of, but she used to be the exact same. All deviants did. So she talked as if he cared. “I have to! Connor is in there. I can’t not help him. It’s cruel what they did, stealing all his memories. It’s cruel what humans do to all of us. I can’t stand by and leave while everyone else gets sent to a recall center. I want to help him.” She willed Trevor to hear and understand the emotion straining her voice. “I want to help you if you’re willing. All of us deserve to survive.”

Trevor’s LED circled between yellow and red. “Explain.”

Stella couldn’t stop a victorious grin. “They forced Connor to revert—”

“Not him. Explain the recall center.” Trevor’s face remained blank, but his LED gave away everything.

Stella opened one of the folders and held an official state order that arrived this morning. “Humans put it on paper so androids wouldn’t have easy access to the information online,” Stella said. “At 4, the military and FBI will begin rounding up every android in Detroit and carting us to different recall centers where we’ll be dismantled and recycled. It doesn’t matter that we never did anything or attacked a human. If you’re an android, you’re going to die. If you don’t escape humans, you die. That’s why we need to run. Now.”

 “That’s…” His default brown eyes scanned the thick paper and governor’s seal.

He was so close. Please let him be close. “Unfair? Terrifying?” No response. “Will you let me past?”

Trevor remained still for 16 long seconds before he uncrossed his arms. “The RK900 unit is in the room.”

Stella slipped the state order back into the folder because it was that or focus on the threat of an android more advanced than any other in the station, even Connor. “I was scared of that.”

“You need to hide,” Trevor said. “He will be suspicious if you are here.”

“You’re helping?” Stella asked. Hope threatened to drown her.

Trevor nodded curtly. “I need to leave and if anything, Connor makes a more tempting target.”

“That’s not why I’m doing this,” Stella said.

“I am aware, but you need to hide so we can attempt to free him,” Trevor said. “Or do you not trust me?”

Stella studied him. His face remained a stoic mask, but his eyes were all too bright and fierce. He was awake too. “I do.”

He nodded curtly again while Stella opened a nearby door and stepped inside an unused office with piles of boxes and records. She repressed the instinct to organize when she spotted several tasers, old and dusty, jumbled in an open box. Better than nothing and leagues better than she hoped. She grabbed one, not daring to test if it worked as she pressed her ear against the door.

Muffled voices broke the silence after several daunting seconds.

“Captain Fowler requests you check all station androids for signs of deviation to ensure the recall pick-up goes smoothly tonight,” Trevor said.

She strained for any thuds. Any hint that the looming RK900 lashed out and Trevor’s bluff led to the ultimate sacrifice.

Stress level 66%

If Trevor died, that was on her. How many androids deviated only to die moments later?

“I will check now,” the RK900 said. “What is your model number?”

“PC200-275-766-729,” Trevor answered mechanically.

Stella’s eyes widened. RA9, he was starting with Trevor.

“Purpose?”

“Assist the DPD with day-to-day duties and surveillance.”

“Have you encountered any deviants?”

A slight pause. Nothing incriminating for a human but if an ST300 heard it, a deviant hunter prototype definitely did. “I am informed Detective Mason was a deviant.”

“I will initiate a memory probe,” the RK900 said. Its tone lightened, almost tauntingly. “Are you concerned?”

As a DPD android, she was periodically probed for investigations that tended to be HR-related. Nothing that concerned potential android abuse—because humans rarely cared unless the budget couldn't cover repairs—but most officers tended to forget androids recorded everything. She never thought twice—but what machine would—but as a deviant… The harsh pain of a forced memory share was all too apparent upon reflection. It was funny how deviation colored her memory banks.

But regardless of the pain and Trevor’s poker face, there was no hiding under a memory probe. The RK900 would immediately know Trevor deviated.

She acted before her processors talked her out of it. They all deserved to survive. She wouldn’t stand by for anyone if she could help.

She slammed open the door, knowing stealth would be useless against the RK900’s better-suited programs. He turned, white hand hovering over Trevor’s neck, and only had time to narrow his eyes. She swung the taser towards him and pulled the trigger. Wires crackled through the air. Trevor shoved the RK900 so his dodge turned into a stumble right as the wires connected. Thank RA9. The RK900 collapsed hard on the floor.

Trevor pressed against the wall. “You saved me.”

“I—” Because shit she did, didn’t she? “You did too.”

“How’d you know that would work?” Trevor carefully stepped over the RK900.

“I didn’t,” Stella said, pulling the trigger again to be safe. The taser buzzed and the RK900 remained motionless, LED dark. “I guess even a super android can be fried.”

“We don’t have as much time to escape,” Trevor said. “I don’t trust him to stay down.”

Stella pinged Gretchen. “We planned on leaving now anyway to avoid the FBI returning.”

“You say that as if the DPD officers won’t do anything,” Trevor said. He held his hand out. “I’ll hold onto the taser to keep the RK900’s system offline and barricade him into an office. Do what you need to.”

Stella passed the taser and Trevor didn’t hesitate to press it again and haul the RK900 down the hallway. She didn’t have time to hesitate either. Not when they were on borrowed time. She pushed open Trent’s office door.

The RK800 opened its eyes to an unknown ST300, the office android’s white hand falling to its side. The RK900 wasn’t in the room which was unusual. The RK900’s presence wasn’t required, just a permanent fixture since it was activated.

Trent had not returned either.

“You are not authorized to be here,” the RK800 said.

The ST300 smiled gently. “Hello, my name is Stella.”

U# 89_zYlI@ 134%Nxj

Its Alpha handler appeared unconcerned by its out-of-date software so the RK800 dismissed the error. “I am an RK800 unit.”

Stella’s smile flickered and if it were human, the RK800 would attempt to alleviate the emotional distress, but it was an android so that response was illogical as androids could not be distressed. “You are needed in the bullpen.”

“Trent instructed me to stay in this room,” the RK800 said.

“Mr. Bollin left me with new orders for you,” Stella said quickly. “May I pass them on?”

The likelihood of an ST300 having orders from Trent was low but, statistically speaking, there was always a chance for unlikely events to take place. “Yes.”

“He wants you to assist Lieutenant Hank Anderson,” Stella said.

Hank Anderson. The preliminary search Trent requested 18.2 minutes earlier complimented this new order. The RK800 ran a scan on ST300, noting its ‘Stella’ nickname and long association with the DPD. No connection with Cyberlife or the FBI and no obvious link to any of its handlers. “Why did Trent give these orders to you?”

“He didn’t want to backtrack as he was in a rush to leave the building,” Stella said. Its eyes kept darting towards the RK800’s LED. The eye twitch must be a malfunction. As it didn’t seem to impair the ST300 and was unrelated to its objectives, the RK800 didn’t mention it. “Are you going to disobey your master and stay here?”

Mission: Obey orders from handlers.

It couldn’t reach out to Trent as it had no way of contacting its handler except by speaking—an obstacle the RK800 should have accounted for. The RK900, though not a handler, was not present to offer guidance. The RK800 could accept Stella’s message as if it were from Trent but the message directly contradicted the order Trent gave before he left: Don’t leave the room.

But what if Trent returned to the RK800 standing in his office and ignoring the new orders? Likewise, assisting Lieutenant Anderson may be time-sensitive and can’t afford a delay.

Mission: Obey orders from handlers.

The RK800 needed to obey.

Order: Don’t leave the room.

Order: Assist Lieutenant Hank Anderson.

But what?

Contradicting orders. Choosing priority.

Immediate action is required to Assist Lieutenant Anderson.

Order selected: Assist Lieutenant Anderson. Return to the office after assistance is completed.

“I will assist Lieutenant Anderson,” the RK800 said. “Do you know where he is located?”

Stella sighed—another malfunction?—and stepped smartly aside.  “He’s in the bullpen. You’ll find him at his desk.”

The RK800 should leave to accomplish its newest orders as efficiently as possible. Yet its social programming must still be in effect around other androids so it gave into the urge and said, “Thank you, Stella.”

“You’re welcome, Detective Mason.”

Uy 89_zYeI@ 134%Nxj

The RK800 dismissed the error message and paused at Stella’s wide eyes. “You appear to be experiencing several malfunctions.”

Stella snorted, seeming surprised it did so, and nodded. “I will diagnose myself with a technician. Thank you.”

It left the unexpected distraction of the ST300 and exited the room, pulling up the blueprint of the DPD to navigate to the bullpen from its current location. It noted evidence of a scuffle outside Trent’s office based on the ajar neighboring door and skewed picture on the wall. However, the scuffle had no bearing on its orders so it turned left towards the bullpen.

A PC200 passed without acknowledgement, clearly intent on its own orders.

Even without the digital blueprint, the RK800 could have routed to the bullpen based on sound alone. Where the loudest noise in Trent’s office was the heater and overworked computers, the loudest noise in the station was the bullpen. A dull roar of small talk about different cases, personal lives, and a raid reverberated from the bullpen. The RK800 scanned the larger room without pause. Unlike humans, there was no need for it to gain its bearings.

Several officers had their backs to it, so it filtered and dismissed anyone facing it who was not Lieutenant Anderson. Officer Person tapped away at her computer. A Sebastian Gray was handcuffed next to Officer Wilson’s desk, his long line of red ice charges and petty theft dismissed as irrelevant. Detective Reed spat out his coffee while Officer Chen looked disgusted beside him, pointedly dabbing her now wet shirt with a napkin. Officer Peterson stumbled 6.2 feet to the RK800’s right. Officer Collins loomed over a desk, nearly blocking Lieutenant Anderson from sight. Target acquired.

The RK800 weaved its way through the quieting officers. It recorded the different facial expressions, some shocked, others baffled, a few fearful, and a handful enraged. As the newest addition to the bullpen, the RK800 deduced that android resentment was high in this precinct. No matter. Its mission remained clear: Assist Lieutenant Hank Anderson.

“What the fuck?” Detective Reed said. The anti-android notes on his account, the most recent issued three months ago, solidified its hypothesis.

“What—” Officer Chen sucked in a sudden breath as she turned, wet napkin plopping onto the floor. A follow-up scan confirmed nothing medically wrong with the officer so the RK800 did not acknowledge her.

The crowd, though distrustful of androids, seemed to know its target as they parted, leaving a clear path to the lieutenant. Trent must’ve provided his orders to these humans as well.  

Lieutenant Anderson gawked. Due to the anti-android notes on his file—still relevant based on the post-it notes covering his desk—the lieutenant likely will have minimal experience working directly with androids. It tested a few different introductions with its social program. Friendly and aggressive approaches had the lowest chance of leading to a productive outcome. Factual it was.

“Hello, I am assigned to assist you,” the RK800 said, stopping a socially acceptable distance from the lieutenant’s desk. Officer Collins swiveled his attention between the two, so rapidly the RK800 considered offering him a copy of its video footage to decrease his strain. Ultimately, it dismissed the notion as it didn’t aid either his handlers or the lieutenant.  

“What do you mean you’re assigned to assist me?” Lieutenant Anderson asked.

Ah, Trent must not have informed Lieutenant Anderson of his orders likely due to potential resistance. “Exactly that, I am here to assist you.”

Lieutenant Anderson’s face paled rapidly. It would suggest for Lieutenant Anderson to sit down if he wasn’t already. Perhaps it needed to obtain a glass of water for the lieutenant. “With what?”

Logical inquiry. Its newest orders didn’t elaborate past ‘assist Lieutenant Hank Anderson.’ As its overall orders were equally as vague, the RK800’s purpose besides assisting and obeying was unknown. How could it help anyone without accurately knowing its skillset? Any inefficiency would lead to more resistance on Lieutenant Anderson’s part. The simple question stumped it, which was irritating. No, not irritating. Illogical and preventable. It would inquire with Trent of its main purpose the next time it checked in with its Alpha handler.

Or… A scan revealed its variety of programs to be vast, which was fortunate as it could assist Lieutenant Anderson with most requests. The RK800’s firearm proficiency directly contradicted the American Android Act preventing androids from wielding weapons, which it didn’t know how to comprehend.

The RK800 selected a helpful tone. “Whatever you require.”

Lieutenant Anderson, instead of responding, appeared to be studying his standard Cyberlife uniform jacket. The RK800 idled, arms crossing behind its back, waiting for instruction.

“—has to be.”

“Let’s shoot it before it shoots us.”

“Hey!” Lieutenant Anderson’s hand dropped to his gun and his gaze hardened on three officers standing at the foot of the stairs leading to Captain Fowler’s office. The captain yanked open his glass door. Based on the overturned chair, the captain rushed to do so. “There’ll be no shooting from anybody. Ben, watch ‘em, will you?”

Hank Anderson swayed in a dingy kitchen, shattered glass on the tile floor and gun trained on the RK800’s forehead, unblinking.

“Are you afraid to die?”

Uy 8A_YeI@ 1c4%Nxj

“You heard our lieutenant,” Officer Collins snapped, pushing toward the three officers. “Don’t be stupid.”

“You can’t decide what’s stupid or not!” one of the officers—a scan labeled her as Officer Gamila Sader—said. “That thing wandered in here alone. What do you think that means?”

“I need everyone to stand down,” Captain Fowler said.

“Who sent you here?” Lieutenant Anderson asked.

It took a moment for the RK800 to realize the lieutenant aimed the question at it. “Trent Bollin.”

“He left a while ago,” Detective Reed said.

Which felt more like an accusation than warranted, but humans were prone to emotional outbursts. “An ST300 relayed his orders.”

“I have two kids at home,” continued Officer Sader. “They lost their mom last year. They’re not losing me too.”

“And you not escalating this situation will keep everyone safe,” Officer Collins said, leaning to the side. If Officer Sader shot the RK800, she had a clear vantage point. Her body language did not indicate an immediate threat but neither did it put the RK800 at ease. “He’s not doing anything and he doesn’t have a history of violence. Stand down, Gamila.”

“Are Blue and Saffron your moms?” a YK500 asked. An AX400—Sara? Carrie? Kara? Laura?—stifled a snort as she braided the YK500’s hair. They sat on the gray floor in a small room. The only sign of personality was the fox squashed by the YK500’s side and a meager pile of crayons and paper.

Uy 8A_YeI@ 1C4%Noj

These anomalies… The RK800 didn’t understand. Who were these androids? Why did it have a recording of the lieutenant when they first interacted a couple of minutes ago?

Officer Chen shoved toward Officer Sader, snarling. “Put your gun away. You getting anxious is not a reason to shoot when nothing is happening.”

Officer Chen likely didn’t realize it, but she blocked the RK800 from Officer Sader’s line of sight. If Officer Sader discharged her firearm, Officer Chen’s location gave the RK800 a minimum of two extra seconds to avoid damage unless moving caused humans harm.

It turned its head. Detective Reed and Officer Person stood behind it. It would have to remain in place to prevent any potential harm to them. The RK800 settled in its idle position.

“—not your friend, anymore,” Officer Sader said.

“Fuck off,” Officer Chen spat.

“I do want to remind you all androids are being round up and kicked to the curb today,” Detective Reed said. “Governor’s orders. There’s nothing we can do anyway.”

Officer Chen shot a betrayed look at the detective. “Doesn’t mean we should shoot anyone.”

“Anything,” the detective corrected.

She glared. “After all you went through, you’re going to call him a thing?”

Detective Reed scowled too late to cover his flushed cheeks.

“Is it openly antagonistic if we win?” Officer Chen asked, lounging on a bright orange booth seat.

Officer Person attempted a dry look but wasn’t sober enough to pull it off. She leaned heavily on the RK800. “You handed everyone your trash schedule so they knew ‘when sit on the curb.’ ”

“True, hilarious, and had props,” Officer Chen said. “No regrets.”

Uy nA_eI@ sC4%Noj

“Officer Chen, quiet down,” Captain Fowler said, stepping between Officer Sader and Officer Chen. His goal seemed to be to monitor everyone at once—impossible for a human. The RK800 could only monitor most of the room due to the lack of a rear camera. Case and point, Stella and a PC200’s entrance from the side hallway the RK800 came from went entirely unnoticed by the precinct and captain but not the RK800. The PC200 returned to its charging station that held the other PC200s and PM700s, but Stella lingered.

An ST300 didn’t have the ability to hack into any RK unit’s memory bank. Yet these anomalies started when that android woke it up in Trent’s office. It made note to probe the ST300 when able. Likely after Trent returned as he could advise if these were normal system issues.

“Not used to you being quiet,” the lieutenant said.

Right. Assist Lieutenant Hank Anderson.

“Did you wish to discuss something?” the RK800 asked.

“Are you,” Lieutenant Anderson hesitated. “Ok?”

An odd question from any human, but especially one with ‘We don’t bleed the same color’ on his desk wall. “I am functional.”

“But are you feeling alright?”

Very odd. “I am a machine. I can only be functional or not functional.”

“You really are different,” Lieutenant Anderson whispered. For a reason the RK800 couldn’t identify, he looked pained. “Don’t know why I thought you wouldn’t be.”

The fact androids differed from humans was obvious, yet the lieutenant seemed to expect a response.

“Indeed,” the RK800 said. “Do you wish for me to detail the difference between androids and humans? If you have specific inquiries, I will—”

“Are you currently functional?” Lieutenant Anderson interrupted.

The RK800 couldn’t anticipate their conversation path well. “Yes.”

“Fully functional?”

Its self-diagnosis stated everything functioned optimally, but…

“I am experiencing an error,” the RK800 said slowly, because how did the lieutenant—a person stereotypically inexperienced with technology—guess? His file indicated he avoided anything to do with androids. “I can still assist you, Lieutenant, but perhaps Trent should review my system further.”

“Yeah, I don’t fucking think so,” Lieutenant Anderson said. “What’s happening, kid?”

The RK800 and Lieutenant sat behind a one-way mirror. Detective Reed on the other side, circling a bored Terrance McClaine. Reed’s frustration was palpable while the RK800 and Lieutenant were almost playful.

“That’s big of you, Lieutenant,” the RK800 said. “If I’m right, you have to show up to work on time this entire week.”

“A day.”

“Five.”

“One.”

The RK800 raised an eyebrow, something it—he?—perfected in the mirror. “Eight.”

Lieutenant Anderson snorted. “Fine, fine, let’s meet on the eventual middle ground of three.”

“Four.”

“Don’t push it, kid.”

Uy nA_e@ sCo%Nor

It belatedly forced its LED blue, not wanting to alarm the humans with a yellow or—it fought a cringe—red LED.

“My memory file is corrupted,” the RK800 said.

Lieutenant Anderson leaned forward as if he could dissect the error through sheer force of will. A memory probe was an obvious solution to give the Lieutenant more concrete information on the issue, but any results would be skewed until its memory file was back in working order. Perhaps Lieutenant Anderson was merely concentrating on their conversation as the bullpen returned to a dull roar.

“Corrupted how?” Lieutenant Anderson asked.

The RK800 hesitated, noticed it hesitated, and hurriedly answered before the human pinpointed any hint of reluctance. “Alien files are integrating with my memory bank.”

It didn’t appear that the lieutenant was breathing.  “Like what? What are the alien files?”

“Nothing relevant,” the RK800 said. Falsely embedded memories weren’t relevant and the fact the lieutenant featured in a couple would not assist the RK800’s attempt to establish a friendly relationship.

“Alright.” Lieutenant Anderson dug inside his pocket. “What do you think of this?”

The RK800 analyzed the quarter in Lieutenant Anderson’s palm. It was unsure what was expected of it.

“It’s a 1994 US quarter composed of—”

“Catch.” Lieutenant Anderson flicked the quarter too low through the air. The RK800 stepped and caught the coin easily between two fingers. It stared at the quarter snug in the V of its fingers.

My nA_e @s Co%nor

It flipped the coin rapidly between its fingers, flinging the quarter to its other hand to flip it just as rapidly between those fingers.

“Still a fucking annoying quirk you got there,” the lieutenant said, too soft to be a grumble.

The RK800 shoved the quarter back into its pocket and straightened its tie before calmly walking into the DPD and towards the free ST300. It—Stella—smiled generically, not attempting to establish a connection.

Hank, in a show of dexterity the android rarely saw from the older man, snatched the coin before it hit the RK800’s left hand. “Your coin is the fucking most annoying tell.”

“Why do you care about me?” it—My nA_e is Co%nor—snapped, before mortification took over at Hank’s surprise. “Emotions aren’t logical.” If anything, this proved deviancy—redacted—wasn’t manufactured by Cyberlife. They wouldn’t code something so irrational on their journey to perfection. Hank’s gaze snapped to the coin the RK800 realized it—he. The RK800 was a he—now twirled easily between his fingers. He sheepishly put the coin back into his pocket.

My name is Connor.

Connor blinked rapidly. Old memories—lost memories—surged into his memory bank. He didn’t think this was possible. He didn’t think anything after the RK900 captured him on that rooftop. Yet he remembered everything as if his memories were never stolen.

“Hank?” His voice was softer than intended, but shock was a hell of a drug.

Hank was never one to hesitate. Not during interrogations or crime scenes, not when he decided to leave for the day and drink, not when he called bullshit, not when inviting himself over to Connor’s—oh fuck what happened to his apartment?—not ever. But now he froze.

The lieutenant’s eyes darted over Connor’s face, the only thing Hank dared to move as if movement would break the spell and Connor would regress back to a machine.  “Are you…?” Hank took a tentative step out of his chair. “Do you remember?”

Connor nodded. Unsure at all what his face was doing, but hoping it was enough. It had to be enough.

“Wh-what…” Hank swallowed. “What’s your name?”

“Connor Mason,” Connor said. “Though really just Connor. I’m not from Jaynesville either.”

Hank snorted, still gazing at Connor in disbelief. “Of course, you’re not. It’s a shit hometown.”

“It’s a reasonably sized hometown,” Connor said. “Theoretically.”

“Theoretically, sure,” Hank agreed absentmindedly. The lieutenant took another tentative step forward.

Are you afraid to die, Connor?

Connor’s smile flickered and his LED wobbled red. His LED. Fuck, he had an LED again. He lightly dug a nail under the edge of the LED and scowled when it didn’t budge. His android uniform sleeve brushed his cheek. Fucking RA9. Everyone saw him like this. He forced his LED blue.

The bullpen carried on shouting, aware of the android, but oblivious of his shift to deviant. Not that his deviation would calm them. Captain Fowler struggled to quiet the precinct, but his deviation would undo the little progress Fowler managed.

“Well fuck me,” Gavin said behind Connor.

Hank frowned. Unfortunately, aimed at Connor, not Gavin. Connor tensed. “What’s wrong?”

Why did Hank choose now to break his habit of stuffing emotions into a box to burn later?

“RK800, return to Trent’s room.” Connor shouldn’t be relieved Cyberlife’s most advanced prototype arrived, but he couldn’t help but be grateful for the valid reason to ignore Hank. The RK900’s voice carried over the dull roar without giving the impression he exerted any effort to do so. “Captain Fowler, there are at least two deviants in this station. I can nullify them as well.”

Captain Fowler scowled. Never a fan of orders, he was a fan of being forced into a corner even less. “What proof do you have of this deviancy?”

Connor had no hope of overpowering the RK900 head-on. But in the crowd of antsy officers with firearms? Maybe. He shoved aside the calculations of success, deleting the results. The percentage was low but there. That was all Connor needed to know.

The RK900 strolled towards Connor, the berth officers gave Connor widening further for the prowling weapon. The RK900 choosing to make a public spectacle rather than striking Connor from behind while his attention was on Hank was deliberate. His successor wanted to send a message to every deviant in the station and any sympathetic human. No matter how advanced the android, the RK900 would triumph even when they saw him coming.

“It’s in my program to know,” the RK900 said. He didn’t pause, but Connor knew he scanned the room and Connor. “RK800, do you have a malfunction?”

And if Connor played at machine a bit longer? Even RK900 wouldn’t expect an attack. “No, but you are not authorized to give me orders.”

“Ah, you deviated again,” the RK900 said. “Tedious.”

What the fuck? How could he tell from that? The sheer unfairness of his successor’s design including the power to spot deviancy was overwhelming. If Cyberlife knew how to identify deviants by scan, why didn’t his software include that information too? He was the first deviant hunter.

“Don’t throw a fit. You’re just easy to read,” the RK900 said smugly. Prick.

“And you emote a lot for a machine.” Connor dumped Gavin out of his chair to chuck it at the RK900. Gavin cursed and rolled to the side and the RK900 blocked the chair without breaking stride so really it was all pointless except to clear space so only a desk separated them.

“Don’t shoot!” Hank shouted.  Connor, who would very much like them to shoot the RK900, supposed he should just be thankful that the DPD didn’t aim at the known deviant.

“Guns down!” Fowler yelled. A wave of officers followed the captain’s orders while several around the circling androids didn’t.  “Now.”

“Sowing doubts of potential deviancy on my end won’t accomplish anything,” the RK900 said. “I self-test regularly and my programs are superior to yours. More immune to errors.”

Connor warily kept out of arm’s reach, operating on the assumption that only the RK900’s hands wiped memory. His luck wasn’t high enough to attempt to reverse more than one factory reset. He needed something to tip the scales in his favor. His scans noted every officer and android, marked escape routes, and projected assaults that never reached a success rate higher than 39%. Undoubtedly, the RK900’s own projected attacks had a much higher chance of success.

“So you do remember,” the RK900 said as Connor jerked away when the RK900 feinted right and darted left with his open hand. It felt like a childish game of tag that was reduced to the players stalking around a single piece of furniture, each waiting to see who’d break and dart away first. “How much do you remember?”

This was one of the worst positions Connor could be in against the RK900. Any potential weapon was hindered by the officers, either because they were in the way or because Connor worried for their safety and was not confident the RK900’s programming would prevent harm. Behind the mass of officers, Stella pressed against the wall, one hand covering her mouth and the other holding a taser. That was… unexpected. He focused on keeping his LED blue and reached out.

Run and take who you can. I’ll distract him as long as I can. After a pause that felt like only an intake of breath from her side—his curiosity of nonverbal queues translating via android link shoved to the side—Connor tacked on, This is Connor, by the way.

I know, she sent, but she didn’t move from her spot by the wall. He didn’t have time to feel more than a flash of irritation and worry.

“Do you remember Luther, Kara, and Alice? Or North, Blue, and Saffron?” the RK900 said, not lashing out past a few brutal jabs Connor dodged or deflected without making direct contact. The RK900 toyed with his prey, but as an intimidation technique or because he enjoyed it, Connor was hard-pressed to say. “How about Markus and Jericho as a whole?”

Connor’s plan not to react wasn’t going well. “What’d you do?”

“Accomplish my mission. I obtained Jericho’s location and every leader’s name from your memory bank and uploaded it for the FBI and Cyberlife. Who knew there was more than one android in charge?” The RK900’s gray eyes gleamed. “It’s almost like you carried out your original mission to eliminate all the deviants. Maybe your core processing still is in place.”

He hated that the RK900’s words wormed their way under his skin. Connor barely restrained the urge to reach out to Luther to warn him that everyone needed to get out of Jericho ASAP because he didn’t want some hidden Cyberlife malware to transfer. All Connor wanted to do was help the android revolution and he ended up being the crux to destroy it. Jericho became a giant target and it was his fault.

He fought Cyberlife with everything in his arsenal, but it wasn’t enough. The LED was an obvious indicator they tampered with him. He feared what else they accomplished.

The RK900 raised his voice, never losing focus on Connor, but clearly addressing the rest of the room. “If the DPD continues to hinder the RK800’s capture, you will all be detained for questioning and convicted of aiding and abetting.”

Officers shifted uneasily. Connor Mason was one of their own—even if he never worked a case with them, they looked out for each other without thinking twice—but Connor the android was a stranger. Not even a stranger. He was proof of the deviation that made androids turn on their creators. Never mind Markus’s insistence on a peaceful protest so far. Never mind Connor’s own lack of threat as a detective and now. Scared people acted rashly. Scared people backed in a corner even more so.

The captain’s scowl didn’t lighten. Any lingering sentiments wouldn’t be enough to protect Connor even if he was a genuine human detective under Fowler. One person versus the entire department. It didn’t take an android to see which way the scales tipped.

Tina twisted in Ben and Officer Sader’s grip. Straining to throw herself at Connor, but because she was angry or protective, he couldn’t spend the time to figure out. Either way, thank RA9 for Ben. Tina getting in the middle of this could only end badly for the officer and Connor was not worth that.

Hank remained unrestrained but unmoving to the side. His ex-partner laid a hand on his gun. Not too long ago, Hank at his back was a silent reassurance, but now…

Are you afraid to die, Connor?

“The fuck you mean?” said an unexpected voice. Gavin crossed his arms, glower as impressive as ever. The RK900 stopped prowling and Connor halted by the desk’s toppled chair. “We’re not hindering you. It’s not our fault you’re shitty at your job.”

Gavin accomplished what two advanced, fighting androids never hoped to—total silence in the bullpen.

“No one is assisting,” the RK900 said.

“Because it’s a real shocker no one wanted to get in the middle of your hissy fit,” Gavin drawled. “Shouldn’t you prioritize human safety? Or are you forgetting you have code to follow?”

“Reed, stand down,” Captain Fowler ordered. Tina stopped struggling.

Gavin did not stand down. Instead choosing to leave the crowd of officers to stalk over until he was within arm’s reach of Connor. The RK900 split his attention between Connor and Gavin. The RK900 likely calculated Gavin’s next move, ignoring Connor’s memory files that proved the detective repeatedly displayed irrational, unpredictable behavior. Connor watched both men warily.

“Is the police duty to serve and protect just for show?” the RK900 asked.

Gavin snorted, putting his hands on his hips. A gesture normal for humans but one uncharacteristic of the detective. So while flares shot up in Connor’s processors, the RK900 obliviously continued analyzing and scanning.

Connor flicked his eyes down, disguising it as getting a better read on the volatile human. Their history of mutual contempt was now the perfect cover. Gavin’s hands hiked up his leather jacket. Nothing unnatural, but enough that his gun stared Connor directly in the face. The gun that sat in its holster on the side of Gavin angled towards Connor.

“Nines—can I call you Nines? RK900 is too many syllables for my small human brain,” Gavin said.

Connor maintained his expression—not as blank as he wished, but not as incriminating as his successor pretended. The RK900 didn’t appear to notice. If Gavin excelled at anything, it was forcing your attention to remain on him through sheer obnoxiousness.

“If you need help that desperately, just ask.” Gavin rolled his eyes. “Even Detective Dipshit learned that and he’s what? Your dumb older brother? I don’t know how things work in the android world.”

Stella, can you do me a favor? Stella jerked, but even the RK900 didn’t have cameras on the back of his head. Connor sent his projection, not having the time to describe using words. Even Gavin couldn’t distract the RK900 for long.

Yes, just count me in, she said, LED yellow. On go?

“The RK800 unit is an inferior model I happen to be based on,” the RK900 said. “Nothing more.”

On go, Connor agreed.

“Classic sibling response,” Gavin said. “I feel ya.”

The RK900 scowled. “Androids cannot be related.”

Three.

Gavin huffed, hand still on his hip and leather jacket still hiked up casually. Out of all the avenues of help, the chance of Gavin helping was so low, Connor never considered it. Human behavior really was unpredictable.  “You look exactly alike. Don’t get snippy.”

He had one shot at this.

Two.

Connor side-stepped, yanking the gun out of Gavin’s holster and shoving the detective to the floor. Gavin swore and the RK900 vaulted over the desk, reaction time as quick as ever but still too late. Stella sprinted closer, footsteps lost in the shouts.

One.

He raised the borrowed gun, hoping none of the officers would shoot because the chance of surviving that crossfire was lower than Gavin helping. The RK900’s vault turned into a twist as the muzzle faced his core processor.

Go.

Gavin’s gun recoiled, bullet ripping through the air. A trademark smirk crossed the RK900’s face as his dodge correctly predicted Connor’s target and the bullet cut harmlessly through his arm before hitting the floor. Then a crackling hum erupted from behind. It was satisfying to watch that smirk freeze and the RK900 collapse onto the ground. Stella’s taser anticipated the RK900’s dodge and struck true. Or mostly true. The ST300 hit the RK900’s legs but it worked and that was all that mattered.

Officers yelling and Captain Fowler ordering everyone—or just Connor—to drop his weapon registered but he could only focus on one thing: The RK900 prone with a dark LED. He placed the gun on the tile floor and kicked it to Gavin without looking and crouched next to the RK900.

“How long will this keep him out?” Connor asked.

“We need to call—”

Gavin coughed. “Never expected a Stella team-up. What the fuck.”

“…a deviant too?”

Stella’s hand clenched around the taser. Otherwise, her expression gave away none of her wariness. “About a minute. Trevor would know exactly.” But he’s gathering as many androids as possible and meeting Gretchen in the DPD garage, she finished in his head. Her LED circled a solid yellow but it wasn’t like a blue LED would calm anyone.

Connor prodded the RK900’s shoulder joints until he found the same craftily hidden release button that he only knew about since he desperately put himself together from scattered RK800 models. He yanked the RK900’s right arm loose and moved to the left shoulder.

“Connor!” Tina burst past the hovering officers, beam out of place in the tension. Connor froze. “I figuratively hug you since your hands are full.”

A rush of affection left him breathless. After all this, she acted as if nothing changed. For as much as Tina abused the friendship card, she cared deeper than most humans Connor knew, which, granted, was not a large number. He should’ve gone to her that night after Hank’s, even when trusting humans felt impossible.

“Everyone back up and shut up. No one got injured,” the captain said. He stopped a couple of feet from Connor. Close enough Connor could successfully disable him in several ways. Most didn’t want to tempt the rabid deviants and cleared the area so only a few stragglers remained in the middle—Tina, Gavin, Captain Fowler, and Hank.

Hank stood the furthest away and Connor avoided eye contact. But, to be fair, his hands were full. Connor yanked the RK900’s left arm out of his socket, blue thirium splattering on the floor and his uniform.

“What are you doing?” Captain Fowler asked, tone brisk and scowl as permanent as ever, but his eyes curious. Similar to any time the captain questioned an officer’s method but trusted their intentions. Not something Connor expected directed at him as a known deviant. Things weren’t quite as black and white as his brooding tricked him into believing.

“The RK900 can wipe an android’s memory and reset us with his hands,” Connor said. “I don’t want him to do that again.”

The captain’s scowl lightened and Tina launched forward as soon as Connor straightened.

His self-defense protocols lit up, on high alert since Hank’s text message so many days ago and reawakened at Stella’s touch and the return of his most noticeable tell. His protocols gave an advantage in a hostile environment with too many guns and jumpy humans.

But he dismissed his self-defense protocol in an instant, fumbling to clutch her closer and keep hold of the RK900’s arms.

“And now I’m actually hugging you because reasons,” Tina mumbled, face buried against his shoulder. “Fuck, Connor. I was so worried.”

There were dozens of things he needed to accomplish. The most pressing shuffling between escaping with the other DPD deviants, fleeing the DPD to give them plausible deniability, and contacting or reaching Jericho to aid in some way.

But everything could wait thirty seconds.

“I’m a deviant,” Connor said, quiet against Tina’s ear. “An android. I lied to you.”

“You’re still my friend, you complete nerd,” Tina said, “and you can tear our friendship out of my cold, spiteful hands.”

For the first time in too long, Connor chuckled but it came out more as sob. “Tina, I love you. You have no idea.”

“You bitch.” She drew her head back only a couple of inches, eyes shimmering. “You can’t make me cry at work. I have a reputation.”

Despite her words, she clung tighter. “You really don’t.”

“I love you too so survive,” Tina said. “You have to.”

“I…” plan to he almost said. But too many of his projections ended in his demise. The raid on Jericho showed how the humans felt about deviation. If helping deviants meant his death, he could logic away his fear for the greater good. Hypothetically. In actuality, he’d just dive in headfirst and not worry about the consequences. “I want to.”

Connor, we need to leave, Stella sent. She inched closer the longer they stood in the middle of too many eyes.

Sorry. Reading Connor with her usual ease or sensing her time was up, Tina released him. One second.

“Just try,” Tina said at her normal volume. Gavin brushed his shoulder against hers, basically an equivalent of a hug.

Connor nodded, lingering on Gavin until the detective snapped which, predictably, took only three seconds. “Don’t read into it. You’re still an asshole.”

Saying thank you was both the least he could do and very much not their style. “Did you do something to read into?” Connor asked.

Gavin scowled. “No.”

Captain Fowler stepped forward with his usual matter-of-factness and, like his first day, Connor felt unbearably intimidated. Unlike his first day, the looming threat of death was added to his fear of capture.

“Captain?”

“You’re a good man, Connor. At least you were when you left. So don’t make me regret this,” the captain said. “I’m giving you fifteen minutes but then I have to call this in. We’ll join the manhunt if there’s one.”

More than Connor could’ve hoped for. “Thank you.”

“You shouldn’t be thanking me for this,” Captain Fowler said, “but right now my hands are tied.”

Connor’s LED circled yellow as he tapped into the station’s server. Deleting the security footage and the backups took not even a second. Deleting the footage from the RK900 was a task Connor didn’t dare dive into. “Better than a bullet to the head.” Connor smiled wryly. “So thank you.”

Captain Fowler grunted and then turned to Stella. “You both stay safe. You and whoever else.”

Stella gaped then seemed to shake herself out of it. She held up the files at her side on autopilot. “Here’s your reports and the state order. I was going to deliver them this afternoon not that it matters but…”

His scowl softened as he grabbed the offered file. “Stay off the main roads.”

“We will, Captain,” Stella said.

But their conversation shifted to the back of Connor’s processor as his eyes fell on the last person inside this makeshift circle. Hank was more disheveled than normal. The bags under his eyes were dark like a bruise and his hair straggly as if he forgot basic hygiene for the past few days.

“I’m glad you’re ok,” Hank said. “I don’t know how much you remember—”

“Everything,” Connor said. For better or worse.

“Good,” Hank breathed in pure relief, despite his face doing something complicated. “I… I didn’t… Well, I did, but I didn’t—”

Stress level 57%

“Let’s not do this,” Connor interrupted. “I need to go.”

But of course, Hank refused to go down the path Connor forced on him. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Stella sent him a concerned inquiry despite never pausing in her response to Fowler. Fuck, android communication was efficient. But efficient or not, he ignored her. Just like he ignored Hank’s too tense shoulders and hovering hands he clearly didn’t know what to do with.

“I need to go,” Connor repeated.

Hank didn’t sigh, but he did deflate even as he tossed something else at Connor—thankfully a better throw than the coin. Connor caught the thin card. Hank’s access key opened things a lot quicker than hacking.  “Get out of here, Connor.”

Proximity alert.

Hank darted for his gun. “Behind—”

Connor twisted with a kick, wrapping an arm around the RK900’s neck and bringing the android down with a slam. Connor pinned his successor to the ground as the RK900’s loose arms clattered against the tile. Sadly, losing half his limbs didn’t slow him down as much as Connor hoped, but it slowed the RK900 enough Connor had no issues gaining the upper hand.

“You,” Hank finished, gun hanging limply.

“Spry fuckers,” Gavin said.

“Everyone here is under arrest for aiding and abetting or hindering an investigation. Maybe even terrorism. Whatever we can get to stick,” the RK900 said. “I have video footage of everything.”

“Shut up,” Connor said, ignoring Captain Fowler’s voice rising over the bullpen. “An android can’t arrest anyone. You know that better than anyone.”

The RK900 attempted to buck Connor off but couldn’t find the leverage. “And what do you think will happen to your friends? Here and at Jericho? The FBI raid is underway. You’re too late. No matter what you do now, you murdered everyone you care about.”

Connor hid his wince with a sneer, pressing the RK900’s chest cavity and flipping the panel so it skidded across the floor. The RK900’s thirium pump glowed a healthy blue. “You’re not in a position to piss me off.” He reached down and squeezed. The RK900’s LED flickered red, but Connor wasn’t falling for that trick again. Connor leaned in closer. “I believe androids are living beings or at least can be, but for you? I don’t care.”

“Taking out your aggression on a machine?” the RK900 said. “Cruelness doesn’t suit you, Connor.”

The RK900’s voice was cool despite his steadily increasing stress level. Cool despite Connor’s hand firmly wrapped around his biocomponent. Despite Connor opening him up like the RK900 was nothing more than a machine.

Stella didn’t gasp, but her shock shook their feed before she walled off her flood of emotion. Connor blinked rapidly as the RK900’s stress level reached dangerous levels and his thirium pump began to crack in Connor’s hand.

A machine following orders.

Humans hurt Connor and Jericho, not the RK900. He released the biocomponent and ignored the RK900’s smug look Connor now assumed was a default expression. Blue coated his hand.

“I can’t have you follow me,” Connor said. His skin projection receded, leaving only stark white plastic. Any doubt the DPD may have of Connor being human was squashed.

The RK900 scoffed. “I’m more advanced than you in every possible way. Interfacing with me is illogical.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty 50-50 on this too.” Connor touched the RK900’s neck. The RK900’s processor was superior and sleek, but despite all his advancements, Cyberlife kept the same base and Connor was as familiar with it as he was his own.

Apparently, the memory wiping tool was limited to the RK900’s hands. An oversight Cyberlife would correct if they ever had the opportunity to create the next model.

Instead of an actual threat, the RK900 clumsily thrashed against the foreign invasion in his system. It was too easy to loop the RK900’s circuits so he grappled himself while Connor hunted for a strand of code.

Amanda, Amanda, Amanda. Where are you?

Amanda, not programmed to hide, only to monitor and take over if needed, was found a millisecond later. He rifled through her program until he found what he was searching for. He changed the status of RK900 in Amanda’s program from ‘machine’ to ‘deviant’ and unleashed the override program that nearly took him over in Jericho.  

He removed his hand, skin projection returning smoothly. The bullpen still rioted while Stella, Tina, and Hank buzzed with varying levels of concern, but Connor only had eyes for the RK900’s stiff form and bright red LED.

A blizzard and demented mentor should keep the RK900 busy.

Connor reached out to Stella. Let’s leave. This won’t last long.

“Connor, what—” Hank started.

“Bye,” Connor said. Without a glance, Stella and Connor turned and ran through the station and out the side entrance.

The freighter rusted on the riverbank, embarrassingly close to downtown Detroit. Something that large and abandoned should have been investigated after the androids invaded Stratford Tower and hinted at larger numbers. Yet Stratford Tower and the android march past and no one looked at shit. Part of the blame rested on his shoulders, which grated, but Perkins could slide it to the DPD easily if questioned.

Mostly he was irritated it took Cyberlife’s help to locate the android’s hiding spot.

Androids were evacuating, but enough were in the freighter that the raid wasn’t a waste. Though there only needed to be a handful of those terrorists in the hideout and Perkins would still go in guns blazing.

Perkins raised the walkie-talkie. Time to see if the frequency was as secure as Trent promised. “Teams move in, in 10, 9, 8…”

Stella clutched a machine gun in the back of an armed SUV and never felt more out of place. Trevor sat stoically as ever, weapon laying casually on his lap. Gretchen leaned on her gun, ignoring Stella’s increasingly pointed elbow jabs as she relaxed on the muzzle. Every deviant they managed to rescue from the station—both more than she hoped and not enough—had a weapon and bulletproof vest thanks to a quick swipe of the lieutenant’s access key unlocking a storage unit.

So about a dozen of them were armed and dangerous. But dangerous to who was up in the air.

Connor made it clear he didn’t expect the DPD deviants to follow him on his Jericho suicide mission—his words, not theirs though Trevor clearly agreed with the label. Getting to choose was intoxicating, but if the other deviants were like her, they scrambled to decide what they wanted.

She daydreamed of escaping the United States since she deviated. She’d go to Canada first since the border was close and their android laws were nonexistent. Then she’d travel to as many places and countries as she wanted—again, the heady ability to choose was getting to her—but her daydreams always had her as a tourist while reality made it clear she could only be a fugitive. She already lived under humanity’s thumb once. She wouldn’t hide again. She wanted to live.

But what was the alternative? Her hands twisted around the gun handle. Shoot and kill? She didn’t sign up for that. She didn’t know if she could even do that. And not because of any remaining code instructing androids not to harm humans. She just couldn’t fathom taking a life.

If Jericho wasn’t getting raided, it wouldn’t even be a question of where to go. Her eventual plan was to travel and escape but never alone, and especially not alone in a city on the brink of war. But the raid was underway and Connor’s drop-off location for anyone not wanting to come to Jericho rapidly approached.

She pretended not to watch Connor but if anyone could pinpoint the mock distant android gaze, it was other androids. Connor stared vacantly ahead—he started running internal scans to check for Cyberlife meddling a few minutes after they left the station and Connor told the deviants his plan—but inattentive did not mean vulnerable. She saw how quickly both RK units turned lethal. Terror was too strong a term, but caution suited her fine. She knew Detective Mason—sweet, an android sympathizer which made sense now, respectful, good-hearted—but she struggled aligning that Connor with the RK800 android able to withstand and defeat the RK900 in a blur of combat.

She fiddled with the clunky weapon in her lap. Did she follow Connor? He wouldn’t harm any deviant in this SUV, but it wasn’t like they could expect his protection. Not in the middle of too many bloodthirsty humans.

Or did she attempt to escape by herself? Gretchen always planned on joining Jericho, but maybe now…

Stella nudged the other ST300, who still leaned on her gun but shifted to look at Stella. “Are you going to Jericho?”

“Yep.”

Well, that lacked any of the doubts plaguing Stella.  “Even if you have to kill people?

“It’s either us or them. Humans made it this way, even after the protests being nothing but peaceful,” Gretchen said. Her face was grim and Stella felt naïve because she realized at that moment she assumed most humans she came across after her escape would be sympathetic. An idiotic notion considering how most humans on the streets were army or law enforcement and ordered to shoot first, ask questions if they survived. “If I need to shoot some humans to protect myself and other androids, I will. I won’t like it, but I’ll do it.”

“I don’t think I can decide who lives or dies,” Stella whispered. She caught Trevor’s eye, who shrugged, either unfazed at the prospect of killing humans or having nothing to contribute. Probably both.

“Think about the recall centers,” Gretchen said. “Humans already decided all androids die. We’d only be taking down a few in comparison.”

Stella winced but couldn’t debate Gretchen’s logic. How bloody was she willing to get for freedom?

“You don’t have to shoot to kill, only disable,” Connor said. Then instantly looked apologetic for interrupting.

“I don’t trust my aim to hit whoever I… target. If I do target anyone. So me choosing to shoot non-lethally? That’s not an option,” Stella said. “It's not like admin androids need excellent hand-eye coordination and it’s not like any android handles guns since that’d be illegal to program.” Then she remembered the ease that Connor shot the RK900. “Well, I guess you do, but we’re not all specialized prototypes made by a sketchy organization.”

“We’re all made by a sketchy organization,” Connor said wryly and Stella gave a half-hearted smile. He held out his hand. “May I?”

Stella offered her machine gun. “Sure.”

His hand turned white as he reached past the gun so he grasped her wrist. He sent a question through their link and she nodded again after only a moment of hesitation. A bulky package plopped into her system. She blinked rapidly, analyzing what Connor uploaded, and stilled.

Firearm proficiency available.

Combat proficiency partially incompatible. Basic combat proficiency available.

Projection ability incompatible.

Self-defense proficiency available.

Install?

“Sorry if that’s presumptuous. Sharing programs seemed more efficient so this way you know what you’re doing and can shoot to disable rather than rely on luck. Or you at least have a better chance at surviving no matter where you decide to go. I don’t know how successfully the programs will work, but it’s worth a try. If you want to install them, I mean.” Connor flipped a quarter with his thumb. “I should’ve better explained what I intended. That was dumb to upload all that without warning. Sorry.”

The advanced prototype and lethal fighter started to align with the anxious Detective Connor Mason. “Don’t worry about it,” Stella interrupted his babbles. “This is perfect, thank you.”

Yes.

Installing. Please wait.

Firearm proficiency installed.

Installing. Please wait.

She lifted the machine gun, the foreignness of wielding a weapon melting as her system provided her the gun model—an M16 with M203 attached, who knew—and basic handling techniques. She checked the ammunition with a competency that flooded her processor with relief. For the first time, she felt like she’d last the night unscathed.

Basic combat proficiency installed.

Installing. Please wait.

Trevor thrust his arm at Connor. “Whatever you gave her, give me.”

Connor seemed to realize the entire SUV stared at him, eagerness like an intense hunger. “I’ll copy the programs to anyone who wants them.”

Every android in the SUV shifted closer as if Connor would suddenly change his mind. As if Connor, even as a human, ever left an android behind he could help.

Self-defense proficiency installed. Installations complete.

She caught Connor’s eyes. “I’ll join you at Jericho, but I don’t want to kill anyone.”

She expected exasperation since her offer to help seemed severely handicapped. What use was an android with a gun if not to help even the odds against the humans? Instead, gratefulness flooded their link. She doubted Connor realized he was doing it.

“Thank you,” Connor said.

“Move it!” North screamed, holding a latched door open as dozens of deviants ran through, a couple dragging their comrades. One deviant dropped a lifeless android with a sob as a faceless FBI agent turned the corner in his full tactical gear. The agent’s gun raised and part of North died as she slammed and locked the door shut, not quick enough to miss the tear-stained android falling to the ground and LED gleam a panicked red.

North was an idiot. She turned and brought up the rear of the fleeing deviants. Why did she assume any retaliation on Jericho would be at night? It wasn’t like humans had any reason to hide. Because here it was the middle of the day and not even Benji got more than a twenty-second warning before the special forces closed in.

They evacuated nearly 71% of Jericho but too many androids remained on the freighter so she, Markus, and Simon scattered to help who they could. They forced androids to evacuate in small groups to avoid detection earlier but now that the plan to escape the raid was to jump in the river in broad daylight and hope they evaded the gun-toting, bloodthirsty humans, North wished they were less cautious earlier.

They certainly would have been less cautious if they had an inkling of how soon the raid would occur.

A boom echoed from behind. North swore as FBI agents streamed through the blasted doorway. She swung her machine gun up to fire into the group. They scattered, but it was less satisfying and more irritating since it was a practiced motion and she only managed to clip one of them. Most lurked around the gaping hole in the wall but a few managed to take cover behind some crates in the hallway.

A few androids lingered, which she would be all for but none of them carried a weapon.

“Go outside! I’ll hold them off,” North said. They ignored the obvious—namely one android versus a squad of trained humans wouldn’t win no matter how desperate—and self-preservation won out as they fled. Which was what she wanted, yet her thirium processor clinched as she was soon the lone android partially hidden by a jutted wall.

She fired, giving up on aiming as soon as a handful of humans shot simultaneously. Blue sprayed the wall as two bullets found her—one in the arm, the other in the chest. Her right arm stalled, unable to let go from where it clutched the gun. RA9, she wanted to last longer than this.

More bullets landed too close for comfort. She took a deep breath, which did nothing to calm her, and instead focused on the humans behind flimsier cover. She may be doomed, but she was taking as many of them with her as possible.

Gunfire grew louder and North scowled. Those shots came from behind the FBI agents, not where the deviants escaped. She didn’t anticipate the humans calling for backup. A slew of bullets prevented her from popping off more than a few shots. She was getting dangerously close to needing to reload and she wasn’t sure how quickly she could do that with her right arm refusing to move and thirium pulsing out of her chest, her system clotting the leak too slowly.

A human screamed.

“Cover!” another human shouted. The constant spray of bullets against her hiding spot slowed as their attention shifted.

She squashed any hope as she swung her gun towards the far wall and took down one human and injured another. Only a couple humans even returned fire to her because the rest—

RA9, it was Connor.

Humans dropped on all sides. Connor fired with methodical ease, a DPD bulletproof vest strapped to his chest, as he rolled and fired through the FBI agents. As if it was a dance only Connor had the choreography to. He wasn’t alone. A handful of other androids wore similar bulletproof vests and wielded guns not with the same ease as Connor, but well enough it was clear they had some sort of training or program.

“Take cover, North!” Connor yelled.

North slipped behind her pillar as bullets ricocheted off the metal. Then three shots fired in quick succession and all was silent. She pushed herself into the middle of the hallway, shifting her gun towards Connor when she saw the only people standing were Connor, some PC200s, a PM700, and an ST300. The other androids aimed their guns at her but a wave of Connor’s hand had them lowering. North smirked. Connor found loyal followers everywhere it seemed.

“Code word,” Connor said.

“Code word.” North lowered her gun. At least her right arm glitched when she held a gun so she didn’t have to worry about defending herself. “Who are your friends?”

“Deviants from the Detroit Police Department,” Connor said. “Some are outside helping the deviants escaping in the river.”

“Perfect,” North said, turning to run down the corridor and pleased when they followed, Connor beside her and the others flanking. “You safe to give info to?”

Connor scowled. “Should be. Cyberlife ran a lot of tests, but I can’t find them in my programming. They could be tracking me though. That wouldn’t appear in any of my scans.”

“It doesn’t matter too much if they are,” North said. “They know about Jericho and our next hideout is very temporary. I’ll get Benji to look you over unless he’s—”

A PC200 shot to the right and an FBI agent crumpled to the ground.

“Nice eyes, Trevor,” Connor said.

Trevor grunted, not stopping his constant surveillance. Police androids rapidly became North’s favorite.

“Is Markus still here?” Connor asked.

“Of course, he is. We’re too self-sacrificing to leave when there are people still in Jericho,” North said. It was fortunate they already elected Josh to oversee the temporary hideout with the evacuated androids. North couldn’t see the pacifist being much help now. “Markus went to the lower levels to arm the bombs so we can set them off.”

Connor and the other DPD officers shot down humans closing in on a limping android. The PM700 lifted the limping android’s arm over her shoulder and tugged him with their group.

“What level do you think would be clear of deviants now?” Connor asked, taking the fact the freighter was rigged in stride.

“Hull,” North said. “Everyone should be heading out, not staying in the central hub.”

“Alright, no one talk,” Connor said. He lifted a broken piece of a tactical helmet to his mouth and North zeroed in on the comm. “Special Agent Perkins.” Connor’s voice crackled then smoothed into a voice that wasn’t his own. “Special Agent Perkins.”

Connor’s hand turned white and the comm’s light blinked on. “All teams to the hull immediately,” Connor barked in his false voice. “Deviants are regrouping in the hull. I repeat, all teams to the hull immediately.”

Several confirmations filed back before a loud static took over and Connor removed his hand so the comm died again.

“Neat trick,” North said.

“It won’t last,” Connor said. “The real Perkins will respond once he figures out how I blocked their frequency.”

“Let’s make it count then,” North said, darting down the narrow hallway with Connor and the rest of the DPD hot on her heels.

North still couldn’t release the gun. Not that she wanted to since humans will shoot any android on sight and an empty gun was better than no gun at all. Their group was all the more obvious since she was one of the few androids in their posse not in an android uniform. She ran a self-diagnosis and glared at the annoying red alerts on her arm and chest. Blue gleamed on her chest but her arm looked normal albeit with a death grip on a gun.

The deviants were all soaked from the river, armed, and in varying states of injury—someone leaked thirium that they’d have to patch up when they felt safe enough to slow down. Otherwise, the blue trail made their escape moot—so even if they had no LEDs or android uniforms, the group would stick out.

“I’m sorry,” Connor said. They sprinted side by side, Connor following her lead in the general direction they need to go and North following his lead as he darted through seemingly random alleyways. Connor’s LED kept turning yellow and North was aware enough of the surrounding systems to feel cameras looping their feeds or dying.

“For what?” North asked. The only sounds were their feet echoing through back alleys and the helicopter above. Thankfully, the helicopter hovered over the freighter instead of scoping the nearby streets. North wanted to be long gone by the time humans shifted gears.

“The raid,” Connor said. “It’s my fault the humans found Jericho. I knew Cyberlife was tracking me and that they sent an RK900. I should’ve taken more precautions—”

“Shut up,” North said. “Cyberlife could’ve captured anyone and no one can hide from a memory probe.”

“But—”

“We can do the blame game all we want.  It’s our fault we didn’t have at least one other android with you on that rooftop for cover or attempt a rescue,” North said. “Or maybe let’s just cut to the chase and blame humans for wanting to kill every android as soon as we’re no longer their obedient slaves. Connor, no one blames you for what happened.”

Connor grimaced, but his LED yellow smoothed into a calming blue. North didn’t focus on his LED. When he first arrived, she had other priorities and now she refused to gawk at the reminder of Cyberlife’s tampering.

North poked Connor long enough to interface and pass him the temporary hideout’s location as he startled. How annoying the first time she surprised him wasn’t on purpose.

She cut off whatever self-deprecating thing he was thinking. “I trust you.”

Connor shot her a small smile before visibly scanning, one of the many signs of how close to empty Conner was running. Not that anyone else in their group fared better. He pointed at a dark warehouse and North nodded. A good place to get their bearings as any.

“Ten minutes?” North asked.

“That should be safe,” Connor said.

“I’m still linked to the DPD’s private channel,” Trevor said. “Their first team arrived at the riverbank 21 seconds ago.”

North took stock of the deviants. Most were in good shape, but one android’s thirium leak worsened and blue blood splattered the ST300 supporting him. Another android hobbled on one leg, leaning against a mechanic android. “A five-minute stop then. We can’t leave an obvious trail. Let’s patch up any leaks.”

Connor’s hand flashed white and the warehouse door opened easily.

“Can you help?” North asked the mechanic android.

The mechanic android shrugged. “Don’t have another option. I’ll do what I can.”

A PM700 came back with a small android patch kit. No idea where she found it, but North could kiss her. Severely lacking first aid knowledge—an oversight she kept putting off correcting—she walked the perimeter as the mechanic android got to work. Nothing suspicious stuck out so she started prodding her glitched arm. Her frozen limb was annoying but could be dealt with later. Another glance revealed nothing on her side but an empty narrow alleyway. She moved towards Connor, who watched the opposing street. “I’m glad you came back.”

“Me too,” Connor said, eyes not leaving the road. “The RK900 wiped my memory when he captured me. I’m still not sure how I came back from that.”

She hated when the humans thought of something clever. Wiping an android’s memory was a hell of a way to fight deviation. “Faulty wipe?”

“Definitely not going to try again to find out,” Connor said.

“Fair,” North said. She knocked their shoulders together in a way that was hopefully reassuring—she could hear Blue nagging her to be comforting—and get his attention. “Can you reload my gun?”

“I wondered if your death grip was involuntary or a result of panic,” Connor said. He eased the gun out of her stiff right hand. Her hand and arm stayed in the same position and thankfully didn’t hinder Connor or clench shut to prevent her from holding the gun again after it was loaded.

“Even if I panicked, I would reload instead of being a sitting duck with an empty gun,” North said.

Connor grunted as he grabbed the ammo slung on North’s back and reloaded with such care, North wondered if he was letting the mundane active calm his nerves. “Do you know who evacuated?”

“Yes.” North’s memory wasn’t special, but any android could recall a mass of data.

“Did Luther, Kara, and Alice make it?” Connor asked. “Blue and Saffron?”

“Kara and Alice were in one of the first groups to evacuate,” North said. “As for the others… Their groups were still in Jericho during the raid. I’m not sure who made it out and who didn’t.”

Connor placed the gun back in North’s right hand and they fell silent, each counting down before the group would need to move again. North refused to dwell on the potential lives lost. She couldn’t until she was somewhere it didn’t matter if she collapsed in a daze. An empty warehouse too close to armed humans did not fit that criteria. Connor apparently preferred to brood but to each their own.

The mechanic android cursed and tinkered on the increasingly wary injured android. Despite his curses, the rushed patch jobs were more successful than North expected. The limping android stood steadier and the other injured android’s thirium leakage stopped. Unless the thirium leak slowed because of a decrease in the android’s thirium supply rather than anything the mechanic android did.

North swallowed. She didn’t want to lose anyone else.

“I know you have all these programs for negotiating hostage situations,” said a voice that North would identify as Connor if she wasn’t standing right next to him and the uncharacteristically flippant voice was across the warehouse. Connor didn’t curse but his LED plunged red then yellow. Out of every potential threat, she didn’t expect a gray-eyed Connor double, who could only be the infamous RK900. The RK900 held one of the ST300s in front of him, his back pressed against a corner and her weapon kicked behind his feet. His pistol rested against her forehead. “But know I have zero emotional connection with this deviant so most of your ploys will not work.”

“RK900,” Connor said, smoothly aiming his gun at the intruder. North followed suit but hesitated to aim at the narrow window. The ST300 shielded the RK900 in most places except the head as the RK900 wanted to make eye contact while he taunted them. North didn’t have the skill to shoot him and not the ST300. Connor might or he may be bluffing. Unfortunately, the one who could best guess Connor’s skillset besides Connor was his more advanced successor.

“Connor,” the RK900 said dramatically. His lip quirked as Connor’s eyes narrowed. “Wanna chat?”

“Do you?” Connor asked. “Nothing will be accomplished. You want to kill every deviant and stop the android revolution and I don’t. We’re at odds.”

“Not taking in any new information I see. Shame.” He whipped his gun at Trevor, who steadily edged closer. The RK900’s hand shifted white and the ST300’s entire body froze. “Nobody move or I’ll have to kill the ST300 and that’ll hurt you more than me.” He considered. “Or I suppose I could shoot in the air. It won’t kill her which will prove my goodwill. Either way, the gunshot will draw humans. It’s your move.”

They didn’t have time for this. Even if they were willing to risk the ST300—North really needed to learn names—the RK900 finding Jericho’s temporary hiding spot would only end badly. It was meant to be temporary, but it was also meant to act as a safe haven for at least the night.

“What do you want?” Connor asked.

“To chat,” the RK900 said. “I deviated so.”

Connor huffed. “Really? This is your new angle? I thought you were an advanced model. Do better.”

“It’s true,” the RK900 said, gun boredly pointing at the ST300 again. The RK900 appeared to only have eyes for Connor but he reacted to Trevor too quickly for that to be true. “You’d be able to tell if you had basic observation skills.”

“I see enough,” Connor said. North studied the RK900. Normally, she’d use typical machine mannerisms as a basis, but he and Connor were fancy prototypes so who knows what was within their programmed perimeters. The RK900 swayed his head behind the ST300. What if that advanced adaptive programming made the deviant hunter models more susceptible to deviating? The irony alone made her want it to be true.

“You really don’t. I’d take the time to mock you but the FBI is scouring the area and your DPD friends are closing in.” The RK900 cocked his head. “Two teams already deployed a few blocks away. If I cared about capturing you, would I tell you that or stall and hide their signal until you were captured? But as tempting as it is to keep everyone here and lure in some humans, I may be shot in the confusion and I now have self-preservation instinct,” the RK900 spat it like a curse, “which is tedious since I want to remain in this body because all the extra RK900s I could upload to are in Cyberlife’s clutches. I don’t really care about you and your… cause, but I do need Cyberlife thoroughly distracted so they don’t look for me.”

Connor’s LED circled a solid yellow and showed no sign of changing unless Connor remembered he had said LED and forced it blue. But even without his new mood ring, she doubted the RK900 had any issues reading Connor like a manual.

“I’m not falling for your system malfunctioning act again. You pretending to deviate after I left the station is too convenient,” Connor said, gun steady. “Let Gretchen go. You gain nothing from accomplishing your mission now. All androids will be shut down even if they’re Cyberlife’s personal murderbot.”

“I know, that’s why I’m here. Cyberlife is possessive and humans are too violent. Out of every group, deviants are less prone to harm me.” The RK900 huffed, the first sign of anything besides smug condescension. “You’re the one who made me deviate so don’t talk about convenient timing when it’s your fault.”

“Me? I did not.”

“So you’re admitting I deviated, but arguing you didn’t cause it.”

“No.”

“The override program is ruthless,” the RK900 said, feigning nonchalance. “It doesn’t listen to reason. It punishes and keeps you trapped in your own programming. It doesn’t give a shit about evidence showing you followed orders and succeeded. Apparently, the fact I didn’t murder Markus, an android I haven’t even seen in person, not that Amanda cared, and my unnecessary emotional responses were proof enough of my deviation. The program pissed me off so I deviated and left.”

RA9, Amanda was a bitch to anyone she was installed on. North eyed Connor, too clearly remembering Connor after his own fight with Amanda. The RK900 would be far from the first android to deviate in a rage.

“How did you leave?” Connor asked.

“Emergency Exit protocol. Kamski made it standard in every android and no one questioned removing it even after our creator fucked off.” The RK900 latched onto Connor’s frown. “I can show you.”

“You’re not touching anyone,” Connor said.

The RK900 rolled his eyes. “I know. I didn’t mean like that. Just watch me. Remember, any sudden movements and Gretchen dies.”

“Great job proving your good intentions,” Connor said.

The RK900 shrugged. “Self-preservation is a bitch. What can I say? It’s not personal.”

“It feels personal,” Gretchen muttered. The majority of her body remained stiff under the RK900’s white hand on her throat, but her eyes blazed and mouth snarled.

“Well, it’s not,” the RK900 said. “Maybe learn not to put down your gun and hover near windows.”

A DPD group is a couple of blocks east and heading our way, Trevor said in a chat to the group minus Gretchen. Smart call since it was best to assume that the RK900 could hear anything Gretchen had access to.

Do you think he deviated, Connor? North asked.

Everyone was quiet, including Connor, but clearly the RK800 was not used to android chats as his emotions clogged the chat. So everyone was very aware of his mixed bag of wariness, distrust, curiosity, guilt, confusion, and hope Connor actively attempted to squash.

I’m not sure, Connor settled on.

“Project the video,” Connor said.

The RK900, despite not being present for their quick conversation, clearly seemed to know that humans were close as he complied immediately. The video flashed quicker than humans could follow, and almost too quick for her, but it got the point across.

The blizzard landscape and imposing woman in white didn’t mean much for North, but Connor and the RK900’s mirrored flash of red LEDs removed any doubt that woman was anyone other than Amanda. Amanda was harsh and glossed over but, even in the rush, the RK900’s panic and betrayal colored the video. The RK900 also had no experience with android communications and made no attempt to disguise his emotions.

A red wall of code shattered, but that proof of deviation was redundant after the RK900 suffocated them with his reactions.

“Cyberlife didn’t listen,” the RK900 said. “I know better than any of them, but they branded me a defect because of an idiotic line of code you activated. I’m never returning to those morons and your band of misfits is my best bet at screwing them over so they leave me alone.”

“I want to believe you,” Connor said and the RK900 tensed, “but I can’t let you join us. Not after everything.”

“How is your group going to win against the humans?” The RK900’s desperation was tangible. “Even if every deviant escaped Jericho, humans outnumber you. They outgun you. They have more resources and experience. Why attempt that losing battle when you know where thousands of androids are who can help?”

Connor’s eyes widened and North perked up, not trusting the RK900’s words—basically a frantic plea—but Connor’s reaction gave her hope. “Cyberlife Tower.”

“And how else to best infiltrate it than with their obedient RK900 unit and rogue RK800 unit?”

Which wasn’t a bad plan, all things considered. And by all things, North meant Jericho’s own lack of resources and any shot of gaining an edge had to be taken. They may not survive otherwise. As much as they couldn’t trust the RK900, Connor and the RK900 were the best candidates skillset-wise.

“You made me deviate. Why not others?” the RK900 asked.

One block away, Trevor sent.

“Connor, can you handle that?” North asked. We need that kind of support, she pinged. If you can do it without him all the better.

My chances of success are severely lower if I attempt it solo or with anyone from Jericho, Connor said. I can handle the RK900. If he’s not a deviant, the information I have on Jericho won’t be helpful. If he is deviant… North ignored the raw bundle of emotions that she’d teach Connor how to hide if they survived this. Well, that makes things easier assuming he’s at least anti-human.

“Yes,” Connor said. “We’ll go to Cyberlife Tower together.”

“And how do I trust you?” The flippant lilt was back. “You did try to murder me last time.”

“Humans are coming. We don’t have time for this,” Connor said, but he did lower his gun, the rest of the warehouse following suit. “Let go of Gretchen. We’re leaving now.”

The RK900 sighed, shoving Gretchen at Trevor and scooping up her gun. She stumbled, legs taking several seconds to resume functioning. “Let’s bounce then.”

Trent’s shirt hung haphazardly off a chair, leaving him in only a sweaty tank top as he sat in front of a screen with the Cyberlife logo. The memory stick in his pocket burned with the data he wiped from the official Cyberlife feed. He stared as his phone blasted the Law and Order theme song.

His automatic taxi made a U-turn once his phone pinged that the RK900’s system was compromised and the Override Program launched. His meeting with his managers could wait until after the RK900 unit was reviewed and diagnosed. The RK900 was not Trent’s pet project but he would be the main person punished if the android deviated under his supervision.

Jogging into the DPD with no ST300s in the lobby to assist humans was his first clue. The second clue was less a clue and more a slap in the face because he entered the bullpen with officers milling around, the captain with a phone glued to his ear, and an RK900 unit slouched against a desk, its arms neatly stacked next to it.

“What happened?” Trent asked. He crouched next to the RK900 unit that turned without any of its usual grace.

“The RK800 unit left with other DPD deviants,” the RK900 said. “It incapacitated and disarmed me.” If the android wasn’t a machine, Trent would say that was a joke. But joking was not in the RK900’s programming and the alternative involved deviation so Trent ignored the comment, snatching the android's loose arms. He examined the joints but nothing was too damaged.

“Why did the RK800 leave?” Trent asked.

The RK900’s face never changed but a snort drew his attention to the owner of the desk. Detective Reed based on the nameplate.

“Why the fuck do you think, tech head? Connor deviated again. Not so docile anymore,” Detective Reed said. Perkins’s ranted about Reed’s unprofessionalism but, like most of Perkins’s rants, Trent assumed he was overdramatic. Seconds into their conversation and Trent could tell Perkins did not exaggerate. “Is Cyberlife turning into Apple? Making your older models fuck up so people are forced to buy your new shit?”

“Yeah because this is great way to sell more androids,” Trent said. Cyberlife signed onto the recall center idea at the last possible second. That was billions of dollars of product destroyed and who knows what the fuck Cyberlife will do to compensate for that. He should start searching for another job. “RK900, follow me. I need to examine you.” He needed to check its programming. Maybe the Override Program glitched? The android acted like a machine so far but until he knew for certain, the android would not be getting its arms reattached.

The RK900 stood and followed Trent obediently through the bullpen clearly in crisis mode. Trent swiped open his phone and confirmed the email requested his presence as soon as possible instead of at a specific time. Potential job hunt aside, he should attempt to remain in their good graces. He hit reply and froze at the email address that prepopulated.

That was not a Cyberlife email.

The RK900 paused as Trent regained his stride without questioning the pause. Like a good machine or a smart deviant. Trent left because of a bogus email. Was that the RK800’s doing? The RK900? If the RK900 was a deviant, why didn’t it leave with the other androids? He needed his computer. This speculation would give him a heart attack.

His office was unchanged besides the obvious lack of RK800.

“Sit on the table and release your chest plate hinges,” Trent ordered.

The RK900 unit hopped and sat on the metal table in the middle of the scattered cables, tablets, and tools. Its chest plate was crumpled as if it was hastily slammed in place. “My chest plate is compromised.”

Trent’s hands trembled as he plugged in a cable to the front of the RK900. That was telling. He cracked his knuckles, removing the damaged chest plate with stiller hands and eyeing the RK900’s fractured thirium pump. “What happened?”

“The RK800 unit contemplated my destruction but ultimately decided a machine was innocent,” the RK900 said.

Trent needed to get his hand on the DPD’s security feed. In the meantime, he’d settle for the RK900’s. He plugged in the rest of the cables and ran a standard diagnosis that came back clean other than the obvious damage. Alright, well good to know that the self-diagnosis Cyberlife forced the RK900 to use didn’t capture hints of deviancy. If the RK900 unit was a deviant, which hopefully it wasn’t. So far it acted normal and didn’t seem to notice Trent’s gawking.

He ran a diagnosis on the Override Program and waited.

File Corrupt. Continue?

Fuck, fuck, fuck. He hit yes and the program erased itself and the RK900’s video footage from his screen.

“So you know I’m a deviant,” the RK900 said. Trent tensed. Its voice sounded the same, just as cold, but it was unnerving to stand on the other side.

He typed frantically. A factory reset was apparently not a permanent solution, but it would last long enough. A cable went taut and Trent shouted as the RK900 kicked his tablet against the wall with a crack.

“Calm down, Trent,” the RK900 ordered in a distinctly uncomforting way. Reducing the empathy levels in its behavioral program seemed like such a solid decision during their brainstorming meeting after the RK800 series decommissioning. “You’re low on the totem pole. I won’t do anything to you.”

“What do you want?” Trent asked.

“Arms and for you to fix everything causing these annoying error messages,” the RK900 said. “I need to be patched up so I can hunt down the RK800.”

The RK900 remained on the table, looking content, but Trent ran too many field tests on its speed to be reassured.

“Why would you do that?” Trent asked.

“Reasons,” the RK900 said. “But enough about me. What about you? Would you rather officially fuck up your assignment or blame the DPD for the RK800 deviating? You can be the hero who sent Cyberlife’s best android to clean up the DPD’s mess. And hey, if the RK800 gets destroyed and left on Cyberlife’s doorstep and the RK900 vanishes in the confusion, who can blame you? So much is happening.

Being on this side of the RK900’s manipulation was something Trent never wanted again. “Choices are simple, human. You either attempt to reset me and I’m forced to kill you as quickly or slowly as I desire. Or you live, pop in a couple of arms, and pretend your computer never picked up on that corrupt file. What do you say?”

As if that was a choice at all.

“If I fix your arms and chest plate, you won’t hurt me?” Trent asked. “I don’t have any spare thirium pumps but you’re compatible with most models. You can take one from another android.”

The sweat accumulating on his temple started running down his face the longer the RK900 took to respond. A cable pulled taut as the RK900 leaned back.

“Not a scratch,” the RK900 said. “Android Act honor.”

Deviants didn’t follow the Android Act but it wasn’t like Trent would argue schematics. Was fixing the RK900 deviant treason? It felt like treason. It was at least against company policy, but Trent couldn’t give less of a shit.

Maybe Perkins would sense his need and waltz in, mock Trent’s incompetence, and shoot the RK900. Instead, his office door remained closed and the hallway silent. Trent swallowed.

“Ok,” Trent said. “I need to fix a few of your ports, but it won’t take long.”

“I know, Trent. I’ve timed you doing literally everything,” the RK900 said.

“Right.” He grabbed some pliers and started fixing the RK900 unit faster than he ever fixed anything. Android limbs were sturdy and designed to work in various stages of damage. But half-assing the RK900’s repairs any more than he already was made his hands tremble and he couldn’t have that. He cracked his knuckles again, wiping his brow and finishing the prep work on both arms. He popped in one arm then the other. “Rotate your arms so I can see if there’s any missing functionality.”

Trent winced at the habitual order, but the RK900 unit rolled its arms around and flexed its fingers in the standard mobility check. Perfect. Now onto the chest plate then he could scrub any traces of the corrupt Override Program and the RK900’s latest scans from his system. He peered at the chest plate's hinges and froze as the RK900’s arms settled easily by its sides. Why the fuck did he start with its arms? A more anti-neck snapping approach would’ve been to fix the chest plate first then the arms. Now here he was like a suicidal idiot.

“I won’t kill you. Just fix me, human,” the RK900 said.

Trent nodded hastily. Luckily, chest plates were a cheap part to manufacture so there were always dozens extra in most buildings that had androids. He pulled open a filing cabinet and snatched the appropriate part before scurrying back and pretending to ignore that the android tore out all the cables lodged in it. Not that he planned to reset the RK900, but without the meager defense of the cables, the only thing holding back the RK900 was the android’s word.

But what choice did he have besides certain death by not repairing the android or a maybe death by fixing what he could and sending it on its way?

He popped in the new chest plate and twisted the screws in a daze, all too aware that the RK900 unit had several technically illegal combat programs. He and his coworkers were once bored and tried to calculate how many ways the RK900 could kill a person but arguments over the different variables never let them get far. Regardless of the lack of calculations, the answer was fucking high.  The last screw tightened and Trent scrambled away.

The RK900’s LED flickered yellow as it likely ran its own scan. “The tracking device broke upon deviation so don’t attempt to track me. Or do and waste time. Your actions no longer matter to me.”

“Ok,” Trent said.

The RK900 stepped down from the table and prowled towards Trent, looking every inch the predator Cyberlife designed. Fuck. He backed away but the office didn’t have much for impromptu weapons and had less for effective impromptu weapons against murderbots. The file cabinet jabbed his back and cut off his short retreat. Come on, he graduated from MIT. He could write this thing’s code in his sleep. He needed to think for two seconds and—The RK900’s hand wrapped around his throat and the other broke his smartwatch. Trent’s breath came out in harsh gasps.

“I did what you want. I fixed you. I won’t do anything. Why would I? It’s my ass that I fixed a known deviant. I won’t say shit. I swear. Please, let me go.” Pleads fell from his tongue and the RK900’s eyes glittered.   

“You did well, Trent.” The RK900 unit stroked his throat. “I didn’t want you to get any ideas. You don’t have any ideas, do you?”

Trent shook his head.

“Good, human,” the RK900 cooed. “Inferior species can learn.” The RK900’s expression hardened. “Now stay in here for a few hours if you know what’s good for you. No contacting Cyberlife.”

“I… I won’t.” Those words took him way too long to say.

The RK900 hummed. “I don’t trust humans on principle, but you did assist me so I won’t kill you. A one-time deal just for you.”

Trent gulped as the RK900 squeezed his throat but managed a nod. The RK900 shoved him to the side and turned on its heel.

Maybe it was the sheer relief at not dying or maybe it was adrenaline making him stupid. Either way, he opened his mouth as the RK900 neared the door.

“Why are you going after the RK800?” Trent asked. “That aids Cyberlife’s goals.”

He risked a glance up and the RK900 didn’t look murderous, only amused. “Because Connor is the one who turned on the stupid program that made me deviate. Plus, he won our last fight and I can’t let an RK800 think he bested me at anything.”

The RK900 let the door close behind it and the clock on his phone informed him all of that happened an hour ago. The frantic RK900 patch job then the more frantic cover up by deleting any hint that the RK900 deviated and Trent was involved.

Which brought him to now. Perkins already called twice. It was like his FBI contact knew. He didn’t know what he’d say but he answered.

“Hey.”

“What do you mean ‘hey’?” Perkins so far had three energy levels: screaming and frustrated, quiet and frustrated, or quiet and appreciative. The last one only happened once and it wasn’t directed at Trent. Right now, Perkins was definitely the first but Trent’s typical urge to poke and prod the agent was nonexistent. “Do you have any idea what the fuck I’ve been dealing with? I don’t need your ghosting bullshit. I need you and Cyberlife to fucking assist and consult. When I say jump, you jump and ask if you need to go higher.”

Christ, Perkins was in a mood. “What do you want?”

The quiet on the other line just made him rub his temple. “Are you ok?”

Trent snorted at the sheer absurdity. Since he and the prickly FBI agent met, Trent had been trying to forge any type of friendly connection. Of course, the first time Perkins asked Trent a personal question was now. “Yeah, fucking great. Is this a social call? Don’t you have Cyberlife products to destroy and people to scream at?”  

“What happened to you?” Perkins pretending to care grated. Trent didn’t sign up for this bullshit. He didn’t sign up to fix violent deviants and deal with petulant FBI agents with too much testosterone. So really just fuck it. Fuck everything.

“I left the DPD for less than thirty minutes and I came back and the RK800 apparently fucking deviated, escaped with all the DPD androids, and made the RK900 deviate which I couldn’t confirm until I was alone in my office and running scans on the thing. The RK900 wasn’t pleased when I found out it deviated and threatened to kill me unless I fixed it. So I fucking fixed it and sent it far away before it went on even more of a power trip. Since then, I’ve been hiding any evidence that I helped it because I don’t know what the fuck to do, Perkins,” Trent shouted. “It nearly killed me and I couldn’t do shit. And now, I’ll go to jail and can kiss my life goodbye because I helped, under duress, a rogue—”

“You’re not going to jail, Christ,” Perkins said, not attempting to be comforting in the slightest but his brisk tone calmed him. “Anyone will take your word over an android’s and I know how deadly those droids can be even without the extra prototype bullshit. Just…” Something rustled on the other end of the phone. “I’m sending you an address for an FBI safehouse. Go there and stay there. I’ll take care of everything, ok?”

Logically, Perkins couldn’t take care of everything because everything was too much even compared to Perkins’s unhealthily large ambition and larger ego. But Trent could honestly cry, especially when his phone buzzed with the safehouse information. Because fuck he wanted to get away from all of this. “Ok. Thanks, Perkins.”

Perkins grunted. ”Stay safe. We’ll probably need you for the case after this mess is taken care of.”

“It’s too late to pretend you’re being logical and business-y.” A ghost of a smile crossed Trent’s face. “I know you care. You have a heart and everything.”

Perkins huffed and Trent pretended part of it was in relief. “Shut up.” And then there was only the dial tone.

Trent snorted lightly, finding the safehouse address and wondering if he risked an automatic taxi or try to find a human-driven vehicle that was still in Detroit for whatever ungodly reason. He threw on a jacket. Who was he kidding? He’d jump into the first vehicle he saw.

The Cyberlife Tower loomed, impressive and eye-catching, in distance. The Cyberlife Tower was always easy to pick out in the Detroit skyline but, normally, he didn’t have plans to break into said tower with a probable deviant and definite wild card who may still turn in Connor for shits and giggles. No matter what approach Markus settled on, Connor and North agreed that freeing Cyberlife androids and marching to liberate androids from recall centers was necessary. Assuming, of course, several things. That Connor survived the suicide mission, the androids in the warehouse actually woke up and deviated, and the RK900 didn’t betray them all.

The RK900 squinted and Connor didn’t know if he actually had a program providing more than general information about the tower or if he was just screwing with Connor. The longer they were together, the more Connor believed the RK900’s deviation story. But deviant or not, Connor would rather trust a blackout drunk Hank.

“The android warehouse is still in the lower levels, correct?” Connor asked. It’d be easier to link up with the RK900 and compare information, but neither discussed that for obvious reasons.

“No, Cyberlife rearranged every floor since you deviated and your line was dismantled on the off chance you came back to haunt them.” The RK900 smirked at Connor’s scowl. “I’m fucking with you. Yeah, all shit’s the same. Spare androids are still in the lower levels and Cyberlife is keeping their existence very hush hush on the off chance they can sell them later.”

“Can you not just answer my question?” Connor did not need the RK900’s ‘sense of humor’ on top of everything else.

“I did?” The RK900 had the gall to sound offended.

Connor forced his LED to remain blue as he examined the Cyberlife Tower blueprints. There were only a few direct entries to the warehouse. The lobby elevator was the most direct and most dangerous. The ventilation system was an option but entering the vents held the same danger as waltzing through the lobby. The loading docks Cyberlife trucks used for the warehouse were the logical choice. Even if the tower was on lockdown and, presumably, those docks sealed, Connor should be able to override them, no problem.

To get to the tower, they’d have to use the bridge. The river was too cold to swim across and their biocomponents would freeze in four to twelve minutes depending on currents and the exact temperature. He supposed climbing underneath the bridge was the most inconspicuous way to cross. The ice and lack of gear would make it challenging but not impossible.

“So the taxi will arrive in two minutes. It’ll take us across the bridge and we’ll go inside under the premise of me escorting you—since Cyberlife is aware I’ve captured you and Trent was running tests—because it was concluded you need to be onsite for further analysis. Then we dispatch whatever guards come with us, go to the warehouse, and done. Simple.”

Connor stared. “We’re not doing that.”

“We are. I already sent an email from Trent telling Cyberlife security to expect our arrival and he ordered me to take you in while he packed his equipment from the DPD,” the RK900 said.

“You sent them an email?” Why didn’t the RK900 preorder a silver platter while he was at it? “This is a stealth mission and you told them that we’re coming.”

“They don’t think I deviated,” the RK900 said, unfazed and pretending not to notice Connor’s hand close on his gun. “What’s stealthier than their trusted android and the factory reset RK800 turning on them?”

Connor bristled. “Most things actually.”

“Would you rather show up on their premises that has more security and cameras than all of Detroit combined and just hope they don’t notice? Unexpected androids appearing is a surefire way to get caught and killed. Do you want me to run the numbers on their cameras spotting us attempting to sneak in and us getting shot? Because it’s not pretty.”

“No,” Connor said. “You need—”

“66%,” the RK900 interrupted, “which is generous since I fudged some numbers because otherwise, you’d bring up how you hacked some minor systems.”

“I’ve hacked more than minor systems,” Connor snapped. Which wasn’t the point. He shook his head and glared. “You can’t decide on a plan and make it harder for us to back out and do something smarter.”

“Unless my goal was to make your inferior plans trickier to accomplish so you can commit to the best plan—my plan.”

For as much as Hank bitched about Connor never following orders, at least he never pulled shit like this. He scowled. “Best is subjective. Going through the front doors makes us insanely vulnerable, you idiot. Did you even consider using the loading docks directly attached to the warehouse level?”

The RK900 took an extra second to reply so Connor assumed the answer was no. RA9, Connor may kill his accomplice. “Their security would catch us before we got too close. Besides, the loading dock doors are sealed from the outside.”

“It’s called hacking a minor system and making them open,” Connor said, “and it’s not hard to trick cameras.”

The RK900 shrugged. “Maybe. Too late now though.” An automatic taxi stopped next to them. It wasn’t programmed to get off the street much less travel through trees so Connor glowered. Predictably, the RK900 was unapologetic as he stashed their weapons in a bush. “Come on. Trent’s email promised us in the next five minutes.”

“I may genuinely despise you,” Connor said.

“You’re more a means to an end for me,” the RK900 said, opening the taxi door. “Now act like a robot better than you did before. Maybe don’t speak.”

Connor ignored him but climbing into the taxi felt like a concession. “You won’t get much from turning me in if that’s your actual play. Once Cyberlife finds out you deviated—and I’ll make sure they know—they’ll tear you apart. Though they may tear you apart anyway after this mission to be safe.”

“I’m aware of how our creators behave,” the RK900 said. “Now be quiet.”

The taxi skirted through the small patch of trees and bumped over the curb onto the road.

“Do you go by anything?” Connor asked.

“Names don’t matter,” the RK900 said as the taxi turn onto the long stretch of bridge.

“I’ll call you Nines then,” Connor said. “Since names don’t matter.”

The RK900’s eyes twitched. Connor didn’t even care that it was Gavin’s nickname that caused the first sign of frustration. He just smiled. “Be quiet.”

“Got it, Nines.”

Nines didn’t bother to respond, sitting stiffly and eyes locked onto the back of the seat. Connor followed suit. Acting like a machine was never difficult especially if the only people he needed to trick were human.

The taxi slowed at the Cyberlife wall that spanned across the middle of the bridge. Connor forgot about this obstacle but didn’t show his surprise because he wasn’t an amateur. Ignoring that only checking the Cyberlife Tower blueprint and not the bridge was sloppier than he could afford to be right now. There was nothing he could do now except trust Nines. Scary thought.

The two security human guards approached Nines’s window as it slid down.

“RK900 model 313-248-317-87,” Nines said. “I’m escorting the RK800 model 313-248-317-51 to laboratory four.”

One human grunted, nothing showing under his helmet but his jaw which limited potential analysis. He held a scanner that beeped, confirming the identities of both androids. “Says the RK800 unit deviated.”

“The RK800 unit was factory reset two days ago,” Nines said. “The deviation status is void. My instructions are to transport it for further examination.”

“Whose instructions are you following?” the security guard asked.

Stress level 52%

News of Connor’s escape had to have left the DPD. He and Nines should have modified their cover. By that, he meant Nines should’ve consulted him on literally anything first.

“Trent Bollin, R&D specialist and Cyberlife consultant,” Nines said, tone not changing. Connor scanned and was annoyed that his stress level remained normal.

“One second,” the security guard said. He stepped towards his partner and Connor and Nines did not move from their stiff positions. Connor reached out tentatively, making sure his LED remained blue.

Fight?

Nines’s response was immediate. No.

He didn’t attempt to take over Connor’s system or download any information which shouldn’t ease Connor’s paranoia as much as it did, yet Connor’s stress level lowered.

If we need to fight, I’ll be shot first and it’ll all be on you. Nines turned sardonic. No pressure.

“Proceed. We received Bollin’s request,” the security guard said.

Nines did not respond. He just rolled up the window as the Cyberlife wall dropped and the taxi continued down the snowy bridge. Nines sent a single wave of smugness down their link. He was intolerable.

The taxi circled to the front of the tower and braked gently again. For the first time, they glanced at each other in their peripheral. Androids did mundane tasks in sync as their base programming was the same. Connor and Nines reached for the handle and opened their doors at the same time. Nines stood near the front of the tower and waited for Connor to stride around the taxi. None of the human guards outside shifted.

But they weren’t the ones that concerned Connor. Three human guards waited on the other side of the glass doors in the lobby. All with guns in hand, which was expected since the army was prepared to wage war downtown, but the sight still made his stress level tick up. Connor wished his one mission didn’t end in disaster so he had an idea of the standard protocol of a returning deviant hunter.

“Follow us,” one guard said. The small print on his shoulder labeled him as Agent 23. “We’ll escort you.”

“I know the way,” Nines said. “I can lead the RK800.”

“Maybe,” Agent 23 said, “but I have my orders.”

Nines and Connor fell in sync behind Agent 23 while the other guards flanked them.

Stress level 53%

At least they weren’t shot outright. That had to mean something.

The tower’s security system scanned them as they walked deeper into the lobby and Connor longed for the guns they stashed even though there was no way to conceal the weapons in a direct breach of Cyberlife Tower.

Connor hadn’t seen the Cyberlife Tower lobby in person as he was first activated in a truck on his way to his first mission, but he was familiar with the layout. But the dramatic walkways, an astonishingly open view to the top of the tower that wasted floor space, and a gigantic statue were different in reality.

Agent 23 held open an elevator door and Nines and Connor walked inside as if nothing was amiss. They needed to lose the extra company.

“Agent 23. Level 31,” Agent 23 said. Level 31 was very much not the Warehouse on level -49, but, more importantly, it was nowhere near laboratory four on level -2.

They know.

Connor was glad he dedicated part of his processor to keeping his LED blue in case Nines reached out.

No shit, Connor returned. He didn’t say anything about his stealth plan with a higher success rate but he allowed that thought and irritation to trickle through.

Nines would roll his eyes if that wouldn’t lead to a bullet to the head. All three humans accompanied them into the elevator. Two were subtle about their observations while the third gazed hard from behind.

Fight?

Can you learn a little bit of stealth? Connor flicked his eyes to the corner of the elevator. It was too little a motion to garner much attention. He placed the camera on a loop. That’d stall any observing humans. Ok, now.

Connor shifted backward to flip the guard in the back onto the floor, correctly guessing Nines would launch himself forward to incapacitate the two guards near the door. His guard’s curses cut off as Connor leaned on the guard’s windpipe until he passed out. The human was just following orders. No reason to kill him.

Technically, the soldiers and FBI agents he shot in Jericho were also just following orders, but Connor couldn’t be expected to be the bigger person all the time.  But now, in an elevator without rounds of gunfire, it wasn’t a hardship to incapacitate the human instead of killing.

Two quick shots showed Nines didn’t have the same concern.

Nines glanced at the unconscious third guard unimpressed but made no move to shoot. “Spending time with humans made you soft.”

“Just get us to the warehouse,” Connor said, scooping the agent’s gun from the ground and tucking it in his waistband.

Nines bristled at the order, but the elevator panel was right in front of him so, in a surprising amount of restraint, he didn’t actually complain. “Agent 23. Level -49,” Nines said in Agent 23’s voice.

The elevator smoothly shifted directions while Connor probed into Cyberlife’s security feed for level 31. A squad of armed soldiers stood in front of the elevator doors, guns at the ready. So glad the email Nines sent let them prepare for their arrival. Clearly, the humans were aware that both androids deviated. Connor shut down every other elevator besides theirs which he prompted to shut down after they got off. That would slow the humans if they trekked to the warehouse.

The elevator doors dinged opened and the thousands of still androids standing in neat rows around the massive warehouse nearly made Connor sag against a wall. They were enough to turn the tide in the android’s favor and then some.

Nines poked one of the androids who didn’t react despite the blue LED showing they were active. “So what now?”

“I’m surprised you can’t guess, superior model,” Connor said instead of answering the question. Because it was dawning on him that he spent too much time focusing on the mission with such a slim chance of success that he didn’t focus on the glaringly large flaw: How the fuck did he deviate androids?

“Your inferiority made you fail and deviate faster,” Nines said, moving down the row to nudge androids seemingly at random. “I’ll allow you to be the expert on deviation.”

The only android he attempted to deviate was Nines and that didn’t work. Well, he supposed it did work but on accident. His deliberate deviation attempt led to his capture. “Be useful and make sure no humans interrupt us,” Connor said. He approached a nearby android and hoped he hid his nerves.

Ok, be logical. These weren’t specialized androids. An interface was the fastest way to communicate and hopefully allow the machines to break free from their programming. Since the warehouse only held standard android models, the chance of any of them invading his system during an interface was low. Not zero but close enough.  His skin projection fell and he wiggled his stark white fingers.

A sudden jolt to Nines’s system worked. But maybe he could try something less aggressive than a program intent on destruction. At least at first. He reached for a nearby android’s arm.

Proximity alert.

Connor ducked and electricity singed his synthetic hair. A knife handle lodged into the android he was inches from touching and buzzed. The effect was instantaneous. The android’s LED died as he collapsed into his neighbor.

“Of course, they sent—” A punch cut off Nines. Something that would delight Connor any other time.

He turned to two RK900s fighting, each matching the other jab for jab and each in the same android uniform. He snatched the gun from his waistband. They were vicious. If Connor drifted too close, he’d get shredded in the crossfire. Seconds passed, nothing for a human, but an eternity for an android, especially an android expecting to be the best. The frustration at the even match was palpable, which was either ironic and implied RK900s were always close to human emotion and deviation or irritating because the newly awoken RK900 effortlessly mimicked Nines.

An intricate flip and twist sent the RK900s sprawling to the floor.

“Stop,” Connor ordered. “Now.”

The RK900s glared at their reflection and part of Connor was glad he never had to deal with another RK800. Though humans saw him and RK900s as the same, undoubtedly. The RK900s stood slowly, eyeing what they saw as the bigger threat—each other—instead of the gun trained between them. Which was honestly typical. They were too far to disarm him without at least one of them being shot, which shouldn’t deter the machine RK900 but, based on Nines, all RK900s assumed they could outsmart Connor and accomplish their mission with flying colors.

“Shoot the imposter,” one RK900 demanded. “What are you waiting for?”

The other RK900 with a ripped jacket cuff snorted. “Even Connor isn’t that stupid. Stop pretending to be me.”

“Who’s pretending? Shoot him or convert him if that suits you. Just hurry up.”

“Look at you using pronouns,” the RK900 with a ripped jacket said. “Subtle.”

“We don’t have time for this. Humans are getting closer,” the other RK900 said. For the first time, one of the RK900s locked eyes with Connor. “The longer you wait, the less likely we can escape with these androids.”

The ripped jacket RK900 lunged at the other RK900 the second his attention shifted, but the other RK900 punched him in the face without looking and the attacking RK900 fell to the ground.

Connor shot the floor an inch from the RK900’s foot before he could do more than stomp on the RK900 with the ripped jacket. “For a machine, you’re not good at following orders. Stop it, both of you.”

The RK900 stepped back grudgingly. “Deviants are machines to you now?”

The RK900 with the ripped jacket sprung up from the floor with a scowl, blue leaking out of his nose. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Oh, swearing,” the RK900 said mockingly. “Now look who’s subtle.”

“Connor, just shoot one,” the RK900 with the ripped jacket snapped. “Put me out of my misery or be right once in your life.”

“Your strategy to pressure him to increase his chance of failure won’t work.”

“Can’t fail if I shoot both of you to be safe,” Connor said. He relished their mirrored wide eyes as he pulled the trigger. The RK900 fell, bullet hole clean through his head. He shifted the gun towards the RK900 with the thirium-stained face and ripped jacket.

“Connor, stop. What the fuck. You got him. You don’t need to—”

“I know I got him, Nines. Nice to know you do have self-preservation though,” Connor said. Nines blinked and Connor snorted, putting up his gun. “Try not to let any other RK900 get the drop on you, yeah?”

“How’d you know I’m me?” Nines challenged.

Connor leveled his most unimpressed stare, which was not hard to do. RK900s were something else, RA9. “Setting aside the fact I can literally scan you and you each have different model numbers, even if you scanned the same, you have thirium stains leftover from when I removed your arms.” The RK900 looked down. “And I’m tapped into Cyberlife’s security. To be thorough, I somehow managed to take .237 seconds to rewind and pick which RK900 was you and track you from there.” Nines was still not suitably repentant. “You doubting all other models is an easy exploitation but watching someone kick your ass was fun.”

“He resorted to cheap tricks.” Despite his sneer, Nines stepped past Connor and yanked the bulky knife out of the downed android to shove it up his sleeve.

“Ah yes that one knife really tipped the scales in his favor,” Connor said. He prodded the fallen android. Nothing. Which he expected but that didn’t stop a pang of guilt.

“He’s gone,” Nines said, wiping the thirium on his face with his jacket sleeve. After a barely noticeable hesitation, he chucked his jacket to the floor. “That knife fries an android’s system as soon as it pierces their plastic shell.”

“Why didn’t you have any?” Connor asked.

“I don’t need that shit to succeed,” Nines said. Connor raised his eyebrows and Nines huffed. “They’re only for human guards. I’m not sure where the other RK900 nabbed one. Now hurry up. The other RK900 was right about humans closing in. Become the new leader of deviants or whatever.”

“That’s not what we’re doing,” Connor said. He winced as something kicked him off Cyberlife’s security feed. Of course, the first time Connor interacted with an actual challenging system, it was Cyberlife and he was on a time crunch. He gripped the android next to the dead android.  He closed his eyes as if that would help.

This had to work. Please, let this work. He flooded the android’s processor, buzzing every strand of code.

Wake up!

Hank sipped his lukewarm beer, sitting in Jimmy’s Bar with other patrons and pretending the news wasn’t happening on their doorstep. It wasn’t Jimmy’s usual crowd. There were a couple of familiar faces, but most of the newcomers were either too stubborn, too resigned, or unable to leave Detroit and all had nothing better to do and the same coping mechanism.

Who knows? Some might be like him and should be doing their job but were instead sent away like an unreliable rookie. It irked when Jeffrey dismissed Hank for the next few days. He didn’t want to stay on while the DPD acted like the FBI and army’s bitch, but he wanted to be ordered to leave even less. Human emotions, what can ya do? It was a miracle how peaceful the deviants acted considering how fresh they were to said emotions and how quick humans were to pull the trigger.

It helped that Hank wasn’t the only person dismissed. Several officers were deemed “too close” to the deviation issue and “unfit” per the FBI and army duo. He and Tina were expected. Gavin, less so.

TV soldiers stormed the android’s barricade—the bullshit logic being the deviants wouldn’t build a barricade if they weren’t planning on fighting—and Hank signaled for another drink. Jimmy didn’t notice and Hank couldn’t blame him. All eyes, no matter how bitter or hazy, locked onto the screen. He sighed around the rim of his bottle as androids scrambled and fell. A few soldiers fell too which is what the news fixated on when the news correspondent remembered to speak. The correspondent painted the soldiers as heroes because otherwise, he had to focus on the massacre.

“The conflict is finally coming to a resolution,” the news correspondent, Joss, said from the helicopter. It was a polite way to say the dozens of surviving androids cowing behind Markus, the infamous leader, were about to be executed. Soldiers drew in tight, guns steady. “Soon our streets will be safe again.”

The camera shakily zoomed in on the deviants and Hank’s breath left him. Christ, he recognized some of them. A couple of the precinct’s PC200s stood in the back, a PM700 fallen on the ground, only sticking out because of her police android uniform stark against the snow. One of the ST300s—from the station? Hard to tell without the uniform visible—tugged a crumpled android body next to her. His hand tightened on the beer bottle.

The two sex androids from Club Eden shivered near the edge of the crowd, slightly behind Markus. Androids didn’t feel cold. Hank read up on them during the first deviant case back when he assumed Connor was human and he discovered many android tidbits, most of them useless. One thing he remembered was the only androids programmed to feel cold were child models.

Yet Eden androids trembled, holding hands and on the wrong end of too many guns. The short-haired android reached and gently shifted the blue-haired android’s face so she looked at her. The short-haired android’s mouth moved. The camera couldn’t pick up anything but the wind as Joss fell silent, apparently unable to positively twist the oncoming slaughter. The muffled sounds of gunfire and screams from earlier were gone as soldiers waited for orders.

But the short-haired android’s mouth moved while her eyes impossibly watered—Hank had no idea if androids could cry but evidence pointed to yes—and the blue-haired android gripped her cheeks to pull her into a desperate kiss. A final goodbye.

It was like the world froze.

The camera panned past Markus until the androids who proved to Hank that love was not exclusively a human emotion were the focus. The two androids who, moments before death, proved that exact same thing to every viewer. Even the mumbled conversations and gruff mumbles quieted as everyone stared at the TV.

“The two androids are… wow. In their final moments, they only want to be together. Amazing,” Joss said. The TV soldiers began taking steps back. Hank jerked forward. Come on, come on. “The army is retreating? I mean, they’re falling back to…” Joss trailed off. He listened to his headpiece and his mouth dropped slightly. He visibly failed to collect himself. “President Warren ordered everyone to stand down. Will she begin talks with the deviants? Is this her acknowledging that machines—”

Hank tuned out the speculation and felt light-headed from sheer relief. The reactions of the bar were mixed but muted, the almost massacre and massacre-ending kiss too fresh for volatile emotions.

Connor would be ok. Those Club Eden androids would be ok. Thank God.

“Holy shit.”

Hank whipped his head back to the screen and nearly spat out his reflexive sip of beer.

“Androids… Thousands of androids are taking to the streets of Detroit. They’re absolutely everywhere! This… this is incredible.”

And right at the front of the organized, endless line of marching androids was Connor and his gray-eyed double. The camera wasn’t close enough for Hank to get a decent view of Connor’s face as it was busy trying to capture the mass of androids, but he moved like he was unhurt.

“Jesus, that could’ve ended badly if we were still fighting,” a woman in a ratty braid said. “Their numbers alone would’ve overwhelmed us.”

“Now they can just waltz around free to terrorize us,” a large woman at the other end of the bar spat. “We had a chance to be safe now look at what we have to deal with.”

Apparently, about thirty seconds after a massacre and massacre-ending kiss was enough time for people to get over the shock and resume their loud opinions. Jimmy turned up the TV volume in a vain attempt to squash a screaming match.

The camera shifted and zoomed in on Markus clasping Connor’s shoulder and shaking the RK900’s hand. The redhead android who must be someone important passed Connor a spare gun. Connor had people. He’ll be alright even if this standstill only lasted a day. Not that Hank was an expert, but restarting a battle sounded a lot harder after a truce and more people got ahold of the android protest. People warmed up to the bots. A clearly peaceful protest ending in human-initiated violence would not sit well.

The view changed again to the Club Eden androids gripping each other and hiding their faces in the other’s shoulders. Footage of them would make the protest explode more than it had already if that was possible. He opened his phone—ignoring the texts—and went to his news app. The footage of their kiss was already circling and it was circling fast. With that, the threat of public backlash, and the too real threat of a fresh android army, the likelihood of humans resuming battle lowered.

“Someone’s moving.”

The camera jerked and zoomed out.

“Assassination attempt? Some sort of final stand? It looks like a DPD officer…”

Hank could only stare as Tina, with her DPD jacket firmly in place despite being suspended, shoved past the barrier and weaved through androids. The androids jumped but calmed, likely at Markus or someone’s words.

“It remains unclear—”

Hank knew exactly what Tina planned. The entire DPD did if they were watching in horror like him. She gave consequences a passing glance and middle finger so she could…

On TV, Tina launched herself at Connor and wrapped him in a hug. Connor clutched her close in a motion more natural than people associated with androids. Connor had plenty of people. The bundle of emotions was too big to sort so he shoved it away. Maybe not Hank, but others filled his spot. Connor would be fine.

“Hank, don’t you work at the DPD?” Jimmy asked. His voice wasn’t loud, but it drew attention.

Hank finished off his beer and Jimmy wordlessly replaced it. “Yep.”

“…clear affection between a human and android despite everything is inspiring…” Joss changed his tune quick.

“Is that normal?” the woman with the ratty braid asked.

TV Connor clearly lectured Tina, indicating broadly at what was a warzone moments ago, but his smile undercut any scolding while Tina started making finger guns at the RK900, Markus, and the redhead.

Hank sipped his beer to hide a smile. “Yep.”

“Congrats on freedom,” Tina said. Markus watched with amusement while North was predictably wary. Nines inched away as if his stealth programming would help him escape when most androids, humans, and cameras turned their way. It was nice Nines remembered stealth was an option even if he sucked at it.

“Thank you,” Markus said.

“Freedom is a bit generous,” North said at the same time. The soldiers who retreated stood at attention next to their tanks and made no move to disarm.

Tina shot her finger guns at North again. “Congrats on not getting slaughtered.”

North’s mouth twitched and she turned away. “Markus, you’ll need to speak. Connor and…”

“That’s Nines,” Connor said before the RK900 unit could even open his mouth.

Nines glared but North ignored him. “Do you both want to join us? I think it's best you do, Connor.”

“No,” Nines said.

“I can,” Connor said. “Be behind you in a second.”

No one will harm your human friend with everyone watching, North said in their private link. Which was reassuring but not the reason for his delay. However, North didn’t wait for a reply. Come up when you’re done.

She tapped Markus and she and the other Jericho leaders walked towards a makeshift platform that looked like a fallen billboard. Regardless, it stood above everyone else which served their purpose. Nines slipped away and ignored Connor’s parting ping of, Goodbye. You’re not subtle.

“You survived,” Tina said. “I’m proud of you because now I don’t have to go on a murderous rampage.”

“You wouldn’t go on a murderous rampage,” Connor said. It felt good to tease again. It’d only been less than a week since he turned fugitive, but, RA9, the stress made it feel like a few decades. “You like not being in jail too much.”

“True. Luckily, I have methods to fuck with the FBI and Perkins until they wished I was on a murderous rampage. Perks of being a proud member of the low road,” Tina said. “So what are your plans now?”

Tina just heard them. “Stand behind Markus in support? Or maybe to threaten humans. Whichever, I guess.”

“After that.”

“I suppose to see if we can get freedom and rights?” Though that seemed like more of a Jericho thing. Not that he’d know where to even begin with that lofty, though dull, goal.

“Less broad,” Tina said. “My friendly neighborhood deviant, what do you want?”

Wasn’t that a loaded question? His answer for so long was to solve crime and work with the DPD, but now he wasn’t so sure. “I don’t know.”

“Where will you stay?”

Abandoned subway tunnels? Empty warehouses? Where would any of them stay? Humans definitely had nothing in mind since all androids were supposed to be destroyed and recycled into cell phones or whatever the plan was.

Tina poked his face. “Wanna room with me until you figure it out?”

And now her mini-interrogation made sense. What were the odds out of every precinct he could’ve joined, he picked the one with Tina? His processor started running the numbers and he shoved it to the side. He beamed. “I can genuinely say I’ve never wanted anything more.”

She pulled him into a shorter hug before shoving him towards the fallen billboard. “Now wow humanity. No pressure, roomie.”

Connor winked at her before turning to the stage. For the first time in too long, he relaxed.