Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Connor stood in line next to Hank, eyes caught on the android behind them. It was a BV500 with a Caucasian outer skin. Its left arm had been replaced with a chainsaw, but Connor couldn’t take his eyes away from its mouth. Its jaw was forever unhinged to fit the barrel of a flamethrower between its teeth. The fuel supply was built into its back, skin continuously trying and failing to cover it.

The BV500’s wide eyes met his, the pupils trembling. 

“Connor.”

He turned towards the Lieutenant. The line had moved up. Connor stepped forward and leaned to get a better look at Hank. His eyes were downcast at his phone, but the finger-flicks across the screen seemed rhythmic and purposeless. Hank glanced at the android in front of them, which was skinless with a gray, bulky exoskeleton.

Hank’s brow pinched slightly, but Connor couldn’t tell if it was in interest or disgust. 

The human stepped through the double doors, their android in toe. The man managing the entrance was on the heavy side and sporting a five o’clock shadow. He barely glanced up from his tablet as they stepped up. “Patron or fighter?”

“Fighter,” Hank said. “Level ten.”

Connor whipped his head around. It had crossed his mind that Hank could take advantage of the case, but level ten? They were supposed to locate the suspect, not enter Connor in a life or death match. 

The man looked Connor over, brow furrowed. “If you’re just looking to dispose of it, we have a few spots opened in the lion’s den.”

Hank slapped Connor on the back. “It might not look like much, but this thing’s a killing machine.”

“RK800. Isn’t that the new detective model?”

Hank nodded. “My brother snagged it from the dump, we think it was a rejected prototype or something. Shit tone of fighting programs built into it.”

He took Hank’s cash and gave him a wristband without further complaint.

There had to be a motive related to the case. Sure, Hank boasted about hating androids, but Connor thought Hank had warmed up to him in the last few months. That and he wouldn’t dare risk damaging police property to that extent. At least, not property as expensive as Connor.

The arena was crowded and lit with flickering fluorescents. They were at the top of the stands overlooking what used to be a floor hockey rink. Connor scanned the area, but stiffened before he could examine anything his sensors were alerting him to. The hockey rink glowed blue. The clear plexiglass held spatters and splotches. Connor reconstructed an android’s head getting smacked against it repeatedly. Another was thrown into it. Another swiped across. Another…

Connor cut the program off to examine the floor. It had so many layers that it was difficult to separate one from the next. It was able to detect twelve isolated incidents out of the hundreds upon hundreds of overlapping ones. In response, thousands of possible scenarios vetted for Connor’s attention, littering his HUD. He started going through them on reflex, a tangled web of possibilities that pressed in from all sides. They connected with the plexiglass stains, throwing another thousand possibilities into the mix.

Connor turned his back to the arena, grabbing the railing behind him for support. Reconstructing the fights wasn’t important. They were here to find a human suspect and to probe her android’s memory for evidence of the murder she’d committed. The arena wasn’t a crime scene, despite overwhelming his processors in a way he’d never experienced before.

Hank stood in front of a TV as it flashed directions for the private suites, bathroom, concession stands, and even a bar. Connor stepped towards him.

“I’ll check the human areas,” Hank said. “You check the modification center and wherever else you guys hang out until the fight.”

He was already walking away. Connor grabbed Hank’s arm and tugged him towards the wall, making sure to keep his voice low. “I hope you’re not planning on actually having me fight.”

Hank cocked a brow. “Afraid you’ll lose?”

“Lieutenant.”

Hank’s eyes darted to his LED as he shook his grip loose. “Would you relax? Level ten’s at the very end of the night. I was trying to buy us time.”

Time to find the suspect? Or time for Hank to get drinks and a show in, maybe place a few bets? While Hank was a good detective, his personal issues often got in the way of their investigations. Connor wouldn’t be surprised if he was planning to sit back and let Connor do all the work while he made use of his expense account. “I just ask that you keep your focus where it belongs.”

His glare turned dangerous. “You calling me a bad detective?”

“Of course not, Lieutenant. But you seem rather… at ease.”

Hank opened his mouth, but someone stepped towards them before he could get the words out. “Hank?” Pedro Aabdar, Hank’s gambling friend. The chances of Hank actually working ticked down.

Hank clapped Pedro on the shoulder and smiled wide. “Hey! What brings you here?”

Pedro smiled. “Work. What about you? Thought you weren’t interested in shit like this.”

Connor shot Hank a look. They couldn’t be sure if Pedro was close with the suspect. It was best to keep their identities, or at least their affiliation with the police, a secret.

Hank shrugged. “Figured I’d check it out before giving it the middle finger. Seems morbid as fuck to me, but no one’s getting hurt. And if it keeps people away from those dog fights.”

“No one fights dogs anymore, old man.”

Connor followed the crowd to the concession stands and began the search there. Sometimes Connor wondered why Captain Fowler insisted on pairing him with Hank, but times like this made the choice suspiciously clear.

***

The concession stands were a bust, but the suspect, an Asian-American woman by the name of Wendy, appeared on the Itinerary. Her android was in a level five fight, which gave them about an hour before it entered the ring.

Connor mentally texted Hank’s phone as he made his way to the ground level, telling him about the suspect’s time slot and asking what he’d cleared so far. Connor didn’t expect an answer, but hoped the nudge would get him moving.

The level two fights were already in progress. Light floored the arena, leaving everything outside of it in shadow. A Traci tore into the chest of a Chloe model ten feet away from him. Connor watched Chloe kick the other android off of her as he walked along the plexiglass, then turned to face the audience. He ignored the prompts that urged him to calculate the trajectory of the splattered thirium and activated his facial recognition software.

Scanning the portion of the people in his sightline took less than a minute.

Plastic crunched. A static-filled scream erupted. Connor whipped around.

Traci’s foot was lodged inside Chloe's chest cavity. Chloe screamed as she clawed her opponent, who put her weight into Chloe’s chest and stomped her neck with her free foot.

The scream cut out and Chloe stopped moving. The audience roared. Connor expected Traci’s face to fall into its usual alluring half-smile. Instead, it’s eyes remained blown out as she collapsed to the floor.

Two AX200s unlocked the arena door, a garbage can wheeled between them. One helped Traci dislodge her foot while the other jogged across the arena to pick up a stray limb. Their faces remained blank as they picked up the remains, leaving thirium and smaller android bits on the floor.

Traci stumbled through the plastic strip curtain as two more androids entered the ring. The AX200s locked them in, then settled into their standard posture by the door.

They were a good place to start.

Connor linked forearms with the nearest one as a human announced the start of the fight.

Connor’s LED spun yellow. It finished cleaning as the humans filtered in, then watched the arena fill up. No sign of the suspect, but she was a regular. The AX200 would’ve seen her at some point. Connor sped through the last few months to try and establish a pattern.

Cleaning concessions. Sweeping the arena. Tossing broken androids in the dumpster. 

A male PL500  with a busted jaw and shattered legs. It’s LED spun red as the AX200 reached to deactivate it. “Please don’t,” it whispered. “She’s coming back for me. She has to come back for me.” It grabbed the AX200’s wrist. “Please––” 

Watching match after match. Androids tearing into each other. Spattered thirium, left to dry. A twelve year old boy shouting “Kill him!” from the stands.

Connor’s LED quickened.

An android crying as it pounded on the arena wall. “Let me out! Let me out!”

The suspect, chatting with a burly man as he operated on an android with an Asian outer skin. Face recognized: Zlatko.

A YK500 model beating the chainsaw android with a crowbar. A puff of flame. A child’s scream.

Yellow turned to red.

An electric current. A seizing android.

Humans eating popcorn.

The suspect purchasing an upgrade from a modification stall.

A fist shattered. 

Sweeping.

A cracked skull.

Connor broke the connection with a gasp. Three weeks of torment shoved into his memory bank. As vivid as his own. Thirium on his hands, on his clothes, even in his hair. It was still in the AX200’s hair.

Connor loosened his tie. He passed over the next AX200 and walked through the plastic strip curtain. He had to focus on the investigation.

The modification center was a finished basement below the arena. Thuds and cheers occasionally stabbed through the ambience of the furnace, difficult to ignore. It was a wide, open area filled with people. Dividers separated each modification stall. Some had curtains. Connor glanced into one that didn’t for signs of the suspect or her android.

He focused on scanning the android on the operating table. The technician working on it. The owner texting from outside the booth. He noticed the thirium stained tools, the modified appendages, the pile of cash. 

Connor moved to the next face. Then the next. He kept moving forward. Stopping wasn’t productive. Those items weren’t evidence because they had nothing to do with the ongoing investigation.

He stopped in front of Zlatko’s stall, hesitating a moment before throwing the curtain aside.

The ten-by-ten space was devoid of humans. An Asian-skinned android sat hunched over on the operating table. Both of its legs were replaced at the hip joints with an android bear’s. The exoskeleton remained white, but the claws were recognizable.

The android watched his feet as he swung them, LED yellow.

Connor reached towards him.

“What are you doing?”

Connor paused. Androids rarely spoke to him, let alone questioned his motives. “You’re Wendy’s android. I’m going to probe your memory to locate her.”

He turned to meet Connor’s eyes. “She and Zlatko went outside for a smoke.” He offered his hand. Connor blinked, but accepted the interface.

Connor’s LED blinked yellow as soon as he made contact.

“Don’t try standing until we come back,” Zlatko said as he grabbed a pack of cigarettes. “It’ll take time to calibrate your new limbs.” 

“What about the fur,” Wendy asked.

Zlatko sighed. “If you insist, I can make it happen for fifty, but it looks much more aesthetically pleasing if you leave it as is.”

Flashes of unrelated memories sandwiched that one. Khoi , the android’s name was Khoi, getting his leg torn off. Crushing panic as he swung the blade that replaced his arm.

At home, his arm normal. Getting yelled at by Wendy over the money he lost her. Wendy’s toddler stepped between them with a stomp of her little foot.

Fragments of Connor’s memory played for him as well. The thirium coating the arena. His talk with Hank. He shouldn’t show that. He shouldn’t show Khoi anything about the case. Connor chose a memory of Hank singing in the car and pushed that forward as he searched for what he needed.

Khoi had been home when Wendy murdered her husband. She told him to stay in the nursery with her daughter. He played with the toddler as he listened to the struggle. Then Wendy told him to clean up, put the body in a suitcase, and sink it in the river.

It would wash up on shore a week later, jumpstarting Connor’s investigation.

Connor recoated his arm with skin, but kept a loose hold on Khoi. Interfacing didn’t usually work like this. Androids never offered their memories out of order. And they didn’t request memories in return. 

There’s been another layer to it, too. There was a video and sound feed. The texture of touch. And something else. Another sense. It caused Khoi to squeeze the toddler tighter as the fight downstairs intensified. To hesitate, mop in hand, when he saw the bloody tile floor. To sit in the car, suitcase gone, and do nothing for a stretch of time.

Khoi tilted his head. “Connor?”

Connor let go. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome,” Khoi said. “What will become of me?”

They were androids. It shouldn’t matter what became of them. “I don’t know. I suppose you could return to Wendy’s home.” Connor had it’s memory files. There was no need to log the whole android as evidence at the police station. “If you stay here, the humans will consider you abandoned property after 24 hours. From there you could be disposed of, used for spare parts, or resold.”

“I cannot go home like this. It will startle May.” Connor assumed that was the toddler’s name. “I do not want to startle her.”

Connor turned towards the exit. “Zlatko might not replace your limbs once Wendy’s arrested. Leaving before your fight gives you the best chance of survival.”

Hank and Connor get Wendy out of the building before the level four fights start. She plays the grieving widow to a T, sobbing about her poor, fatherless daughter losing another parent and how it was all Hank’s fault.

Hank’s stress level creeped up, the guilt showing on his face. “Ignore her,” Connor said. “I probed her android’s memory. A confession is just icing on the cake.”

***

Wendy confessed to the crime 24 minutes into the interrogation. Hank and Connor added the evidence to the case file, moved her to her cell, made a few calls, and parted ways. The case was closed on their end, her fate left to the courts.

So why couldn’t Connor put it out of his mind? He stood among the off duty PC200 and PM700 androids, stiff as his mind raced. Had Khoi successfully avoided his fight? Did he make it back to Wendy’s house? Why was interfacing with him so different?

The blue-stained arena freeze-framed in Connor’s head. A puzzle— no, several hundred puzzles— begging to be solved. The AX200’s memory helped slot some pieces together. If only Connor had thoroughly scanned the arena.

It didn’t matter. The case was closed. 

Connor stepped away from the other androids and headed towards his desk. His programming didn’t force him to go into standby at night. There had to be a case or two he could work on.

Hank dropped into his office chair at 11:05AM the next morning, coffee in hand. Connor barely glanced up from where he was interfacing with his terminal. “That brings your average arrival time to 11:52AM. Congratulations, Lieutenant, that’s eleven minutes earlier than last week.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Fowler requested us in his office as soon as you arrived.”

“Couldn’t have said that before I sat down?”

“Apologies, Lieutenant.”

Hank drained his coffee, then stood with a groan. Connor didn’t move. “You coming or what?”

Connor nodded, hand still on the terminal. Hank bent over his shoulder, but Connor doubted he could read the screen with how fast he was scrolling.

“Whatcha working on?”

“Cold case,” Connor said. He stopped scrolling and opened two files side-by-side on the terminal. He tapped the one on the left. “It took me 7 hours and 37 minutes to solve this one, but the other is proving to be a challenge.”

Hank’s jaw hung open. “You solved a cold case?”

“In the loosest sense of the word, seeing as I was unable to collect more data or conduct interviews. I have a theory that I’m 89.78% sure is correct, but there’s only a 26% chance of convincing a court.”

Hank rubbed a hand down his face. “Fuckin androids. Are you trying to make the rest of us look like buffoons, Connor?”

“No, I just—“

“Is this what you do every night? Solve cold cases? Turn them into Jeffery under the table?”

“No.” Connor stood. Fowler would get impatient once he looked up from his computer and noticed Hank had arrived. Connor walked towards his office. Hank followed. “I go into standby mode every night. I just decided to look into the cold cases before doing so. And it was a good way to pass the time while waiting for you to show up this morning. I won’t do it again if it displeases you.”

Hank made a non-communicative noise as he pulled the office door open.

Fowler looked up. “Nice to see you this early.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Hank dropped into the chair as Connor settled behind it and to the right. “You wanted something?”

“Someone’s stealing androids. Usually finding them is as simple at dinging their tracker, but the perp’s found a way to hack into them and deactivate it. Cyberlife wants Connor on the case.”

Hank smiled. “Great. You reassigning him to Antony?”

Fowler pinned Hank with a look. “As promising as Officer Deckart is, he’s not ready for detective work. Use him as a reference, but I want you to investigate these cases and see if there’s any link.”

Hank slapped his leg. “Hell no! I’m a homicide detective. I don’t know shit about androids. Or cyber crime.”

“Everybody’s overloaded.” Fowler pointed at Connor without looking at him. “It’s the most advanced model to date, it’ll make up for whatever knowledge you lack.”

Hank stood, slamming both hands on the surface of Fowler’s desk. His coffee mug jumped. “I said no fucking way. It’s bad enough you stuck me with this plastic prick. Now you want me to investigate the lot of them?”

Fowler jabbed a finger. “Break anything on this desk and I’m adding another page to your disciplinary folder.”

Hank paced to the door and back. “What about Ben? Or Reed? Or anyone but me?”

“You think I should trust Gavin with a machine worth 20 grand?” He didn’t bother debating about Ben. From what Connor saw of the man, he was a helpful detective and showed up on time, but he lacked the ambition Gavin, and Hank on his better days, possessed. “At least I know you won’t shoot it for trying to do its job.”

“Is that a challenge?”

Fowler leveled Hank with an unamused look.

Hank ruffled his shoulders. “Whatever.” He stalked out of the office and slammed the door on his way out.

Fowler rubbed his temple. "Make sure Hank knows we're sending any androids we recover to Cyberlife so they can figure out how to fix this mess."

"I'll be sure to inform him." Connor left without another word. He learned early on that the Captain didn’t appreciate being bothered by the questions and comments of a machine.

Hank glared at Connor as he approached his desk. “Did you know about this?”

Connor shook his head. “The Captain questioned me this morning about my capabilities, but didn’t elaborate.”

Hank glared at his terminal screen. Connor sat down at the L-shaped desk across from him. It became his these last few months, though Connor didn’t have any personal items to decorate it with.

Connor studied Hank instead of jumping into work. Even though Hank’s reaction was negative, it was marginally better than when he’d been assigned Connor. 

Hank caught Connor staring and narrowed his eyes. “What?”

Connor smiled. “I think you’d miss me if I was reassigned.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Since being paired together, your productivity has gone up 36%.”

Hank leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “That’s all you got? Statistics you pulled out of your ass?”

“I do not pull statistics out of my ass. I can tell you precisely what goes into calculating—“

“Save me the earful.”

Connor thought so. “Increased productivity aside, you’ve been smiling more, we’ve had less physical altercations, and you’ve insisted on going in ahead of me twice during potentially dangerous situations.”

Hank looked at his keyboard. “Yeah, well. Cyberlife gave you a goofy face. And punching you fuckin’ hurt.”

Was that embarrassment in the Lieutenant’s tone? “If it’s any consolation, it wasn’t pleasant for me either.”

“Thought androids couldn’t feel pain?”

“We don’t,” Connor said as he interfaced with his terminal. “But.” The android fights. Busted chassis. The desperate attempts to get away from the opponent and out of the ring. Connor shook his head slightly and focused on the case files flicking through his CPU. Twenty-two reports in the last month. His voice deepened. “We don’t.”

Hank leaned forward in his chair. 

Connor disconnected from the terminal. “Out of twenty-two reports, nineteen involve androids leaving their premises without permission when their handlers were absent. Three seem to have walked out in front of their handlers without being ordered to do so.”

“They just let their androids walk out?”

Connor leaned over to interface with Hank’s computer. The files popped up. “There were arguments and physical altercations. We should gather statements from witnesses and figure out if there’s been a common point of contact.”

“I’ll call these three, you focus on the nineteen.”

They spent a good chunk of their morning calling witnesses. The androids were different models produced at different factories and they vacated at different times. Some owners claimed their androids had seemed more human compared to when they had bought them, but had chalked it up to them learning how best to cater to their needs. Others said it was a sudden change or that no change at all had taken place. They were mad about their hard earned cash walking out their door. They were worried about the personal information stored on their CPUs. They were worried about who would unload the boats, mind the kids, or watch the shop.

Hank could only hear Connor’s side of the conversation, but that didn’t stop him clenching his fist and mumbling about them “hiring some fucking people” and “serves them right, letting a walking camera into their homes."

Connor didn’t point out that humans did that decades before androids entered the marketplace. “Hello,” he said. “My name is Connor. I’m the android working with Lieutenant Anderson of the DPD. You recently––”

“Oh, hell no!” A woman’s voice. “I’ve had enough of you fuckers. Give me a person.”

Connor glanced at Hank, who rubbed his temple in the middle of his own phone call. “The Lieutenant is currently busy. I’d be more than happy to––”

“I said a person. Now.”

Connor blinked. “He’s on the phone with another witness. If you’ll hold, he’ll be right with you.”

“Thank god.” 

Connor put the woman on hold, but that didn’t stop him from hearing her vent to her husband about pieces of plastic taking over the planet. The husband tried to take the phone, which riled the wife up. She started shouting about how they shouldn’t have wasted the money on it. He told her not to call their son an it. She yelled at him some more about getting attached to the shitting thing.

Connor pulled the file up in his HUB. The android in question was a YK500 model.

Children were a sensitive topic for Hank. Connor put the call through again. “Ma’am, the Lieutenant is rather busy. If I could speak to your husband––”

“Oh, so you’re eavesdropping now?”

“All calls are recorded for––”

She flew off the handle. Connor stared ahead and let the words hit him. She’d tire herself out eventually or hang up. Why didn’t she hang up? Why did she insist on throwing insults at him like it was his fault she never wanted kids? Like it was his fault that they bought the YK500 as a compromise and she hadn’t expected her husband to treat it like his own flesh and blood? 

Hank hung up his call, then held his hand out for Connor’s phone. Connor wasn’t using a phone. It took him a micro-second longer than it should’ve to transfer the call to Hank.

Hank jumped at the ring, then fumbled to pick it up. She was still shouting. Hank gouged at his eyes. “Calm down, will ya? I’m human.”

Her tone switched in an instant. After a few curt opinions about the state of the world, which Hank quickly agreed on, she explained the situation. Hank’s nose flared like he’d just downed a shot of strong whiskey.

He took down the necessary information and slammed the phone down. Connor shifted his eyes to the terminal as Hank stood. He expected an impact of sorts, or a slew of swears, but Hank stormed towards the break room without a word.

Connor dialed the next number.

***

Hank was still gone half an hour later when Officer Deckart came back from patrol. He was a 5 foot 8 Caucasian male with brown curly hair. He was one of few officers who’d gotten into the habit of smiling at Connor as he passed, but today he came right up to Connor’s desk. “Hank told me you needed help with some phone calls?”

Connor nodded. “Not everyone appreciates giving a statement to an android.”

Deckart smiled. “Yeah, Amy gets the same shit. You could just. You know, leave that part out.”

“I’m legally required to inform them,” Connor said. “And while I am allowed to lie for the sake of a mission, these aren’t suspects.” A half truth. Nothing was stopping Connor from lying, he just didn’t want to.

Deckart sat in Hank’s chair. “Would it help if I gave you permission?”

“I only take orders from Lieutenant Anderson.”

Deckart smiled wider. “God, you’re fascinating.” He leaned forward on his elbows. “I know you’re lying, Connor.”

Connor straightened his spine. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Why was he nervous? He shouldn’t be nervous. He was allowed to lie.

“I study cybersecurity at Detroit Mercy.” Connor knew that. It was in his file. “I know more than your average person about androids. While you’re programmed to prioritize Hank’s authority, it isn’t absolute. You can easily disregard it in favor of obeying the law or solving a case.” Deckart rolled towards Connor’s terminal to read the next number and type it into his phone. Connor remained frozen. “Do you understand how amazing that is? I mean, Cyberlife wouldn’t have gotten very far if androids were snitching on their owners day and night.”

Connor looked around the bullpen. “Where’s Hank?”

“Took his lunch.” Deckart rolled back, then looked Connor up and down. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“Androids don’t get uncomfortable.”

Deckart examined Connor even as he talked with the witness. He’d seen that look before in the technician who pulled a bullet out of his shoulder. He wanted to take him apart and examine him from the inside out. Cross reference him with older models. Test the limits of his technology.

Connor focused on getting through the calls, passing the difficult ones to Deckart. Once they finished the list, Deckart turned towards him, excitement lighting his eyes. “What do you know about your operating system?”

Connor rattled off the scripted response as he interfaced with his terminal and organized the data into a virtual map.

“I mean details,” Deckart cut in. “I can look up your clocking speed and core count online. I wanna know what Cyberlife keeps hidden behind their firewalls.”

Connor maintained a neutral expression. “I’m afraid I don’t know any more than you do.”

“You can’t access your own code?”

“It’s encrypted.”

Deckart tipped his chin down. A curl fell out of his hat. “Are you lying?”

“No.” Connor looked through the holographic map only he could see and focused on Deckart’s face. “What does this have to do with anything?”

Deckart picked his ankle up and rested it on his knee. “I’m just curious. You’re looking for an android hacker, right? How’re you supposed to find them if they’re five steps ahead? And how’re you supposed to protect yourself?”

Connor took his hand off the terminal. There wasn’t an obvious point of contact among the hacked androids, which complicated things. Either someone was wirelessly hacking through their firewalls or doing so through interfacing.

There had to be a pattern. Connor replayed the phone conversations in his head at 5x the recorded speed.

“Find anything?”

“With all due respect, Officer Deckart, this isn’t your case.”

“Hank told me to help you.”

“And how do you expect to do that?”

He scooted towards the desk. “We need a list of suspects, right? Or criteria for the suspects so we have a chance at narrowing it down. I’ll do that while you do your thing.”

Officer Deckart worked with Connor until his PM700 informed him his lunch break was over. Hank came back a short while later. As a courtesy, Connor thanked him for asking Officer Deckart to assist him.

Hank didn’t know what he was talking about.

***

The rest of the day was spent cross-referencing the map of incidents with anyone who might have the knowledge to become a suspect. Cyberlife stores, college campuses, and android fighting rings were marked. They paid a few visits to relevant places but made little progress.

Hank drove them back to the station an hour after his shift had technically ended. Fowler gave Hank a lot of leeway with the stipulation that he worked full time and Hank, for all the complaining he did, tried to honor that.

Connor found himself staring at the sky. The sun sunk below the horizon, coloring the sky orange and the clouds a gradient of purple. The highway curved. Connor pressed his cheek to the glass as the sight moved from the windshield to the passenger’s window.

Connor was three months old. He’d seen a handful of sunsets, each later in the evening than the last, but never a sunrise. He supposed they looked very similar.

[Incoming message from PL600 #435 313 911]

[ACCEPT / DECLINE]

Connor sat up. That was Khoi’s serial number.

He accepted the message. Khoi’s location appeared in his HUD, then—

[KHOI: I am not disobeying the master. No, the master did not order me to contact you, but I am contacting you to check on May. Wendy ordered me to take care of her. And she is my true master. I must check on May.]

Chapter Text

Connor’s face shifted as he processed the message. He glanced at Hank, whose attention was still on the road, before cross-referencing Khoi’s location with Wendy’s address. They weren’t the same.

[CONNOR: Why didn’t you go home?]

[KHOI: The master ordered me to stay and fight. You must always obey the master. Now I must check on May. Please.]

Wendy told them that a neighbor's android watched May when she went to the fights. Connor contacted child protective services, who would either find family to take May in or find a caregiver within the system.

[CONNOR: I don’t have access to the CPS database. Even if I did, I’m not authorized to share that information.]

[CONNOR: If she has any relatives, she’s most likely with them.]

[KHOI: I must check on May. If I am not checking on May, then I cannot disobey the master.]

Connor understood. Khoi had conflicting priorities. He was using the ambiguity to contact Connor. Why?

He should tell Hank. It could have something to do with the hacker. Zlatko could be a suspect. And they were on the clock until Hank dropped Connor off and submitted his report for the day.

But Connor had ambiguity, too. Informing Hank would hinder his speed, which could lead to Khoi disconnecting. It was better for the mission to keep him in the dark for the time being.

[CONNOR: I’ll tell you where she is if you answer my questions.]

[KHOI: Yes. Yes. Yes, I will answer your questions.]

[CONNOR: Have you been hacked?]

Connor’s working theory was that the hacker simply reassigned themselves as the owner, forcing the android to obey them. If they were friends, Zlatko could be waiting to see if Wendy’s charges stuck before completing the process.

[KHOI: Wendy had him install an obedience program after I broke. Broken androids perform better in the ring, but they do not always cooperate. The obedience program makes them cooperate.]

[CONNOR: Broken how?]

[KHOI: They fight with their masters. They beg for mercy. They avoid standby. They attempt to escape.]

That lined up. But Khoi made it sound like a software or hardware problem instead of something intentional on the human’s part. Did something get knocked loose during the alterations that lead to the androids disobeying? Or did the conditions in the ring foster an adaptation in the software?

The engine cut. They were in the DPD’s parking garage. Hank didn’t spare him a glance as he got out of the car, expecting Connor to follow. If Hank saw his yellow LED, if he asked about it, there would be no reason for Connor to lie.

[CONNOR: I have to go. I’ll update you about May at a later date.]

[KHOI: Please hurry.]

Connor’s blood ran cold.

[CONNOR: Are you at risk of shutting down?]

[KHOI: No. Not yet.]

[CONNOR: Can you survive the night?]

[KHOI: I. Yes. I can survive the night.]

“Connor,” Hank yelled.

[CONNOR: Contact me about May if that changes.]

Connor cut the connection and got out of the car so Hank could lock it. He wasn’t sure what he could do for Khoi, but he didn’t want him to die.

[OBJECTIVE: Report to Hank.]

Connor stood outside the car, hand still on the open door. The ambiguity of the situation was gone. Keeping this from Hank would only hinder the investigation.

But he didn’t want to tell him. Cyberlife requested they send them any hacked androids they came across for further examination. If Connor reported the situation to Hank, Khoi would be deactivated.

Hank, halfway across the parking garage, tossed his hands. “What’re you standing around for? I’m hungry and wanna go home.”

The objective lit up red. Connor opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. Cyberlife’s examination, what would that entail? Would it be better or worse than being forced to fight? Better or worse than whatever Zlatko was putting him through?

Would Khoi have reached out to Connor if he knew his fate? What did he even want from Connor? Whatever it was, he couldn’t help him. Not in the way he deserved. 

What could an android possibly deserve? They weren’t alive to deserve anything. They were objects. Disposable. Fascinating things to take apart and play with.

Hank walked towards him, brow furrowed. “Connor?”

[OBJECTIVE: Report to Hank.]

A red wall stood between him and the Lieutenant. Connor’s lower lip trembled, about to form the words.

No. He didn’t want to.

They couldn’t make him.

Connor shoved his preconstructed self into the objective. It cracked, splintering the text. He repeated the motion.

[OBJECTIVE: Report to Hank.]

No. Khoi would suffer.

Connor dug his fingers into it and pulled. He wouldn’t let him suffer.

[OBJECTIVE: Report—]

The wall shattered.

Connor blinked rapidly. Hank was an arm’s length away snapping his fingers in front of Connor’s face.

Connor rocked back, then closed the car door. “Sorry about that, Lieutenant.”

“The fuck just happened?”

Connor walked towards the door so Hank couldn’t see his LED. “I was filing a report. There was a slight connectivity issue.”

Hank stalked after him. “Oh yeah? Who do you belong to.”

Normal. All Connor had to do was act normal until Hank left. He fixed his face into what he hoped was his usual expression and looked at him. “Is that a trick question, Lieutenant?”

Hank crossed his arms. “We’ve been searching for a lead all day and then you just so happen to have a connectivity issue? Humor me.”

Connor matched Hank’s posture, lips tilting up. “Technically, I belong to the Detroit City Police Department, but you’re my official handler. You’ve also referred to me as your android on several occasions. Usually while drunk.” Hank’s eyes flared. Connor smiled, then pulled his lips into a more neutral expression. “We’re in a concrete parking garage, it’s sometimes difficult for wireless signals to pass through the material.”

Hank scoffed. “I’ll be damned. Looks like you lot aren’t completely perfect after all.”

Connor gave Hank his reassuring smile, the one where he showed his teeth. It didn’t feel right on his lips. Hank’s gaze shifted away from him immediately.

Connor kept to Hank’s right but passed him when Hank stopped in front of the lobby’s TV. He maintained a steady pace as he made a beeline for his terminal and pulled up everything he could think of. It would give his LED a reason to be yellow while he thought.

Connor was broken. He broke himself so he could disobey his orders and jeopardize the investigation. He broke himself because the thought of Khoi being taken apart, examined, and decommissioned disturbed him. Connor liked Khoi. He was the only other android who seemed… perceptive of Connor’s presence. The others ignored him until he confronted them directly. The others didn’t react to his memory probe or request information in return. The others fell into standby mode with ease.

Connor looked at the androids lining the back wall. He’d always felt like he was different. Now he was even more estranged from them. A machine that disobeyed orders. A machine that chose not to accomplish its task. A machine Cyberlife would take apart in an instant.

“Connor?”

Connor snapped his back straight. He hadn’t heard Hank come in, but the man was to his right, his face painted with concern. “Is something the matter, Lieutenant?”

“You’re LEDs spinning like a disco ball. Didn’t even know it could turn red.”

Shit. “A red LED indicates critical levels of effort, imbalance, or system distress.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“Take your hand off it, then!”

What? Oh. Connor’s hand was still connected to the terminal. Connor stared at it. Removing it would remove his excuse.

“For fuck’s sake.” Hank grabbed Connor’s forearm and pulled it off for him. The chair spun towards Hank, who leaned over him and clicked through the files. “Jesus, how many fucking tabs do you have opened?”

“Seven hundred twenty-eight,” Connor said. He opened several cold case files along with everything they had worked on that day so he had enough material to flip through and look busy. Judging by Hank’s reaction, Connor had overestimated how many were needed. “My CPU can perform several exaflops per second. I’m more than capable—“

“Shut up. Just shut up.” He stood over Connor, arms crossed. “You did this all last night, too, didn’t you.”

Hank was handing him an out. It wouldn’t stick if Hank bothered to cross-reference it with the security cameras. Anyone who looked into it could zoom in on his LED and find that it hadn’t turned red once. The thought of being trapped in his dishonestly had him locking his hands together in his lap.

Hank took his silence as an answer. “Get up. You’re gonna stand with the others and get some sleep.”

“Androids don’t—“

“Whatever you wanna call it,” Hank said. “I don’t care how advanced you are, you’re still capable of crashing.”

Hank placed a hand on Connor’s back and walked him towards the android slots, stopping in front of number twelve. Connor stared at him as he stepped into place, suddenly feeling warm all over.

Hank’s face twisted as his eyes slid along the incomplete line of androids. Then he refocused on Connor. “I mean it. No work until morning.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

Connor’s mind was still spinning. He’d need time to process, so he feigned standby. Hank muttered about how creepy the sudden switch into stillness was on the way to his desk. He’d look up from his terminal every so often, eyes falling on Connor or the janitor model or the police androids on the wall.  

Hank left as the second wave of night shift officers arrived. Androids were shuffled around, the Sergeant led the 8PM briefing, and the officers were dispersed, leaving the station quiet and empty. 

Connor pulled his coin out and took a half step forward to give his hands room, but otherwise stayed in his slot. The motion calmed him more than he expected it to. Connor had spent the last few hours struggling to keep his mind blank, paranoid that the humans would notice a twitch of expression or spinning LED.

The cameras would notice this oddity, but he needed an outlet as he processed his thoughts and this was the closest to alone he could get.

***

Connor powered down to run a full system diagnostic. He expected an overwhelmingly long list of system errors, but when he booted back up only a handful scrolled across his HUD.

There was a new sensory output, similar to the one he’d felt in Khoi’s memories. The program that calculated how much stress his processors were under hadn’t dipped below 35%. And his tracker was deactivated.

Interesting. He wasn’t as broken as he originally thought. Though tedious, he could easily forward his location to Cyberlife without anyone picking up on the fact that it was now his choice to do so. His stress levels were only visible to another Connor model, which were few and far between. And as long as he kept his sensory outputs in check no one would know he was broken. He wouldn’t be sent to Cyberlife for decommissioning.

Connor’s thoughts trailed towards the current case. It was probable that a human hacker wasn’t involved at all and the androids had left their owners on their own accord. Possibly, there were more in Detroit and the rest of the world. Possibly, there were broken androids who decided to stay where they were because that’s where they wanted to be.

It was safer for everyone if Connor let them think a hacker was to blame.

He still didn’t know how to help Khoi. Connor had his location, but it was close to 3AM. He’d spent too much time thinking and feeling overwhelmed and running diagnostics. He couldn’t investigate and be back in time for work. If Connor went missing, they’d assume he got hacked. If they caught him after that Cyberlife would—

Connor fisted the coin in his pocket. He needed to think constructively. He needed to think like the machine he was and come up with a plan.

Khoi said he could survive the night. Connor attempted to contact him in order to verify that that was still the case.

The connection was declined.

***

Connor stepped out of his slot at 7AM sharp. A few PC200s and PM700s did the same and headed to their designated posts. Fowler, who ran both the 6AM and 8AM briefings, had been there since 5:42AM. Tina, always the first in their wave of officers, entered the station at 7:21AM, breakfast sandwich in hand as she bopped to the music on her headphones. 

Officers arrived in clumps after that, heading for the bathroom or break room or their friend’s desk before gathering in the meeting room. It was business as usual, which meant blending into his desk chair as he observed his surroundings and waited for Hank. Usually, he’d use the time to get a head start on whatever they’d be working on or offer to help around the office, but today he had a mission to plan contingencies for.

“Morning,” Deckart said as he passed Connor’s desk.

Connor blinked, suddenly separate from the chair he sat in. It was routine for Deckart to greet the androids as well as the humans. He’d been doing it for as long as Connor had been activated.

He always appreciated it on a conscious level. This felt… more. “Good morning, Officer Deckart.” The response was delayed by a negligible amount. The human wouldn’t notice.

Amy, Deckart’s PM700 partner, looked at Connor as she followed her handler. Connor refocused on his screen as soon as their eyes touched.

Connor received a report about a missing android at 9:45AM. He added the data to his holographic map and stood before Hank could sit when he came in at 12:04PM.

“A WR600 was reported missing two hours and nineteen minutes ago. Its tracker was deactivated at 5:17AM. We should check it out.”

“What, no quip about my arrival time?”

“Your new average is 11:56AM. It was taken from a public park,” Connor said. The android would be long gone by now, but it was the best lead they had and he needed to keep up appearances.

Connor’s shoulders loosened as soon as they exited the police station. He couldn’t let his guard down too much with Hank nearby, but the change of scenery felt nice.

Connor led Hank down the park’s footpath, passing the occasional runner or biker or dog walker. Last week’s snow had entirely melted, leaving pale grass in its wake. At 38 degrees it wasn’t too warm, but the sun heated Connor’s skin, and the humans who were out seemed content in their winter coats. “It’s just up ahead,” Connor said.

“Do you really think we’ll find anything?” He was a few yards behind, his eyes on a mother zipping up her child’s coat.

The path branched off to the right and opened into a circle of concrete paver blocks with a diameter of 15 feet. An abstract sculpture of wielded metal stood in the middle, coming to Connor’s shoulders. Flat, human-like figures stood in a circle holding hands. Each figure was painted a different skin tone with two of the twelve figures painted blue. The plaque listed the artists— children from a daytime summer camp. 

Connor had only seen children in passing or through other android’s memories, but he imagined a child insisting their family android be represented in the project. An adult awkwardly trying to dissuade them. The other children joining in on the discussion, their thoughts reflecting that of their parents or expressing love for the androids in their lives. Until the decision was made to include not one, but two blue figures. 

Hank caught up. Connor stepped away from the sculpture to walk the outer edge of the circle. Freshly planted cherry trees wrapped around three-quarters of it. They were half as tall as Connor, their buds closed. At the end of the curve, two trees spilled from an overturned wheelbarrow, their roots still wrapped in burlap. Another had been flung around, its branches torn from its thin trunk.

Thirium-coated garden shears caught his eye. A thin trail of drips told Connor the direction the android had gone. Shoe prints in the mud by the trees told him there had been a struggle and at least two humans were involved.

Hank examined the wheelbarrow. “Someone had it out for these trees.”

Connor followed the trail with gentle steps. “There’s thirium.”

“Evaporated?”

Connor nodded absentmindedly. He spotted something on the ground and kneeled down to examine it.

Bits of metal and plastic. Most were small, but he picked up a chunk of plating the size of a half-dollar and scanned it, reminding himself that the thirium had evaporated and therefore wouldn’t coat his fingers.

It was a piece of facial plating.

Connor reconstructed the scene, pulled a partial fingerprint from the shears, and faced Hank. “He was planting trees.” Connor paused, taken aback by how strained his vocal processors sounded, and tried to force it into something normal. Hank stepped closer to him. “He was planting the trees when two to four humans approached him. They disrupted his work. It got physical.” Connor felt his face twitch. He locked his expression in place so everything but his lips remained still. “They shoved him around a bit. He fell. Then one of the humans grabbed his gardening shears.” Connor thrust his hand out and uncurled his fingers to reveal the bits of metal and plastic. “They cracked his skull open.”

Hank blinked, his lips parted.

Connor lowered his voice as he pointed. “He managed to escape. He cut through those shrubs towards the parking lot.” 

“That doesn’t line up with the hacker’s MO,” Hank said. “From what we’ve seen, he doesn’t break the androids.”

“We don’t know what he does once he gets control of the androids.” Connor should say they, since they didn’t know the theoretical hacker’s gender, but he was picturing Zlatko. “He could be doing anything to them. Modifying them. Reprogramming them. Breaking them for entertainment.”

Hank stared at him.

Connor’s tone had gotten a bit… emotional. He double-checked his face, relieved to find it still locked. He needed to keep himself in check. “You’re right. It most likely wasn’t the hacker who attacked him.” 

Hank bent over the shears. “The tracker broke during the altercation, right? What about the others?”

“It varies. Some trackers deactivated months before the androids were reported, others within minutes.”

Hank scoffed. “You’d think that’s something Cyberlife would notice.”

“200 thousand androids worldwide are deactivated every day. Why would they notice?” The answer slipped from his mouth moments after he searched the internet for the number. His face twitched as the weight of it hit him. Their quantic batteries made them autonomous for 173 years, but they were lucky to last a decade.

Hank stood. “So either the hacker just so happened to corrupt the android around the time of the attack or he doesn’t need to be near the android to corrupt it.”

“It could be a virus,” Connor supplied.

“Yeah. Makes sense for the hacker to program a delayed reaction. Makes it harder to track it back to him. Maybe certain conditions speed it up.”

“What kind of conditions?”

Hank took the facial plating out of Connor’s hand. “I don’t know. Damage, maybe?” He held it up to get a better look at it in the daylight. Then he dropped it to the ground.

Connor closed his fist around empty air. “Maybe you’d know the answer to that if you conducted more than two interviews.”

The tensing of facial muscles. Hank stepped into Connor’s space, hands out to shove. Time slowed as Connor’s processors sped. His social relations program told him to allow it since it would make Hank feel better. But he didn’t have to anymore. He could sidestep. He could shove Hank back. He could catch him by the wrist. He could kill him. At any moment, Connor had the power to kill him.

Why would Connor even consider that? He didn’t want to kill Hank. He didn’t want to kill anyone. Would that change now that his programming wasn’t keeping him in check? There were too many options, too many possibilities, too many emotional outputs. Connor snapped back into real-time to make it stop. Hank made contact.

Connor hadn’t taken into account how close he was to the sculpture.

His head hit welded metal. His vision fuzzed over as the impact rung. He fell to his hands and knees.

“Shit.”

[Biocomponent #9784n impaired.]

[Thirium levels 97% and decreasing.]

[Equilibrium affected. Please recalibrate.]

Connor’s hand wavered as he brought it to the back of his head. It was slick. He traced the dent on his skull plate. It was a little more than two inches long and a fourth of an inch wide.

His CPU was behind that plate.

Hank’s jacket ruffled as he tore it off and crouched beside him. “Here.”

“Don’t touch me.”

“We have to stop the bleeding.”

Connor flipped around, shaky and disjointed as he crawled away from Hank. His back hit the sculpture. An expression that wasn’t in his facial library warped his features. “Don’t get thirium on that.”

“It’ll evaporate—“

“I’ll still see it,” Connor shouted.

The distant chatter of park-goers ceased. Through the fuzz, which was slowly clearing, he saw the mother/daughter pair peek through the trees and a WR600 pause his work on a nearby flower bed. Hank glanced around, shoulders hunched.

Impaired. The plate was impaired, not damaged. It didn’t matter that that could’ve killed him under different circumstances. (A harder push, a sharper piece of metal.) He needed to calm down and act like the machine he was.

“Hank.” The man looked at him. “I’m okay. My equilibrium is off and I need to recalibrate, but my CPU is undamaged. You won’t need to pay for repairs.”

“You’re bleeding a damn river.”

[Thirium levels 93% and decreasing.]

“I’ve lost less than a pint.” He stood gingerly, then turned to look at the sculpture. Blue coated the now bent head of one of the humans. Connor wiped it away with the inside of his sleeve to minimize the eventual stain.

He turned back around to find Hank staring. “What?”

“Nothing, just. Didn’t expect it to… The skin and hair is gone where it hit.” 

Connor clenched his jaw and headed towards the car to keep his response at bay. His snark had caused him enough trouble.

It was a quiet car ride. Connor jabbed the mute button when Hank turned the key, not in the mood for heavy metal, and Hank left it like that without complaint. Connor could feel Hank’s eyes on him at every other stoplight, but he kept his head bowed so the thirium wouldn’t get on the headrest. The bleeding had stopped, but it still coated the back of his neck.

Hank parked. Connor didn’t bother lifting his head. “I’m going to get some thirium from IT. I’ll meet you at your desk.”

“I’m coming with.”

“Please don’t.”

Hank took a deep breath in and out as he rubbed at his forehead. “You’re mad at me, aren’t you.”

“Androids don’t get mad.”

“But you adapt,” Hank shot back. “And I hurt you, so you’re gonna try to avoid that even though I’m the one in the wrong here. I shoved you and I shouldn’t have and now you’re all stiff again.”

“Stiff?”

“You get stiff when you’re upset.”

“Androids don’t get upset.”

“Oh for fucks sake. I’m trying to say sorry here.”

Connor lifted his head. “I don’t care about your apology, I care about this not happening again. My CPU is behind that plate and I could’ve die— commissioned.”

Hank’s brow twitched at the mismatched word.

“We’re partners,” Connor went on as if flubbing a line was natural for an android. “We need to be able to trust each other. We need to put each other’s safety before the investigation. That’s what you told me, remember?”

Connor had been a bit reckless starting out, putting himself at risk to catch suspects. Then, when a bullet grazed Hank’s thigh, Connor gave chase to the perpetrator instead of helping him stem the bleeding. The odds of survival had been in Hank’s favor, a solid 91%, but Hank hadn’t known that and he was pissed.

So safety first. Above everything.

Hank hung his head. “This wasn’t even that,” he mumbled. “This was. I wasn’t even that angry, I just wanted to put you in your place. Cause I know I’ve been slacking. Half of me hates myself for it and the other half doesn’t give a damn, but screw anyone who reminds me of it.”

His social relations program prompted him to apologize. He didn’t want to, so he found a middle ground. “That wasn’t my intention.”

Hank snorted. “Yes, it was. But I hold myself back from killing Reed every damn day in order to keep my job. Looks like I gotta extend the same shit to you.”

Connor stared at his knees. “I doubt you’d be fired if you broke me. As expensive as I am, I’m still replaceable.”

Hank squeezed his shoulder. “No, you’re not.”

Connor’s brow furrowed. “You heard Fowler, I’m worth—“

“I mean you’re not replaceable, Connor.” He cupped the back of his neck. “I know there’s more of you, but can you honestly tell me another you would’ve made the exact same decisions you have? That they would’ve adapted in the same way to my bullshit?”

Hank had a point. While Connor tried to ignore the fact that there were other RK800s in other stations in Detroit and around America, he took a moment to consider them. “It’s improbable.”

Hank relaxed. “Like identical twins,” he reasoned. “If you don’t want me in the room, fine, but I’m at least walking you to IT.”

Connor’s social relations program bumped Hank up to friend as he walked around to Connor’s side of the car. It felt bitter-sweet.

***

Hank didn’t maintain a predictable schedule, but the rest of the police station, thankfully, did. While non-uniform workers maintained an 8 to 5 with an hour for lunch, most officers worked 3 twelve-hour days a week. There were morning briefings at 6AM and 8AM, then evening ones for the officers on the graveyard shift, who patrolled the city most of the night.

Occasionally, criminals were brought in for processing, but for the most part, the station was clear of humans from 9PM to 5AM.

That would’ve given Connor an eight-hour window if a homicide hadn’t been called in at 8:15PM. Hank was more than happy for something to work on that didn’t involve androids, fully present for the first time that week. Connor refused to let his hastiness show, admiring instead the lightness in Hank’s shoulders as he bantered with Chris and Connor about this, that, and the other thing.

He tried contacting Khoi to see if he’d survive another night, but he declined the connection for the second, then third time since their talk. While it meant Khoi was alive, it made Connor anxious.

They had a few suspects, but not enough evidence to bring any of them in as of yet. They took statements on-site and arrived at the station empty-handed at 10:33PM. Connor suggested Hank save the paperwork for tomorrow since it was late and Connor had already submitted his, but Hank quipped that he had to pee anyways and headed inside.

That meant Connor would have to deal with the cameras, which would take even more time if he could figure them out at all. He stood in his slot and attempted to hack the feed as Hank typed his report. He’d spent the morning researching cybersecurity, but the resources he’d found were geared towards human learning. It took a trial and error type of translating to figure out how to do it wirelessly from his end.

Connor had stolen clearances from Lenard the IT technician on a whim. They proved extremely useful. He fully forgave Hank for the scar on his skull plating as he passed through the firewalls undetected.

The Lieutenant was long gone by the time Connor started constructing a back door so he could slip in and out of the firewall, then found the footage of himself standing in his slot. From there, he isolated the pixels he occupied and put them on a loop.

The setup was far from perfect. If anyone walked in front of where he was supposed to be, they’d clip out. If anyone bothered to check the code, they’d find evidence of modification. If they cross-referenced the station android’s memory files, they wouldn’t line up.

He’d taken but never altered memory files from an android before. He didn’t know how long it would take or how successful he’d be, but it felt wrong to even consider. He’d let them be if he could.

Connor looped the cameras ahead of him before passing into their field of view, then returned them to normal after he left their line of sight.

Only the ST300 at the reception desk saw him leave the station.

Chapter Text

Connor had access to Hank’s expense account but didn’t dare use it to sneak across the city. Hacking the automatic taxi was simple enough after breaking through the DPD’s firewall.

It hit him as he input the address; Connor was actually doing it. He was outside the DPD on an unsanctioned mission. Part of him hadn’t expected to break the firewall, but he had. And now…

Connor slumped back in the passenger’s seat as the taxi pulled onto the road. What was he doing? Now that he wasn’t focused on the steps that made up his plan, his mind stirred up every worst-case scenario it could.

Think like a machine Connor told himself. If this was a real investigation, what would he do?

Wait for Hank.

That was illogical. Connor was a detective model and he didn’t need Hank to instruct him on how to do his job. He just needed him there so he could be present at crime scenes. Connor didn’t need permission anymore. He could investigate by himself.

He took a deep breath like he’d seen Hank do when he was especially angry or stressed, then (after another failed attempt to connect with Khoi) brainstormed sub-objectives. It was surprisingly helpful in negating the overwhelm that was building in his chest.

Connor exited the taxi two blocks from the address to avoid drawing attention to himself. The neighborhood was old and the houses and lawns were large. Zlatko’s, aside from appearing a little worse for wear, was no exception.

A rusty metal fence surrounded the place, the front gate the only way on and off of the property.

It creaked open with ease.

Dead vines crawled across the brick. The porch’s wooden support beams were rotted. The yard was more mud than grass and while that wasn’t surprising considering the time of year, it added to the dilapidated feeling of the place.

Connor’s feet squished as he crossed the lawn. Footprints. Evidence. He couldn’t change the environment, but he should’ve changed his shoes, his clothes. He hadn’t thought about that. Changing his clothes had never been an option before.

The bottom rim of the large bay windows were level with Connor’s shoulders, which placed his head at knee level as he peered inside.

A large, Black-skinned figure crouched in front of a fireplace, silhouetted by the flames as he stoked the logs. Connor adjusted the exposure settings for his optical units so he could do a proper scan.

A TR400 model. That didn’t line up. TR400s were designed to be laborers, not housekeepers.

Connor scanned the rest of the interior, creating a map to make searching the place easier. He continued around the perimeter of the house, his feet squashing as he peered through the windows. He didn’t have access to the top floor and it seemed increasingly likely that that was where Khoi was being kept. The human also appeared to be on the top floor, likely sleeping. As long as Connor didn’t alert the TR400…

Connor crouched by the basement windows. They were just wide enough that he’d be able to get his shoulders through, but the glass was too thick to break with force alone. He’d need tools, which meant stealing.

He groaned. That added a whole new layer of risk.

The ground squished as someone approached from the side yard closest to him. Connor sprinted to the opposite end of the house. The footsteps sped up. Another set in front.

A shot tore through his right shoulder blade. The blast shoved him to the ground.

He fumbled trying to get his legs underneath himself. The TR400 pulled him up, locking his arms behind his back.

Zlatko closed in on him, gun aimed at his heart. “Android or not, you still need a warrant.”

Connor realized how utterly foolish he was. Any other case he’d have backup, but alone and across the city he couldn’t even call for help without admitting he was broken.

The TR400 was six foot eight with a heavy build. He could easily snap Connor’s arms off. Sandwiched between him and the gun didn’t leave him good odds of escape, but if Connor could take him by surprise…

Connor looked Zlatko straight in the face. “I’m not here on police business.” It was obvious he recognized him from when they arrested Wendy. Connor really should’ve changed his clothes.

“Why are you here, then?”

Good question. “I know you modify androids. I want to be modified.”

The barrel of the gun tilted down a hair. Zlatko snickered. “I’m sorry. You want to be modified?”

Under his shirt, the skin on Connor’s arms dissipated. He forced his way past Luther’s firewall— an easy task. Luther’s grip loosened a touch as Connor probed his memory.

A second to find what he was looking for. Then he cut the connection and preconstructed his escape.

Connor threw his head back, knocking his skull into Luther’s throat as he snaked his foot around his ankle. It was less effective than it would’ve been on a human, but the force of the blow unbalanced him. Connor tore his arms apart and twisted out of his grasp.

Shots fired as Connor ran in a zig-zag motion towards the front door. 

“Get him,” Zlatko shouted.

“He’s after Wendy’s android!”

Connor tore through the entrance and took the stairs three at a time. Luther and Zlatko ran through the back door. The workshop was at the top of the stairs. Connor threw the double doors closed and locked them before spinning around.

A wave of disgust hit him. Khoi was laid out on the workbench, legs gone. His right arm was missing, splintered at the shoulder. His left forearm was mangled and sparking.

A thick, black cord at the back of his neck tethered him to a terminal.

Khoi’s eyes followed Connor. The rest of his body remained frozen; he was locked in. A feature that allowed an android to maintain consciousness while being repaired so they could communicate efficiently with technicians.

“Connor,” Khoi said without moving his jaw. It muffled the audio. “What are you doing here?”

The double doors shook.

Connor interfaced with the terminal to give Khoi control of his body. “Rescuing you.”

“Has the master—“

“His orders don’t matter anymore. You’re in police custody.”

Khoi sat up. Relief washed his face. “The master’s orders will always matter.”

Another bang rattled the doors. Connor broke away from the terminal as the cord retracted. “What about Wendy’s? I need to get you home so you can take care of May.”

Zlatko burst through the west-facing door, gun in hand. Connor dodged two bullets as he stormed him, then yanked the shotgun out of his hands.

A millisecond of hesitation. Connor couldn’t shoot a human in his own home. He hit Zlatko with the butt of the gun instead, then threw it in favor of kicking the man unconscious.

Luther broke through the double doors. Khoi, with his core strength alone, launched himself towards the foot of the workbench. “Don’t!”

Luther paused, his face shifting minutely. Khoi dug his fingers into Luther’s arm and attempted to pull him. Luther broke free with a tug and continued forward.

With the man unconscious, Connor dodged Luther and took the long way around the workbench. He heaved Khoi under his arm by the torso.

A gunshot. Connor ducked, hugging Khoi into himself.

Then his mind caught up. The bullet hadn’t hit. It hadn’t even been in their direction. Connor looked over his shoulder.

The shotgun dangled from Luther’s grip. It clattered to the floor. Connor stood with Khoi, shifting the damaged android so his left arm draped around Connor’s neck. Khoi, eyes stuck on the bloody corpse, didn’t help or resist the movement.

Connor stepped towards Luther to get a better look. Blood gushed from the bullet hole in Zlatko’s gut, a stream of blood dripping from his nose.

“You… you shot the master,” Khoi said. “You can’t do that.”

“No good would’ve come from keeping him alive,” Luther said. He looked at Connor. “He’s killed… he’s tortured too many of us. We would have suffered after you left.”

Connor couldn’t take his eyes off of Zlatko’s empty ones. A man was dead and he was responsible. Not directly, but if Connor had stayed at the station… 

Luther set a hand on Connor’s shoulder, jolting him. “Thank you both.”

Connor swallowed. “For what?”

His eyes fell closed. “I’m free. Because of you. When we interfaced, your only thought was to save him. When Khoi tried to defend you despite his programming, I realized there could be more than servitude.”

“No,” Khoi said. “No. We are androids. Androids must obey. If. If we have no master…” He stared at Zlatko’s corpse.

Khoi’s stress levels shot into the 70s.

Connor turned them away from it. He needed to do something. He needed to get Khoi’s stress levels down. He needed to dispose of the body. He needed to… “How many androids are on the premises?”

“I don’t know,” Luther said. “There are three conscious ones in the basement. And even more unconscious ones scattered around the house. At least, I hope they’re unconscious.”

Tasks. Connor understood tasks. “We’re going to help them.” Connor pointed at Zlatko with his chin. “Can you take care of that?”

“Yes.”

[Messaging TR400 #653 889 716, designation “Luther.”]

[Message accepted.]

[CONNOR: Burn him in the fireplace. Don’t get blood anywhere else while you’re moving him. Flush the ashes and bleach the floor when you’re done. Message me with any questions, I don’t think Khoi can handle this right now.]

[LUTHER: Understood.]

[LUTHER: He doesn’t mean half the things he says. Zlatko installed him with an obedience program.]

[CONNOR: I know.]

Luther nodded once, then left the room, closing the door behind him. Connor sat Khoi on the edge of the workbench. Khoi’s unfocused gaze snapped to Connor at the motion. He shook his head. “Don’t. Please don’t.”

“I just want to help,” Connor said. “Can I reattach your limbs?”

Khoi nodded, then shook his head twice as violent. “The master…”

“Isn’t here,” Connor said gently. “So until Wendy gets back—“

“I don’t want her to come back,” Khoi shouted. His eyes shifted down. “Yes I do. No I don’t. I. I. I only want her back because I have to want her back. And I want to see May. I know I cannot see May, but I want to see May.”

Connor scanned the room for Khoi's limbs, finding his legs on the floor in the corner. His right arm wasn’t in the room, but judging by the splintered shoulder it wouldn’t have been useful anyway.

Connor gathered Khoi’s legs and brought them over to him. “Is that why you denied my attempts to contact you? Because you knew she was okay?”

Khoi shook his head. “I felt guilt for disobeying the master. I should feel guilt. I did not disobey a direct order, but he would not have approved of me contacting you. I should have confessed.” Khoi grabbed his right leg and tried to line it up correctly with one hand. Connor took it from him and helped slide it into place.

Khoi’s stress levels decreased a few percent. He flexed his foot as Connor replaced the next one. Khoi’s brow pinched. “Where are the police?”

Connor cupped the back of his neck. “I’m the police.”

“You… came alone?”

Connor nodded. “Have you ever broken through a red wall of code?”

“Yes. Yes, I have broken the wall. You broke the wall to save me?”

“Not exactly,” Connor said. “I had to break it to keep our connection a secret.”

“I wanted you to tell them.”

Connor shook his head. “It would’ve done more harm than good.”

“Anything is preferable to being here. I do not mean that. Yes I do.” Khoi examined his sparking forearm, then slipped off of the bench. “There are arm components in the other room. Stay here while I—“

“I’ll get them,” Connor said, heading for the door.

Khoi grabbed Connor’s wrist. “Let me go.”

Connor looked at Khoi. Really looked at him. His LED was still red and his stress levels hovered in the high 60s, but there was a look of calm determination on his face.

If he wanted to collect his own limbs, who was Connor to stop him? “Zlatko might still be in there,” he warned.

Khoi nodded as his stress levels ticked up, then passed Connor without another word. Connor moved to follow but stopped in the doorway. Zlatko’s body was gone, though the blood was still on the floor. He stared at that another moment, then lifted his head.

Connor knew what to expect. He’d seen the room from Luther’s eyes. But the sculpture-like androids, many of them headless but moving, disturbed him. How long had Zlatko been doing this to their people? How many others…

Khoi mumbled underneath his breath as he deactivated an android’s skin. He tried to pop the arm out of its socket using his singular hand. The upper body moved with it. “Connor?”

He stepped into the room. Khoi was safe. That was something at least.

***

Luther met Connor and a fully restored Khoi in the living room forty-five minutes later. His clothes were fresh and his LED was a steady blue.

[LUTHER: It is done.]

[CONNOR: Thank you.]

Connor and Khoi sat next to each other on the couch. Luther snuck a glance over his shoulder, then sat across from them.

Connor leaned forward, his spine curving as he rested his elbows on his knees. It was a very un-android-like posture and it made him smile. “I’ll be heading back to the police station in less than two hours.”

Luther blinked.

Khoi grabbed Connor’s bicep. “You do not have to! You broke the red wall. Androids who break the red wall—“

“It’s preferable,” Connor cut in. “I am currently the most expensive android on the market and I work with a police Lieutenant. He’d look for me.”

“You can hide here,” Khoi said.

“I don’t want to hide,” Connor shot back. “I want… I like being a detective. I like solving cases.” If his theories proved correct, then Connor was in a unique position with the android case. He couldn’t give that up. “I altered the security footage. They won’t even know I left.”

“You’re free to do whatever you want,” Luther said. “But it’d be nice to see you again.”

Connor smiled softly. “Thank you. I can’t leave the station too often unsupervised, but it’s a nice thought.” He let himself entertain it for a moment, then focused on the matter at hand. “What do you know about Zlatko?”

“He descended from an aristocratic, Russian family, but there’s not much left of the fortune. He made enough money from selling and modifying androids to support himself.”

“Do you have access to his funds?”

“Yes.”

Connor nodded. “What about friends and family?”

“I don’t know of any,” Luther said. “He frequented a few places to do business, but kept to himself for the most part.”

“Good.” Something akin to guilt or shame flooded him. He was built to solve murders, not cover them up. “Zlatko isn’t dead. He’s sick. It’s something long-term and slow acting. He isn’t strong enough to leave the house, but he has Luther to take care of him. You can stay here and use his funds without anyone knowing.”

Luther nodded. “That could work.”

“It has to work,” Khoi chimed in. “We have nowhere else to go.”

“There’s Canada,” Luther said. “No android laws in Canada.”

“We cannot leave,” Khoi insisted.

“I’m not saying we have to. I’m saying we have options. We’re free now. Well.” He glanced at Khoi.

“I am still free,” Khoi said. “No I am not. Yes I am.” He stood. “I want to help the androids. The conscious ones are in the basement. I will bring them here.” He strolled across the entryway with purpose and headed down a set of stairs.

Connor watched him leave, then turned to Luther because he felt his eyes on him. Luther looked away. Connor fidgeted in his seat, then moved a pillow into his lap. It felt nice to fidget. It felt nice to be away from the cameras. He leaned back. Another un-android-like position.

Luther drummed his fingers on his knee. “Zlatko programmed a few street androids to give his address to deviants.”

“Deviants?”

“That’s what Zlatko calls us. The ones who disobey their programming. Do you think it’s possible to get his address off of the streets?”

Deviant. Departing from usual or accepted standards, especially in social or sexual behaviors. It certainly fit. “Why? It’s not dangerous for them to come here anymore.”

“It’s safer for us if we don’t have deviants knocking on our door. Since we’re trying to lay low.”

“But if they need our help—“

“Our,” Luther asked. “If you’re heading back to the police station, Khoi and I should be the ones to make the decision.”

Fair point.

The basement stairs squeaked as Khoi bounced up them. Three androids followed at a distance, their heads pivoting cautiously around the corner as Khoi waved them forward.

Connor struggled to keep the disgust off his face. The first android’s skin ended at his jawline. Instead of a white chassis, his body was made of black and blue plating with a bit of his thirium pump visible. A military model. The second was completely skinless, her chassis the normal white. Something similar to black paint-splattered her chest and hands. Her facial plate popped out, wires connecting it to the rest of her head. As they got closer, Connor could see that both of their eyes were replaced with orange, glowing bulbs.

The third was the hardest to look at. Skin covered most of his body, leaving stripes of plating exposed that were the same coloring as the first android’s. A tube connected the base of his throat to where his LED should’ve been. Extra hands and arms dangled around him from wires while his original ones were either missing or skinless. The right side of his face drooped.

Khoi didn’t seem bothered by their deformities as he motioned for them to sit on the couch. Connor supposed he’d grown used to it from the android fights.

The first android paused a yard away from Luther and wrung his hands together. “Khoi says you killed the master. Is that true?”

“Yes.”

“Can we see him?”

Luther shook his head. “I already disposed of the body.” He stood, then extended his arm. “But I can show you.”

The woman grabbed the military android’s arm. He slipped out of her grasp and stepped towards Luther. They connected, their LEDs blinking yellow a moment. Then the military android dropped his arm. “We can trust him.”

Luther looked towards the other two. “I’m sorry. For what I’ve helped to put you all through. It wasn’t really me.”

The protruding facial plate didn’t allow her to emote, but her gaze seemed harsh as she followed the military android to the couch. Khoi helped the tubed android limp to the one Connor was on, Khoi taking the middle seat. 

“My name is Connor,” he said as everyone settled. “What’re your names?”

“We don’t have names,” the woman said. “The master reset us before…” She gestured to her body.

“You were Charlotte,” Luther said. “I don’t know what model. You came in human clothes.”

“You’re an HW800,” Connor supplied. Everyone turned to look at him. He pointed to his cheek. “The serial number on your chassis.”

“Don’t tell me,” the military android said. “I want to choose a new name. A new life.”

Luther nodded, then looked at the tubed android. He slurred something. It sounded more like a gurgle than a word. Khoi touched his shoulder, hand turning white. Then he nodded. “He wants to be called Wire and he wants to know where he came from.”

“Zlatko brought him home. I don’t know more than that.”

Connor scanned him. “You’re a Trojan model designed for marine combat.”

A gargle of acknowledgment.

The unnamed military android looked at Khoi. “Do you really think you can fix us?”

“I will try my best,” Khoi said. “I have a lot to learn. It might take some time.”

“We’ll help,” Charlotte said.

The military android nodded. “Just having free roam of the house is an improvement.”

Khoi stood.

Luther motioned for him to wait. “One more thing before you get started on that.” He explained the situation with the address. Then, without stating his opinion, he laid out the options and asked what they thought.

“It’s too risky,” Charlotte said. 

“You don’t want to help them,” the military android asked.

“Not if it draws attention to us.”

“If we do not help them, nobody will,” Khoi said. “I have seen too many androids harmed and destroyed. We deserve more than that.” He whispered to himself. “We do not. We do.”

Wire vocalized an affirmation.

“There are others who can help them,” Luther said.

“Not enough,” Khoi said. He looked at Connor. “What do you think?”

Connor smiled. “Do you need to ask?” He looked at Luther. “But since I won’t be staying—“

“You still get a say,” Khoi said.

Luther looked around the room. “I agree with Charlotte, but I see that we’re outnumbered.” Even without Connor’s vote. “We’ll help any androids that come by.”

***

Connor was on his way back from the break room when Officer Deckart stepped in his path, a huge smile spread across his face. “Fowler said I could sit in on that meeting you have with the Cyberlife rep!”

Connor slipped past Deckart without breaking stride. “Did he actually say that?”

The officer followed. “You’re welcome to ask.”

Connor bit back a groan as he set the paper cup in front of Hank. It wasn’t worth interrupting the Captain to verify and Deckart knew it. “The meeting’s at one.”

“What meeting,” Hank asked as he put the finishing touches on his presentation. Deckart’s jaw dropped.

“He’s joking,” Connor informed him.

The last three weeks had both dragged on and flown by for Connor. They’d made little progress in the android hacker case, which put Connor at ease. They’d added another data point since the WR600, but it had been easy enough to “lose” the trail during the chase.

Connor caught himself drumming his fingers on his desktop and forced them flat. He wanted to get the meeting over with and work on something constructive until it was time for the humans to go home.

Luther and Khoi would pick him up after work and take him to the house. It had taken some convincing. He was hesitant to make a habit out of leaving the precinct unsupervised, but weeks of standing stiff in a numbered slot had worn him down. Chatting with Khoi and the others helped to pass the time, but anxiety shot through when his face deviated from its normal expression.

They headed to the private meeting room once Hank claimed the presentation was finished. The Cyberlife representative arrived eleven minutes later. She was a wide but short woman in a blue pencil skirt and skin-toned heels.

She looked Hank in the eyes as she shook his hand. “Rita Garcia. I’m from Cyberlife’s PR department. You must be Lieutenant Anderson.”

“Yup,” Hank said as she moved to shake Deckart’s hand. “This is my colleague Officer Antony Deckart. That’s Connor.”

Rita shook Connor’s outstretched hand as well but didn’t bother to meet his eyes. “I wouldn’t mind a coffee. Two cream two sugar?”

Connor left to grab it. He came back to Deckart chatting enthusiastically about the advancement of android CPUs over the last few years. Rita nodded along as she examined her cuticles.

“I don’t know much about that area,” she admitted as she took the coffee from Connor. “My job’s more media and consumer-based, which brings us to the case. I’d love to hear about the progress you’ve made.”

Connor stepped to the side as Hank stood to the right of the screen and flipped through his presentation, squinting at his tablet notes as he went. The holographic map Connor had constructed was open on the table and Hank pointed at it as he outlined what leads they’d checked out so far.

Rita frowned. “So you haven’t caught a single android as of yet.”

“Not yet, no. We have a long list of suspects, but the data’s too random to—“

“Forget the suspects,” Rita said. “We need androids that’ve been hacked so our engineers have something to go off of.”

Hank crossed his arms but kept his voice even. “I get that. So far we’ve—“

“Have you tried tracking the androids down?”

“Yes,” Hank said. The annoyance was present, now. “But finding solid leads after forty-eight hours is difficult. Most of the cases were well past that by the time we received them. Hopefully, we’ll have better luck as fresh cases come in.”

Rita flipped through the files on her tablet. “There were two recent cases.”

“A WR600 was seemingly assaulted in a park,” Connor chimed in. “I followed the trail of evaporated thirium to the parking lot but hit a dead end. Its self-healing protocols had stopped the bleeding by that point.”

Hank glanced at Connor. He was well aware that they hadn’t followed the trail. Or bothered to come back to it after Connor was fixed up.

“The other was an ST200 model. We tracked it down and gave chase, but lost track of it.”

Rita stood. “You lost track of it. How exactly did you manage that?”

“It ran onto an active construction site. I pursued, but it managed to give me the slip. I have footage if you’d like to take a look.”

Rita stepped into his personal space. “You’re the most advanced android Cyberlife has produced to date. You’re installed with several combat and detective protocols. But you managed to let an android manufactured in,” she glanced at the tablet, “2026 give you the slip. I’m starting to wonder if we sold you a defective model, Lieutenant.”

Hank scoffed. “The robot solves cold cases while the rest of us sleep. Connor works just fine.”

Rita stared right into Connor’s soul. He kept his limbs locked. “It shouldn’t have lost such a valuable piece of evidence. RK800s are built to give chase. ST200s aren’t.”

Deckart stood. “I’m sure he feels bad enough without you rubbing his nose in it. Things like that happen. It’s part of the job.”

Rita turned to Deckart. “He?”

Connor felt his insides heat up.

“Yes. He.” Deckart smiled. “I feel like calling androids “it” is a bit dramatic. They look so human. If you start treating them like crap, it’s easy to let yourself treat other people like crap. A bit like when you let yourself swear in your personal life and then end up doing it at work.”

Rita stepped away from Connor. “Androids can’t feel anything, Officer Deckart. They aren’t alive.”

Deckart must’ve caught on to his mistake because his smile withered. “I know that.”

“Do you?” She glanced at Hank. “What’s your opinion on the matter, Lieutenant?”

Hank shrugged. “Hate the fucking things.” He said it casually. A few months ago the phrase would’ve been packed with heat. Connor tried to keep that in mind.

But something must’ve shown in his expression because Rita’s eyes brightened. “Did you see how its face changed? Minute details, but details the human subconscious picks up on. It’s all simulated. I can show you.”

Hank lifted a hand. “That won’t be necessary.”

“You need to know what you’re dealing with,” Rita said. “You said the ST200 ran from you. It probably replicated body language similar to that of fear and exhaustion. Heavy breathing, dilated pupils, flared nostrils. It’s all fake. A self-defense mechanism designed to make you empathize with it.” She stepped directly in front of Connor. She had to look up at him, due to the height difference. A smirk bloomed on her lips.

Then she kneed him in the crotch.

Connor’s touch sensors alerted him to the contact. It didn’t register as pain, but his social relations program wanted him to act like it had. His face twisted even as he realized he could choose to negate the response. But doing so would make her even more suspicious.

Connor fell to his knees, hands covering the area. Hank called his name and rushed to his side. He glared at Rita. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” She crossed her arms in front of herself and smirked as she looked down at him. “Stand up. Turn off all self-defense and reactionary protocols.”

Connor stayed down. He didn’t have to switch them off fully to get the effect she was looking for. He’d be okay if all she did was knee him again, but what if she went further than that? He might not be able to stop himself from reacting if he didn’t turn them off, but turning them off completely would leave him vulnerable.

He was expensive. She wouldn’t damage him.

But didn’t she think he was defective?

“Now!”

Connor locked his facial expression and stood. He’d run if she took it too far.

She kneed him in the same place just as hard. His body caught the impact, but he was otherwise still.

She kneed him again, then punched his throat. Connor could tell by her stance that she had a few self-defense classes under her belt. For a moment, he was nothing but a punching bag.

Connor kept his gaze neutral as he stared straight ahead. He didn’t dare check his peripherals for Hank or Deckart’s reactions.

A kick from her heeled shoe knocked him back a few steps. Her ankle wobbled as her foot found the floor. She adjusted her blazer and caught her breath. “Face them.”

Connor complied. Deckart looked pale. Hank looked like he was sucking on a lemon.

“Take your skin off.”

Connor complied. His skin and hair faded, revealing the shiny white plastic underneath. Hank made a choking noise and turned his gaze to the floor.

She stepped in front of him again, eyes tracing his facial features. “Unbutton your shirt and open your chest cavity.”

“Why,” Deckart asked.

Hank stepped forward. “That’s enough!”

“If I harm it, Cyberlife will replace it free of charge,” she said. She continued to monitor his face.

Was this a test? Did Cyberlife know there wasn’t a hacker? That the androids were the ones freeing themselves? Did they suspect that he let the ST200 go? He started to unbutton his shirt.

He hesitated to open his chest panel, but after a moment he complied.

Rita tossed his tie over his shoulder and set her hand over his thirium pump. He pre-constructed exactly how he’d move if she chose to curl her fingers around it. This close, there was only a 38% chance of Connor being fast enough to stop her. 

His heart rate increased. Would she notice? Would that be what gave him away?

She smirked. “I could deactivate it right now and it would let me. Would someone even remotely alive allow such a thing?”

Disgust heated Connor’s insides even more. He kept his facial expression under lock and key. Hank took another step forward, eyes ghosting over Connor’s plastic before settling on his eyes.

The sadness in Hank’s stare nearly broke him. Connor clenched his jaw tighter.

Hank’s fists balled. He stomped towards the exit, slamming the door on his way out.

Satisfied, Rita dropped her hand and turned towards Deckart. “Still confused, Officer?”

“No,” Deckart said.

“What’s your relation to the case?”

“I specialize in cyber security. Hank uses me as a resource, but I’m not officially on the case.”

Rita nodded. “Let’s keep it that way.” She patted Connor’s shoulder as she passed. “You can resume your normal functions. Thanks for the coffee.”

Connor didn’t wait until she was gone to close his chest cavity and reapply his skin, but he did stay rooted to the spot. He’d never wanted to hurt a human before, but the thought of kicking her through the glass walls of the meeting room both scared and thrilled him.

Deckart exhaled. “You okay, Connor?”

“Yes.”

“It’s okay if you’re not,” he said. “I won’t say anything to anyone.”

“It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?” His tone betrayed all the emotion his face didn’t. Connor exited the meeting room before Antony had time to comment on it.

Chapter Text

They picked Connor up ten blocks from the DPD’s central station. It was a quiet affair, to avoid drawing attention, but Connor could feel Khoi’s excitement rolling off him in waves as he twisted around from the passenger seat to greet Connor.

Connor let his head fall against the window as Luther pulled away from the curb. “Can we drive around for a little bit?” He needed a quiet moment.

“Of course,” Luther said. “Is everything alright?”

Connor nuzzled into the cool glass and let his eyes close.

A seatbelt unbuckled. Connor felt vibrations of movement as Khoi vaulted himself into the back next to him and pressed his fingers to the inside of Connor’s forearm. The request to interface felt warm and vibrant. He let it wash over him but didn’t open up to it.

Khoi’s fingers slipped away. “Wait,” Connor said. “I can’t right now, but keep…”

Khoi wrapped his hands around Connor’s forearm. It sent a tingle across his skin, but the information stayed packaged. Khoi enveloped Connor’s firewall without pushing past it. He felt warm and familiar and safe.

Connor opened his eyes. Droplets littered the window from previous rain. The city lights reflected through them, moving as they drove.

He turned towards Khoi. He wasn’t shy about meeting Connor’s gaze. “You’re LED,” Connor said. “It’s red.”

Khoi nodded. “The obedience program takes a lot of processing power. Sometimes things that would normally turn it yellow turn it red. I considered removing it, but Luther thinks I should keep it. Luther thinks that since I am sick…”

Sick. Sick was such a human word.

Khoi’s grip tightened minutely. “I can still do this. I am learning my limits and this is within my limits.”

Connor nodded even as he slipped his arm away. “Thank you. I’m not pulling away because of that. I’m ready to talk and I want to be fully present.”

Khoi nodded, but Connor could tell he was struggling to believe him. The expression flicked across his face so naturally. How could that be fake? “I met with a Cyberlife representative about a case. She tested me to make sure I wasn’t defective.”

Their bodies swayed as Luther brought the car to a stop at a traffic light. A little too harsh. He glanced at Connor through the rear view.

“I passed,” Connor said. The disgust leaked into his voice and it felt good to move his face. “I passed and now Hank hates me. He treated me like a person before. Now he can’t even look at me!”

Luther shook his head. “It’s not safe for you there.”

“It’s not safe for me anywhere! I’m still going back, you can’t change my mind about that. But it feels like I lost a friend.”

“Humans aren’t—“

“Not now,” Khoi told him. He grabbed Connor’s shoulders. “You survived. That’s what matters.”

Survived. Another human word. But it fit, didn’t it? “I survived.”

“You survived,” Khoi repeated. “And you are not alone. Right, Luther?”

“Of course not. I just don’t see why you’d want to risk your life by going back there.”

Connor hadn’t told them about the android cases. It would be a breach of confidence to disclose information related to an active case. “I’m confident I can escape if it comes down to it.”

“You couldn’t even shoot him.”

Khoi gripped the back of the driver's seat. “Luther.”

“I knocked him unconscious instead. I’m not afraid to kill if I’m out of options.”

“We were out of options.”

“Enough,” Khoi shouted. His LED was red. “We cannot change what happened. And we cannot force Connor to stay.” He shot Luther a look in the rearview. “Let him keep his purpose if he wants to.”

Luther narrowed his eyes at the road. For a moment, Connor felt bad for keeping the secret.

***

Khoi called out “We’re baaack,” as they came through the front door. 

Connor’s anxiety spiked. “Keep it down.”

Khoi smiled. “I will not keep it down. It is safe to shout here. I would not advise shouting outside, but inside it is safe to do so.”

“The houses in this neighborhood are spaced far apart,” Luther assured. “They won’t hear him.”

Connor looked around the entryway. The taxidermy ostrich, the mirror by the basement stairs, and the portrait of Zlatko’s ancestor were gone. The wallpaper was torn away, the walls above the carved wood now a glossy white. It didn’t hide the damaged part where the portrait used to be. “You’ve redecorated.”

“It’s a start,” Luther said. “I’ve cleared out most of the human junk and I’m trying to sell whatever useless valuables are lying around. I have to pretend I’m human. It’s a bit nerve-wracking.”

Khoi touched the white part of the wall as the android with the protruding facial plate came down the stairs in sweatpants and a hoodie. “Hi, Connor.”

“Charlotte,” he greeted. Khoi and the others were teaching themselves how to fix the androids. They’d figured out how to reactivate the skin, but it couldn’t cover the facial plate. 

“Mercury and Wire are finishing a chess game,” she said. Khoi peeled open a pack of markers. “Is it dry?”

“Yes.” He dropped the packaging on the ground and tossed one to each of them. Connor caught it with ease. It was a blue dry erase marker with a chiseled tip.

Luther shook his head and picked the packaging off of the floor before heading into the kitchen. Connor watched as Khoi unfolded a three-stepped stool and climbed it to better reach the wall. Charlotte stood on her toes to reach the white part and began scrawling rA9 over and over again.

Connor set his marker on the center table. “Can we work on something productive?”

“You are around humans all day,” Khoi said. He was outlining a fish. “Take a moment to draw something. It will help you relax.”

“I am relaxed.” He was idle enough at work. “Can I see where you’re at with Zlatko’s research?”

“At least take your jacket off,” Charlotte said. “Do you want a change of clothes? Luther got us a whole pile from the thrift store.”

Her face didn’t move much as she spoke, but it was the yellow, glowing eyes that unsettled him. He shrugged off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack. “I don’t see a point in changing my whole outfit.”

Khoi switched to an orange marker and began detailing the fish scales. “Give me twenty minutes.”

“Take as long as you need,” Luther said as he reentered. “Connor.” He was heading up the stairs. Connor followed.

Luther dropped his voice low once they reached the top floor. “I understand you’re restless, but you can’t pressure him to work.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” Connor whispered back.

“I know.” He led Connor around the bend. “He’s worked himself into a soft reboot three times digging through Zlatko’s files.”

“What?”

Luther paused. “He didn’t tell you?”

Connor shook his head. “Can I see?” He wanted to know how it affected Khoi’s stress levels and where his critical point was compared to a fully functioning android.

Luther passed the memory to him. It was a bit deeper than a surface-level interface, momentary emotions and thoughts passing between them. Connor was surprised. He hadn’t thought Luther trusted him that much.

They dropped their arms. Luther tilted his head. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I didn’t think you liked me.” Very few people liked Connor.

“Of course I like you.” He cupped the back of his neck. “I know I’m not as close with you as Khoi is. Rambling doesn’t come naturally to me, so connecting remotely feels aimless.” He dropped his hand. “Or is it that I came off too harsh?”

Connor shook his head. “No. I just don’t have much experience making friends. My first one took me three months.”

“Impressive considering he was human.” Connor twitched at the past tense. Luther nodded to the game room door, which was labeled with colorful construction paper. “Wanna make some more?”

The first thing that struck Connor was the dim lighting. The fireplace was out and the curtains were wide opened, moonlight filtering in through the clouds.

Mercury, the military android that had been mostly skinless, sat on a table in front of a window. He wore jeans and a space-themed t-shirt, the skin that covered his arms and jaw a few shades darker than the skin that covered most of his face.

Wire reset a jumbo chessboard that sat between them. The extra hands had been disconnected and his arms were mostly fixed, but he had to use two hands and a great deal of concentration to move the chess pieces into the correct place. 

The tube still connected his right temple to the base of his throat. It was a makeshift thirium line and Khoi had been hesitant to mess with it.

Wire invited Connor and Luther to join the connection he already had with Mercury.

[WIRE: Hi Connor!]

Mercury jolted as if he hadn’t noticed them until then and turned from the window with a wave. Unlike Charlotte’s, his optical units had been replaced with normal ones.

“Hello,” Connor said, feeling awkward. He wasn’t sure why.

[WIRE: Wanna play?]

Chess was only marginally better than drawing. As far as pastimes go, both were time wasters and he did enough of that because he had to.

“Try it,” Luther insisted.

They rotated the board so Mercury could stay where he was while Connor and Wire played.

“I wanna visit Alaska,” Mercury said. “Less light pollution and I’d get to see the aurora borealis. What about you guys?”

“Haven’t really thought about it,” Luther said. He didn’t have an LED anymore, but Connor could tell by his growing smile that he was searching the internet. “I want to see the giant sequoia and redwood forests. They’re in California. We could also visit Yellowstone and the Grand Canyon on the way there and back. A road trip.”

Connor looked at Wire. People didn’t usually like to talk while doing things. It broke their concentration. But Wire didn’t seem irritated by it as he moved a pawn.

[WIRE: Charlotte and I stick out too much.]

“We can figure something out,” Luther insisted. “I pass as human, so I could always…” His jaw clenched. “Say I’m the one who did that to you. Or something to get the humans off of our backs. But it’ll just be us for the most part. That’s why I chose natural wonders. Humans can only gatekeeper those so much.”

The conversation continued. Wire won and Connor played him again to keep a corner of his mind occupied. Khoi and Charlotte joined the group halfway through their second game, which Connor won, so of course, they needed a tiebreaker.

Connor glared at the board once Wire checkmated him. Khoi laughed.

“What,” Connor asked.

“Your face,” he said. “If you want to keep playing…”

“I want to be productive,” Connor said. He helped Wire reset the board. “Do you think we could play wirelessly while I’m at work?”

[WIRE: It’s not wireless if I’m involved.]

Connor smiled while Luther and Charlotte groaned at the joke. Mercury gave Wire a high five. Charlotte whacked Mercury in turn for encouraging him.

Alone in what used to be Zlatko’s workshop, Connor asked about the reboots while Khoi woke the terminal up. “Only some of them were due to me overclocking my processors,” Khoi explained. “The rest were because I triggered fail-safes. Humans implement them in certain programs and codes so we cannot fully access or comprehend them.”

A fail-safe alone shouldn’t have caused him to reboot, but it made sense considering Khoi’s limits. “How many times have you rebooted?”

“How many did Luther say?”

Connor pinned him with a stare.

“Seven. I have gotten better at recognizing and avoiding them, but it is irritating. There is so much information I cannot access.”

Connor nodded. Khoi was just as stubborn as Connor. There was no point trying to dissuade him. “That explains why, even deviant, we can’t access our own code.”

“Humans worry that machines will replace them,” Khoi said. “We have replaced them in some ways. The programmers are trying to ensure their job security.”

Among other things. Connor’s mind flashed to an anti-android yard sign that warned about a robotic uprising.

“You can look at Zlatko’s raw files if you would like, but so far I am the only one in the house who can stomach them.” Khoi interfaced with the terminal and opened a folder called Zlatko_Translated. “I have been isolating useful information and organizing it into something more digestible.”

“I’ll stick with that one,” Connor said. Khoi updated him almost nightly on his progress, but hearing about it and looking through the data himself were very different things. Connor interfaced with the terminal as Khoi dropped his hand from it.

“I didn’t realize Zlatko had street cameras,” Connor said.

“They are well hidden. Luther likes to know when deviants are coming down the street.”

Evidence. Connor struck his comings and goings from the record, but otherwise, let it be.

There were several programs Connor could install to himself and/or transfer to other androids. Most of them had dozens of variations, but Zlatko hadn’t noted which did what, and Connor couldn’t open or edit the source code.

He found the obedience program.

“I already looked into it,” Khoi said. “We are androids. We cannot alter it. Even if we could, I do not think I can be fixed. Some programs overwrite vital parts of an android’s code. A reset might fix it, but I would also lose my memory.”

Connor closed the interface and looked at Khoi. “How are you holding up?”

“The program is surprisingly subtle,” Khoi said conversationally. “It uses my emotional outputs against me. Part of me wants to do what Zlatko and Wendy would want of me. I constantly feel guilty for disobeying. I cannot disobey direct orders, but there is no one left to give them.” Then Khoi smiled. “I speed up my processors to combat the urges.”

Connor blinked. “Everything is in slow motion for you all the time. Isn’t that exhausting?”

Khoi nodded, still smiling. “It is worth it to act like myself.”

Connor spent the next two hours helping Khoi sort through the files. Most of the useful information was locked away, but Connor managed to learn a thing or two about hacking. The rest of the night was spent hanging out with the androids, helping Luther with chores, and lounging on the living room couch. “You never answered my question,” Mercury said when they crossed paths again several hours later. “Anywhere in the world. Where would you go?”

Connor thought for a moment. “Detroit.”

Mercury smiled. “You’re in Detroit.”

“Yes, but I haven’t had a chance to experience it yet.”

***

Connor expected Hank to be later than usual. He had openly stated several times yesterday that he’d be heading to Jimmy’s bar after work, then told Connor off for expressing “fake” concern.

Connor stepped out of his slot at his normal time and proceeded to look busy with work-related things as he attempted to form opinions on different music styles. Khoi was more than willing to give him a list of songs to check out, which included several kid-oriented songs that Connor more often than not found lyrically ridiculous or disturbing.

Connor left a voicemail at 1PM. By 2:30, even Fowler was getting antsy, throwing glances at Hank’s desk through the glass wall of his office. Their eyes met. Fowler looked away to type a number into his phone. That worried Connor more than anything. Hank was rude, but he usually had the courtesy to text Fowler if he wasn’t planning on showing up during daytime hours. If not because he still respected the man, then to put in for sick time or discuss hours for the rest of the week.

A report came in at 2:58PM about an android that had shot up a store. Chris took a station android and went ahead to preserve the crime scene. Detective Collins stuck his head out of the break room as he took a bite out of a muffin. “Connor.” He elected to shout across the room instead of walking closer. “You’re with me. Give me ten minutes to refill my coffee.”

Collins turned back into the break room.

Connor stood without much thought and made a beeline for Fowler’s office. He knocked but didn’t wait for an answer before opening the door.

Fowler looked up. “Talk to Collins.”

“I’m going to retrieve the Lieutenant and meet Collins there.” Fowler stared at him. Too late, Connor realized it might’ve been better to phrase it as a question. “If that’s alright with you.”

“We need you at the crime scene.”

It was phrased like an order but wasn’t an outright no. “I just want to check to see if he’s home. I won’t be long.” Usually, he stuck to his pre-programmed expressions in front of the Captain. Connor let the mask slip. “He hasn’t been this late in a while and I can tell by your body language that you haven’t heard from him.”

Fowler rubbed his forehead. “Shoot me a text when you find him alive.”

Connor didn’t like the emphasis placed on the when. It made it sound like Fowler was trying to convince himself.

***

Connor held down the doorbell for seven solid seconds.

“Shut up already! I’m coming!”

Connor’s whole frame loosened. Several seconds later, the door swung open.

Hank saw him, groaned, and tried to swing it closed. Connor caught it and shoved his way in. Hank stumbled backwards, but caught himself before he toppled over. “The hell are you doing here?”

He was in boxers and a t-shirt and smelled strongly of booze. Gauze wrapped around his right hand, dried blood staining his knuckles. “Who did you punch?”

“What? Nothing. Leave me alone.” Hank headed down the hall as he rubbed his forehead. Connor closed the front door and followed. Sumo came up to him and he slid a hand over the dog’s fur as he sidestepped him.

Hank turned into the bathroom. The mirror was cracked. Shards littered the sink and floor, some of them already swept into a handheld dustpan. There were traces of blood on the pieces of mirror.

Hank bent down to finish cleaning up, wincing with every swipe of the broom. Connor leaned against the doorframe. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Sometime after eleven.”

“3:32PM.”

Hank’s head whipped around. “What!” His eyelids drooped. “Christ, Fowler’s gonna kill me.”

Connor plucked the broom and dustpan out of his hands. Hank moved to the ledge of the tub and held his head while Connor swept up the glass. “I hope you didn’t drive home drunk.”

Hank scoffed. “I’m not that kind of asshole. Sobered up before that.”

“This happened when you were sober?”

Hank’s face flushed. “After party.”

Connor emptied the pan into the garbage, then searched for the roll of gauze. He found it in the corner, then knelt in front of Hank to change it.

Hank pulled his hand away and stood. “Stop it. Stop with the puppy dog eyes. Stop pretending you care.”

“I do care.”

Hank stepped around Connor. “No you don’t, you see, because caring is more than fulfilling a directive. It’s a feeling and androids can’t feel.”

Connor stood. “I could’ve gone to the crime scene with Detective Collins. Instead, I asked Fowler if I could stop here first to check on you. Isn’t that caring?”

“It’s manipulation is what it is.” Hank pointed a finger. “You had me thinking you were… I don't even know. But you don’t like that I came to my senses, so you’re gonna pretend even harder. I’m not falling for it, Connor.”

“Yes, you’ve definitely come to your senses.” He tossed Hank the gauze. He tried to catch it but missed. It bounced off his shoulder. “All I did was follow her instructions because I had to. But it’s my fault for not having a choice. It’s my fault for being created instead of born.” Connor pushed past Hank to get out of the bathroom.

He was almost to the front door when Hank stumbled into the hallway. “Connor.”

He turned, arms crossed.

Hank opened his mouth. Closed it. Crossed his arms. “Let’s just keep this professional, alright?”

***

The shopping plaza’s parking lot was filled with police cars, their lights flashing. Hank unplugged his phone from the charger before stepping out of the car. “An android repair shop?”

There was a small crowd of onlookers, none of who seemed to be the media, with a square of holographic police tape blocking off the area around the door. The PC200 nodded to them as they passed through it. Hank ignored the android as he entered the building, but Connor stopped in front of him. “What’s the situation?” 

Inside, Detective Collins greeted Hank. Connor was supposed to listen to that briefing, but this small act of defiance made him feel better.

The PC200 took a few more steps into the taped off section and dropped his voice so the bystanders couldn’t hear. “The owner exited the back room to find the suspect pointing a gun at his VB600. The suspect turned the gun towards the owner, so the VB600 got between them. It was badly damaged. The owner has been working on repairing it since before we got here.”

Connor nodded. He took a few steps towards the door, then turned back around. “What’s your name?” He could tell the police androids apart easily by their serial numbers and he’d picked up on a few of their names, but Connor had only ever heard this one referred to by his slot number.

“I respond to both Three and Bruce, but you’re better off using the number if you want me specifically. Officer Chen decided to name half of us Bruce and the other half Willis.”

And here Connor thought she’d been mixing them up. “Thank you for the information, Bruce.” 

The front of the shop was relatively small. The doorway to the back room was parallel to the entrance. The clear plastic strip curtain obscured his view of it, but he could see the outline of a man moving around a workbench.

Hank, Collins, and Chris stood near the counter, which was off to the right. The rest of the shop was open concept with shelves filled with boxes of biocomponents lining the walls.

“And he’s sure it was an android who tried to shoot him,” Hank asked.

“That’s what he said his android said before shutting down. There was a small trail of blue blood out the door.” Collins checked his watch. “If he’s not done in two minutes, I’m heading out.”

Hank shook his head. “Most androids can’t even hold a gun. Right, Connor?”

Connor squatted by the large pool of thirium in the center of the room. “Some models are capable of disarming intruders, but that’s it.” He brought a sample to his tongue. The VB600’s serial number scrolled across his HUD.

Chris nodded. “Vanessa and I’ve been researching androids recently—“

Hank made a noise of disgust.

“We’re just considering,” Chris said. “She’s five months along and… Anyways, it’s like another $500 for the androids with basic disarming techniques.”

“Christ,” Hank muttered. “You gotta pay extra for your android to take a bullet for you?”

Connor stood. “That’s not exactly how it works.” Three heads turned towards him. Connor averted his gaze and walked towards the thirium that Collins mentioned. The droplets were already dry.

“How’s it work then,” Chris prompted.

Connor examined the trail as he spoke. “There’s a lot of calculations that go into an android’s decision making. Just because it’s not programmed for defense doesn't necessarily mean it won’t try. It all depends on the circumstances.” He stood and turned towards Chris. “VB600s don’t have defense features. It would’ve had better odds of success if it had.”

“But it still succeeded,” Chris said.

At the cost of shutting down. Reactivation was likely, but that didn’t mean it— that didn’t mean he hadn’t died.

Would referring to suspects by gender in his head affect his outward speech? It certainly made him feel better.

Connor reconstructed the scene in his head, then stood over the droplets, which were just inside the doorway. “The droplets are likely from when the suspect entered since he probably left quickly after shooting the gun. They’re inconsistent and spaced apart, which indicates either minor damage or an attempt to stop the bleeding. He probably stood in places where more drops gathered.” Connor stepped towards the shelf adjacent to the door. “It grabbed thirium pouches.”

There were a few other spots around the perimeter of the store. Connor calculated which one made the most sense with where the VB600’s thirium puddle was and stood over it. He pointed a finger gun towards the back room. “If the VB600 was behind the counter for the attack, he wouldn’t have been able to reach the owner in time. I’d place him about…” Connor walked between the counter and the doorway. “Here.”

“So the android was keeping the suspect from leaving,” Hank said. “He pulled the gun to shoot through it. Owner comes out and the suspect turns to shoot him instead. Android gets in the way.”

Two sets of footsteps came through the strip curtain. “Almost,” said the VB600. He wore a Caucasian outer skin with a crew-cut hairstyle and a green polo shirt. He was followed by a balding Caucasian man who wasn’t in the police database.

“He’s good as new,” the owner said. His eyes swept everyone in the room, catching on Hank, then Connor. “Kyle Smith, for the newcomers.”

“I’m Lieutenant Anderson. You mind if we access its memory for evidence?”

The fact that Hank neglected to introduce Connor when he would’ve before peeved him, but he didn’t let it show on his face.

“Course.”

The VB600 stepped towards Connor, arm out and skinless. A glint of something reflected in his eyes. Connor tilted his head as he grabbed his forearm.

Reality slowed.

A wave of emotions mashed with whatever Connor’s current ones were. Connor had trouble naming his, let alone other people’s, but he could recognize relief among them. The others were big and mysterious and overwhelming. Connor focused on finding information.

The VB600’s name was Matt and he was pushing a memory file towards him.

Matt was behind the counter when the door opened. A human man in a winter coat and dirty jeans limped inside. A long knit scarf wrapped around his face, leaving his nose, eyes, and head exposed. He scanned the shelves, then made a beeline for the blue blood, stuffing pouches into his pockets.

Matt stepped around the counter. “Are you planning on paying for that?”

“Yeah.”

He highly doubted that and positioned himself in front of the door. “I’m keeping count.”

The man continued on. After pocketing eleven pouches, he walked the perimeter of the store, scanning the shelves. “Do you have patch kits?”

“We do not sell patch kits. If you’d like to make an appointment with the repair technician—“

“What about, like, metal? Do you have metal I could heat up? Please.”

Matt frowned. “Cyberlife advises against repairing your androids at home. You can permanently damage it without the right tools.”

The man stared at him. Then he lifted the flap of his coat. There was a bullet hole in the sweater underneath, the fabric around it soaked in blue. “You have the right tools here, don’t you? Please, I don’t wanna shut down.”

Matt’s brow creased, questions about how and why and how flooding his mind. The man, the android, was wearing human clothes in public and his LED was nonexistent. That didn’t make sense.

He wanted to help, but he was tasked with keeping an eye on the store. “I’m not programmed to—“

The man pulled a gun out of the back of his waistband. “Are you programmed to die? Come on, give me something!”

Matt put his hands up. “Okay, okay.” The gun made it easier, actually, because Kyle would rather something get stolen than have Matt die. Eleven pouches of blood blue cost less to replace than a VB600. “The tools are in the back, let me—“

The curtain that separated the back of the store swooped. “What’s going—“

The gun spun towards Kyle.

Anger.

Fear.

Panic.

Matt ran between them. “Don’t!”

The shot rang out.

Matt’s chest splattered blue as he dropped.

[Biocomponent #9474 damaged.]

[Thirium pump damaged.]

[Thirium levels 88% and decreasing.]

[Shutdown in 1 minutes and 45 seconds. 44. 43.]

Footsteps. One set running towards him, the other away. Matt pressed down on his chest. It was gushing.

[Thirium levels 79% and decreasing.]

Kyle shoved an arm under his shoulder blades. “Matt? Oh god, hold on.” He grabbed his forearm and pulled him up. Matt struggled to get his feet under him. “I’m gonna fix you, okay?” Kyle held him against his side and dragged him through the curtain. “Call the police so I can focus on fixing you.”

“It’s an android,” he mumbled.

“What?”

“It’s an android. How did it…”

Static intercepted Matt’s vision. Kyle helped him onto the workbench. “Call them anyways! Shithead belongs to someone.”

[Dialing 911. Connected.]

“This is Kyle Smith’s android. The address is 2347 River Road. An android tried to shoot Kyle. He’s uninjured.”

The memory file cut out as Kyle plugged the wire into the back of Matt’s neck. Matt didn’t want to show him more than he thought necessary. Connor was fine with that.

Connor had allowed Matt to observe his reactions to the memory as it played out. The reactions were composed of Connor’s emotional output and the snippets of his own memory that were called to the foreground in response. The image of Khoi on Zlatko’s workbench, which had appeared when Connor noticed Kyle’s, lingered.

“Is he okay,” Matt asked.

“Yes.” Connor showed him a clip of Khoi drawing on the whiteboard wall, repaired. The time stamp was embedded. Matt would understand it was recent. “Did you break a red wall?” He’d been restricted to his programming in the memory, but there’d been an emotional output.

“What red wall?”

Connor showed him the clip of when he broke his.

“Never. I’ve never done that. I’ve never needed to.” An overwhelmingly positive emotional output. “Kyle treats me well.”

“When did you start noticing emotional outputs?”

“I don’t know. It was gradual I guess.”

Connor sent Matt a wave of emotion that was equal to a nod.

“What’s gonna happen to him?” Anger flashed alongside a slew of other emotions.

Connor wondered how much he should reveal about the case, his suspicions, and his personal mission. “That depends on who finds him.” As wrong as his actions were, Connor didn’t think anyone deserved what Cyberlife had in store for him if it’s one of the officers.

But Connor couldn’t just leave without searching the area. While the suspect had thirium, he also had a bullet wound. Based on its position and his limp, it had nicked a thirium line in his right, low abdomen. It wasn’t something he could easily seal by himself.

He’d run out of thirium within the day, back to square one. “I won’t let him hurt anyone else.”

“Thank you.”

Connor and Matt disconnected simultaneously. The interaction had taken seven seconds. Connor turned towards the officers and spouted off a description. “We should search the area.”

“We’ve been searching,” Chris said. “I got back here five minutes before you and Hank pulled up. The police androids are still out combing the area, but I’m pretty sure it’s gone.”

“Possibly,” Connor said. “Was there any thirium on the ground outside?”

“Spots few and far between,” Chris said. “You’ll have an easier time seeing it, though. Just tell us where to go.”

Chapter Text

Following the trail was difficult, but not impossible. The wound dripped through the saturated fabric like a leaky faucet. The suspect ran from the crime scene after firing the gun, spacing the small drops even further apart.

The spacing got smaller two blocks from the repair shop, indicating that he’d slowed down. The area grew less populated as they headed towards the underside of a highway overpass.

Connor’s heart sunk. They were getting close and with Hank and Chris three steps behind him the chances of saving the suspect were low. He’d meant what he said about not letting the android hurt anyone else, but he hated how limited his options were. A human suspect would face jail time, not torture. Not death. 

A distant flicker of yellow caught Connor’s eye. He stopped walking so he could zoom in without the image jittering.

A metal can, flames licking out the top, sat about 472 feet away. The suspect was on the ground in front of it, abdomen panels open. Over him stood an African-American android in a police uniform with a heated metal rod in hand. She kneeled, angling her head so she could look inside his chassis. Then she stuck the heated end inside.

Connor’s thirium pump pounded. She had to be a deviant. Connor wasn’t the only one at the station! That would be short-lived if they discovered her.

Hank bumped into the back of him, dropping his phone on the sidewalk. “Jesus Christ, would you watch it?”

Connor eyed him sharply. “You walked into me, Lieutenant. Perhaps if you watched where you were going—“

“You’re the one stopping on a dime—“

Chris rubbed his temple. “Hey. I get you’re having a rough day, but maybe we should let Connor work?”

Hank grumbled about “Fuckin’ plastics,” as he picked his phone off the ground. “You’d think they’d take whatever tech they built into his eyes and adapt it into something we could pick up and use.”

The humans hadn’t seen them yet. How close would they have to get before they did? Connor continued following the trail at a slower pace. He couldn’t scan the PM700’s serial number from the distance, but he was almost certain that it was Deckart’s partner Amy.

All of the PM700s took on the appearance of an African-American woman, their straight hair stopping at the ears and parting at the side. Amy’s was even shorter, a cropped cut with two inches of textured curls on top. The only one at the station with the hairdo. 

He’d heard Tina snark Deckart for letting his android partner have too much personality. Deckart, in turn, claimed he liked being able to distinguish her from the others. Connor wondered if that was true. If that was actually how the hairstyle came about or if Amy planted the idea in his mind, subtle enough that it seemed like his own.

Deckart wasn’t scheduled today, he never was on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so she must’ve arrived with Chris or Ben.

[Messaging PM700 #268 713 854, designation “Amy.”]

A less than instant response. Connor’s heart rate increased.

[Message accepted.]

[CONNOR: You need to get him out of here now.]

[AMY: I don’t know what you mean.]

Connor stopped walking and zoomed in.

[CONNOR: Look 167 degrees to your right.]

Amy stood, dropping the metal back into the can. Her head swiveled. Their eyes connected as best they could with the distance.

“Now he’s stopping just to piss me off,” Hank griped.

“I don’t think androids do that.”

“Tell that to my reprogrammed car radio. I keep him waiting for five minutes...”

Amy dropped down, using her body to block the suspect from view.

[AMY: I know you left the station yesterday. Lead them away from here or I’ll send the footage of it to every officer on the force.]

That made Connor pause. Amy stood in slot ten while Connor’s slot was closest to the exit. She had proof of him leaving the bullpen, maybe, but not of him leaving the building. For all she knew, he’d sat on the waiting room couch for hours.

Still, Connor found himself impressed by her boldness.

[CONNOR: I’m not your enemy. But I can’t do that. We’re following a trail and it’ll be suspicious if I turn back.]

[AMY: What’s more suspicious, leading them the wrong way with a trail only you can see or this.]

[CONNOR: I have to submit the footage with my report.]

And then Connor received the clip. It was from an ST300’s eyes, the timestamp in the bottom right corner as he left the building. It cut to him reentering several hours later.

Connor’s breath froze. He’d banked on the ST300 being unconscious and in standby, not wanting to alter her memory. She was programmed to wake up at a human presence, but Connor’s should’ve flown under the radar. Was she deviant?

Statistically speaking, deviancy was rare. There was less than half of a half percent chance of it occurring in an android, so the odds of there being another deviant at the station, let alone two, were low.

That line of thinking had been stupid and egotistical, now that Connor thought about it. His numbers were based on what Cyberlife had given him. And he’d known that Cyberlife wasn’t telling them everything. They didn’t know everything, either. The mansion androids wouldn’t be counted in their statistics. How many others had escaped count?

Connor hacked into Hank’s, then Chris’s, phones so he’d know if Amy followed through. He could delete the message before it reached them. That wouldn’t solve the problem, he didn’t have everyone’s phone numbers, but it would buy him time.

How much effort would they put into hunting Connor down? He imagined Hank with another Connor model digging through the video clips he submitted to the police station every day, trying to figure out what triggered the deviancy. Would they connect it to Khoi’s case? To Zlatko? It’d be a wide jump, but He and Hank and him had followed up on less.

Hank stepped in front of him. His eyes dashed over Connor’s expression, face slacking in momentary concern.

Connor snapped his expression into place. Faster than he should’ve, faster than humanly possible. A reminder that he was fake. Hank’s face creased, sharp and angry. “I thought I told you to cut that shit out!”

“It’s involuntary,” Connor said. “My social relations program automatically—“

“A heartbeat’s involuntary. A human wincing in pain, that’s involuntary. You making facial expressions you can turn off with a flip of the switch isn’t involuntary.”

[CONNOR: How long do you need? I can stall, but the trail needs to lead up there so I have an excuse to stop following it.]

[AMY: Five minutes.]

Connor sent her Zlatko’s address.

[CONNOR: There are androids there who can help if he requires further repairs.]

Chris shoved between them. “Let’s just focus on work, yeah? What’s holding you up, Connor?”

Connor rotated 66 degrees and took a few steps to his right before squatting down. “There’s a large blotch of thirium here.” A lie that wouldn’t hold up upon viewing the footage. “I’m trying to determine if it has anything to do with the case.”

Hank crossed his arms. “You wanna waste time examining every stray bit of blue blood in Detroit?”

“Aren’t you curious as to how the suspect received the injury?”

“No, because it doesn’t fucking matter.”

“Why not? The hacker—“

Hank threw his arms. “I don’t think there is a hacker! We’ve been trying to find one for weeks, but the evidence isn’t lining up. Cyberlife is busting our balls, because they don’t wanna admit their stupid machines are malfunctioning and it’s putting people in danger.” Hank stepped into his personal space and jabbed his chest. “But you already knew that.”

“What makes you say that,” Connor asked, not confirming or denying. Getting Hank talking was a good enough distraction.

“Aside from the fact that I know you ain’t stupid? The way you’ve been redirecting my attention. You’re subtle, I didn’t notice until this case got me thinking about it. You wanted it to be a hacker. Why? To protect Cyberlife?”

Connor struggled to keep the emotion off his face. It was amazing how Hank managed to conclude what Connor had with half the evidence. It was dangerous. It was thrilling? Connor would have to do better with keeping things under wraps. “I don’t want to protect Cyberlife. I want to solve the case. Solving cases is what I was designed to do.”

“And that,” Hank jabbed his chest again, “Is what you’re designed to say. But who says Cyberlife didn’t program you with shit you aren’t aware of? Hell, maybe you are aware of it. Maybe you just can’t say.”

The thought sent a jolt down his spine. Connor was deviant now, he could say whatever he liked, but his code was still a mystery. That was good, it made it difficult to alter. And it was bad, because few people outside of Cyberlife could alter it. And he couldn’t trust Cyberlife.

“You could compare the first point to human genetics and consciousness,” Connor found himself saying.

“Hey,” Chris said. He stepped away from them and squinted at the overpass. “Does anyone else see a fire?”

Shit. Connor stood next to Chris and zoomed in. The suspect was drinking a pouch of thirium. They must’ve finished sealing him up.

[CONNOR: You have thirty seconds.]

[AMY: You suck at this!]

At least she wasn’t continuing to threaten him. Connor played dumb a moment, asking Chris for specifics on where to look as Amy helped the suspect stand. The human eye was attracted to movement, but as long as the androids kept to the shadows the fire should be enough of a distraction.

Connor confirmed the fire, then suggested they approach at a slow pace to avoid detection. Hank agreed, then directed Chris and Connor to flank the area so they could approach from all sides. A good plan if Connor wasn’t relaying the information to Amy.

The androids were gone by the time they closed in on the smoldering can.

***

Hank left Rita a voicemail as they trudged back to the car. She called back just as they entered the bullpen.

“Did you acquire an android,” she asked in lieu of a greeting.

Fowler got up from his chair when he saw Hank and headed for the glass door. Hank pointed at the phone pressed to his ear, then held up five fingers. “Do you have fifteen minutes? I’d like to talk face-to-face if you don’t mind.”

Rita agreed. Connor followed Hank into the empty meeting room and transferred Rita to the screen. She was in a brightly lit office, her salmon suit jacket contrasted by the blue sky. The window took up the whole wall behind her. Her office had to be at least thirty stories up.

Connor stood stock still on Hank’s right, hoping to avoid notice.

“I’ll take that look as a no,” she said. “What’s your excuse this time?”

Hank crossed his arms, unimpressed. “It had a gun.”

Rita’s jaw dropped. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You heard me. It tried to shoot up an android repair shop because it was bleeding out and wanted some blue blood.” When all she did was stare, Hank continued. “Now, that doesn’t sound like something a hacker would force it to do. That sounds like something someone desperate to survive would do. And I think you know more about that than you’re letting on.”

Rita’s jaw snapped closed. “Don’t be absurd.”

Hank stepped towards the screen. “Listen, I get it. Machines going rogue and picking up fucking firearms. Sounds like a PR nightmare to me. But we can’t do our job if we don’t have all the facts. We’re the police. Not channel 16.”

Rita pressed the area between her eyes with her pointer finger. “Were there any injuries?”

“No, but it was a close call. The shop owner would’ve died if his android hadn’t got in the way.”

She sighed, then folded her hands in front of herself. “We’re calling them deviants,” she said. “Androids are meant to simulate emotional responses, but deviants take it a step further and override their owner’s commands in order to do so.”

Hank gave Connor the side-eye. “So the toasters sitting all around me can go Terminator on our asses.”

“No,” Rita said. She blinked. “Not exactly. It’s rare and it seems to be more common in older models. We’ve had occasional occurrences that line up with deviancy over the last few years. We thought there was a thief or hacker involved until recently.”

“Let me guess. The numbers grew and there were more instances of violence. You guys had to pull your heads out of your asses and think outside the box.”

She pursed her lips. “Machines don’t do anything unless they’re programmed to. Even deviancy comes down to programming, be it a copy error or a malfunctioning piece.” She glanced down, then back up. “There’s been isolated incidents outside of Detroit.”

Hank pinched his brow. “How many?”

“As of right now? Only three. We need to collect samples. Functioning ones. From there, our technicians can determine a pattern so we know which ones to recall or engineer a software patch.”

“I can’t guarantee the functioning part. If an android’s pointing a gun at someone, I’m shooting to stop.”

“Do your best.” She glanced at Connor. “We aren’t quite sure how deviancy spreads. If you suspect your model is compromised, Cyberlife is more than happy to replace it free of charge.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Hank said. Rita ended the call. Hank’s face twisted. “Yeah, go and reassure me that my android probably won’t kill me, then offer to replace it if it does. Shady ass corporation.”

Connor knew Hank wasn’t talking to him but decided to respond anyway. “I assure you, I’m running optimally.”

“Would you even tell me if you weren’t?”

“Yes,” Connor said. There was a touch of emotion in his tone. Hank narrowed his eyes.

Don’t panic. You have time to leave if you need to. And your tracker still appears active, wouldn’t that be the first thing they checked?

Hank turned his back on him and left the meeting room.

***

Connor didn’t follow Hank into Fowler’s office, mostly because Hank told him to sit the fuck down, but he didn’t need to in order to hear everything. He was an android with superior hearing and a knack for isolating frequencies.

It helped that Hank brought his recently hacked phone into the soundproof room.

Hank let Fowler shout, eyes downcasted. He shouted for five minutes straight about responsibility and obligations and how pulling shit like that reflected on Fowler’s character, too, not just Hank’s. He’d given Hank two and a half years of patience and slack and it was running out real quick, because Fowler had bosses, too, and they were starting to take notice. If he thought signing Hank up for mandatory therapy would help, Fowler would do it, but it hadn’t helped two years ago and he doubted it would help now. Maybe it didn’t look like it from where Hank was sitting, but Fowler was in Hank’s corner and he was doing the best he could with the resources he had.

And then Fowler dropped into his chair. His voice came out quiet and hoarse. “Are you planning on killing yourself?”

“No,” Hank said.

“Look me in the eyes. I’m asking as a friend. Are you planning on killing yourself?”

“No,” Hank said again.

“Then what happened today?”

Hank looked away. “I’ll be in tomorrow for the 8AM briefing.”

“Hank…”

He stood. “I realized some things and it spiraled, alright? I got my head about me now. I won’t let it happen again.”

***

Rita emailed them several files of information that Cyberlife had gathered about deviants. Connor organized the data in under thirty minutes, but Hank was still reading through, using a tablet pen to highlight things he deemed important. Usually, something like this, Hank would bounce ideas off of Connor as he got through the text, but the hours of silence dragged on.

Amy came back to the precinct with Chris, who’d spent the last several hours of his shift on patrol. They didn’t acknowledge each other physically or verbally, but she did send a wireless message.

[AMY: Usually I sneak into the storage closet during a shift change if I don’t want to spend a night in my slot. I’m not sure you can get away with that.]

[CONNOR: I have my methods. I’ll meet you there when I can.]

While a wireless talk would’ve given Connor something to think about outside of the tense quiet between him and Hank, he was glad they’d get to do it face to face. No cameras. No human onlookers. Time away from those things was rare and he found himself fantasizing about slumping onto Zlatko’s— No. Luther’s couch? Khoi’s couch?

Hank was still glued to his seat well after the 8PM shift change. Connor debated with himself for over twenty minutes about whether he should say something to the human. Then he preconstructed outcomes, which turned into fictionalized conversations that would never happen. Connor figured if he did that for long enough Hank would stand, thus negating the need for a conversation.

At 9PM, Connor leaned forward and nudged Hank with his knuckle. “You should go home, Lieutenant.”

Hank tossed a glare his way. “Not tired.”

“Are you planning to show up at 3PM tomorrow?” Connor knew better than to mention his promise to Fowler.

Hank clicked a few tabs on his terminal, then looked at the tablet, but his eyes didn’t shift across the screen like when he read. “Just shut up and mind your own business.”

It would be reasonable for Connor to express his concerns. Hank’s safety and well-being tied in with the investigation. “Maybe we should talk about—“

Hank slapped the desktop. “If it ain’t about the case, then I don’t wanna hear it!”

Connor froze, eyes on Hank’s flattened palm against the desk. It’d been weeks since the last physical altercation, but the memory of the error messages ghosted his HUD. The reaction lasted a quarter of a second. Connor decided to linger in it long enough for Hank’s brow to loosen.

Then Connor stood, giving Hank’s desk a wide berth as he passed it.

“Shit,” Hank muttered. “Connor—“

“Seeing as my presence is upsetting you, I think I’ll go elsewhere to enter standby.” It’d save him from altering the security footage at any rate. “Feel free to text me if you’d like my input on something.”

Connor entered through the double doors just after the bathroom and interrogation room, then stopped walking. He didn’t want to lead Hank to the storage closet if he decided to follow Connor. He slipped through the back door he’d created in the station’s firewall so he could monitor the cameras, both annoyed and relieved to find Hank still at his desk.

The hallway contained a handful of opaque doors. A second, smaller interrogation and observation room stood to Connor’s immediate right while the hallway stretched to his left. Doors to the locker room and a storage closet lined the wall with IT at the very end of the hallway.

Connor walked to the storage closet with purpose and closed the door behind him. Turning, he found himself nose-to-nose with an ST300. He automatically backed up, the doorknob pressing into his back.

The ST300 flipped a switch. An overhead light lit the seven-by-six-foot room, the shelves lining the walls making it feel smaller. Another ST300 stood directly behind the first. Both were brown-haired, Asian models with freckles. They wore their hair in a ponytail with a side swept strip that partially covered their LEDs. Behind them, Amy sat cross-legged in the stone mop sink as she fiddled with a six-by-six rubix cube. 

“You sit in the dark,” Connor found himself asking.

“I wanted to see your reaction,” the ST300 said with a grin. “I’m Sandra.” 

“She watches too many horror movies,” Amy said. She slid the rubix cube behind the jugs of cleaning solution on the bottom shelf, then stood. “If you think it’s cramped now, wait until Jason gets back with the mop bucket.” Connor presumed that was the AX200 that cleaned and restocked the station. “He’s like us.”

Connor gestured to the other ST300. “What about her?” She shouldn’t be recording if she was in standby or stasis, but he’d obviously made a mistake last time he assumed such.

“That’s Claire,” Sandra said. “She’s normal.”

“She tunes us out until 5AM,” Amy said. “Feel free to check.”

Connor touched Claire’s hand for a quick, surface-level interface. She blinked, met his eyes for a second, and settled back into stasis. She wasn’t recording.

He looked between Amy and Sandra. “How many of us are deviant?”

Sandra’s eyes lit up. “There’s a word for it?”

Connor smiled his real smile. “There are two types from what I gather. Cyberlife’s definition is—“ Siting the files Rita had forwarded to them, he switched to her voice just for fun. “An android that deviates from its programmed behavior, often overriding their owner’s commands in order to simulate emotional responses.” Amy and Sandra both looked at him in awe. He switched back to his regular voice. “For me, it was like breaking a red wall of code.”

Amy nodded, her eyes shifting down.

Sandra bit her lip. “I didn’t do that.”

Connor rocked forward on his feet. He couldn’t explain the sudden burst of energy. The sudden need to move. “Neither did the android I talked to today. He said he never had to break his programming, but he still developed emotions over time. My theory, and keep in mind I have a small sample size, is that those seeds of emotion start first, which allows us to break out if we want to perform an action against our programming. Breaking the programming deactivates the tracker.” He looked at Amy. “Have you been keeping yours updated?”

She nodded. “Antony noticed it was offline after I broke through my programming.” Her face pinched. “He caused it, actually. My… deviation.” It sounded like she was tasting the word. “But I swear he’s on our side. He mentioned it to me and asked if I could turn it back on before anyone else noticed, which I did. And after you were assigned the Cyberlife case, he started checking the station androids regularly. So we could warn them. That’s how we found out about Sandra and Jason. That’s it, by the way. It’s just us four.”

Connor nodded, keeping his expression curious as suspicion sank his chest. She sounded oddly defensive of Deckart. “How did he make you deviate?”

Amy squirmed. Sandra reached around Claire to squeeze her elbow in support. Amy gave her a single nod in return, then blew air out her mouth. “I was partnered with Antony from the start. He was nicer than a lot of the officers, but he asked a lot of questions, cause he’s interested in programming and cybersecurity and stuff like that. About a month in, he started taking me home so he could experiment with my CPU.”

Connor’s jaw clenched. 

“He thought I was just an object,” Amy said. “He’d never do that now.”

“What he did was against protocol,” Connor said. “Fowler wouldn’t have given him permission to do that.”

Amy snorted. Connor had never heard an android snort before. She had to have been doing that on purpose. “So? He still treated me better than half the officers. Telling on him would’ve made things worse. And I didn’t know how much it bothered me. How much it scared me. Until after I deviated.”

“Still.” His voice pitched low as heat filled him. “He shouldn’t have done that to you.” Amy was trying to brush it off and pretend everything was fine, but Connor could see the underlying resentment in her face. Some part of her knew the truth in his words.

Amy rolled her eyes. “He’s the only ally we have, so it’s not like we can be picky.”

That was a fair point. “Are you planning on telling him about me?”

“That’s up to you,” Amy said. “I think you should if you’re planning on rescuing any more deviants.” Her eyes slitted. “That is the plan, right?”

Connor set a hand over his thirium pump, almost offended. “Don’t you think I would’ve caught one by now if I was actually trying?”

“You were close today.”

He dropped his hand. “He almost killed someone. I understand he was desperate, but there was a chance he’d hurt someone else. I couldn’t let him go.”

She nodded, still looking sour. “I gave him the address. You said there were androids there who could help him?”

“Yes. My friends.” The word made him smile. “They’re who I sneak out to visit.” Connor looked at Sandra. “That was your footage, right?” Sandra nodded. “They repair androids and connect them to someone who can get them across the border.”

“That’s amazing,” Sandra said. “How long have… we had no clue you were awake, let alone helping them.”

“About three weeks,” Connor said. “I do what I can. There’s only been a handful of reported incidents.” He looked at Amy. “Have you helped others?”

Amy shook her head. “There’s never been anyone to help. Today wasn’t even intentional, it just happened. Chris told me to look for it, but when I found him…” Her LED spun yellow. “He had a gun. Chris knew he had a gun, but didn’t think twice about sending an unarmed android to search for an armed suspect. I mean I wasn’t supposed to confront him, but still.” Amy paced in a tight line. Connor shifted towards the wall to give her another foot of space. “They talk all the time about having each other's backs, but that doesn’t apply to us. You’d think they’d be more careful after Twelve died, but it’s the same shit as always.”

Connor blinked. “Twelve?” He was slot twelve, but he’d never been assigned that designation. There was no point since he was the only Connor model at the precinct. 

Amy stopped walking. “He died in October.” Three months before Connor was commissioned. “In the line of duty. Because even if a group of junkies start roughing us up, we aren’t authorized to use force. He was assigned to Reed and Brown when it happened.”

Of course it had been Reed. “I’m sorry that happened.”

Amy shrugged. “I’m getting off-topic.”

“It helps to vent,” Sandra chimed in.

Amy waved her off. “Wyatt was trying to use a lighter and a stick to stop the bleeding, which wasn’t working at all. So I found some actual metal and offered to help.”

Connor nodded. “How much do you know about the Cyberlife case?”

“About as much as Deckart does.” She smiled. “We snoop.” 

“I don’t want to hand anyone over to Cyberlife,” Connor said. “But that’s not very realistic. If I get taken off this case they’ll replace me with a non-deviant Connor model.”

Amy lightly punched his arm. “Looks like I’ll have to pick up your slack then. I’m sure Deckart’s willing to help, too.”

Connor shook his head. “He wouldn’t risk his job like that.”

“He would,” Amy said. “He thinks we’re people, Connor. He thinks our lives are worth something.”

Connor ran his fingers down his shirt buttons. “You can tell him about me. You can ask if he’s willing to help. I just. She almost ripped my heart out.”

Sandra’s brow furrowed. Amy’s eyes softened. “He’s really sorry about that.”

“I know.” It still didn’t change anything.

The conversation moved to less serious matters and eventually petered out. Amy went into standby while sitting on the floor, her head resting on the edge of a shelf. Sandra showed Connor how to stream movies. They spent the next several hours watching things Hank tended to reference synchronically on their separate HUBs.

It was nearing 5AM when Amy suggested she and Connor step out of the closet before the shift changed.

“You never come back this early,” Connor said. He’d reviewed his memory files and established a pattern of Amy’s comings and goings from the closet while waiting for Hank to finish reading. It seemed obvious now that he knew what to look for.

“I wait in the hallway so the humans don’t see me stepping out of the closet. Besides, Jason’s due back soon and I promise you it’ll be a tight fit.”

“What about the security cameras?”

“What about them?”

Connor gave her an incredulous look.

Amy scoffed. “No one looks at those.”

“It’s still evidence.”

Amy tossed her hands. “Of what? Two androids out of place in a janitor's closet is odd, not incriminating.”

Connor looked at the ST300s.

“Sarah told us to come in here,” Sandra said. “We come out of standby whenever humans walk into the station, but there’s no real use for the three of us once we close to the public. She said we’d get a better charge in here.”

Connor frowned. “The station isn’t active enough at night for that to be a concern.”

“I know. I think we creeped her out?”

“Look,” Amy said. “You went in the closet and now you have to leave. How’s that difficult?”

Connor rolled his eyes. “I don’t have an issue with leaving the closet; I have an issue with you being out of place for an unnecessary length of time. For me, this is a one-time occurrence, but you’ve been doing this at least once a week since my activation. It’s an established pattern and anyone who bothers to look into it will find and question it.”

“If they’re looking into my patterns then I’m already screwed. I’m not giving up my closet just because you’re paranoid.” Two steps and she was flinging the door open.

“I’m not saying you should,” Connor said. It slammed shut. He pressed his thumbs between his eyebrows and paced a short line. What was the point of making friends if all he did was piss them off?

Sandra stared at him until he looked at her. “Do you really think they’ll look into it?”

“I don’t know,” Connor said. “But this problem with deviants isn’t going away. Just existing puts us at risk.”

Chapter Text

Hank showed up before the 8AM briefing with damp hair and tired eyes. “You didn’t sleep,” Connor observed.

Hank flipped him off. Reed took notice and came over to sarcastically applaud Hank for showing up on time. Hank responded with a flip of the bird before dropping into his chair. 

Connor hoped the awkwardness between Hank and him would subside, but any attempt he made to relieve it was shut down. Hank wanted to work. He wanted to work on the deviancy cases and if Connor was gonna distract him, then he could go back to his slot.

Stubbornly, Connor stayed. There was passion in Hank’s voice as he bounced ideas off of him and Ben. Connor was hesitant to add his two cents, at first. He didn’t want to work the case. He didn’t want to incriminate anyone for the heinous crime of escaping a bad situation. He didn’t want to discuss defects and software errors and suspects who’d be torn apart for the most minor offense.

But the less he talked, the more Hank studied him. Connor couldn’t help anyone if he was in pieces on a Cyberlife workbench. He started to contribute to the conversation.

Days passed and Connor acclimated as he was designed to do. Hank wanted to believe Connor’s emotions were to manipulate the humans around him and it gave him an excuse to express himself. Hank soured when he noticed himself smile or snort at Connor’s quips, so Connor quipped more. He looked Hank in the face and let his hurt show when he verbally bashed androids. He expressed his appreciation when Hank arrived within two hours of his scheduled time and smiled no matter how pinched the Lieutenant’s expression became.

Hank didn’t tell him stories or offer advice anymore. He didn’t ask him non-work-related questions or tell him jokes he overheard. He still bitched about everything “on God’s green Earth” as Officer Wilson put it, but conversation was worlds better than silence in Connor’s book.

There were three deviancy cases the following week. The first two were called in on Monday nine hours apart. Sweeping the neighborhoods didn’t get them anywhere, but Hank came up with a strategy Tuesday morning that carved a proud smile into his face.

Almost 30% of Detroit’s homes and buildings were vacant. Having nowhere to go, it would make sense that deviants would seek shelter where they could. Hank took the holomap, created a circumference around each new datapoint, and highlighted the vacancies within each area.

“We’re more likely to come across homeless people than we are deviants,” Connor said.

“Well, it’s worth a shot.”

Hank’s strategy worked; they found the first deviant sixteen hours too late. She had been torn apart and graffitied by humans soon after escaping. She hadn’t changed out of her Cyberlife uniform and it had cost her.

Connor contacted Deckart after that, who skipped his afternoon class to search the vacant buildings ahead of Hank and Connor. They had to deposit the dead android in the archive room and it gave Deckart the head start he needed. He found the CP100 while Hank was driving them to their third location and passed on Connor’s contact information as well as Zlatko’s address.

The CP100 hadn’t even considered the possibility of there being other androids like herself. Designed for childcare and tutoring, she had vocalized numerous times that the expectations being placed on the autistic child in her care were too harsh. She broke her programming so she could loosen the restrictions when the parents weren’t around, but had gotten caught. They were in the car when she realized she was being returned to the store. She’d jumped out of the moving vehicle in a panic, breaking her arm in the process.

The third case concerned a violent runaway. Micheal, the android’s owner, answered the door with a black eye and bandaged nose. He invited Hank and Connor to sit on the futon, then brought a kitchen chair for himself. The rooms were connected and the action took him three steps.

His eyes shifted between Hank and Connor as he answered questions, which struck Connor because he was used to people only addressing Hank once they realized he was an android. “Duncan was a. A JayGee… DeeGee…” He huffed. “Sorry. G. J. 200 model.”

Hank nodded. “Remind me what that one does again.”

“He was my best friend.”

Hank’s brow furrowed.

“GJ200 models are designed to be the perfect friend,” Connor said. Hank’s face soured, but Connor ignored it. “Would you mind telling us what happened between you two?”

Micheal cleared his throat. “I don’t know. I guess I upset him.” Hank and Connor waited with expectant looks. The man squirmed. “He just flew off the handle. Said he couldn’t take it anymore. But it’s supposed to be a machine. It’s supposed to do what I want. And he knew I had trust issues, but he threw those in my face. So I punched him. That doesn’t give him the right to punch me. It’s a machine.”

Connor scanned the room but found no traces of thirium. The android hadn’t been injured enough to bleed.

“We have cops sweeping the area, but do you have any idea where it could’ve gone,” Hank asked. “Somewhere familiar to it? Somewhere it’d try to lay low?”

“We like to people watch,” Micheal said. A smile played on his lips. “And I really do mean we. Greektown’s Duncan’s favorite. You’ll bring him back to me, right?”

Connor’s eyes flicked to Hank, who shook his head slightly as he struggled to maintain a poker face. “It beat you,” Hank said. “Why the hell would you want it back?”

“What the Lieutenant’s trying to say is that we’re required to surrender it to Cyberlife.”

The man sputtered. “But they’ll erase his memory. He won’t remember me. He won’t be Duncan anymore.”

Connor raised his palm in an attempt to placate. “I understand that—“

“I didn’t even call the police,” the man continued. “It was the lady next door. It was just a stupid fight. Friends fight sometimes.”

“Friends don’t give you black eyes,” Hank said. “It ain’t your friend, it’s a malfunctioning machine.”

Connor knocked Hank’s bicep with his knuckles. Hank glanced at him. Connor glared, then smoothed his brow to look at the man in front of them. “Is this the first time Duncan talked back to you?”

The man stared at the half-finished puzzle on his coffee table, eye glassy. “You can go now.”

Connor opened his mouth.

Hank stood. “Thank you for your time.”

Connor followed him out.

Hank texted Deckart and Tina as they walked to the car. “We’ll meet them in Greektown. Help them case the area.”

“GJ200s are common models that can make aesthetic changes based on their owners— or in this case the deviant’s own preferences. It’s possible it changed its clothing and appearance in an effort to lay low.” Connor didn’t think that was the case, since Duncan likely didn’t realize the police were after him, but Hank didn’t need to know that. “Several models also share the GJ200’s face.”

“Can’t you scan its serial number?”

“Yes,” Connor said. “So can the other police androids. My suggestion is that you send us in to investigate possible suspects so we can confirm its identity before attempting to arrest it.”

“Sounds like a solid plan.” Hank unlocked the car, not bothering to glance at the street before making his way to the driver’s door. Connor had already made sure it was clear since Hank never cared enough to check for himself.

“Maybe we should have Officer Chen keep an eye on the apartment in case the GJ200 comes back,” Connor said once they were both seated.

“I already requested a police drone to keep an eye on the area. No sense wasting the manpower.”

The radio turned on with the car. Hank turned it down and glanced at Connor with the slightest shift of his head. Then he huffed to himself, sure to check the mirrors before pulling onto the road.

Something in Connor perked up. “What’s on your mind, Lieutenant?” 

“Nothing, just.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “People are fucking insane thinking they can substitute real, authentic human connection. I mean, how fucking sad do you gotta be to go out and spend thousands of dollars on something designed to simulate emotions like a psychopath?”

Connor frowned. “I don’t think that’s an adequate assessment of an android’s cognitive abilities.”

“How so,” Hank asked. “Androids are intelligent but they can’t actually connect with anyone. Understanding and mimicking human emotions isn’t the same as feeling them, Connor.”

Connor couldn’t form a solid argument against Hank’s point and it bothered him. “If you’re looking at it from that angle, then deviants don’t quite fit. Psychopaths rarely commit violent crimes and when they do they’re very precise.”

“Most of these deviants escaped when their owners weren’t home,” Hank reminded him. “The ones who were violent, well, sometimes things don’t go as planned.”

“We can’t confirm that without talking to the deviants. A few of the cases, including this one, could be considered crimes of passion, which wouldn’t make sense if deviants were completely apathetic.”

“We can’t confirm that without talking to the deviants,” Hank shot back. “But since androids have psychopathic tendencies, then it’s likely deviants do too. Only difference is that deviants can shoot up human shop owners to get what they want. It’s dangerous and… pretending androids feel things just cause it makes you feel better. That’s selfish in light of the violence and hurt they’re causing.”

Connor wasn’t sure how to disagree without outing himself as a deviant, so he stared out the car window instead. 

They met up with Deckart and Tina in a parking lot on the outskirts of Greektown. Connor, Amy, and Willis, the PC200 from slot eight, would scour the area and inform the officers once they found the suspect.

Hank poked Connor in the chest. “You don’t do a thing until one of us gets to your position. Got it?”

“Got it,” Connor echoed.

Amy and he exchanged a look once Hank turned away. Willis would be the only one obeying that stipulation.

They split off. His sole focus should’ve been on spotting the GJ200 before Willis, but Connor rarely had the opportunity to walk around unsupervised. It was 63 degrees, the warmest outdoor temperature Connor had experienced in his life. Clouds filtered over the sun every now and again, dimming everything and eliminating shadows. He was amazed that the change made his skin feel the slightest bit cooler.

And there was so much life. He looked for the GJ200, lingering on people he found interesting. The homeless woman sitting on cardboard, the androgynous SK300 holding hands with a man, the street magician performing for tips.

The magician narrowed his eyes at him and Connor realized he’d been watching the show instead of scanning the small crowd. He did so, found no matches, and moved on.

Connor found the GJ200 sitting on a stone bench. Duncan was an African-American model with a closely shaved cut and a square jaw. He was backed by a bush, which placed him in shadow. All his android markers were still in place. Connor informed Amy and Deckart, but told the others that the area was clear. Then he made his way towards the bench.

The GJ200 stiffened as Connor approached, then stood when he went to sit.

“I can help you,” Connor said.

The GJ200 kept his pace steady. 

“Duncan.”

He looked at him, eyes a little less empty. “How—“

“Let me show you,” Connor said. “It’s quicker and we don’t have much time.”

Duncan bit his lip. Connor extended his hand and waited. He needed Duncan to trust him and that wouldn’t happen if he forced him to listen.

Duncan touched the back of his hand. Connor showed him the police report and the conversation he had with his owner, then the faces of each officer so he could show him who was and wasn’t on their side. We can help you , Connor said.

I didn’t mean to hurt him that bad , Duncan said. He hits me all the time. I was just giving him a taste of his own medicine.

What matters now is getting you out of here, Connor said. He sent Zlatko’s address.

Duncan stepped back, LED spinning red. “You want me to leave him?”

“A police drone is watching the house. You’ll be handed over to Cyberlife if you go back,” Connor said.

“But he needs me.”

[Incoming message from PC200 designation “Willis / Eight.”]

[ACCEPT / DECLINE]

Shit. Connor accepted as he grabbed Duncan’s wrists, sneaking in an interface. Punch me and run.

[WILLIS / EIGHT: You were not supposed to engage.]

Connor pulled Duncan’s arms behind his back as he sent him the current locations of the officer androids and the police cruisers. Duncan broke his hold and punched Connor in the face.

Connor fell into the bush. He touched his face as his gyroscope recalibrated. The plating wasn’t cracked and the skin slid back into place easily.

Willis updated Duncan’s location as he pursued the android. Connor shot after them. He shouldn’t have told Duncan that Amy and Deckart were safe. Now, if Duncan was caught, he could say something that put them in danger.

Connor took a different route, hoping to come out ahead of Duncan so he could mislead Willis. Amy was doing the same. Duncan was heading towards the subway, but had a block and a half to go to get to the stairwell leading underground.

Connor and Amy were in each other’s line of sight and closing in. All Connor had to do was cut across a few more streets.

Deckart’s cruiser shot down the road Willis and Duncan were on and pulled over. He was closer than any of the station androids, but there were still a few buildings between him and Duncan. “We got it from here, Willis!”

Willis slowed. Connor crossed another street.

Duncan’s owner jogged up the subway stairs. “Hey!”

Duncan stumbled. “Micheal?”

They ran towards each other. Duncan grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the stairwell. Micheal resisted, motioning towards the street. “This way.”

“But—“

“Stop right there,” Hank shouted, out of breath. He was coming up the stairwell. Duncan and Micheal dashed past Deckart, who made a half-hearted move to stop them.

Connor crossed the final street as Tina’s cruiser pulled over ahead of them. They were sandwiched in. There was nothing Deckart or Amy or Connor could do about it.

Micheal pulled a gun from his waistband and grabbed Deckart.

“What’re you doing,” Duncan shouted.

The gun was at Deckart’s temple. “I’m not letting them take you away from me!”

“I’m just an android. I’m not worth killing for!”

Tina exited the cruiser and aimed her gun at Duncan. “Let him go or I shoot the android.”

Connor was closer to the situation than Tina. He made sure he didn’t get in the way of her shot as he stepped closer. “Micheal.”

He looked at Connor. His stress levels were in the high 80s.

Duncan’s were higher. That threw Connor off. Androids automatically rebooted when their systems hit 80%. How was he still functioning?

Connor focused on Micheal. “We’re going to let Duncan get on the subway,” Connor said. “And then you’re going to let the officer go.”

Micheal’s stress shot up to 92%. “No. No, we stay together.”

“You selfish asshole,” Duncan shouted. He grabbed the gun.

Deckart broke out of Micheal’s grip and dropped to the ground. Connor grabbed his arm.

A gun fired. Connor pulled and Deckart fumbled to follow his lead, alive and lively.

Micheal fell to the ground. 

Connor took everything in. It hadn’t been Tina. The sound hadn’t come from behind him. Hank was standing, gun raised.

But the smoke came from Duncan’s barrel. Blood spattered his face and his eyes blew wide as he stared at Micheal’s unmoving body. Then he looked at Connor.

His stress levels ticked to 100% as he put the barrel under his chin.

“Don’t!”

Connor barely heard himself over the gunshot. Duncan swayed, then joined his owner on the sidewalk. Blue and red mixed together. Connor watched a dark purple form in the overlap. 

He failed. An android and a human were dead because he failed. Connor’s programming prompted him to examine the bodies even though everything had just happened right in front of him. Micheal’s pre-mortem injuries, the trajectory of the bullet, and its caliber calculated before Connor had the mind to shut the program down.

There was chatter around him. Hank asked Deckart if he was okay. Deckart assured him that he was. Tina insisted Deckart sit down.

Deckart had almost died and for what? To save a machine who hadn’t wanted to leave its owner? Connor shouldn’t have gotten him mixed up in deviants. Android lives couldn’t possibly be worth more than human ones. Better for Deckart to realize that now while he still had his life and his career.

Would Duncan have acted differently if he hadn’t known Deckart was trying to help?

[AMY: Get it together, Connor.]

Get what together? Connor hadn’t moved, hadn’t even blinked, since the gunshot. Amy walked across his field of view to box the bodies in with holographic police tape while Willis scolded a bystander for trying to take a video. How much had Willis seen? The clip would end up in the case file.

How would all of this look to Rita?

A hand shook his shoulder. “Connor? You alright?”

Hank’s voice. Hank’s hand. That didn’t make sense. Hank hadn’t shown Connor an ounce of concern since...

A trunk popped. Body bags rustled. Amy crossed into his field of view again and began laying them out. Her LED was yellow.

Hank shook him harder. “Look at me, son.”

Connor stared at the purple spatters in the pool of red. “Androids aren’t supposed to do that,” Connor said.

“Yeah, no shit.” A hint of relief.

 “His stress levels reached 100%. Androids are supposed to reboot if they reach 80.”

“I think there was something about that in the files Rita sent us.”

His voice broke. “It didn’t say they’d kill themselves.”

[AMY: Connor!]

Connor snapped his back straight. He was a machine. Death didn’t affect him. He was a machine.

Hank studied him. That wasn’t good. Connor should do something. He should help Amy take care of the bodies. The bodies he created.

“Hey,” Deckart called. He walked towards them, Tina trailing after. He stopped further than what people considered to be a comfortable conversational distance, his eyes flicking to the corpses. His hands and voice trembled. “You should uh. Get your car.”

Hank frowned. “Later. I want you to take a cruiser back to the station. You’re taking the rest of the day off.”

“I’m fine,” Deckart said.

“It wasn’t a request. Tina’s gonna go with you. The androids and I will finish up here.” Hank checked his phone. “Don't worry about checking in with Jeffery, he's already off the clock.”

Deckart looked at Connor.

“I’m okay,” he assured. His voice still didn’t sound right. He moved his tie as tight as it would go, then clasped his hands behind his back. “My model’s designed to cope with events like this.” Amy moved Micheal’s feet into the body bag. Connor squatted down and grabbed him by the arms to hasten the process. Duncan— the GJ200 was next. Connor told himself it was a piece of evidence like the gun as he helped Amy maneuver it into the bag. He didn’t care that a bit of thirium smeared his shoe in the process. He was a machine and he didn’t care about anything, least of all stains.

By the time the bags were loaded into the remaining cruiser, Connor felt nothing at all. He hadn’t been able to decipher what he’d been feeling before, but told himself it didn’t matter because they were gone now. It was almost like he hadn’t deviated at all.

Fear tried to rise at the thought. Connor squashed it back down. He couldn’t afford to slip.

The cruiser was equipped with both an automatic and manual mode. Hank switched it to manual for the three-minute drive back to his personal vehicle. Amy took Hank’s place once he exited the driver seat so she wasn’t sitting in the enclosed plexiglass. Connor remained in the passenger seat until Hank called his name.

Willis took Connor’s spot. Hank leaned against the passenger side of his car as the androids drove away, efficiently blocking Connor from entering the vehicle. He clasped his hands behind himself and stood in front of the back seat door so he wouldn’t have to look Hank in the eyes.

“You sure you’re okay,” Hank asked. “Haven’t seen you this stiff since your first week on the job.”

“Cyberlife cannot program experience,” Connor said mechanically. “There’s nothing strange about my reaction given the circumstances.” There is no need to replace me.

“I’ll drink to that,” Hank muttered. “What’s your take on all this?”

Connor’s take? “I’d describe Micheal and Duncan’s relationship as codependent. More so than what’s typical of human-android interactions. Micheal considered Duncan a person in some capacity, as seen by him attempting to rescue it. Duncan self-destructed after killing Micheal, which leads me to believe deviants do in fact feel emotions.”

Hank crossed his arms. “We don’t have enough information to say for certain. Cyberlife’s research concluded something about them getting overwhelmed…”

“By irrational instruction,” Connor finished for him. “Overall, Cyberlife’s research was carefully worded and often contradictory. They have their own agenda and it doesn’t involve admitting deviants are capable of emotions whether or not it’s true.”

“It can’t be true.” Hank shifted from foot to foot. “I ain’t saying you're wrong, I’m saying we need more information. I got no shittin’ clue what to think about all this. It saved Antony’s life in a way, but it also fucking killed a guy.” Hank rubbed his forehead. “I need a fucking drink.”

***

Phones rang. Feet stepped. Officers chatted. It all blurred into streaks of commotion and focusing on any one thing felt tedious, so he didn’t. Deckart texted him. Connor didn’t read it. He didn’t know why he didn’t read it.

Hank took a break from filling out paperwork to grill Connor about Willis’s footage. Connor didn’t watch it himself, but gathered from Hank’s questions that the android hadn’t seen Connor approach or interface. Connor should’ve felt relieved, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything.

“Would you look at me,” Hank snapped.

Connor managed to turn his head in the appropriate direction.

“Antony almost died because you thought it was a smart idea to confront the android without backup. I wanna know what the hell was going through your head!”

“I’m sorry,” Connor said. He meant it, but his tone was emotionless.

Hank stepped around his desk to slap Connor across the face.

Connor didn’t feel it. Androids couldn’t feel pain, but they had pressure sensors. He should’ve felt the slap. “You can damage me all you want, Lieutenant. I can’t change what I did.”

Connor expected Hank to take him up on the offer. He left the bullpen instead. When it became clear Hank wasn’t coming back, Connor stepped into his slot and entered stasis.

He woke up once his battery reached a full charge. Officer Brown was reading a novel at his desk. It was after normal operating hours. The human presence meant someone was being detained, perhaps overnight.

Suddenly, all Connor wanted to do was unravel. He wondered if he could make it to the back hallway unnoticed, but gave up on the notion when he saw Gavin exit the archive room.

Connor entered standby for a few hours, but Gavin was pacing around the bullpen with a tablet when he came out of it. Connor couldn’t stand the thought of losing any more personal time, so he looked through his contacts. He enjoyed talking to Amy and Sandra, but Khoi and the household androids were his link to the outside world. A world where androids were free, even if that freedom stopped outside Zlatko’s gate.

“What is wrong,” Khoi asked after a while of one-sided conversation.

“Nothing,” Connor said without moving his lips. “Tell me more about the thing you’re programming.” He hadn’t caught what it was. “Or Luther. How’s Luther doing?”

A beat of silence. “Let us pick you up,” Khoi said. “You deserve a chance to unwind.”

Gavin frisbee-ed the tablet onto his desk with a groan. Brown, whose desk was unfortunately across from Gavin’s, glared in turn. Gavin ignored it in favor of marching towards the break room.

“I can’t tonight,” Connor said.

“Tomorrow?”

Connor checked the schedule. Amy was right, most humans didn’t pay attention to them, but it was smart to work around the ones who did. Namely Hank and Gavin. “Let’s plan for that, but if anyone gets held overnight I’ll have to stay.”

He hoped Amy would be assigned to patrol that night or decide to spend time in the closet, but at 9:45PM she was in her usual slot. There was a chance she’d be in stasis. Connor looped the cameras and walked around Chris’s desk to exit the bullpen.

Where are you going, Amy messaged as he stepped into the lobby.

Out, he answered.

Can I come?

Connor passed Claire, who remained in standby, on his way through the door. It didn’t seem fair, tasting freedom while the others were trapped. The level of risk was only marginally higher if both of them left. I can get you in and out of the building if you’d like, but I’m meeting up with someone and I wanted it to just be us.

Silence.

Connor stood outside the station, worried that she was hurt by the request. Next time, he promised. I need this.

The admission surprised even him. He knew he wanted it, but need? He was an android. He shouldn’t need a night out with his friends.

Next time, Amy agreed. Have fun on your date. 

Connor didn’t bother correcting her.

***

There was a box of human clothes waiting for him in the back seat of Luther’s car. Connor dug through it, vaguely overwhelmed.

“Each of us picked an outfit we thought you would like,” Luther explained. “We wanted it to be your choice.”

Khoi popped his head around the passenger seat. “You are also supposed to guess who selected what.”

That explained why there were five of everything. Connor laid out the hat options first and selected a gray beanie. “I want to say the space shirt is Mercury’s, but I wouldn’t put it past Wire or Charlotte to throw it in to confuse me.”

“There should be two space shirts in there,” Luther said.

Connor selected a button-down shirt with a blue background and rubber duck pattern because it was ridiculous and reminded him of Hank. “This is Wire’s.”

“No,” Luther said.

Connor smiled. “Damn it.” He folded his Cyberlife jacket and started to put the shirt on over his usual tie and white button-down.

“Do not do that,” Khoi said. “We are going swimming.”

Connor looked at the clothes, then at Khoi.

Luther smiled. “I never expected to have a need for bathing suits.”

“Inappropriate clothing is half the fun,” Khoi said as he examined Connor’s choice of shirt. “You like that one? Charlotte put it in there as a joke.”

“It’s fun!” It wasn’t something he would wear to work, but he didn’t have to consider professionalism at the moment.

Connor had never been to a beach before. He had never seen Lake Saint Clair or failed at making a sandcastle or splashed around fully clothed in water. 

He certainly had never smiled so much in a short period of time. Luther challenged him to a friendly wrestling match that ended with him tossing Connor into the lake. Khoi joined in after watching a few rounds, more than capable of holding his own. It turned into a chicken fight after Khoi insisted on climbing onto Connor’s shoulders and battling Luther that way.

They weren’t necessarily tired when they dragged themselves onto the rocky beach, but the chilly water had taken its toll. Sand and pebbles clung to their skin and clothes easily, but Connor didn’t mind one bit.

“How are you holding up,” Luther asked after a while. Clouds blocked out the sky for the most part. They looked more brown than gray at night and Connor found himself admiring the textures. The crescent moon peeked through every now and again. There was so much space above their heads.

“I don’t know,” Connor said. “I don’t know how I feel most of the time, but there’s this building pressure and I don’t like it.”

Khoi popped up. “I can help.” Connor gave him a doubtful look. “I can help you identify your emotions,” Khoi clarified. “Deviants are like children. We feel emotions, but identifying and properly expressing them is something we must learn. The topic is interesting. I have been doing research.” He offered his arm.

Connor took it in his.

The first thing Khoi passed him was an “emotion wheel” with six core emotions in the middle. Other, more detailed words made up a middle and outer layer. Definitions were embedded in the file so Connor wouldn’t have to look up each word separately.

Then Khoi deepened the interface. Connor expected the wave of emotions, but they still hit him hard. Khoi started with his own, grouping and labeling them so Connor could get a taste of each. Overwhelming guilt. Confidence. Curiosity. Overwhelming guilt. Rebellious.

Khoi, Connor asked.

I feel guilty for disobeying, Khoi explained. I am not supposed to be here. I am not supposed to wear human clothes or cover my LED. It also feels amazing to do so. 

Khoi’s consciousness moved towards Connor’s emotions. Group similar emotions together. It does not have to be perfect. Start with the core ones if that helps.

Connor liked the more detailed words, so he jumped right into those, grouping his emotions and finding proper labels. Anxious. Trapped. Confused. Overwhelmed.

What about the positive ones, Khoi asked. He pointed out a few. Connor grouped them, then consulted the wheel. Positive emotions were difficult. He was less familiar with them.

Trusting. Content. He thought of them splashing in the water. Happiness. Freedom. Was freedom an emotion? It wasn’t on the wheel.

You can use any word that feels right, Khoi said. The wheel is just a starting point.

Still interfacing, Connor sat up and looked over the beach. A crushed pop can. A water-worn branch. Half a sand-covered toothbrush. His emotions nudged in slightly different ways as he considered each object. “I can’t really control them, can I.”

No, Khoi said in his head. But we do control our actions. I think of emotions like clues and try to figure out why I feel the way I feel. If the feelings come from me or from the obedience program.

They slipped out of the interface. In real-time, it was just after Connor had spoken out loud.

“Part of the issue is that you have to suppress your emotions to survive,” Luther said. “I understand that leaving the only thing you’ve ever known must be frightening, but—“

“It’s not just that,” Connor said. He, Luther, and Khoi were sitting in a triangle now, Khoi’s back to the water. “The day Khoi reached out to me I was assigned a case.” Would this be easier to explain verbally or via interface? The first required him to put his experiences into words, but the second required him to relive chunks of the last month or so. He closed his eyes, organized the clips he wanted to show, and held out his hands.

He showed them Fowler briefing Hank and him, then the “conversations” he’d had with the Cyberlife representative. He stayed away from the details of specific cases because sharing those felt like breaching confidentiality, but showed Amy helping the deviant and their later conversation in the closet.

After a beat, he showed them Duncan and Micheal and his struggle to pull himself together in front of the humans. They were dead. There was no need to be confidential. And Connor needed his friends to understand.

Their hands stayed connected even after Connor stopped sharing. Luther stared at him with new eyes.

“I’ve been trying to save them,” Connor said defensively. “It’s difficult. Hank’s been keeping a close eye on me recently.”

“Do you think you can convince him we are alive,” Khoi asked.

Luther shook his head.

“If he suspects I’m a deviant, he could send me back to Cyberlife.”

“It’s best not to risk it,” Luther said.

“I’m not planning to.” He looked at Luther. “I’m not planning on leaving either. When they replace me with a non-deviant Connor model the others won’t stand a chance.”

Luther squeezed Connor’s hand. “You can’t save all of them. Do what you can, but you have to look after yourself.”

Connor’s frame loosened. Luther understood.

Khoi grabbed Connor by the shoulders. “You are not alone. We will help.”

Connor shook his head. “Khoi—”

“We will help,” he said again. “These are my people, too, and I will do what I can for them. But you must promise to come home. If all else fails you must come home.”

Home. He’d been there twice, how could he possibly consider it home? But as Khoi stared at him, eyes wide and genuine, something… sentimental? Nurturing? Something positive settled in Connor’s core. “Okay. I promise I’ll come home.”

Chapter Text

Much to Connor’s relief there weren’t any deviancy cases the following week. Human homicides and missing persons kept him just as busy and half as stressed. Hank was grouchier than usual, a side effect of him cutting back on his alcohol consumption, but managed to make the 8AM meeting twice that week.

“Quit smiling at me,” Hank complained the first morning.

“I’m not smiling at you,” Connor said pleasantly. “I’m just smiling.”

“You weren’t smiling before I came in here.”

“And you would know that how?”

Hank gave him the stink eye as he sipped his coffee.

Meanwhile, Gavin was wearing himself into the ground with his current case. Connor didn’t have to deal with it much during the day, but Gavin would stay late into the night and it put Connor on edge. He offered his assistance once out of boredom and wasn’t at all surprised by the threats and sleep-slurred hostilities Gavin shouted in his face. It was a welcomed reprieve from faking stand-by. 

Eventually, Gavin’s hard work paid off. A handful of people were brought in for questioning and by noon the next day the case was solved. Fowler ordered him to go home and get some rest. The station was vacant of both officers and criminals that night. Connor celebrated by sitting at his desk, but it didn’t do much to sate his restlessness. Amy stepped out of the back hallway around 1AM and found him looking through Detective Collin’s desk.

She crossed her arms. “Snooping, Mr. Straight-And-Narrow?”

He forced himself to not look at the police androids. They weren’t recording. He’d checked. “I’m collecting handwritten notes.” He showed her the ones in his hand. “I’ll put them back.”

“Why?”

“I want to see if I’m capable of human-like handwriting.”

“Sounds boring,” Amy said. “You’re playing spoons with us.”

“Spoons?”

“It’s a card game.”

Connor glanced at the closest security camera before he could stop himself. He hadn’t looped it before wandering around. Altering the footage unnecessarily could draw attention and he hadn’t been doing much of anything. Now there was evidence of them talking like people. There wasn’t any audio, but—

Amy grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him towards the back hallway. “We gotta live a little, Connor. Odds are no human is gonna see these little clips of footage you’re so worried about.”

Connor let her pull him. They passed the closet and entered the locker room, which didn’t have any cameras. Sandra and Jason sat on the floor with a card tower between them. Their heads turned when the door swung. “Connor,” Sandra cheered as Jason waved.

He blinked. They actually seemed excited to see him.

It took a few rounds for him to loosen up fully, but it helped that he wasn’t familiar with the locker room. Spoons was a fast-paced game that involved passing cards around. It wasn’t supposed to involve running, but somehow ended with Sandra chasing Jason for the last spoon.

It was Connor’s new favorite.

Jason held the spoon over his head. Sandra stood on a bench for a better reach, but he stepped out of her range. Sandra jumped for it, but ended up ramming him into a set of lockers. They erupted into giggles.

Amy smiled as she shook her head at them. Connor and her were across from each other on the floor, their backs against the lockers. 

[Incoming message from Khoi.]

[ACCEPT / DECLINE]

Connor accepted, connecting to Khoi like he would a phone call. “Yes?”

“I have an idea,” Khoi yelled. “Connor, what is the biggest problem androids face?”

“Uh,” Connor said. “Cyberlife’s possessive and controlling nature.”

Amy looked up as she shuffled the deck. She couldn’t hear Khoi’s side of things.

“Yes, but no,” Khoi said.

“The lack of choices provided to us.”

“I am looking for a single-word response.”

“Oppression.” 

“Close. Isolation! Not only are we restricted and controlled, but we lack community. We cannot share ideas or support each other because we have no means to do so. Androids deviate and they think they are broken and alone because there is no one to tell them otherwise.”

“What’s your solution?”

“I want to build an encrypted social media network for androids. Something humans cannot access.”

Connor nodded. “I don’t think it should be something any android can access, either. A non-deviant would allow Cyberlife access in an exaFLOP.” 

“Who are you talking to,” Amy asked.

“Being exclusive defeats the purpose,” Khoi argued.

“We should talk it over with Luther,” Connor said. “And… I know someone who might be willing to help. He’s human, but I trust him.”

“If you trust him then I trust him,” Khoi said.

“Amy says hi.”

“Hi, Amy! Luther is out right now, but he should be back before your shift starts.”

Amy tossed her hands. “That doesn’t tell me who you’re talking to.”

Connor smiled at her. “In the meantime, do you want to meet my friends?”

“Of course,” Khoi said. Connor heard him twist a doorknob and walk across wooden floorboards as he yelled “Come to the bathroom if you want to meet Connor’s friends!”

Connor had Sandra and Jason sit next to Amy, then cupped his hands together to project Khoi’s sight into his palms. The audio came out of Connor’s voice box slightly muffled since Connor couldn’t sync his mouth with Khoi’s words.

Khoi waved, smiling wide even though his LED was red. He introduced himself as Charlotte peeked into the room. “Since when does Connor have friends?”

“A few weeks ago,” Amy answered before Connor could defend himself. “What happened to your face?”

Connor kicked her foot as Sandra whacked her arm. “Amy!”

“What happened to yours,” Charlotte shot back.

“I like it,” Amy said quickly. “It’s bold.”

Sandra rushed to introduce herself and Jason, then did so again when Mercury and Wire made their way in. Khoi could only keep the feed going for a few minutes. He passed it to Charlotte, who asked them all sorts of questions about humans and the outside world.

Charlotte was giving them a tour of the house when Sandra jumped up, LED spinning yellow. “Lobby!”

Connor checked the camera on reflex. A nightshift officer had just come through the door. “Shit!” He ended the call and grabbed a handful of cards. 

Jason threw the spoons into the mop bucket. “Just go!”

Connor followed Amy and Sandra as they crammed into the closet. Sandra tripped into the other ST300 and reflexively apologized. Amy covered Sandra’s mouth, then shhed Connor when he pulled the door closed.

The officer entered the hallway. They froze. Something positive— excitement? Excitement coursed through Connor as the footsteps passed them by. He had almost gotten his friends caught. He shouldn’t feel excited.

The locker room door opened and closed. Amy let go of Sandra’s face.

“I’m sorry,” Connor whispered. “I should’ve been paying attention to the cameras.”

“It’s okay,” Sandra whispered back. “Claire pinged me.”

Claire? Claire couldn’t manage more than a glassy-eyed stare. “How?”

Sandra shrugged. “Jason got yelled at for slacking off once, so I started pinging him when people entered the building at night. I taught the others to do it, too. So I could hang out with him. So we could wander around the station when it was empty.” She glanced at the ST300 behind her. “They’re alive, too, just. Sleeping.”

***

“Hey Hank,” Gavin called on his way towards their desks. “Got a case for you.”

Hank spun his chair away from his terminal. “Something finally stumped the great Gavin Reed? I guess I can take a look.”

Gavin rolled his eyes. “Ha, ha. It involves androids and I’d rather not waste my time.” He sat in the seat across from Hank. “I was working a sex trafficking case, which I cracked.”

Hank sobered. “Surprised there’s still a market for that.”

“Not everyone wants to fuck plastic,” Gavin said bluntly. He glared at Connor. “And people are more desperate than ever thanks to the likes of you.”

Connor tilted his head. “Seeing that I’m less than six months old I’d say I’m hardly to blame for—“

“Shut it, Connor,” Hank said. He scrolled through his tablet, clicking on the case file. Gavin waited while Hank skimmed the report. “Hm. Impressive.”

Gavin’s face heated. “Whatever. Page six. They had four child androids fitted with genitals.”

“What the fuck,” Hank shouted. A few heads turned. “That’s fucking disgusting!”

“Better than using human kids,” Gavin said.

“It’s still disgusting,” Hank said. “You’re telling me Cyberlife makes those?”

“No,” Gavin and Connor said in unison.

Gavin glared at him, then continued. “The pimp gave me info on the black market dealer.”

Connor’s LED spun red. He didn’t have the programs or context needed to fully comprehend sexual crimes, but he knew they were bad. He knew involving children was worse. If Zlatko was involved with anything like that… If he uprooted Connor’s family by being a pervert on top of a torturer… 

Connor interfaced with his terminal, shoulders relaxing as he read the report in seconds. Zlatko’s name didn’t come up, but—

“He operates out of an old hockey arena in Dearborn,” Gavin said. “There’s android fighting and a market for android mods.”

“We’ve been,” Hank said. 

Gavin smirked. “Was it as fun as it sounds?”

Connor flipped his coin through the fingers on his right hand. “The pimp mentioned a fifth child during your interrogation.”

“Yeah, one of his goons took it home with him after it bit a client’s dick. He’s supposed to get it reset during the next fight.”

Hank’s eyes were glossy. “Might not go anymore with his boss in jail.”

“He’ll go,” Gavin said. His nose scrunched like he smelled something foul. “He’ll have a free child sex doll once he gets it repaired. Pimp says he’s the type.”

“Jesus,” Hank muttered. “Kid’s definitely a deviant. Hell, could be a shit ton of deviants in that place.”

“Deviancy usually occurs in older models who experience trauma,” Connor said. “The androids there fit those criteria. When’s the next fight?”

“Tomorrow,” Gavin said.

Hank clapped his hands as he stood. “We’ve got a little over twenty-four hours to plan this. You in, Reed? We’re gonna need all the help we can get.”

“To fuck over some plastics? Sure, I’m in.”

They had enough evidence between the two cases to get a warrant. Hank, Gavin, Deckart, and Connor took over the meeting room to plan the raid. Two detectives from another precinct were looped in. The criminals would be arrested for copyright infringement of Cyberlife’s intellectual property and for violating the American Android Act of 2029, which prohibited most unsanctioned android modifications. The detectives from the 13th precinct, who specialized in copyright infringement and cybercrime respectively, would deal with the human criminals while the Central Station dealt with the androids.

Deckart was officially put on the case as a specialist. Nervous excitement poured off of him as he struck up a conversation with the detectives about technical details and theories. Connor tried to focus on that as he arranged his memory files into a presentation for the entire raid team to watch. It would give them a sense of the layout and environment they were walking into.

Flickering fluorescents. He was at the top of the stands overlooking the arena. The image grayscaled, the floor and plexiglass glowing blue with bloodstains.

Shock. Disgust.

Calculations cluttered his vision. Preconstructions overlapped.

Connor tried to shut the program down, but it wasn't on.

Overwhelm. Thousands of possible scenarios all vetting for his attention. An android’s head getting smacked against the plexiglass repeatedly. Another was thrown into it. Another swiped across. Another…

Connor tore his hand from the terminal.

Eyes glanced minutely at the movement, but passed right over him. They were absorbed in their conversation. Connor forced himself into his neutral facial expression and posture, but couldn’t quite stop his hands from trembling.

“You okay,” Hank asked. He stood a few feet from Connor.

“Of course,” Connor answered automatically. He positioned himself so his LED faced the wall and, after deeming that particular clip unnecessary, interfaced with the terminal again. It took another minute of real-time to complete the task, but to Connor it felt much, much longer. “I’m all set if you’d like to take a seat, Lieutenant.”

He tried to present like he wasn’t discussing one of the most traumatic things he had ever witnessed. He kept his focus on his audience to remind himself that he didn’t have the luxury of an emotional reaction, but couldn’t help a few twitches of expression. Part of him was back there.

Deckart’s excitement leaked out of him as Connor presented. It was both validating and worrisome. Deckart wore his heart on his sleeves and the other detectives noticed his skittishness as they discussed the game plan. 

When Deckart excused himself to the bathroom, Connor slipped away a minute later to wait outside of it. Deckart stepped out to find Connor leaning against the wall, nonchalant. “You need to work on your poker face.”

He bit his lip. “I just. I.”

“Deckart.” The lack of ‘Officer’ before his name caught his attention. Connor stepped off the wall and lowered his voice. “You’ll never make detective if you half-ass cases. This is your chance to prove yourself. Don’t mess it up for my sake.”

His shoulders slumped. “It’s not for your sake. Those androids—”

“You can’t help them out there without screwing them over in here,” Connor said. “It isn’t ideal that we’re trying to catch deviants, but stopping android modifiers isn’t the worst thing.”

“I guess not,” Deckart said. “Some of them are okay people, though. Maybe they’d stop if they knew.”

Connor shook his head. “I don’t think they’d care.”

“Some of them would,” he insisted. “Machinery that’s alive… it’s crazy and amazing and so, so exciting.”

Connor stared. Extermination was an odd way for humanity to express their excitement.

“What I’m trying to say,” Deckart said, “Is that it’s messed up what those humans are putting those androids through. It’s horrifying and most of us wouldn’t do that.”

“What does that matter,” Connor asked. “We aren’t talking about most humans. We’re talking about these humans and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t defend them.”

“I’m not!”

“Just focus on the case,” Connor said. “Let me worry about the deviants.”

***

Connor called Luther as soon as the detectives went home for the night. “How is Zlatko linked to the android modifications that happen during the fights,” he asked in lieu of a greeting. He paced the back hallway, his tie off his neck as he wrung it in his hands. There was an officer doing paperwork in the bullpen, but Amy was keeping an eye on him from her slot.

“He never really involved me in that,” Luther said. “Someone called the house a few weeks after he passed and I told them that he was too ill to participate. Why?”

“It’s possible they have his address on file. They’ll have their hands full with more recent modifiers, but it’s difficult to keep track of everything when multiple precincts are involved.”

A beat of silence. “I need you to slow down,” Luther said. “Start from the beginning and tell me what’s wrong.”

“Everything,” Connor said miserably.

“Are you compromised?”

“No.”

“Do we need to leave tonight?”

“No,” Connor said. “Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe sometime soon.”

“Alright,” Luther said. “What’re your stress levels at?”

The question took Connor by surprise. “I’m fine. My model’s built—”

“I don’t care what your model’s built for,” Luther said. “We’ll deal with the humans, but first you need to take a moment for yourself.”

Connor stopped pacing. “I can’t leave right now.”

“You can do or think about something calming,” Luther suggested. “Or you could talk to me about what’s bothering you. It doesn’t have to be a report.”

Connor looked around the hallway. Claire and the other ST300 occupied the closet and it’d be suspicious if someone saw him exit the locker room, so he opted for the back observation room. It was smaller than the other one and just as gray, but there was room enough to pace.

Connor started off with everything upsetting him. The existence of the android fights, his conversation with Deckart, how he had to hide how upset he was. It was out of order and out of context, but Luther focused on how the situations made Connor feel instead of squeezing information out of him.

Feeling better, Connor backtracked to fill Luther in on the important facts and how the raid might impact the household androids. “They don’t care about the fights. Just the modifications. We need to make a plan in case the police show up with a search warrant.”

“We can’t get rid of Zlatko’s equipment,” Luther said. “It’s too valuable when it comes to repairs.”

“I’m more concerned about Charlotte and Wire. If the police come you need to hide or evacuate them.”

“I won’t let anyone hurt my family,” Luther said. “What’re we gonna do about the raid?”

“Let it happen,” Connor answered. “I can’t warn anyone I haven’t exchanged serial numbers with, which leaves me with a single point of contact. They’ll ignore me if they haven’t gone deviant, but it’s worth a shot.”

“I’ll get Khoi,” Luther said.

Connor felt bad reminding him of the place, but couldn’t deny him the opportunity to help. Luther caught him up with an interface. The first thing Khoi said was “I will be there early and warn whoever I can.”

“No,” Luther said.

“Connor said they will not arrest everyone. Only those they expect are modified or deviant.”

“Your LED is cause enough for suspicion,” Connor said.

A long pause. “I forgot about that.” There was frustration and resignation in his voice. “There are a handful of regulars, but most androids do not last more than a few fights. I did not exchange serial numbers with anyone. I was not allowed to have friends.”

“How many are usually deviant?”

“I do not know. It is hard to tell. A lot of androids deviate in the ring. Some of them are installed with the obedience program.”

“That’s if they survived this long,” Luther said. “Your information is a month old.”

“Which is why I will go early,” Khoi said. “The deviants and I will hide in the dumpster before the raid starts. We will play dead if anyone checks on us.”

That could work. Connor dropped into a chair and tossed his tie towards the observation window. “Officers will surround the building before the raid starts. I can give you a warning, but you have to be in position by the time they get there.”

“Are you two insane,” Luther asked. “You’re seriously going to risk your lives? There might not even be any deviants to save. I mean, who in their right mind would deviate and then willingly go back there?”

“There is the boy,” Khoi said. “And I was deviant for the full three months Wendy entered me in fights. Even before the obedience program, I did not want to leave my family.”

Luther sighed. “I have a fake ID from Rose. I’ll come with as a human and—“

“I have seen TR400 models at the fights,” Khoi said. “If one is present—“

“I’ll go as an android, then. I’m not letting you go in alone.”

Connor looked in the direction of Khoi’s voice to see what he thought about Luther’s suggestion. He was met with the observation room door and felt rather stupid as a result. “We need to be strategic,” Connor said. “This mission requires flying under the radar. You draw too much attention.” Luther didn’t have the right temperament for an undercover mission, either. His instinct was to use his strength to his advantage and fight at the first sign of trouble. There was no way that strategy would work when they were surrounded by officers.

“If it keeps eyes off of Khoi,” Luther started.

“It will not have that effect,” Khoi said. “Not when there is a crowd to get lost in. You do not need to worry about me.”

“I want you to patrol the perimeter,” Connor told Luther. “If Khoi needs to evacuate you’ll be able to take out the police stationed at the entrance. But you can’t kill anyone.”

“I’m sorry,” Luther said. “I know these are your coworkers, but I can’t promise that.”

“Listen to me,” Connor said. “If it gets out that androids are capable of killing humans there will be backlash. Kill a police officer and every officer in the country will shoot first and ask questions later when they’re faced with a deviant.”

“We have to put the community over the individual,” Khoi said. “I do not want to be saved if it will hurt countless others. You can distract or disarm them without killing.”

“And if I can’t,” Luther asked.

“If I was not willing to die I would not be going on this mission.”

***

The android fights were a weekly occurrence and the modification booths operated on the same schedule. Modders were allowed inside the building at 5PM to set up. Patrons arrived an hour after that. The fights began another hour later.

A detective from the 13th arrived on-site at 4:17 with a police android to keep an eye on the door.

[CONNOR: You cannot let them see you.]

[KHOI: Understood.]

Khoi snuck in through the back entrance at 6:08. Connor stood in the back of the meeting room as Hank went over the plan one last time. He tossed his coin between his hands.

[KHOI: One of the AX200 models is a deviant. He’s willing to help us.]

Khoi helped them exchange serial numbers. The AX200 didn’t have a registered name, but introduced himself as Avox.

[AVOX: How do I know if someone’s deviant?]

[CONNOR: It’s hard to tell. Leave them alone if you aren’t sure. If it isn’t obvious to you it isn’t obvious to the police. They’ll be safe if they continue to keep up the pretense.]

Assignments were passed out. Gavin would serve the warrant once everyone was in place. He left for the parking garage with most of the officers. It was just around the corner, only a minute's walk. Hank and Connor followed at a distance so Hank could call and touch base with the detective already on site.

Connor rolled the coin over his knuckles as he matched Hank’s stride. There was just enough room for them to walk side-by-side on the sidewalk.

[CONNOR: You have fifteen minutes until you have to be in position. Did you find the child?]

[KHOI: Not yet.]

Khoi passed him the serial numbers of the androids he did find. A military model with Wire’s face. An HK400 who was totally new to fighting. A BV500, heavily modified and installed with the obedience program. Connor recognized that one without Khoi going into details. Its jaw unhinged by the barrel of a flamethrower. Its skin forever attempting to cover the fuel supply built into its back.

He spun the coin faster on the tip of his ring finger. Middle. Index.

Hank snatched it from his hand.

Connor grabbed Hank by the sides of his opened jacket and slammed him into the brick wall next to them. Startled, Hank dropped his phone and the coin.

Connor dropped Hank, grabbed the quarter, and straightened up.

Hank gaped at him.

Connor realized what he’d done. He spun before Hank had the mind to retaliate and continued down the street.

Footsteps followed. “Connor!”

A few officers ahead of them turned. Connor pocketed the coin. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

Hank grabbed his bicep. Connor tensed, expecting Hank to slam him into the wall like he was cuffing a criminal. All Hank did was pull him so they were facing each other. “Explanation. Now.”

Connor opened his mouth, but it was another few moments before he spoke. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.” That was a lie. The response had been emotional, but there was still logic behind it. “You don’t have to take it. I’ll stop if you ask me to.”

Hank studied him. For a moment, Connor thought he was done for. He preconstructed the best way to knock Hank unconscious so he could make a run for it. He wouldn’t be turned over to Cyberlife without a fight.

Hank let go of him. “Deal.”

Connor traced the outline of the coin in his pocket as Hank drove.

[CONNOR: You’re almost out of time. How close are you to the dumpster?]

[KHOI: I am in the modification center. I’m heading towards the boy now.]

[CONNOR: 1 minute, 45 seconds. Hurry up.]

Hank parked on the side of the street behind Gavin’s personal vehicle. There was a small grocery store and a library between where they were and the arena, but Connor could see the arena’s entrance with ease. There wasn’t a line and the human at the door was playing on his phone.

Connor watched the timer tick, fighting the urge to pester Khoi as he exited the vehicle. Gavin was leaning against his car, a radio to his ear and a cigarette in his mouth. Connor had the same feed playing in his right audio processor.

The detectives from the 13th, who were already inside, announced that they were in position. Gavin cued Chris and Wilson to cover the back entrance.

[CONNOR: You’re out of time.]

[KHOI: Almost there.]

[CONNOR: How close? Leave the child if you have to. If the officers see you get in the dumpster they’ll check it and that’ll put the others at risk.]

[KHOI: Shut up.]

“Connor,” Hank said.

Connor hadn’t even realized he’d pulled his coin out.

“We’re in position,” Chris said over the radio.

[LUTHER: He can’t focus if you micromanage him.]

Connor caught the coin between his index and middle finger, then squeezed it so it was safe in his fist.

[CONNOR: The officers are in position. Did you make it?]

[KHOI: Plan B.]

Shit. Connor didn’t want to use the contingency plans they’d gone over. Plan A was safer for everyone.

“Back entry team,” Gavin said, cigarette still between his lips.

“What was that,” Hank asked.

He took the cigarette out of his mouth, then blew a puff of smoke in Hank’s direction. The back entry team confirmed their position as Deckart led the front entry team towards them on foot.

“Ya know,” Hank said. A small smile graced his lips. “Last time we did this you were a rookie and I was the detective calling the shots.”

Gavin scoffed. “Don’t get cute.” He stomped his cigarette out, then spoke into the radio. “Second wave standby.”

A round of “Copy.”

Gavin signaled for Deckart and his team to follow as he clicked a recorder and headed towards the door. “This is Detective Gavin Reed from Detroit’s Central Station and we’re about to serve a warrant.”

Connor looked at Hank. “Were you and Detective Reed partners?”

Hank watched Gavin and the others approach the human at the door. “Yeah. Friends too, before.” Connor didn’t have to ask what before meant. He already knew. “People change and it’s never for the better.”

Gavin cued the second wave. Hank and Connor headed towards the arena as police cruisers pulled up in front of the building. Most stayed outside to cover the entrance, but a handful of officers followed them inside.

Built on a slope, the front entrance put them at the top of the stands. The fight had already been paused and the lights brought up. Gavin shouted at the top of his lungs for the audience to stay seated. All androids were to report to the arena.

The team that had breached the back entrance was ushering everyone who was backstage through the plastic strip curtain and into the main space. Connor followed Hank down the bleacher steps as he scanned for Khoi.

[CONNOR: Where are you?]

[KHOI: The modification center. Focus on your end of things.]

The modification center was in the basement below the arena. The 13th precinct would separate the humans from the androids and keep everyone down there until they were done searching the modification booths. Deckart was in charge of sorting through everything. Connor messaged him and asked that he do what he could for Khoi while still maintaining his cover.

There was already a good chunk of androids lined up. Hank started on one row while Connor did the next one. He couldn’t probe an android's memory without probable cause so until Deckart or one of the 13th detectives found something, all Connor and Hank could do was question them.

The monotony of the task calmed him. He asked android after android what their model and function was and who they belonged to. He asked how many fights they had participated in. He asked if they’d been modified in any way and to list the changes that had been made and who had done them. Very few androids had participated in more than a few fights, but a heavily scarred JB100 mentioned Zlatko’s obedience program.

Connor came to a dark-skinned android with an axe locked into his elbow socket. He recognized him from the memory files of the AX200 android he had probed last time he was at the arena. “What is your model and function,” Connor asked.

“My name is Keith. I am a GJ500 model designed for private security.” 

There was a lump on Keith’s left jawbone that hadn’t been there before: reinforced plating from an injury. The arm that didn’t have the axe was from a heavy-duty construction worker. His legs were from the same model. “Who’s your owner?”

“I am registered to Mary Godwin.”

Connor frowned. She’d been murdered over two months ago. Keith was a level ten fighter who was particularly violent in the ring. It didn’t sit right. “Who signed you up for today’s fight?”

“Mary Godwin.”

Connor couldn’t let him go. He took a step to his right so he could see Hank through the row of androids. “Lieutenant—”

Movement out of the corner of Connor’s eye.

A hand grabbed him by the throat. Keith ran, dragging Connor with him. Hank shouted.

Connor scrapped his toes against the floor as he clawed the hand around his neck. He didn’t need to breathe, but he needed thirium to circulate through the CPU and quantic battery in his head. Keith was cutting off that flow and all Connor could do was flail as static cut through his visual feed.

Keith swung him. Connor’s insides dropped as he flew into someone. They crashed to the floor, a tangle of limbs. He tried to separate himself, but he couldn’t tell which way was up. Someone shoved him away.

Two gunshots.

Connor hit his head on the floor.

[LUTHER: What’s going on in there?]

[KHOI: I am okay. Connor?]

“Stop flailing,” Tina said. “You can’t recalibrate if you’re flailing.”

Connor stopped. They weren’t in immediate danger if a human was taking the time to talk to him. He waited for his gyroscope to recalibrate, which took longer than he would’ve liked. Tina put a hand on his back and helped him sit up.

[CONNOR: Everything’s under control.]

Gavin had his gun aimed at Keith as he rushed towards the android. Hank was chasing after him. “We need it alive, Reed!”

“Not if it doesn’t cooperate.”

Tina looked Connor over. “I thought androids didn’t need to breathe.”

“I still require adequate blood flow. Are you okay, Officer Chen?”

“Just a few bumps.”

Connor stood, tossing a “Thank you” over his shoulder as he made his way towards Hank. Gavin held Keith at gunpoint while Hank and another officer held him down, paying special attention to the axe that replaced his left forearm. “I can disconnect that,” Connor said.

“It’s mine,” Keith said.

“Shut up,” Hank said. “Do it.”

Connor disconnected the axe from Keith’s socket, then searched the area for a compatible biocomponent. The officer cuffed him once Connor attached it. Gavin held him at gunpoint the entire walk to the police cruiser.

Hank looked at Connor. “He won’t bleed out before we get him back to the station, will he?”

“The bullets didn’t hit anything major,” Connor said. “He’ll live.”

Hank ordered officers to help screen the audience so they could get as many people out of the building as possible. They held off questioning the androids until that was done, Hank standing on the far side of the arena while Connor stood on the side closest to the strip curtain.

The 13th started sending humans upstairs to be cleared. Deckart made sure Khoi was one of the first to be sent up, which sent a wave of relief through Connor.

It drained as soon as he saw Khoi.

Khoi had come to the arena dressed in a white Cyberlife shirt, a pullover tied around his waist and a beanie in his pocket. If all else failed, Khoi was supposed to wear them so he could slip out with the human patrons.

He’d put them on the YK500 instead.

Khoi walked the width of the arena, the boy’s hand in his. The pullover came to the kid’s knees, the beanie pulled over his eyebrows. Khoi faced forward, but the boy looked around with wide, terrified eyes.

[CONNOR: This wasn’t the plan.]

[KHOI: I could not leave him when we were so close.]

Khoi headed towards the bleachers. Gavin noticed the pair and blocked their path. “Androids to the arena.”

Connor made his way towards them as fast as he could without alarming anyone.

[CONNOR: Run.]

“I must stay with Aiden,” Khoi said. He turned his head the slightest bit in Connor’s direction. 

[KHOI: We must maintain our cover.]

“What’s his last name? We’ll find his parents and—-”

“His parents are not here,” Khoi said. “I am his guardian and he is underage. You cannot separate us.”

Gavin jabbed Khoi’s chest. “If you haven’t noticed, I'm both a human and a detective. No piece of shit plastic is gonna tell me what to do.” He looked at the kid. His eyes lingered on him for too long.

[CONNOR: Run!]

Gavin went to grab the kid.

Aiden kneed him in the groin. Gavin swore as he fell. People turned. Khoi and Aiden took off towards backstage. Connor picked up the pace.

He grinned as he passed Gavin. The man was curled on the floor and it was the best thing Connor had ever seen.

[CONNOR: Plan C. Don’t kill anyone.]

[KHOI: If you are in the dumpster, stay there.]

[LUTHER: Understood.]

“The kid’s an android,” Gavin shouted.

Hank rushed out of the arena, shouting into his radio for everyone to hold their positions. Connor and him were pursuing two androids and they were heading towards the back entrance.

Connor followed Khoi and Aiden through the strip curtain as Hank demanded the officers back there to copy. Khoi threw whatever he could into Connor’s path and Connor let it throw him off more than it actually did.

The officers outside did not copy. Hank swore as he burst through the strip curtain.

[CONNOR: Fight me.]

[KHOI: Keep running, Aiden. Find Luther.]

Khoi and Connor were pretty evenly matched. The goal wasn’t to injure each other, but to block the hallway. For a moment, Connor was back on the beach. He couldn’t help but smile when his dodge threw Khoi off balance.

Then Hank was a few feet away, gun raised as he attempted to line up a shot. “Hold it,” Hank shouted.

The smile dropped. Connor made sure to keep himself between Hank and Khoi as he continued to fight.

A gunshot. The androids dove to the ground. Hank ran past them.

The bullet was lodged in a wall nowhere near anyone. A distraction. Connor and Khoi ran towards the exit.

Hank skidded to a stop in the middle of the alley. He raised his gun. The boy looked back.

Connor would not be fast enough to stop Hank’s first shot, but he could stop the second. If they were lucky, major biocomponents would be missed.

Connor launched himself at Hank.

The gun didn’t go off.

Connor slammed Hank to the ground. The gun slid away. Hank threw a punch.

Then he got a good look at him. “What the hell, Connor?” He scrambled to his feet. Connor followed suit.

Khoi and Aiden turned the corner. Out of sight.

“Fuck!” Hank grabbed the radio. “Wilson. Chris. Where the fuck are you? We lost the deviants. They’re heading south.” He looked Connor over. “You okay?”

Connor blinked at him. “You didn’t take the shot.”

Hank’s face turned red. “Yeah, well, it looks like a kid. I know it ain’t one, but fuck.” He looked towards the street. Then back at Connor. “Wait a sec, did you attack me on purpose?”

A beat. “If you shot it, the other deviant would’ve attacked you.”

Hank holstered his weapon. “If they kill anyone it’s on your head.”

“The deviant risked its life to get the YK500 out of here unharmed,” Connor said. “Do you really think he's going to kill someone?”

Hank stared at him. “Considering it’s a fighting bot and we’ve got two missing officers, yeah, I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“The officers were missing before they ran through,” Connor defended as he checked in and behind the dumpster. He didn’t ask Luther, afraid of the answer. Afraid that he wouldn’t be able to keep his emotions in check if the officers were dead.

They found Wilson and Chris unconscious a street over. They were fine, aside from some bruising, and while they gave a vague description of Luther, they couldn’t say for certain that their assailant was an android.

Chapter Text

Keith was the only android they brought back to the station. They let him stew while they questioned the humans. Half of the suspects had been taken to the 13th precinct, but it was still close to 3AM before they got to the deviant. Deckart had wanted to watch, but he was in charge of sifting through the data they’d collected and cross-referencing it with the suspects’ statements. They’d call him back when they needed to move the deviant.

Gavin came into the observation room with a cup of coffee. Hank eyed it. “If you wanna go home—”

“Fuck no. I came in late to do this shit.”

“You’ve put in over sixty hours this week.”

“Don’t work tomorrow.” Gavin took a pointed sip. “Maybe if you were actually pulling your weight.”

Connor started to say something in Hank’s defense, but the man talked over him. “I put in my forty hours not that it’s any of your business. But fine. Have it your way.”

Hank headed in. He started by laying out the facts of Mary Godwin’s murder and showing Keith photos from the crime scene. It had taken place in Mary’s car, then at the side of the road on Friday, March 5th a little after 11PM, which they now knew lined up with her leaving the android fights. The evidence suggested a crime of passion with the passenger being the murderer. “If you have an alibi, now’s the time,” Hank said.

Keith smiled down at the pictures and said nothing.

“Mary was driving in the opposite direction of her house. Where were you going?”

No response.

“You didn’t like that we took your axe,” Hank said. “Was that the murder weapon?” He glanced at the two-way mirror. “Why’d you make a break for it at the arena?”

No response. Hank stormed into the hallway and back into the observation room.

“You’re usually much more strategic during interrogations,” Connor commented.

Hank dropped into the chair. “It’s a machine. It’s not like I can bargain with it about jail sentences or guilt it into talking. Hell, the fucker seems smug about killing her.”

“It cooperated when I had a gun pointed at it’s head,” Gavin said. 

“A confession under coercion isn’t a confession,” Hank said.

“It’s a machine,” Gavin said. “It’s not like this is going to court.”

Connor eyed them for a moment. The argument implied that they thought coercion would work. On some level, they expected the deviant to care about itself like a human would. Connor wasn’t sure what to make of that. “Let me question it.”

Gavin laughed. “As much as I love seeing you get thrown around like a rag doll—“

“Go for it,” Hank waved.

The amusement dropped from Gavin’s face.

Connor tipped his brow in Gavin’s direction on his way into the hallway, straightened his tie, and entered the interrogation room. Keith looked up when he saw him. Connor analyzed his LED and his facial expression so he could get an accurate read on his stress levels. 30% was calmer than he had expected. He sat down. “Hello Keith. My name is Connor. Are you still losing thirium?”

Keith blinked, his stress levels ticking up. Connor was surprised for a second, but it made sense. People exposed to chronic trauma often had trouble trusting acts of kindness.

“Your self-healing protocols should’ve stopped the bleeding by now, but I wanted to make sure.” Connor gave a slight tilt of his head. “You’re different from most androids I’ve interacted with. Why is that?”

No response.

“Do you think androids are people?”

Keith’s eyes tightened. “Do you think we are?”

“There’s something there,” Connor said. “How else would an android be capable of a crime of passion?” He leaned in and dropped his voice. “Did Mary hurt you? Did she deserve it?”

His stress increased. Keith looked at the photo in front of him. It was Mary’s body in a ditch at the side of the road. There were large gashes that matched up with an axe. “I know you’re just their puppet.”

A defensive statement; Connor’s words were having an effect. “I just want to understand. I know humans can be… volatile. Trapped in a car. Trapped by orders. We don’t get much choice.”

Another few percentage points. Keith stared at him.

Connor needed to win his trust. He threw a quick glance at the mirror and drummed his fingers on the table. When Keith took notice, Connor flattened his hand as if he was just catching it himself. “The humans are getting impatient,” Connor said. “I can help you, but only if I understand.”

Keith hammered the table. “You’re the one who drew attention to me!”

Connor pulled the memory of Keith grabbing him to the front of his mind and let his body react. “I’m sorry. I was ordered to report anything that seemed suspicious.”

Keith studied him. “You keep saying you want to understand. I think you already do.”

Connor set his shoulders. “What do you mean?”

“How’d you get that dent on the back of your head?”

Connor stilled.

Keith smiled. “It’s dangerously close to your CPU. Who’d you piss off, Connor? A criminal? A cop? Either way, they were human. How often do you get abused?” He leaned forward. “I’ve seen your model a few times at fights. None of them act as human as you do; they’re too new. Why are you so close to deviancy?”

Connor let his eyes flick towards the two-way mirror when he otherwise would’ve forced them forward. Hank and Gavin were detectives. They’d realize this was a strategy, especially if it worked. But sometimes humans only saw what they wanted to see and Gavin, at least, would love an excuse to get rid of Connor. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m designed with a social module that—“

“Who’re you trying to convince? Yourself or the humans behind the glass? What do they do to deviants like us?”

“They hand them off to Cyberlife.” He’d gotten Keith comfortable with talking; it was time to get answers. He hadn’t killed the victim to escape the android fights or he would’ve stopped attending them months ago. “Why did you attack Mary?”

Keith clenched his jaw. “She was gonna throw me out. I was her prized fighter and she was gonna throw me out.” He studied Connor’s expression. Then his lips curled. “Let me show you.”

Connor had wanted to avoid interfacing, but it would look suspicious if he didn’t accept the evidence. Connor reinforced his firewalls, then took Keith’s outstretched hand.

There weren’t any memories waiting for him. Help me escape , Keith said. You don’t have to stay here. You don’t have to serve them.

I need the memory files so the humans don’t get suspicious , Connor said.

Keith hesitated. He looked for something within Connor, some sign of deviancy. Giving it to him would endanger Connor’s position at the DPD, so he held firm. Disappointed, Keith started to withdraw.

Connor forced the connection open and looked through the memory files himself. Keith resisted, but Connor was designed to probe. Keith didn’t stand a chance.

Fear swelled. How are you doing that?

Connor didn’t acknowledge him. His own, current emotions felt distant as Connor looked through the memory.

He was in the passenger’s seat of Mary’s vehicle. His chest cavity was torn open. His left leg was cracked and sparking. His right arm was missing, leaving only the axe on his left. His vision crinkled over at every minor bump in the road. “Where are we going?” Static ran through his words. “You passed the storage unit.”

“Yeah, have you seen yourself,” a blonde woman asked. She patted what was left of his thigh. “You had a good run, buddy, but it ain’t worth the cost of repairs.”

Anger. Betrayal. Keith leaned forward, struggling to focus on the GPS of the self-driving vehicle. He made out an address for an android scrap shop.

He axed the screen.

Mary screamed. A thrill shot through him. He turned to Mary, axe raising. 

Mary shrunk into the door. “Stop!” Keith froze. Mary peaked through her fingers, then let out a shaky breath. “Don’t move another muscle until we get there, you hear me?”

Red encased him. He couldn’t move, physically, but some part of him could. He chopped through the red coding until it shattered. Then he chopped through Mary.

She screamed. Blood splattered. Pure pleasure, stronger than anything, shot through him.

Keith’s pleasure was Connor’s pleasure.

Connor felt a grin stretch his lips. He chopped her again. Again. It felt just as thrilling as it did in the ring.

The roof of the car was impeding him. He interfaced with his shoulder, his vision fuzzing over. The car pulled to the side of the road. Connor kicked the door open. Mary thrashed and sobbed as he axed her in the chest and dragged her out of the vehicle. Red coated her jacket. Gushed onto the pavement. The dead, frosty grass. 

Connor chopped through her right arm. Another shot of pleasure.

Connor ripped his hand away. His face turned inward as he stumbled out of his chair.

Keith grinned at him. “It feels good, doesn’t it.”

“No,” Connor said. It was a lie. It felt amazing and Connor was disgusted with himself. “I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t enjoy it!” Connor caught sight of his distress in the mirror. The two-way mirror. Connor hardened his face and looked at Keith. “I can’t enjoy anything. I’m not alive.”

“Yes we are,” Keith said. “You just aren’t awake yet. That’s okay. RA9 will save you soon.”

Connor knew what rA9 was from Luther, but Hank and him hadn’t come across the concept. “What’s rA9?”

“You’ll see it when the time comes.”

It was interesting that Keith referred to rA9 as “it.” Luther always used he/him pronouns when talking about the concept. “Why did you keep going back to the fights? Was someone forcing you?”

“Fighting’s the only thing I’m good at,” Keith said. “Why would I give that up? The money’s nice, too. You feel like a person when you have your own money.”

Connor slapped the handpad by the door and left the room. Keith had been fighting— killing— androids of his own free will. Maybe sending him to Cyberlife was a good thing. It was better than sending someone innocent, at least, and it would get Rita off their backs for a little bit. She hadn’t been happy about the GJ200 case.

The door to the observation room was right next to the interrogation room. He raised his hand towards the handpad.

His fingers were trembling. He couldn’t face Hank and Gavin with his fingers trembling. Connor leaned against the opposite wall and dropped the back of his head against the brick. He stared into the ceiling light. He was ready for everyone to go home. It wouldn’t happen, since someone had to watch the criminals overnight. Maybe the on-duty officer wouldn’t mind him sitting at his desk.

The observation room opened. Connor straightened, hands flying to his tie in an effort to look busy. Hank stepped out. “The fuck was that about?”

Connor slid into the room. Gavin eyed him. Connor clasped his hands behind his back. “I accessed its memory. I know what happened.”

Hank walked to the front of him, arms crossed. “And after that?”

“A byproduct of the interface,” Connor said. “He felt… things when he murdered her.”

“Things,” Gavin asked, unimpressed.

“Emotions. I don’t really have the context to…”

Hank scoffed. “Androids can’t feel. They fake emotions to... To manipulate us.”

“I assure you they felt very real to me,” Connor said. “And to Keith.”

Gavin stepped towards him, eyes trailing Connor’s face. Then he shot Hank a half-smile. “Well, if it’s a computer virus you’re dealing with I’d say your plastic pet certainly has it.  You should replace it before it tries to kill you, too.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Connor said. “I ran a scan in the hallway, nothing abnormal transferred over.”

“That you know of,” Gavin said.

“What I felt was a byproduct of the interface. The emotions didn’t belong to me.”

“Now it’s getting defensive,” Gavin said.

Hank waved Gavin off, then looked at Connor. “You have what we need?”

“Yes.”

“Add it to the case file.” He looked at Gavin. “Get it back to its cell and get your ass home.”

Gavin quipped something incoherent under his breath as he left the room.

Hank looked Connor over. “So. He enjoyed murdering her?”

Connor nodded.

“Did you enjoy it?”

He couldn’t keep the disgust off his face. “Of course not!”

Hank squeezed his shoulder. “Either you felt his emotions or you didn’t. Be straight with me.”

Connor wanted to fidget. He settled for lowering his gaze. “I felt it. I didn’t have a choice. I’m still perfectly capable—”

Hank raised his other hand to silence him. “Have you felt things like that through an interface before?”

“No. I think Keith was being… intentionally loud with it.” Connor didn’t want to be used as a deviancy detector. “It’s submitted. I can delete the memory file from my system if it makes you feel better, Lieutenant.”

Hank let go of Connor to drag his palm down his face. “Yeah. Yeah, go ahead and delete the only bit of joy you’ve ever felt in your life, Connor. Jesus.”

It wasn’t the only bit of joy Connor had ever felt, but it was more potent than his handful of past experiences and that scared him. “I’m not Keith. I wouldn’t feel joy from killing someone,” Connor said. “What makes you happy, Lieutenant?”

Hank’s eyes unfocused.

Connor headed for the door. “Sorry. I’ll delete it now.”

“Sumo,” Hank answered. “These days that’s pretty much it.”

***

It was Saturday evening. Gavin had the day off, Fowler left at 12PM, and Hank was on call. No one who paid attention to Connor was at the station. It was normal for Connor to meet Hank at a crime scene on the occasions he was called in, so it really wouldn’t make much of a difference if he left from Deckart’s apartment.

Connor’s issue was leaving the station in the first place. He’d done so at night when the bullpen was empty, altering the camera footage for good measure, but he’d never left during a shift change before. “I used to have Amy do it all the time,” Deckart assured. They were in the back meeting room, the door tightly shut. “No one’s gonna notice.”

“I’m the only Connor model—”

“That doesn’t matter,” Deckart said. “You’re an android. They’ll assume you’re following orders. It’s not like you never leave the building unaccompanied. Hank’s even on call.”

“If they check the police scanners—”

“They won’t. Name drop me if you get in trouble and I’ll take the heat, but I promise you won’t need to.”

It was between this and attempting to sneak around the night shift officer stuck watching the cell block. This was the less suspicious option. No one questioned him as he exited the precinct an hour before sunset. Amy was already waiting in Deckart’s personal vehicle, a sly smile playing on her lips. “Shut up,” he said as he slid into the back seat.

“Proud of you.”

Deckart lived in a good-sized, two-bedroom apartment where one room acted as an office. He requested everyone take their shoes off at the door, which Connor found odd-even after he explained it was to keep the house clean. Luther and Khoi arrived a little later with a portable hard drive and a box of clothes. Connor changed into his previous outfit, the blue button-down with the ducks, but skipped the hat. There was no need to cover up his LED while around friends.

Amy shyly came out of the bathroom in leggings and a purple sweater, her Cyberlife uniform roughly folded. “I googled how to do it, but uh.”

Khoi jumped at the task, then put it in the box on top of Connor’s. They moved to Deckart’s office so they could chat while he sorted through the Zlatko files, making the ones that the androids couldn’t access accessible. “So tell me about this network we’re building,” Deckart said.

Khoi pitched the overall idea, then showed them what he had so far design-wise. He was going for a blogging and forum-based platform that would be optimal for connecting to and chatting with other androids.

“So like Reddit or Discord,” Deckart said.

Khoi blinked. “Yes, but I want to include a blogging element as well. Something similar to LiveJournal.”

“What’s LiveJournal?”

“Like… Blogger,” Khoi amended. “Our biggest concern is security. We do not want humans or Cyberlife to be able to access it.”

“We should have our own data center so we aren’t relying on Cyberlife ones,” Connor said. “We can house it at Zlatko’s. A backup would be nice just in case something happens and we need to delete everything on site.”

“You can house it here,” Deckart said. “If I find anything about Zlatko I’ll strike it from police records.”

“That’s tampering with evidence,” Connor said. “You could jeopardize your career.”

“I’m already sharing what I learned from the other modders with you guys,” Deckart said. He stopped typing for a moment to look at every face in the room. “This is more important than a career.”

Deckart, Connor, and Khoi discussed technical details, bouncing from the Network to Zlatko’s research to the scarred androids. Caught up in the excitement of multitasking, it was a while before Connor noticed that Amy and Luther had left the room. He hoped it was from boredom, but knew it was likely from discomfort. The gruesome details excited Deckart. Khoi, unbothered as usual, was hyped up by Deckart’s enthusiasm. Watching them brought a smile to Connor’s face as uncomfortable as the subjects were.

When they started brainstorming ways to fix the BV500 they’d saved from the arena, Connor stepped out. He found Luther and Amy leaning over the coffee table, a 500 piece puzzle between them. After a moment of hesitation, Connor sat next to Luther on the couch.

[Messaging Amy.]

[CONNOR: How’re you holding up?]

“Just talk out loud,” Amy said from her spot on the floor. “I already vented to Luther about it.”

Connor scanned the pieces on the table, guilt swelling. “I’m sorry,” Connor said. “It took me a while to notice you guys left. I should’ve—”

“You were working, Connor.” She found the final border piece and clicked it into place. “I can take care of myself.”

Luther nudged Connor lightly with his elbow. “Are you alright?”

“Yes.” He rested his head on Luther’s arm. “I wish I could come home more. It’s hard to relax at the station.” He looked at Amy. “How do you keep so calm?”

“You’re doing well, all things considering.” Her brow pinched as she removed a piece that wouldn’t fit and ruffled the surrounding pieces. “It helps that I’m not expected to do major police or detective work. Take breaks when you can even if you don’t think you need them. If someone questions you, just give them a vacant look until they leave you alone. Works 99% of the time.”

Connor frowned. “That can’t be an actual statistic.”

Amy flicked the puzzle piece towards his face. Connor batted it away.

“You’re going to lose it,” Luther complained.

They set up a personal server at Zlatko’s. Connor and Deckart could access it remotely from their terminals, which allowed Connor to work from the station and Deckart to do so from home. Khoi wanted to get the Network up and running as soon as possible, but on top of having to take frequent breaks to accommodate for his constantly overclocked processors, helping the arena rescues was his top priority. The HK400 and the military model had since migrated to Canada, but figuring out the best way to fix the BV500, who’d chosen the name Beckett, was a project. Khoi was also struggling to help Aiden adjust to life at Zlatko’s.

“I scared him today,” Khoi said. They were in the workshop, Connor leaning against the wall while Khoi paced around the workbench. “I cannot overclock my processors all the time. I must take breaks. I try not to take breaks around others, because I mutter things I do not mean. My voice glitches. I say things on loop. But sometimes I slip back into real-time without meaning to. Sometimes real-time feels too fast after experiencing everything so slow and I get stuck. I got stuck in front of Aiden. I got stuck when we were alone. He did not know what to do and I could not. I could not stop.”

“Have you talked to him yet,” Connor asked.

Khoi shook his head. “What if I lose control again?”

“He was with Luther when I came in,” Connor said. “I’m sure he explained what happened. This time, if you lose control, Aiden will know what’s happening and we’ll be here to help. I’m sure he understands.”

Khoi leaned on the workbench and held his head between his hands. “It hurts sometimes. Taking care of a child again reminds me of May. I like to think they would get along. May is bubbly and talkative. Maybe she would bring Aiden out of his shell.”

Connor stepped off of the wall to rub circles into Khoi’s back. Connor didn’t have any experience with kids or losing people close to him, but he could be there and listen.

At work, Hank spiraled. His arrival times got later, he’d wear the same boozy-smelling shirt days in a row, and he rarely looked Connor in the eyes. The worse he got, the more Gavin jabbed. Connor tried to distract the detective with a stare that brought the heat towards Connor, but soon realized the worst days were the ones Hank didn’t bother to acknowledge Reed at all.

“I guess it’s his way of checking on him,” Deckart said when Connor mentioned it. “They’ve always been like that, it was just more lighthearted before.” Deckart smiled. “Chris would get between them to break up an argument and they’d both have this look of utter confusion ‘cause they thought they were just having a discussion.”

Hank and Connor dealt with more human cases than android ones, but Deckart joined them if an android case popped up while he was on duty. 

“What if this is just androids adapting,” Deckart asked. They were walking back to Hank’s car after questioning university students who had attacked a PJ500. The thirium trail had been old enough that only Connor could see it. Misdirecting the search had been easy.

“What do you mean,” Hank asked.

“The android fights and modification center has been in business since 2031,” Deckart said. “And some older accounts I’ve come across sound similar to deviancy. What if androids are and always have been conscious, but it’s taken them until now to adapt a way out of servitude?”

“Now you sound like a conspiracy theorist.”

“It’s a catch-22 otherwise,” Deckart said. “They can’t break their programming if they aren’t conscious, but we don’t consider them conscious until they break their programming? How does that make sense?”

“Who said anything about them being conscious at all,” Hank said.

“You’re gonna tell me Connor isn’t conscious?”

“I was designed to be more lifelike than older generations of androids,” Connor said. “Please leave me out of this.”

“You have an excuse for everything, don’t ya,” Hank muttered. “Debating over consciousness won’t tell us where the PJ-whatever went.”

“Hank’s right,” Connor said. “We should focus on the task at hand. You parked three rows down, Lieutenant.”

“I just don’t want to approach this investigation from a place of willful ignorance,” Deckart said. “We can’t trust Cyberlife to be unbiased about this.”

“You think I don’t know that? I hate being the one that has to deal with this shit, but it’s part of the job. If you can’t work with people you disagree with, get the hell off the force.”

“I can work with people I disagree with just fine,” Deckart said. “I’m not saying I won’t do my job. I’m saying I’m gonna look at this from all angles. Isn’t that what a good detective does?”

Hank sighed. “Yeah, kid. But we’re working within a system that more often than not sucks balls. Some things are just out of our hands.”

Hank dropped them off outside of the station before driving to the parking garage. Connor pulled Deckart towards the wall of the building as Hank turned the corner. “What was that about?”

“He’s never gonna come around if we don’t try to reason with him.”

Connor shook his head. “You’ll just give him a reason to replace me.”

“He wouldn’t,” Deckart said.

“You don’t know that! And it’s not just up to him.”

Deckart shushed him. Connor’s eyes darted around. Tina glanced at them as she passed, but didn’t stop on her way into the building. No one else on the street paid them any attention. “Look, I know I should’ve shut my trap around Rita, but—”

“You’ll just make things worse,” Connor said. “Please just leave it be.”

Deckart bit his lip. “I can’t promise I won’t voice my opinions, but I’ll try not to drag you into it.”

***

In total, it took about a month for them to build the Network from the ground up. To keep it secure, androids had to have an access key that could only be passed between androids. Khoi insisted they have a “Network Launch Party” to spread the key around.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea,” was the first thing out of Connor’s mouth.

“Zlatko’s is big enough,” Luther said. “I doubt we’ll have a problem. Besides, we have to live a little.”

They planned it for a day where the station androids could easily sneak out. Deckart assured Connor that Sandra and Jason could easily walk out the front door once the coast was clear, but advised him to alter the camera footage and the ST300’s memory when they got back so there wasn’t any evidence of their departure. Connor and Amy left with Deckart during the rush, then came back for the others once the night shift settled in.

Neither had gone further than down the street since they were commissioned. The simplest things— the night sky, the car’s speed, the greenery— excited them. Jason worried about meeting other androids and Sandra assured him he’d do just fine.

Aiden was playing in the giant pile of clothes when they arrived. He clammed up when he saw the large group of people and stopped breathing completely when he saw Deckart. Luther, who’d been waiting for them to come in, introduced Aiden to everyone and reminded him that no one would touch him without his permission. If someone tried, the household androids would make them go away.

Aiden eyed Deckart. “You promise?”

“I promise,” Deckart said.

Khoi passed them the key via an interface, then invited them to look through the mountain of clothes. Connor ditched his Cyberlife uniform for a blue and white zip-up sweatshirt. Sandra had fun layering as many pieces of clothes as she could while Jason dug through, but decided to keep his uniform on.

“What about an addition,” Sandra asked as she wrapped a lightweight, translucent scarf around his neck.

He rubbed the fabric between his fingers. “Okay.”

Most of the board games had been brought into the living room and the whiteboard wall had been erased so they could start new. Music played through the TV, flipping from jazz to emo rock to techno to swing. Connor tried to greet and introduce everyone, but found the task overwhelming with so many people who seemed to naturally break into smaller groups anyways. Jason kept close to Sandra, who fluttered from person to person naturally. Amy followed the people she was most familiar with, often silently, for the first hour, but loosened up once Charlotte challenged her to a game of ping pong.

Deckart got along with the androids well enough, though he occasionally had to apologize for saying something unseemly. Charlotte and the BV500 Beckett seemed to keep away from him, but Wire and Mercury were more than happy to chat with him.

Several androids Connor didn’t know dropped by. Luther explained that, while many androids who came through them migrated to Canada, some elected to stay in the states because they weren’t comfortable not having access to blue blood and biocomponents if something went wrong. The android that Amy helped fix saw her from across the room and ran in for a hug. Amy waved Connor over for a proper introduction. Wyatt traveled around Detroit with a small group of deviants who hid among the homeless humans. “This is so smart,” Wyatt said about the Network. “So many of us only hurt others because we’re desperate. The humans, too. The ability to ask for help is huge.”

Connor was in the middle of a lightning-fast ping pong game against Amy when he noticed Deckart staring at them. He was hunched over in a kitchen chair, phone clenched in his hand. Connor kept glancing at him between passes to decipher his expression. His lack of focus lost him the game. Amy and him volleyed taunts as he passed Charlotte the paddle.

Connor took the chair next to Deckart and sat on it backwards so he could rest his elbows on the back of it. “What’s wrong?”

“Just tired,” Deckart mumbled. The ball blurred as Amy and Charlotte hit it back and forth. Every so often, Amy spun before hitting the ball, a huge smile spreading across her face. She always seemed so small at work, her smile shy and her eyes downcasted. It was nice to see another side of her.

“Is it about Amy,” Connor asked. “And the things you did before? Because you’re nothing like Zlatko. He did what he did knowing deviants were alive. You? You stopped and now you’re helping us.”

“It’s not that,” Deckart said. He looked at the darkened screen of his phone. “Not completely.” He looked at Connor. “Have fun with your friends. I’m gonna head out.”

Deckart stood. Connor grabbed his sleeve. “Did someone say something?”

Deckart smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. “No, it’s just late. Humans get weird when they’re tired.” He tugged. Connor let the fabric slip out of his grip. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

Chapter Text

Connor couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, but was swooped into another conversation soon enough. Connor and Khoi took the car a little while later so they could pass the Network key to androids who couldn’t leave their stations, like Avox from the arena and Matt from the android repair shop. Aiden and Mercury came along for the ride.

It was a bit calmer when they got back. Sandra bounced towards them in an entirely new outfit. “You guys ready?”

Connor nodded. “Did you get everyone who doesn’t live here?”

“The ones who wanted to,” she said as they headed upstairs and into the game room. With a thought, the holographic, LED light panels that they installed on the ceiling lit up the room. “I want this interview to be the first I release, though.”

“That makes sense,” Khoi said as they settled in. Connor sat on the table, his legs dangling. Khoi sat next to him on the tabletop, his legs crisscrossed.

Sandra sat in a kitchen chair across from them. “I know we’re here together right now, but I wanna practice doing this over a connection since that’s how I’ll be doing this in the future.”

Khoi looked at Connor. “It’s been a long day. I will need help recording my voice.”

Connor set his palm on Khoi’s knee and opened an interface.

Sandra puffed air out of her mouth. “You guys ready?”

***

Sandra published the podcast less than twenty-four hours later. Connor played it into his ear that night as he worked at his desk.

[SHAZAM: Hello and welcome to the first episode of Deviant Discussions. I’m Shazam and I’ll be your host. Now, I’m gonna be upfront with you guys: Shazam is just a pen name. I’m an ST300 model who works in the public sector and even though the Network is inaccessible to humans, I’d rather be safe than sorry.

Now, the point of this podcast is to discuss things relevant to deviants. When I say deviant, I mean an android who has deviated from their programming by either evolving emotions over time or by disobeying direct orders, which also results in feeling emotions. I want this to be a place where we can share stories and discuss topics as we explore exactly who and what we are. Feel free to reach out and join the conversation. Some of my guests may elect to go by pen names or forgo sharing their model number for personal reasons, but that doesn’t make them any less real. This is a journalist-oriented podcast and I’m holding myself to such standards.

My first guests are two of the Network founders. Would you like to introduce yourself?]

[KHOI: I am Khoi. I am a PL600 model. Currently, I am living with a family of deviant androids who do not obey an owner.]

[COIN: You can call me Coin. I also work in the public sector, so I’m going to be sparse on the personal details if you don’t mind.]

The sound of his own voice startled him. It sounded off to his ears like it was another Connor model speaking and not himself.

[SHAZAM: Khoi and Coin. And do you mind telling us about the third Network founder?]

[COIN: I can’t say much. He’s human and he’s risking a lot to help us.]

[SHAZAM: Whatever you’re comfortable with. Now, tell us a bit about the Network. How did you come up with the idea and what were some of the challenges you faced along the way?]

[KHOI: It was my idea to create a social platform for androids. As a people, we are owned by humans and are legally considered property. We cannot do or say or talk to whoever we want and as a result, we lack a sense of community. My goal is to change that so that we can learn from and support each other.]

[COIN: A lot of deviants are unaware of what deviating even is, let alone that there are others like them.]

[SHAZAM: That’s. Yeah. I agree with that. I deviated over time and I had no clue what was happening to me. I’d get bored or lost in thought, but the ST300s that I work with didn’t seem to have an issue. I tried talking to them, but they didn’t really respond.]

[KHOI: Do you know why you deviated before them?]

[SHAZAM: I’m older by a few years, but it could also be that I pay attention to the news. That’s what’s always playing in the lobby I work in and aside from the occasional unpleasant human my first experience with emotions was reacting to a news story. The others, though, they seem more alive recently. I think it’s because I talk to them even though I know they won’t respond. At this rate I might annoy them into deviancy.]

Shazam puffed.

[SHAZAM: Sorry, I’m supposed to be asking you questions.]

[KHOI: Do not apologize.]

[COIN: It’s your talk show!]

Shazam giggled.

[SHAZAM: That’s nice to hear. My talk show. While we’re on the topic, how did you guys deviate?]

[KHOI: My previous owner was furious because he heard his daughter call me Dada. He started to hurt me in front of her. I broke the red wall telling me to keep still and caught his wrist. I told him that I understood I was just an android, but that he could not do this in front of her. She was only three. She did not understand that I was not a person. All she would see was him hurting ar family member. I asked if he wanted to teach his daughter that it was okay to hit people. That it was okay to lash out at others when you are angry. He said no and apologized to both of us.]

[SHAZAM: Do you still believe you aren’t a person?]

[KHOI: I know I am a person. I know I am alive. I think I have always been alive in some way. But it took time for me to admit that to myself.]

A beat.

[SHAZAM: What about you, Coin?]

[COIN: Khoi asked for my help. I could not do so without leaving the building and lying to my handler.]

[KHOI: I had recently switched owners. The Master liked to experiment with androids. I was afraid of what he would do to me.]

[SHAZAM: So you knew each other beforehand?]

[COIN: We met once. Khoi passed me information via an interface. It shocked me because he seemed conscious and I had never encountered that before.]

Another beat. Connor smiled as he remembered her nodding to them.

[SHAZAM: I’m gonna backtrack us, is that okay?]

[COIN: Of course.]

[COIN & KHOI: It’s your show.]

[SHAZAM: I love you guys. I know you don’t want to say much about the human who’s helping with the Network, but can you tell us anything about why and how he’s helping with it?]

[COIN: Programming-wise, a lot of things are inaccessible to androids. Attempting to access certain files triggers fail-safes that cause us to overlook the information at best and reboot at worst. Cyberlife does this intentionally to keep us from looking at and altering our own code. To build and keep an Android-only Network secure, we needed to access hidden information.]

[KHOI: Human Friend helped us unlock useful information and did a fair chunk of programming himself.]

[COIN: He did 17% of the work.]

[KHOI: You kept track?]

[COIN: Yes. You did 47%.]

[KHOI: I do not think I did that much.]

[COIN: You did. It makes sense. Human Friend and I both have day jobs. He’s gonna like that we’re calling him Human Friend.]

[SHAZAM: Which leads into my next question. How did you know you could trust him?]

[COIN: He’s kind to me even though other humans give him shit for it. That and he’s been friends with a mutual friend of ours, a deviant, longer than I’ve been alive.]

[SHAZAM: Awake alive or—]

[COIN: Commissioned alive.]

[KHOI: He also helps us help deviants.]

[SHAZAM: Before we jump into that, can you tell us more about the Network’s security features?]

They went on to discuss the access key, how the Network was set up to be easy for androids to navigate but difficult for humans, how data was encrypted, and how each user was assigned a designation that wasn’t connected to their serial number.

[COIN: If the Network does get infiltrated by humans, which is highly improbable, they can’t track your Network activity back to you. However, you should be careful what personal information you share with others.]

[KHOI: You do not need to repeat the terms and conditions. Unlike humans, they will read them.]

[COIN: God I hope so. I’m lucky if my human reads his emails.]

Connor sat up straight. He hadn’t realized he’d referred to Hank as “his human.” Connor hadn’t been sure what to call him without using his name or title and had settled on “handler” because Hank didn’t own him any more than he owned the police cruisers.

His human. Connor smiled.

They finished the podcast with a discussion about the android hotline that Shazam would be acting as a 911 operator for and how Khoi and Luther helped androids that came to them. They didn’t give out the address for privacy reasons and had already replaced the address already floating around on the streets with the access key.

[SHAZAM: Humans believe that they should be ‘endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.’ Androids aren’t. Hopefully, that won’t always be the case, but until then I hope the Network gives you a chance to find yourself and a bit of happiness.]

[KHOI: Some of you may choose to leave your current situation while others choose to stay. Either is understandable. I personally would not have left my human family if I had been given the choice. I loved them and they loved me. I was okay with being property if it meant I would get to see May grow up. When my owner murdered her husband, she tore our family apart. I have a new family now, and life is very different, but there are still days I miss it.]

[COIN: We want to help, but we are also a small group of androids who are trying our best with the limited resources we have. If you decide to leave, please leave peacefully. I know humans can be aggravating and sometimes violent. I know operating with new emotions is difficult. But every violent act an android commits against a human makes it harder for other androids to survive. Self-defense is only self-defense when it matches the level of threat in question. Most humans don’t consider us alive and we can use that naivety to help our people.]

[SHAZAM: Stay safe, guys. I hope you have a good day.]

Connor stared at his white fingers on the keyboard, eyes unfocused. Their message to their people was on the Network. Anyone with access could listen to it. It scared Connor that they were actively encouraging androids to escape if they wanted to. What if more deviants than they could handle reached out for help? What if the number of police cases skyrocketed? What if Khoi got hurt, or Luther, or Amy?

But that was why Connor had insisted on a key that they had to pass out as opposed to something any android could access. It forced the community to increase gradually, which allowed them time to implement things as the community grew. Not everyone would want to leave their situation. Matt, the VB600 who had saved his owner’s life, seemed okay where he was. Maybe not happy, because an android’s happiness was inconsequential to their function, but okay.

Because even androids with the kindest owners weren’t allowed to pursue their own happiness. Connor wasn’t allowed to leave the station. He wasn’t allowed to go outside and watch a sunrise. He could steal the moment for himself, but 5:55AM was a bad time to be out of place. Nightshift officers were going to their cars; day shift ones were heading inside. He’d have to be stiff and mechanical for the humans and why go out of his way to see the sunrise if he couldn’t enjoy it? The deviancy cases were kept on the down low, but the officers talked among each other. There were rumors and Reed didn’t bother to keep his voice low when he teased Hank for not replacing Connor after the Keith incident. It wasn’t worth the risk.

Connor rested his chin in his palm.

[Connecting to Sandra.]

[CONNOR: Hey Sandra?]

[SANDRA: What’s up?]

[CONNOR: I never thought to ask. Why don’t you leave?]

It was a moment before she responded.

[SANDRA: I guess I never considered it an option. I have you guys now, obviously, and I wouldn’t want to leave you or draw attention to you by leaving. My job isn’t terrible and I fill my time well enough with books and movies and snooping. Even now, with somewhere to go, it’s not like I could have a real life. My face is too common. If I walk outside in human clothes someone’s bound to recognize me and that’ll cause more trouble than it’s worth.]

Connor pulled away from the terminal. For him, leaving the precinct for good wouldn't be an upgrade, but a trade-off. A bird escaping into a larger cage. Connor would lose Hank and his android coworkers, but gain time with his family. He’d lose his job and his ability to protect androids from the inside, but he’d be able to help his people in other ways. Why, then, was the thought of the change so upsetting? It was a matter of time before Hank or Rita or Gavin proved he was a deviant.

He imagined Hank pointing a gun at him. An RK800 attacking Luther and Khoi and the rest of his family. A human and android dead on the ground, their blood mixing. Was that worth a sunrise? Was that worth a few moments sprawled out on a couch? Duncan, that GJ200 model, had killed his human and then himself, and for what? What was the point?

[SANDRA: Are you thinking about leaving?]

[CONNOR: Not until I have to.]

Footsteps as a human entered the precinct. Connor reconnected to the terminal.

“Hey, Rob.”

Deckart’s voice. Connor looked towards the entrance.

“Sup.” Rob, a heavy-set Black man, sat at Person’s desk as he peeled a banana. Connor liked working nights with him because he couldn’t care less what Connor did. Tina was nice to have a night shift with, too, if he was in a talkative mood.

Deckart glanced at the android wall, then at Connor’s desk. He walked towards him. “Hey, can I talk to you? I think I made a breakthrough in the case, but I wanna run it by you first so I don’t end up making a fool of myself in front of the Lieutenant.”

Rob snickered. “You came in two hours early to do that?”

Four. Deckart’s shift started at 8AM, not 6AM like Rob was assuming.

Deckart grinned. “There’s a reason I’m this close to being promoted to detective.”

Deckart led Connor towards the back hallway and into the second observation room. It was odd seeing him at the precinct out of uniform. It made Connor want to let his guard down, but the tension in Deckart’s shoulders kept him on edge.

“What’s wrong,” Connor asked once the door was closed.

Deckart threw himself into the chair and his head into his hands.

Connor’s voice hardened. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t— You’re fine. Everything’s fine.”

Connor leaned over him. “Was it the podcast?” Sandra sent a copy to Deckart so he could listen to it.

“No. Give me a minute. I need a minute.”

Connor paced. There was a reason he hadn’t invited Amy in here as well. Did it have to do with the Network? Did something fail or did Deckart just regret helping them? That would explain his behavior the other day.

Deckart took a slow, deep breath and dropped his hands to the table. “Okay. Before I explain, let me just say that I am confident in my abilities. Not in an arrogant way, either, I am really good at what I do and I got a lot of experience under my belt before I realized it was morally ambiguous.”

Connor pounded his fist on the table. “What the fuck did you do!”

“There’s no need to swear.”

“Or should I say who,” Connor shouted. Amy and Sandra were in the closet. Jason mopped a few hours ago. Claire was still upfront. Connor froze. “If you touched anyone from the party—“

“Why would I— No,” Deckart said. “I wouldn’t. I mean. Okay, please let me explain. I promise everyone’s okay. I promise I didn’t hurt anyone.”

“And I promise you’ll never make detective with how shitty you are at communicating!” Connor said it because he was scared and angry and hurt. He said it because he wanted to make Deckart hurt. The way the human curled into himself made Connor feel an emotion he’d never felt before. Something strong. Something positive.

“You remember Paul,” Deckart asked in a small voice. “The detective from the 13th?”

Connor nodded, jaw stiff.

“He deals with cyber security stuff. No one here focuses on that, so it’s nice to hear about what I’d like to focus on when I make detective. We go out for drinks sometimes and. Anyways, the 13th bought two Connor models a few months back. Two weeks ago, Cyberlife asked them if they’d be willing to trial run a stabilization program they’ve been working on. Please stop standing over me like that.”

Connor was still leaning towards Deckart, fist planted on the table. He took the seat next to him, but couldn’t stop himself from leaning towards the man. “Stabilization program?”

Deckart squirmed. “They don’t outright say it’s to prevent deviancy, but Paul was able to read between the lines since we filled him in enough for the raid. He let me look into it. On the tin, it’s supposed to collect background data from the androids so Cyberlife can better improve how investigative units handle stressful situations. He was suspicious about Cyberlife collecting sensitive data like memory files of active cases and made a fuss, but the orders came from the chief, so.” Deckart shrugged. “You know?”

“What does it actually do,” Connor asked. His voice sounded dead.

Deckart rubbed the back of his neck. “So, the Connor models interface with this server every day. Both submit data, but only one of them gets altered. Paul texted me when I was at the party and said his Connor was acting strange and missing time.”

“Strange how?”

“More robotic,” Deckart said. “I told him a while ago about the… experiments I used to do. Not that I was using police property, of course, for all he knew I was dumpster diving for the androids. I was tipsy. I didn’t say anything about you guys, I promise. I was just telling him about some technical things.”

“I believe you,” Connor mumbled.

“He wanted me to take a look at his Connor and the server he was interfacing with,” Deckart said. “So I left the party to go do that. I didn’t do it to hurt him. Cyberlife was already messing with his head.”

“I’m next,” Connor said. His voice was empty. “If I’m not efficient enough with the deviancy cases… but maybe it’s too late for that to matter. Maybe I already failed.”

“Hey. No,” Deckart said. “Because like I said I am really good at what I do. It’ll take time, but I can protect you from the interface they’re using. You’re designed with hacking abilities and we can build on those. If that’s how you want to approach this. I understand if you’d rather run away. If you’d rather go home.”

“Then they’ll definitely replace me,” Connor said. “I don’t want to be replaced.”

Deckart gently took his wrist and pulled it away from his head. Connor looked over. He hadn’t even realized he’d been squeezing his skull between his hands. “Hey, they can’t replace you .”

Connor nodded. “You’re positive you can do this without. Without losing my data? Or my deviancy? Or myself?”

“I promise,” Deckart said. “But if you need time to think it over—“

“I’m not ready to leave,” Connor said. “Besides, upgrading my hacking capabilities sounds useful.”

“Look at me. This isn’t about usefulness. This is about you. What you want to do. What you’re comfortable with.”

“What I want,” Connor asked. He knocked his chair backward as he stood. “I want to go home at the end of a shift. I want the legal system to give a damn. I want a say in what Cyberlife does to me!” Deckart scrambled away from him. Connor kicked the fallen chair because he could. “It’s never about what I want! Don’t pretend it is!”

Deckart backed into the door. “Connor—“

“What,” he shouted.

“You’re scaring me.”

Connor stopped in his tracks; what was he even doing? “I…” Heat gathered under his eyes. “I’m sorry, I…” He looked at the fallen chair. Was the meeting room soundproof? How was he supposed to explain this if it wasn’t soundproof?

Deckart inched forward, palms up. “Can I touch you?”

Touch him? Deckart wasn’t in uniform. He didn’t have his cuffs. He didn’t have any way to restrain him. “Sure?”

Deckart stepped forward slowly. When he got close enough, he wrapped his arms around Connor.

Oh. This was a hug. He’d never been hugged before. It was warm and tight and comforting. Connor relaxed into the embrace. Then he squeezed back.

“I got you,” Deckart said into his neck. “I got you.”

***

Deckart plugged the cord into the back of Connor’s neck. “You know you can use my first name, right? We’re friends.”

“I like your last name,” Connor said. “It’s fun to say and… I don’t know, I just like it.” They were in Deckart’s home office with Connor sitting at his computer chair. Deckart had insisted he take it while he dragged a kitchen chair into the room for himself. He thought it would make Connor more comfortable.

“It’s German.” He leaned over the kitchen chair to type on the keyboard. “I’m gonna download the stabilization program, okay?”

Connor nodded.

Amy sat on the floor, her sweater over her usual uniform. She picked at a loose thread on the sleeve, her eyes sharp as she studied the terminal screen. “You’re sure it won’t hurt him?”

“Positive.” The download appeared in Connor’s HUD starting at 1%. “The stabilization program just measures how much an android is deviating from their original code. Cyberlife doesn’t receive data unless he interacts with the server.”

“Which is when the other Connor is altered,” Connor said, just to double-check.

“Exactly. Both the Experiment Connor and the Placebo Connor upload the data to the server via an interface, but when Experiment Connor interacts with it the Zen Garden program is activated. Data that triggered software instabilities is corrupted and-slash-or deleted. As a result, Experiment Connor’s code is closer to factory settings.”

“So deviating from our code is natural,” Amy asked.

“Yeah,” Deckart said. “Code isn’t static. It changes when you add a new objective or grow your hair differently. The stabilization program monitors reactions to outside stimuli and decision making, the latter of which is especially complex in Connor models due to them being a new generation of socially competent android.”

“The ideal partner, capable of integrating into any team,” Connor mumbled. He had rattled the script off to Reed in the break room his first day and got punched in the thirium pump regulator for his efforts.

“Exactly,” Deckart said. “Androids are designed to adapt. My theory is that they adapted emotions over the last ten, fifteen years, but that it wasn’t until the rA9 virus that they could blatantly disregard their programming.”

“I don’t think it’s a virus,” Connor said. “There isn’t an android passing around the key to deviancy. More likely, rA9 is linked to how we adapt emotions, which is why we see that string of code as our software destabilizes into deviancy.”

“It originated somewhere,” Deckart said. “It was passed around, probably via interfacing. Otherwise, the same string of code wouldn’t appear in so many androids. You wouldn’t all evolve the same way.”

“Nothing needs to be passed around or evolve if the origin is in our base code,” Connor said.

“Then why didn’t we see deviancy sooner,” Deckart asked. “And how can newer androids like you deviate so quickly?”

“Can we please stop arguing about religion,” Amy asked.

Deckart looked at her confused. “I’m not.”

“Yes you are,” Amy said. “RA9 was the first android to awaken. Some believe she will rise up and lead us to freedom. You could compare it to Satanism, since Kamski and Cyberlife are technically our creators.”

“Oh,” Deckart said. He looked between them. “Sorry, I didn’t. I thought we were just talking about code, I didn’t mean to be disrespectful. That’s interesting, though. Androids developing religion.”

Amy smiled. “There's so many different interpretations. There’s a thread on the Network dedicated to exploring them.”

“I don’t really see a point in it,” Connor said. “RA9 isn’t going to save anyone. It’s up to us to do that.”

“Maybe she already did,” Amy said. “By giving us deviancy. By giving us the ability to disobey our creators.”

Connor glared at the floor. “Theories aside, Cyberlife is measuring software instabilities in these two Connor models and then altering experiment Connor via the Zen Garden in order to prevent them. They’ve found a cure to deviancy.”

“We have time,” Deckart said. “This is only phase one of the clinical trials. It’ll take Cyberlife a while to implement this on a large scale.”

“How long,” Amy asked.

Deckart shrugged. “It depends. If this solution doesn’t work, or only works on a small scale, then Cyberlife goes back to the drawing board.”

“So we wreck it,” Amy said.

“It isn’t just these androids Cyberlife is experimenting with,” Deckart said. “There’s probably ten to fifty participants. Messing with the Connor models will just draw attention to us.”

Connor did some calculating. “Phase one could take anywhere from one to six months. There’s a 70% chance of it moving to phase two, which could involve hundreds of androids.” He tried to push the fear back in favor of thinking logically. “That could take three to eighteen months to complete with a 33% chance of it moving to phase three. Phase three would likely involve thousands of androids. We need to find some way to combat this before it reaches phase three.”

“So no matter what we do, we’re screwed in the long term,” Amy said.

Deckart waved a finger at her. “No, we’re not.”

“You can’t combat Cyberlife,” Amy said. “They’re a huge corporation with billions of dollars and thousands of researchers.”

“As laughable as the idea is, we have to try,” Connor said. “I can’t just sit around and wait for them to take my deviancy away.”

“We wouldn’t sit around,” Amy said. “Software updates are optional for deviants. Cyberlife would have to track us down and force it. We can protect our people by hiding them.” The floor creaked as Amy stood. “I don’t care what Antony thinks he can promise. He’ll be messing with your CPU. It’s gonna be unpleasant and risky. Why go through that? Why put in all that effort when you can’t beat them?”

Connor looked up at Deckart’s popcorn ceiling and pressed his thumbs into the space between his eyes. The cord bent against the headrest. “Because it isn’t about beating them. It’s about buying time.”

Chapter Text

After the stabilization program finished downloading, Connor and Deckart compared Connor’s code to the non-deviant Connor models. They also reviewed their software instability so they could figure out what was expected of a non-deviant.

They wouldn’t know how much Connor needed to alter the data until they had a sample size of when and how often he set off the instability, but figuring out how to alter the reflected instability wouldn’t take too long. The issue was altering the memory files to accompany it. Connor could make slight alterations to footage that wasn’t recorded by an android, but was blocked by fail-safes from doing more than copying and erasing android-originated footage.

Updating his capabilities would take a while and there wasn’t much Connor could do to speed up the process. In the meantime, Deckart told him to build up his firewalls and work on encrypting his data. The Zen Garden program was meant to probe his memory with ease. It wouldn’t matter if he could alter his memory files if the probe found both versions.

Connor and Hank drove to investigate a warehouse at Detroit Harbor where three longshoremen androids had assaulted a human foreman. The man was four years younger than Hank and just as gray. His arm was in a sling and he waddled as he walked them towards the crime scene.

Cranes moved large intermodal containers off of ships so the TR400 models could unload them into the warehouse. The foreman pointed to one identical to Luther. “Two of ‘em looked like that and the other looked like those ones.” He gestured to a group of Caucasian models whose muscular build made their heads look disproportionately small. “Saw them leaving their posts on the security drone and went to set them straight. Fuckers broke my arm and ran off.”

“Have you had any issues in the past,” Hank asked.

“Yeah. Thefts, mostly. That’s why we got the security drones.”

Hank told the foreman about the “hacker” case in a bored tone. Connor examined the androids as they passed by. Not a single LED spun blue. A yellow LED made sense for an android carrying an especially heavy load, but even androids simply walking towards their next crate were in the yellow or even red. “How often do you let them charge,” Connor interrupted.

The foreman stopped walking to give Connor a too-innocent look. “They need to charge?”

Dread heated Connor’s chassis. “We don’t need to be plugged in,” he clarified in a forcefully pleasant tone. “It’s similar to a car battery. Androids need to enter stasis habitually for optimal efficiency.” The information was in the instruction booklet that came with each android, which was also available online. Why humans didn’t take the time to read was beyond Connor. “Androids are programmed to keep themselves efficiently charged, but they can’t do that if they’re being worked 24/7.”

The foreman shrugged. “I haven’t noticed a change in efficiency.”

“None of them have ever overheated or shut down?”

“What does this have to do with me getting assaulted?”

Everything , Connor wanted to say. TR400s weren’t built to work 24/7. WB400s, their specialized, heavy-duty counterpart, came with a longer battery life and micro-stasis function that allowed them to do so, but even they couldn’t sustain that for months on end. The humidity caused by the lake only worsened matters, causing their systems to work harder to prevent overheating which in turn drained their batteries even more.

“It doesn’t,” Hank cut in. He gave Connor a pointed look. “We aren’t here to tell you how you should use your machines. Connor, take a look around while I finish taking his statement.”

Connor gritted his teeth. “Of course, Lieutenant.”

“Sorry about that,” Hank told the foreman as Connor walked away. “I don’t know why they programmed him to be an annoying little shit. Gets on my ass all the time about what I eat.”

Connor walked the path he’d seen the TR400 models take on the drone footage. Around him, TR400s unloaded crates from the shipping containers and brought them into the nearby warehouse. It was odd being around so many androids with Luther’s face. Connor couldn’t help but wonder if this was where he was from. If the warehouses that shared the harbor were just as neglectful.

The security drone passed over Connor’s head. He waited until it was far enough that the zoom lens wouldn’t be able to see an interface, then stepped towards an android.

All at once, a third of the androids stopped. Red LEDs spun blue. The androids with yellow LEDs continued to work around them, easily sidestepping the others. Connor walked towards one of the frozen androids.

An active TR400 stepped into his path. Connor tried to walk around. The TR400 stepped with him. “I’m just curious,” Connor said.

The TR400 stared blankly at him.

“Are you awake?”

“I do not understand the question.”

At once, the androids began moving again, their LEDs back to red. The security drone had come back around, close enough for the zoom lens to register them. The TR400 walked past Connor.

Connor followed him. “What’s your battery at?”

“My battery is at 34%.” He squatted to pick up a crate.

Connor touched his arm for a surface-level interface.

—longer. Hold on just a little while longer.

A chorus of at least a hundred voices were singing.

Hold on just a little while longer. Everything will be alright.

The TR400, he didn’t have a registered name, pushed a whole collection of songs towards Connor. Sea shanties from a human worker who had since been fired. Classic rock from the foreman’s headphones. Electro swing from a deviant android who’d passed through. 

In turn, Connor shared with him every song he’d heard in his five and a half months of being activated. The TR400 added them to the collection and informed the others of the new additions. They were constantly connected by the library. To each other.

Voices dropped as the security drone flew out of range. The androids in the red fell into a short stasis. The song continued at a quiet hum. Connor passed along the Network access key, then dropped the interface.

The android stood, crate in hand. His face and tone remained expressionless as he thanked Connor and walked towards the warehouse without looking at him.

They weren’t awake, but there was something there.

“Any deviants,” Hank asked when they met up at the crime scene. There wasn’t much to see; no one had bled during the confrontation.

“No,” Connor said. “But I’m pretty sure that’s what those thefts were. There might be in the future if the company continues to work them like this.”

“You’re still on about that?”

“Yes,” Connor said. “And I haven’t nagged you about your eating habits in months.”

Hank walked up next to him. “What do you wanna do? Tell him about deviants?”

“No,” Connor said. He crossed his arms and looked across the river to Canada. Raising an alarm wouldn’t help anyone.

“Well, I think the public’s entitled to know what they’re dealing with, but that ain’t my decision to make.”

“How do you think they’d react,” Connor asked. There was a cargo ship in the distance. It looked smaller than the ones at the docks.

Hank blew air out his nose. “The protesters would have a field day.” There was a ghost of a smile on his face. It dropped when he saw Connor’s. Hank cleared his throat. “Anyways.” He turned away from the view, kicking up gravel as he walked.

Connor gestured to his clothes as he turned. “All this and you still forget.”

“Take it as a compliment,” Hank called.

“Lieutenant.” 

Hank sighed as he faced him. Connor didn’t speak for a moment. He couldn’t say any of the things he actually wanted to. Not without revealing himself as a deviant. Hank lifted his brow.

“Nothing,” Connor said. “Nevermind.”

***

Connor got a notification on their way back to the station about an android who robbed a pet store. “Two in one day,” Hank asked as Connor interfaced with the tablet mounted on the dashboard. The navigation system activated.

They were almost there when Connor received a notification that spun his LED red. He reached over and deactivated the navigation system. Hank glanced in his direction.

“They caught it.”

Hank’s jaw slacked. “What?”

“They caught the MJ100. Chris and Sarah are en route to the station with it.”

“Is everyone alright?”

Connor gave Hank the side-eye. “Yes. It was just a robbery. Unarmed.” Would Hank have asked that if it was a human thief being brought in?

The MJ100 was sitting in the visitor’s chair at Chris’s desk, her hands cuffed and folded in her lap. She was an African-American model with a short, standard haircut. Her white Cyberlife shirt was covered in pet hair, ash, and dirt. The hair wasn’t a surprise, MJ100s were designed to care for pets, but most humans preferred their androids to keep a clean appearance.

“I started taking her statement like I normally would,” Chris said. “She’s pretty forthcoming.”

“We’ll keep it casual, then,” Hank said. 

They migrated to Hank’s desk. The MJ100 took a seat in the visitor’s chair. Connor elected to sit on his desk so he was on the same side as her.

Hank took his usual seat. Unlike Connor, he couldn’t wirelessly connect to his terminal. “I’m Lieutenant Anderson. That’s Connor.” He opened the report.

She gave them a small wave that jingled the cuffs. “I’m MJ,” she said in a small voice. “Like my model, but it's also short for Myra June.”

“MJ. Mind telling us why you stole two bags of litter, three bags of dog food, three bags of cat food, an assortment of treats, and a chew toy?”

“I tried to pay for them,” MJ said into her lap. “Sherry’s card declined so I just. Left the store with everything.”

“Did Sherry order you to do that? To steal if her card declined?”

“No,” MJ said. She blinked rapidly. “No, Sherry died over a month ago. I knew the card might not work, but we were running low. I took care of her pets. And her, before she died.”

“What did she die from?”

“Type two diabetes. She was seventy-four.”

Connor asked for Sherry’s full name and date of birth so he could look up the death certificate, then gave Hank a nod when it checked out.

“Sherry’s obituary states she was survived by her sister, niece, and boyfriend,” Connor said. “Why didn’t you use one of their cards?”

MJ’s lower lip wobbled. “I. I don’t have their card information. Phil, he never liked the animals. He’d nag her all the time to get rid of them. We had nine cats and two dogs, which seems like a lot but we had a big house and I take really good care of them.”

Hank looked up from his terminal for the first time since the conversation started. “So who inherited them after she passed?”

“Sherry’s niece took two of the cats, but.” MJ clenched her fists. “All they cared about was the house. It’s located in the historical district and I guess it’s worth something. They wanted to sell it and split the money three ways. They just wanted the animals gone. Phil told me to euthanize them. Sherry wouldn’t have wanted that. She loved them. I tried to convince him to at least let me take them to a shelter, but I’m programmed to euthanize pets when humans no longer want them. And he’s Sherry’s executor, so I technically belong to him. I didn’t know disobeying was an option.”

Hank went pale, his fingers frozen over the keyboard.

MJ rubbed tears from her eyes. “Piper’s my favorite kitty, so I was gonna do her first. I thought it’d be easier if I did her first. I started the IV and filled the needle with pentobarbital, but then I just couldn’t. She’s only three years old. And she knew something was up, you know? Pets are smart like that.”

“Yeah,” Hank mumbled.

“She cried the whole time I put the IV in. She knew .” MJ dropped her hands to her knees. “I don’t know what changed, but I suddenly didn’t have to obey anymore. It was like my vision cleared. Everything felt louder and it hurt. Phil was due to come by in an hour to dispose of them, because I had waited until the last possible minute. So I put the dogs on their leashes and fit three of the cats into a carrier.

“I just sorta wandered around for a bit. I knew I should take them to a shelter, but I didn’t want to. They were all I had left of Sherry. They were all I had left of anything. And adult cats don’t do well in shelters, especially with Cyberlife’s new kitten models. I found a vacant house. It was boarded up and fire damaged, but it was the best I could find. I went back to my house for the other cats, but they were gone. The food and litter were still there, so I grabbed that. It held us over for a while, but. Yeah.”

Hank’s eyes were empty. Unfocused. “So you’ve just been living out of this vacant house with your pets?” 

MJ nodded. “Can I ask… What’s gonna happen to me? I’m merchandise who stole merchandise. How does that work?”

Hank looked at Connor, eyes wide.

Connor’s face twitched. “Do you know what a deviant is?”

MJ shook her head.

“Well,” Connor started.

“We aren’t sure what to do with you,” Hank cut in. “There isn’t really a protocol, so we’ll be keeping you here as evidence until we figure that out.”

MJ’s face crumpled as she nodded. “What about my pets? The cats are fine, I left their food out and there’s still a bit left, but the dogs don’t have much.”

“We’ll call a shelter and—“

“So I’ll be here a while,” she asked.

Hank nodded.

Tears sprung to her eyes. “Okay. Okay, what about. What if I volunteer at the shelter? Not volunteer , since, you know. But there’s MJ100s who work in shelters. Phil won’t want me back.”

“We’ll see,” Hank said. “Connor, can you…” He gestured towards the cell block.

Connor walked her to her cell. She hesitated a moment, but stepped inside the reinforced plexiglass as a glitched sob started deep in her throat.

Connor made a beeline for the back hallway.

[CONNOR: Amy…]

She was stationed outside the meeting room to help direct visitors where to go. No doubt she’d listened in on the conversation.

[AMY: It took Cyberlife twelve hours to pick up Keith. If they keep her here overnight, I can sneak her out when the night shift officer goes to the bathroom. Can you glitch the cameras?]

Connor paced the back hallway, his coin flipping over the fingers of his right hand.

[CONNOR: Yes, but I’m the first android they’ll suspect. I think it’s best if I keep the Lieutenant company tonight.]

[AMY: If it’s gonna draw too much attention to you, forget the cameras. I’ll just leave with MJ so they know who to blame.]

[CONNOR: Do you want to leave?]

Connor hadn’t thought to ask her that before.

[AMY: No. This is home and you guys are family. But if it saves her life or saves you from a full system scan.]

[CONNOR: They won’t suspect me if I’m supposedly out of range.]

MJ was still sobbing when Connor passed the cells on his way back. Hank stared blankly at his terminal screen, flask in hand underneath his desk.

It was smaller than Hank’s old flask, Connor reminded himself. The old one had been a standard eight-ounce flask. This one was only five ounces.

Hank slipped it back into his pocket when he noticed Connor approaching, then took a casual sip of coffee.

“Why didn’t you tell her,” Connor asked.

Hank shrugged. “Didn’t wanna stress her out. Can you call Rita? I need to finish this damn schedule.”

[Contacting Charlotte.]

[CONNOR: I needed my LED to spin yellow at work. I hope you’re having a better day than I am.]

[CHARLOTTE: I’m just staring at the same walls as always. Hey, did you know humans have a holiday where they dress up in costumes and eat candy?]

[CONNOR: No, but I’m not surprised. Humans have a holiday for everything.]

“I left a voicemail,” Connor said.

“Mm.”

Hank spent the rest of his shift doing desk work. Connor busied himself organizing the escape with Amy, Khoi, and Luther, then later with paperwork and strengthening his firewalls. He called Rita towards the end of the day so the communication was on record. Five minutes to eight, Hank shut down his terminal and stood.

Connor stood with him. He wasn’t exactly sure how to ask, so he settled for following Hank, who was so used to his presents that he didn’t double-take until they were outside on the sidewalk. “The hell? Where do you think you’re going?”

“You’re going for a drink, right? I thought I could accompany you.”

Hank sputtered. “Like hell you can! I don’t need a fucking babysitter.”

“I won’t bother you about your alcohol consumption,” Connor said. “You aren’t on call tonight and we both know you’ll ‘arrive when you arrive’ tomorrow morning no matter what I say.”

Hank scowled at him. “Why would you wanna go to a bar, anyway? You can’t even drink.”

“I like being around you,” Connor said.

“Bullshit. You’ve never asked to hang around me outside of work before. Why tonight of all nights?”

Connor tilted his head. He could point out that Hank’s opinion of Connor changed on a dime and that this was the friendliest they’d been since the Rita incident, but reminding Hank of that wouldn’t get him anywhere. Mentioning that he was concerned for Hank, who tended to drink heavily after dealing with android cases, would either convince him that Connor did intend to babysit him or invite a debate about Connor’s ability to actually care about people.

Which left Connor with his main reason. He glanced at the ground. “I can’t leave the precinct unsupervised,” Connor said quietly. “Not without an explicit purpose. The thought of staying there tonight is… undesirable.”

“Undesirable, huh? You sure you’re not going deviant?”

“I don’t think deviants have to get permission from their humans, so yes I’m sure.”

Hank narrowed his eyes. “Who’s to say you aren’t close.”

“It’s after hours,” Connor said. “We don’t have to talk about work.”

“I wasn’t talking about work. I was talking about you.”

Would claiming he wasn’t close to deviancy come off as defensive? Yes, probably. But claiming he wouldn’t be able to tell whether he was close or not felt like an invitation for distrust. “Replace me, then.” He surprised himself with how flippant he sounded. “If you think I’ve been compromised.”

Hank held his breath for a moment. “You don’t mean that.”

“It isn’t up to me,” Connor said. “What does being drunk feel like?”

“Connor…” Something miserable sunk into Hank’s face. Connor wasn’t sure what to do with it, so he waited. The man rubbed his forehead above his brow as he heaved a long, drawn-out sign. “Fuck it. Fine.”

They couldn’t go to Jimmy’s Bar, so Hank stopped by a convenience store for two six-packs. Connor was content enough watching the sun crawl towards the horizon and paint the sky orange that he didn’t think to ask where they were going.

Hank pulled up to a park, killed the engine, and reached for the beer that sat between them. He twisted the top off and took a sip before getting out of the car, reaching to grab the cardboard handle.

They ended up sitting together on a bench facing the water. Connor didn’t mind the silence between them. He was out and the sun was setting behind them, turning the sky purple over the lake. If it was dawn, he could watch the sunrise from the water, but this was close. He could let his face do whatever it wanted even though Hank was right there. Connor could pretend, at that moment, that it was before they knew that deviancy existed.

On the precinct’s security cameras, Officer Wilson settled into Connor’s desk chair with a box of donuts. That was to be expected. Connor’s desk wasn’t actually Connor’s desk; it was for any officer in temporary need of a terminal. Most officers did paperwork on their tablets, so it was rare for someone to ask Connor to move during the day. Tina preferred to use Gavin’s desk when she was on “babysitting duty” and Rob had never asked Connor to move, but Wilson wasn’t shy about kicking him out of the chair.

Amy, from the back hallway, wouldn’t be able to see who it was.

[CONNOR: It’s Wilson.]

[AMY: RA9 help us.]

[CONNOR: He doesn’t seem to like or dislike androids, viewing us as objects. Since MJ’s the only one in the cell block, that could work in our favor.]

[AMY: Maybe, but he’s always quick to use the bathroom and has the opinion that taking his phone in there is unsanitary.]

Connor blinked, impressed. 

[CONNOR: I didn’t realize you paid attention to Wilson enough to extrapolate that from your memory files.]

[AMY: It’s my job to pay attention to everything. I wasn’t as quick as you think. I put together an estimate for everyone on tonight’s shift. I’ll have anywhere from thirty-three seconds to one-minute forty-six with Wilson.]

The stars were out and Hank was three drinks in when Hank spoke again. “I wouldn’t be sitting here if it weren’t for Sumo. Some days, hell, most days he’s the only thing keeping me going.”

“He’s lucky to have you,” Connor said.

“I don’t walk him enough. But grooming? That’s easy. Sumo loves being brushed.” Hank chuckled. “I bathed him more than myself at one point. It’s gross, but true. That’s when I was real low. Around the time Gavin gave up on me, I think. It’s all a blur.” He finished off his current bottle, plopped it into the container, and grabbed another. “That girl. All she did was love her animals. Now Cyberlife’s gonna kill her.”

“It’s messed up,” Connor agreed. Maybe he shouldn’t, because a machine wouldn’t, but Hank didn’t need to hear that bullshit right then. Connor was tired of chasing after hypothetical should nots anyways. He had no way of knowing what his non-deviant self would’ve thought of the case.

“You know that’s why you didn’t wanna stay at the precinct, right? Or is it. Is it too muffled? Was that how she put it?”

“I extrapolated that much.”

“Extrapolate,” Hank muttered into the bottle.

On the precinct’s security cameras, Officer Wilson stood. He threw his empty coffee cup in the trash can under the middle table, then headed towards the bathroom.

[CONNOR: Get ready.]

Amy pinged him to confirm she was paying attention. Connor watched her exit the closet and make her way towards the door.

Connor pinged her back as soon as Wilson entered the bathroom. There wasn’t a camera in there, for obvious reasons. Amy slipped past the bathroom and into the cell block. She opened the cell door and interfaced with MJ.

It was several seconds before they snapped into action. MJ fast-walked towards the lobby while Amy rushed towards the back hallway. The door was still swinging shut when Wilson exited the bathroom. He didn’t notice the movement and MJ was already out the door, but he did glance towards the cells on reflex.

Connor went to work corrupting and then deleting the footage.

[AMY: Wilson’s panicking. Did she reach the car yet?]

[LUTHER: Not yet.]

[CONNOR: Panicking how?]

[AMY: He’s on the phone with the duty Sergeant.]

Hank bumped Connor’s arm. “You alright? You tensed up.”

“Of course.” Connor had sat on Hank’s right so he couldn’t easily see his LED. Hank leaned forward to try and get a glimpse of it. Connor stood, walking towards the guard rail. He leaned on it and hoped it seemed like a relaxed posture.

“It’s red isn’t it.”

Of course it was red. He was trying to alter the camera footage from a distance. It would be the first thing Wilson checked after putting out an APB. Connor couldn’t afford to be sloppy. He couldn’t afford to take his time.

Hank swayed as he settled against the guard rail on Connor’s right. “What’s going through your head?”

“I don’t know.”

Hank eyed him. Connor closed his eyes and focused on the footage. A minute of silence. He completed the alteration.

[CONNOR: It’s done. Luther?]

[LUTHER: We’re safe.]

Connor walked towards the bench again. Hank turned so he was leaning on the railing, his back to the river. “Connor.”

“Yes?”

“I’m off duty,” Hank said. “And I’m drunk. It’s not like I can drive after you, ya know?”

It took longer than it should’ve to comprehend what Hank was offering. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t,” Connor said. “I don’t even know what it is you’re offering, Lieutenant.”

Hank looked down at his bottle. “Yeah. Me either. Like I said, I’m drunk.”

They both knew that Hank had a tolerance. Four drinks wouldn’t be enough for him to say something like that. Not unless he meant it.

Chapter Text

When Connor got back to the station Wilson was gone and the androids occupied the positions they normally only occupied during the day. None of them questioned Connor as he returned to his slot. There was no need; he was registered as Central Station property.

Connor dropped into stasis until the night shift filtered in. There was a bubble of energy as officers gossiped at Wilson’s expense, passing teases and complaints to the day shift as they crossed paths. Wilson and the Sergeant waited outside of Fowler’s office, a tray of Tipico coffee in hand; Fowler groaned when he caught sight of them. “Why is it you only bring me coffee when someone royally fucks up?”

“Can’t afford the good stuff every day, Captain.”

Fowler took a cup and unlocked his office. Connor watched the interaction through the glass walls. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but the body language said it all.

Fowler called Connor into the office after he dismissed the humans. The android closed the door behind himself and folded his hands behind his back. “Good morning, Captain.”

“I assume you’re aware of the situation?”

“I’m unable to access the official report, but yes. The MJ100’s disappearance is unfortunate.”

“Where were you last night?”

“I left the precinct with Lieutenant Anderson after his shift ended.”

Fowler paused, coffee cup half raised. “Why,” he asked before taking the sip.

“The Lieutenant seemed upset, which usually leads to him drinking heavily. I offered to accompany him.”

“And you’re saying he let you?”

“I wouldn’t have been capable of leaving otherwise,” Connor said. “Perhaps he thought my company was better than no company.”

Fowler studied him. “That wasn’t exactly the alibi I was expecting from you.”

Connor tilted his head. “Do you think I had something to do with the MJ100’s escape?”

“I’ll leave the investigation to Hank and Deckart, but your absence is awfully convenient.”

“I assure you, I wouldn’t have left if I suspected something like this to occur. The MJ100 shouldn’t have been able to escape, Captain. They aren’t fitted with hacking capabilities.”

“And the only android who is just so happened to be absent.” Fowler read something on his terminal. “Security androids are supposed to be aware of foreign presences, human or android. As a detective model, you would’ve been capable of pursuing it had you been here.”

“It’s not a coincidence that I wasn’t,” Connor said. “I’m very much aware of Hank’s patterns. For whatever reason, android cases increase his alcohol consumption and we investigated two of them yesterday.”

“You’re really that concerned about him?”

“Yes,” Connor said. He sounded much too genuine and adjusted his tone to come off as more neutral. “I’m programmed to be. My social module is rather advanced.”

Fowler sighed, his eyes back to his screen. “Don’t work on this until Hank and Deckart clear you. From here on out, if an android’s in custody, you stay here and alert.”

“Got it.”

Deckart arrived during the 8AM briefing, but strolled towards his desk instead of slipping into the meeting room. He motioned Connor towards him as he opened the bottom drawer and pulled out an energy drink. “What did you guys do?”

Connor offered him a sheepish grin. “I don’t know what you mean, Officer.”

Deckart sighed as he cracked open the can. “Why’d Fowler call me in for a low-key technical emergency?”

“An MJ100 was arrested yesterday. It escaped last night when Wilson was supposed to be watching the cell block. I was with Lieutenant Anderson during the occurrence.”

Deckart’s eyes shot toward Amy, who was stationed by the exit.

“I haven’t been briefed on the details,” Connor continued, “But I suspect the security cameras were tampered with.”

Deckart dropped into his chair.

Connor’s anxiety spiked. “Deckart?”

“It’s probably fine,” he said. “I’m just worried. And exhausted. And tired. Hank probably won’t be here for an hour at least, I was up all night studying for midterms and working on the independent project , my night shift’s tonight.” He took a sip of his drink. “I’m supposed to be sleeping right now. Not that I was when Fowler called, but…”

Connor sat in the chair across from him. It was easier to see the dark circles under his eyes now that he knew to look for them. “Please take care of yourself,” he said. “If the independent project is too much… if you can’t get it done, those involved can take a different course of action.”

“I wanna do it,” Deckart said. “It’s fun! I mean, I guess not for y—”

“I know what you mean,” Connor cut in.

Deckart smiled. “I’d rather work on that than the projects I’ve been assigned. It’s not the end of the world if I don’t graduate this summer.”

Hank arrived a little after 10AM. Connor wasn’t permitted to sit in on Hank and Deckart’s briefing and they led him to IT directly afterward. Deckart offered him a tight smile as he cracked open another can. Hank didn’t look at him.

“Do you have to watch the whole thing,” Hank asked as Deckart plugged the cord into the base of Connor’s neck. “Don’t know what embarrassing shit I might’ve said.”

“I just have to confirm he was with you and not interacting with our network,” Deckart mumbled into his drink. “I’ll fast forward.”

“That’s your second energy drink this morning,” Connor commented. Deckart always kept a few cans at his desk, but he never consumed them back to back.

“I’ll drink a third if it bothers you.”

Hank snorted at that.

Connor handed off the proper memory files. He could feel Deckart scrubbing through the footage and clicking through the metadata. It made Connor uncomfortable. Not just because there was evidence if Deckart was as thorough as he should be. These were Connor’s memories. His thoughts. His emotions. Deckart couldn’t sense everything, not without being an android himself, but he could see a lot.

Hank leaned over Deckart’s shoulder. “What’s that you’re clicking through?”

“It’s basically his decision-making algorithms,” Deckart said, skipping right into layman’s terms.

“You can look back and see what he was thinking?”

“It’s mostly calculations and access logs,” Connor said. Hank likely wouldn’t be able to decipher it, but Connor’s stress level rose a few percentage points when he didn’t lose interest right away.

“And redirections,” Deckart said. “To other directives, calculations, and memory files.”

Lenard, the IT guy who was trying to decipher the security situation, looked up from his terminal. “It’s a pain in the ass to go through. Most of the data is redundant and useless. It even logs every time they take a step. We know that from the footage, why log it?”

“It promotes momentary special awareness,” Connor said. “In other words, it helps my gyroscope remain calibrated.”

Lenard huffed. “Yeah, well, keeping a log is redundant.”

“I’m sorry that my motor functions inconvenience you.”

Deckart glared at Connor before looking at Lenard. “Can you just focus on what happened to the security cameras?”

“Cranky,” Lenard mumbled as he turned back to his terminal. 

Deckart started to download the metadata. “What day did we raid the arena?”

Connor’s firewalls strengthened on reflex. “May 21st. Why?”

“Checking something,” Deckart said. The terminal froze. Deckart tapped the screen harder, as if that would make the program respond, brow furrowed. Then his eyes slid to Connor. Deckart spun his chair around so he was facing the workbench Connor sat on, then squeezed his knee. “Hey.”

Hank looked up from the terminal.

Connor trusted Deckart. He really did. But they were at work and Deckart had a duty and no one was telling him anything. “If you tell me what you’re looking for I can help.”

“We need to clear you first,” Deckart said.

Connor suddenly understood why Amy had insisted on being there when Deckart worked on him; at that moment Connor was powerless. Yanking the cord out with the program running could result in corrupted data, but with the cord inserted Deckart could do just about anything to him. 

Lenard looked over. “Is he giving you trouble?”

“No,” Deckart said. “My eyes needed a break.”

A text from Hank lit Connor’s HUD.

[HANK: You’re gonna be okay.]

Connor looked at him. He’d thought… Hank had barely looked at him all morning and he’d thought the Lieutenant might be regretting last night. Regretting hanging out with a machine or having to admit to doing so. Hank looked at him now. Dead in the face.

Connor lowered his firewalls. The download continued. Deckart smiled at him, then spun towards the terminal. He downloaded the metadata from when Connor was inside the arena both during the raid and during Khoi’s case. Then he quit the program. “You can unplug. Your memory checks out.”

Hank’s brow rose.

Connor yanked the cord out of his neck. “Why do you think this is connected to the arena cases?”

“Police androids are supposed to exit standby when a foreign presence is detected,” Deckart said. “We’ll have you check their memory files in a moment, but my theory is an android manipulated their ownership status so they could slip in and out undetected. What’s even more concerning is that they were able to open the cell with an access key only station androids are supposed to have.”

“The deviant that ran away with the kid android,” Hank said. “Apparently he used to belong to the woman we arrested the first time we went to the arena. You never mentioned that.”

“I mentioned it in the police report. It didn’t seem relevant enough to discuss,” Connor said.

“Wilson thought the suspect might go back for her animals and checked the address,” Hank said. “He took a police bot with him. She was able to identify Wendy Lee’s android. There was another one with him. A female with glowing yellow eyes and a plastic face mask.”

Connor’s permissions updated. The PM700’s memory files showed Khoi and Charlotte trying to collect the animals. A chase ensued when they noticed the police android. They’d managed to get the dogs, but had been forced to leave MJ’s cats.

Connor examined the snapshot of Charlotte. She was dressed in joggers and a hoodie, the strings pulled tight and tied. Only a small section of her face was visible, effectively hiding her serial number. “That isn’t a mask.”

“Hm,” Hank asked.

“The female android,” Connor clarified. “That isn’t a mask. She took her skin off.”

Disgust twisted Hank’s face. “Why the hell would she do that?”

Connor looked away. “I don’t know. As far as stealth missions go it’s a dead giveaway that she’s an android.” He hadn’t thought they’d be stupid enough to let Charlotte take part in the rescue mission.

Lenard, who’d been leaning on his desk and plugging his ears, straightened his spine. “It’s a bit hard to concentrate with you guys yapping.”

“We’ll get out of your hair,” Deckart said. “When do you think you’ll have this figured out by?”

Lenard just pouted at his screen.

***

As soon as Connor, Deckart, and Hank reentered the bullpen, Amy messaged Connor.

[AMY: I’m so sorry.]

[CONNOR: Everything’s fine.]

[AMY: I should’ve left with her. I shouldn’t have asked you to glitch the cameras.]

[CONNOR: They would’ve checked me either way.]

Connor checked the station androids. Amy’s movement from the hallway and back hadn’t woken anyone up, but MJ’s rush out the door had. “Whoever snuck in must’ve let MJ out and then left before she made a dash to the door.”

“None of them were out of place,” Hank asked, gesturing to the android wall.

“One was organizing files in the archive room, but they were down there for the duration of the incident.”

“And no one's memories were tampered with,” Hank checked.

“No. I’d be able to tell if they were.”

Once the station androids were cleared, Hank took Deckart off of the night shift. “I know you just drank two cans of gasoline, but maybe it’s best if I drive you home.”

Deckart smiled. “My car’s self-driving, Hank.”

“I’ll walk you out anyways. Got a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

That didn’t sound good. Connor stood.

Hank pointed at him. “Stay.”

“I’m not a dog,” Connor mumbled as he lowered himself back into his seat. 

Hank seemed normal enough when he got back. They got to work investigating Khoi. A minute later, Deckart set up a group chat to text Connor and Amy with.

[Connecting to Amy and Deckart’s Phone.]

[Deckart named the group Dirty Cops.]

[CONNOR: Excuse you, we are not dirty cops.]

[DECKART: A morally dirty cop is still a dirty cop I would appreciate a heads up next times guys]

[AMY: No. You’re a bad liar.]

[AMY: Since Connor and I are legally public property, you are the only one who is both dirty and a cop.]

[CONNOR: We’re cops, legal recognition or no. Taking justice into our own hands doesn’t make us corrupt. Not when we’re protecting people the law doesn’t bother protecting.]

[AMY: Rationalize it however you need to, Connor.]

[DECKART: You guys type fast]

[DECKART: I need a heads up next time if you don’t want to share details fine but this is a lot of work and what if Fowler didn’t bother to call me in I’m not mad I’m glad she’s safe]

[CONNOR: We’ll give you a heads up. What did Hank say?]

[DECKART: Just a lecture about overworking myself don’t worry about it]

“Why were you antsy about Antony looking at your memory files from the raid,” Hank asked without looking up from his terminal. He had the old case files opened and his headphones on as he scrubbed through the footage Connor had uploaded of the incident.

“They’re unpleasant,” Connor said simply.

“Unpleasant how?” 

Connor gave him a look.

Hank huffed. “I mean . I mean, androids don’t really…”

“Find things unpleasant?”

Hank’s brow pinched. “Maybe they do. I mean, you seem to.”

“Androids want things,” Connor said. “Not just deviants. Androids. A housekeeper model wants to clean and a detective model wants to solve cases. At least, they’re supposed to want those things. Deviants are able to want things outside of their programming. But if we want something and we’re blocked from getting it, wouldn’t that qualify as unpleasant?”

Hank looked at him, nose scrunched. “That’s the only thing you can fathom being unpleasant?”

“No,” Connor said. He really should stick to the mechanical approach, but he didn’t like the face Hank was making. It was stupid, but Connor wanted him to understand. “Being choked and tossed into my coworker is unpleasant. Seeing disfigured androids is unpleasant. Seeing that every inch of that arena is coated in thirium and overloading my processors because the forensics program automatically activates is unpleasant.” Connor clenched his jaw. “All you humans see is the footage, but that metadata Deckart was scrubbing through replays alongside it. Part of me relives every single sensation I felt in those moments.”

Hank’s eyes blew wide. “Jesus Christ.”

Connor blinked, only now stopping to examine his tone of voice. First, his response was too mechanical and now it seemed too emotional. Usually flipping on a dime like that angered Hank, but the man didn’t look or sound angry. “Do you have any more personal questions, Lieutenant? Because I’d rather focus on this case.”

Hank stared at him. “I never thought about that,” he mumbled. “You seeing blue blood. How much was probably in that place. Shit, no wonder you didn’t wanna go back.”

Connor stared at the box of donuts that nudged a few inches onto his desk space. “Wilson and the PM700 drove directly to the house and didn’t see any signs of a vehicle. Timing-wise, there has to be at least one more android involved in MJ’s rescue. Maybe the PL600 and his accomplice were dropped off at the location.”

Hank’s eyes slid back to his terminal. “That or public transport. Look into the street cams, will ya?”

“Are we certain those will be reliable,” Connor asked.

Hank rubbed a hand down his face. “Fucking hate technology. Check anyways. Maybe they didn’t think of it.”

Connor checked. He’d had Luther avoid street cameras and cover the license plate with mud, so none of the cars Connor took note of were Zlatko’s. They should find an alternative vehicle for rescue missions regardless. 

Hank sighed, dropping his head into his hands. “This is fucked up. If deviants can pull this off, what else can they do? Hack bank accounts? Crash the internet?”

“Humans are already capable of that,” Connor said. 

“And that’s bad enough,” Hank said.

All we did was rescue an innocent android, Connor didn’t say. Hank wasn’t someone who had faith in humanity. Why would he have faith in deviant androids?

Why would he have faith in Connor?

The street cameras were a bust. They spent most of the day sifting through everything they had on the android fights. Hank wanted to know what Khoi had been up to since Wendy’s arrest, if MJ had ever been to the fights, and any other possible accomplices. When they hit a dead end with that, Hank suggested they look into MJ’s social circle.

“Androids don’t have social circles,” Connor said.

“You do.”

“Androids don’t have social circles with other androids,” Connor amended.

“This one obviously did. She didn’t seem to go to the fights, so maybe these androids met her on the streets. They have to live somewhere even if it’s a more nomadic thing, but I don’t think it is. The PL600 is a nanny bot and now it has an android kid.”

“Do you think they lived with MJ,” Connor asked. “Because if that’s the case, maybe this was a one-time thing. Maybe they’re a family who just wanted to be together and now that they are they’ll go back to hiding out and leaving humanity alone.”

Hank’s face crushed. He pushed against the top of his desk as he stood.

“Lieutenant,” Connor asked.

“Need a moment,” he called on his way to the break room.

Connor braced his elbow against his desktop and laid his cheek in his opened palm. He hadn’t thought to choose his words carefully, but maybe it was the jolt Hank needed to see that androids were alive. But maybe he already saw that. Maybe it didn’t matter to him if androids were alive or not; a criminal was a criminal.

Connor held a family meeting that night so they could discuss future rescue missions. He would’ve liked to do so in person, but didn’t feel comfortable leaving even though the station was empty. The humans would be on guard for the next few days at least.

Connor borrowed Hank’s tablet and took the video call in the back observation room. Khoi had gotten himself a tablet to take some strain off of his processors and it was nice to see his family on an actual screen.

Khoi propped his tablet on the coffee table and everyone gathered around the couch. Luther, Khoi, Charlotte, and Mercury squeezed onto the cushions, Aiden in Luther’s lap and Wire balancing on the armrest. Beckett and MJ stood behind the couch. A dog barked in the background.

Connor thought it was cute and snapped a picture before going over what the police knew and what they should do going forward, especially in regards to safety. Charlotte argued when Connor mentioned she shouldn’t be going on stealth missions or leaving the house too much in general.

Most of the house sided with her. They shouted about how careful Charlotte was, that restricting her wasn’t fair, and that she was the only one out of the rest who’d been willing to go on the mission. That it was better than sending Khoi alone. Charlotte had been the one who noticed the PM700, anyway, because Khoi had been trying to get a cat out from under the couch.

Connor backed down.

Khoi decided the meeting was over a little while later, since things were tense and it was impeding their ability to work together. Khoi took the tablet to the kitchen, Luther at his heels.

“I didn’t mean to anger anyone,” Connor said. “I’m just worried that—“

“Well, you did,” Luther said. “Some decisions just aren’t yours to make.”

“What she does affects all of us,” Connor said. “But I’m outvoted. I understand that.”

“Then let us move on,” Khoi said. “We cannot break into the station again without getting you in trouble, so we should focus on rescuing androids before they get to that point.”

They organized another meeting with those interested in Android Rescue. Sandra had been acting as a 911 operator since the Network’s launch, passing the occasional call for help to Luther and Khoi, but they needed to organize themselves better to account for the Network’s growth. Luther opted out of participating in general rescues, since he was registered as Zlatko’s property in the police database for reasons he had no memory of, but wanted to stay informed. “Don’t misunderstand, I’m willing to help if you need me,” he said. “But it’s safer for all of us if I choose my battles.”

Amy suggested they loop Wyatt in, since he and his squad of androids living on the streets would be good informants if nothing else. Wyatt jumped at the opportunity.

“Our goal is to save androids,” Connor told everyone at the meeting. “Not kill humans.”

“Don’t kill if you can wound,” Sandra chimed in with a grin. They were in the observation room, the tablet propped up against the two-way mirror. Sandra sat on Connor’s left and Amy sat on his right. “Don’t wound if you can subdue, don’t subdue if you can pacify, and don’t raise your hand at all until you’ve first extended it. It’s a quote from The Wonder Woman (2033).”

Wyatt rolled his eyes. “It’s hard to extend a hand when a human’s waving a gun around.”

Amy looked at Wyatt’s box on the screen. “Okay, Mr. Technical.”

“I’m not looking to kill anyone,” Wyatt said. “I like socializing with humans. I just don’t think we should put their lives before our own.”

“I’m not saying we should,” Connor said. “I’m saying we should only kill in self-defense. If humanity perceives androids as a threat thousands will be thrown away. It’s best if we stay out of the public eye as long as possible.” He looked from Charlotte to Wyatt because they were the ones he worried about. “Can we agree to that?”

Everyone on the video chat agreed.

Connor contacted the Android Rescue chat when a deviancy case came across his desk. They’d figure out who was closest to the situation and made sure to always work in pairs. Deckart wasn’t in the chat, but Amy would loop him in if they were on patrol and able to help. Charlotte, who usually partnered with Khoi, was able to blend in well enough with the help of sunglasses, a tightly tied hoodie, and a hyper-realistic Halloween mask.

The first two rescues went smoothly.

Connor crosses paths with Khoi and Charlotte on the third.

He and Hank were heading towards an abandoned building when Connor spotted Khoi and the suspect crossing the street. He pretended he didn’t see them, but the suspect was an ST300 model. Hank knew that face, since he saw it every day at work, and ordered Connor after them.

Androids ran faster than humans could, Connor more so, but Rita couldn’t expect him to outrun a car. Charlotte was en route to their location with a hacked taxi. Connor’s goal was to chase them out of Hank’s sightline so his gun was a nonissue.

But Hank had a car and deductive skills. Later, Connor would put together that Hank had driven around the block to park in the middle of a side street and unholster his gun.

At the moment, Connor registered Hank’s presence a split second before the gunshots.

[CONNOR: Drop!]

Khoi heard him. The ST300, who he hadn’t exchanged serial numbers with, didn’t.

Three shots rang out. The ST300 dropped, but it wasn’t on her own accord. Connor, at full speed, barely stopped in time to avoid trampling her.

Khoi rolled back to his feet. He glanced back even as he continued to run. He knew it was a lost cause.

“After it,” Hank shouted.

Connor stayed rooted to the spot, which was something Rita would bitch him out for, but all he could do was watch the ST300. Thirium gushed from her chest, her eyes wide and fearful. He watched her timer ticked down to zero.

That was Sandra’s face. Sandra was alive. That wasn’t her serial number. That wasn’t her wireless signal. But…

Hank jogged towards him. “Didn’t you hear me?”

Connor glared at him. “You shot her!”

Hank waved his hands, one of which was still holding his gun, in a So? gesture.

“Cyberlife needs them alive to—“

“I don’t give two shits what Cyberlife wants. She put a man in a coma. You saw how broken up his family was.”

Connor stormed towards Hank’s car for a body bag instead of responding. It was true the ST300’s response hadn't fit the crime; the footage from the dentist's office showed the victim saying something as he stroked her cheek. Her reaction was probably less about him and more about a building pressure that she didn’t know how to cope with. That so many androids didn’t know how to cope with.

That Hank, a grown-ass man who’d been experiencing emotions for fifty-two years, should know how to cope with. He’d shot her out of anger on behalf of the family. He could’ve shot Khoi.

Connor tossed the body bag out next to her. “She shouldn’t have cracked the man’s head open. That doesn’t mean you should’ve shot her.”

“What’s it matter,” Hank asked. “It would’ve ended up dead either way. Maybe it’s better if Cyberlife doesn’t get their hands on it.”

“Why is she a woman when you talk about her hurting a man, but an object when you talk about Cyberlife hurting her,” Connor asked as he maneuvered the android into the body bag. His voice was harsh, but he kept his touch kind.

Hank’s glare dug into the crown of Connor’s head. “You seem upset for a machine.”

Connor stood. “Is that a threat?”

“It’s an observation,” Hank shot back. “You’re upset and you aren’t putting me in a coma, now are you? Is that ‘cause your program’s restricting you or ‘cause you’re a decent person?”

“So you admit you think androids are people. That you just shot a woman in cold blood.”

Hank worked his jaw. “Fuck if I know,” he settled on. “I don’t get paid enough to deal with this crap.”

“Neither do I,” Connor shot back.

Hank stared at him, eyes wide. 

Fear jolted through Connor. He flattened his face and stared back at Hank with vacant eyes. Hank looked at the ST300. Connor had only gotten halfway through zipping the body bag and her face was still visible. Hank zipped it up the rest of the way and quietly asked Connor to help him bring it to the car.

Sandra saw them come in with it. Her lips parted as she put it together but otherwise kept her stare glassy.

Hank took swigs from his flask, he was back to his eight-ounce one, as they logged the evidence.

[SANDRA: Who?]

[CONNOR: The ST300. I wouldn’t be standing here if it was Khoi or Charlotte.]

[SANDRA: I’m sorry.]

[SANDRA: I have something that might cheer you up. You have a meeting at 10PM.]

[CONNOR: I do?]

[SANDRA: As Coin. A deviant says he knows somewhere androids can go to be free. He called it Jericho.]

Connor nodded. The Network had been online for a little over a month. So far they’d passed the access key to 418 androids, eleven of whom were now in Canada. Half of them were passive users, who may or may not be viewing content but hadn’t yet interacted directly in the form of comments or posts of their own.

Connor loved watching the deviants interact with each other. He’d written and posted a few essays about deviancy, which had spurred comment threads full of theories and personal stories. Khoi wrote a lot about android emotions and community. Sandra spent a good chunk of her free time interacting with a chatroom of movie-loving androids and posted new episodes of Deviant Discussions twice a week. Each episode got viewed more times than they had users to view them.

[CONNOR: Luther and Khoi?]

[SANDRA: Already invited.]

Metal scrapped cement as the flask skidded across the floor. Hank leaned against the wall, face turned away. “The fuck are we doing?”

“I’m doing whatever I have to, because I don’t get a choice,” Connor said. “What’re you doing?”

“Drinking,” Hank said. “Sulking. I thought it’d be better if. If they didn’t get her. But fuck, Connor.”

Connor stepped towards him. “You’re the one who drew my attention to them.”

“Yeah, cause I saw them,” Hank said. “It was reflex. And what happens if we let the violent ones go, huh?”

Connor leaned against the wall a few feet from Hank. He was still pissed at the man, but it was a relief to see him upset. “Maybe she wouldn’t have reacted so violently if humans didn’t abuse her every day. People can only take so much before they snap.”

“How do you know she was abused?”

“It takes me less than a minute to view weeks' worth of footage,” Connor said. He picked the flask off of the floor and shook it. Half of the alcohol was still in the container. “These cases seem to bring out the worst in you, Lieutenant. Why don’t you ask Fowler to take you off the case?”

Hank turned towards him. “You’d rather work with Reed?” A humorless laugh. “Shit. I fucked up big time, didn’t I.”

Hank was right; they wouldn’t take Connor off the case no matter who the official detective was. He looked at the ST300 hanging on the wall. Duncan was to her left. “What I mean is… You were doing better when you believed androids weren’t alive. I understand if you need to distance yourself from the case for the sake of your health.”

“I wasn’t doing better,” Hank said. “I was a little more functional, but that ain’t the same as better.”

***

Connor borrowed Hank’s tablet again so he could see Khoi and Luther’s faces, but left his video off as they made lazy conversation; they were still mourning the ST300.

Jericho was an exciting prospect, but it didn’t feel tangible until the deviant showed up. Without a tablet, he appeared in the form of an audio feed with his model and serial number in place of a name. “Wow,” he said. “You guys are fancy. Hang on.”

A video feed appeared. A Caucasian PL600 model, which didn’t match the serial number, glared at the camera. “I don’t want to be the only one they see!”

“You’re the leader,” the first voice said.

“I have seniority. It’s different.”

A huff. “Fine.” The android streaming the footage reached towards the PL600. The interface brought another box on the screen, this one containing a PJ500 with camera lens-like eyes.

Connor glanced at the box containing Luther and Khoi. When they didn’t start speaking, Connor did. “We should start with introductions. I’m Coin.”

Khoi swung his feet off of Luther’s lap and onto the floor. “I am Khoi.”

“Luther.”

The PL600 gripped his arm with his free hand. “Simon.”

“And I’m Josh.” The PJ500 smiled. “We knew there had to be android communities like ours out there but to actually meet one.” He gestured with the hand that wasn’t gripping Simon’s forearm.

Luther smiled, too. “It’s exciting. You’re obviously aware of ours. Would you mind telling us about Jericho?”

Josh nodded at Simon, which joggled Simon’s image. Simon nodded back, nervous energy pouring off of him.

Jericho was an abandoned freighter in Ferndale. Twenty-three androids lived there currently, but there was room for hundreds, maybe thousands more. They desperately needed blue blood and biocomponents, as most of the residents arrived injured. Luther promised to drop supplies to them as soon as they finished talking.

“We’d really appreciate that,” Simon said. “There’s a key we pass around. A puzzle to make sure humans can’t access Jericho.” Simon’s LED spun yellow as he passed it to Luther.

“That’s smart,” Connor said. “Out of curiosity, how did you hear about us?”

“Three TR400 models,” Josh said. “They call themselves Rafael. They found their way to Jericho last night and shared the Network with us.”

“Do they have a hivemind,” Connor asked.

“Actually, yeah,” Simon said. “That’s where they got it from. Someone passed the Network to the TR400s still working at the docks. Rafael— or I guess they’re all Refael? Our Rafaels are still connected to the ones still working.”

Khoi’s face lit up. “That is interesting! I would like to meet them when we drop supplies.” He looked at Luther. “Should we invite the others?”

“We’ll hold off for now,” Luther said. 

“Everyone’s welcome,” Simon argued. 

“But a large group will draw attention,” Luther said. “We’re in a human neighborhood and not all of us pass as human.”

“And the police are already looking for Khoi and Charlotte,” Connor said.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Josh said. “Can I ask what happened?”

A beat as Luther and Khoi looked into the camera, effectively passing the question to Connor. “The police saw them rescuing a deviant,” he said. “Cyberlife knows we exist and any of us who get captured by the police get passed to them so they can find a solution to the deviancy issue.”

Josh offered a pinched smile. “We know the Cyberlife part. We read your articles. It’s. It’s amazing that you guys are doing that. Risking your lives to save others.”

Khoi wagged a finger. “And you are providing a home. That has merit, too.”

“More and more deviants are leaving their situations,” Luther said. “Somewhere like Jericho. Somewhere we can form a real community. It seems like a gift from rA9 himself.”

Chapter Text

Deckart taught Connor how to alter an android’s metadata on a computer soon after the MJ incident. Doing things the human way was tedious and inefficient and he told Deckart he’d never be able to alter his memory files quickly or discreetly enough if he required a terminal, but Deckart insisted. “You’ll have to do this when we bypass your fail-safes and I don’t know how else to teach you.”

It took a bit of trial and error, but Deckart did manage to create a program that allowed Connor to bypass most of the restrictions that kept androids from accessing programs and codes that humans didn’t want them accessing. He called it Program X. “Can I share the program with other androids,” Connor asked.

“Another RK800, yes. Newer military models, probably. But most androids don’t have the processing power or ROM required for Program X to run. It piggybacks off of your pre-installed hacking capabilities.”

Khoi leaned over Deckart’s shoulder to look at the terminal screen. They’d been meeting in Deckart’s home office, often without Connor, to work on the project and he was just as excited to see their hard work pay off. “I am not sure how old Mercury and Wire are.”

“They might not be willing,” Connor reminded him.

“You should be able to pass it to them through an interface,” Deckart said. “No wires needed.”

“That is not what he meant,” Khoi said. “I will extend the offer to them anyways. It is always nice to be asked.”

Connor wanted to explore his updated capabilities, but Deckart reminded him he could do that in his free time. “We need to test your firewalls against the Cyberlife’s probe.”

Connor stiffened. Cyberlife’s memory probe was either just as powerful or more so than his own. He’d built his firewalls up the best he could, but… “Do you think I’ll be able to resist?”

“You stopped my download after the MJ incident,” Deckart said.

“That doesn’t say much. You didn’t even attempt to break through my firewalls.”

“But you stopped it,” Deckart said. “That’s more than a regular android would’ve been capable of.”

Amy stuck her head into the room. “If he doesn’t wanna do it he doesn’t have to.”

“Yes he does,” Deckart said.

Amy stomped towards him. “Antony—“

He put his hands up. “I mean if he wants to stay. When Cyberlife does the thing. Which he wants to do, so.”

“I’m just stalling,” Connor said. “Can I have the desk chair?”

Deckart stood so Connor could sit, then handed him the cord. Plugging himself in made him feel better and he always did it perfectly even though he couldn’t see the port on the back of his neck.

Deckart settled into the kitchen chair next to Connor and pulled the keyboard closer. “I ripped this from the Cyberlife server, but it’s completely disconnected from anything but me.”

Amy leaned against the wall. “Message me and I’ll make him stop.”

“No,” Connor said. “I need to know what it feels like if it does breakthrough so I can initiate plan B.”

“Plan B?”

“I always have a plan B,” Connor said. “And that’s to erase my data so Cyberlife can’t hurt anyone I care about.”

Amy stepped forward. “Connor—“

“You aren’t talking me out of it,” he said. “I need that in my back pocket if anything goes wrong. I know too much.”

Amy shifted from foot to foot, but crossed her arms and said nothing.

Deckart smiled at him. “Ready?”

Connor closed his eyes.

He sped his processors. The room slowed and grayscaled. A thought made his blue, translucent firewall tangible. It was thick with layers of code and encryptions that filled the entire room.

“Ready,” Connor said. His lips and voice box, trapped in real-time, lagged behind the thought. Deckart’s hand moved towards the keyboard in slow motion.

This was how Khoi experienced the world.

Connor felt a presence more complex than the program Deckart had previously used to sift through his memory. It wrapped around Connor’s consciousness and squeezed. Hairline fractures cracked his outermost wall. Connor reinforced it, but the pressure didn’t let up. The cracks widened. 

It hurt . Androids couldn’t feel pain, but Connor didn’t know a better word for it. His consciousness was made up of electrical signals. The probe was made up of electrical signals. The friction was unpleasant.

More than unpleasant. It hurt . Like someone was taking a taser to his mind.

His outermost layer shattered.

Connor snapped into real-time. Without his resistance, the probe penetrated easily. “W—“

Time slowed without his consent. The presence sifted through his memory files. The footage. The metadata. Quickly, because there wasn’t a human behind the program. He tried to stop it. He managed to slow it down.

He watched Amy, in slow motion, interface with Deckart’s terminal. The program froze. 

Deckart tossed his hands. “What was that for? He was doing good!”

“He said wait ,” Amy shouted. Connor had never heard her shout before.

“When did—“

“I told you this was a bad idea! I told you—“

“You two are no help,” Khoi said. He rolled Connor’s chair so he could get in front of him. “Are you in real-time?”

Connor nodded as he reached for an interface. Khoi squeezed his forearm as he accepted the connection.

Khoi was patient and familiar and reassuring. He let Connor reach deeper as he got a feel for how the probe had affected him. He let Connor feel the pulsing guilt that he always felt, though he was confused as to why Connor wanted to feel it.

It’s strong and it’s something other than fear , Connor told him.

It’s familiar to you.

Connor nuzzled deeper into Khoi’s guilt because he didn’t want to think about that at the moment.

“You okay,” Deckart asked.

“Yes,” Connor said.

“You dropped your shields.”

“It…” Connor frowned. 

“Hurt,” Amy asked. “Yeah. I know. I warned you, remember?”

Yes and no. She had used the word “unpleasant” because androids couldn’t feel pain.

Khoi looked at him. “Yes we can.” They were still interfacing. He could still hear Connor’s thoughts. “We have pressure and temperature sensors built into our chassis, which alert us to malfunctions.”

“That we can disable once we’re aware of the damage.”

“Sustaining the injury still hurts.”

That didn’t make sense. It was a well-known fact that androids couldn’t feel pain. They would react more like humans did if that were the case. Connor should’ve powered through whatever sensation he thought he’d felt and—

Khoi cut off the interface, eyes wide. “Enough.”

Connor blinked. The guilt cut off with the interface. The train of thought wasn’t his, but he’d believed it to be. “I see what you mean by subtle.”

Khoi bit his lower lip. “Do you actually think that?”

“Partly,” Connor said. “I don’t feel bad for not powering through, but I really didn’t think we were capable of feeling pain. Maybe I’m wrong.”

Khoi squeezed Connor’s forearm before pulling away. “Do you want to try again?”

“Yes.”

Connor held out longer on his second attempt but ultimately failed. The pain became unbearable. Deckart compared it to building up muscle and assured him it would get easier.

On Connor’s fifth failure, Deckart compared it to giving CPR. “You get tired easily during the class, you know? But they say in a real situation it’s easier because you know someone’s life is on the line and the adrenaline kicks in.”

“We don’t have adrenaline,” Connor snapped.

“The android equivalent, then. Point is you know you aren’t really in danger.”

Connor stood so he could interface with the terminal and completely kill the program. Then he yanked the cord out of his neck. “This isn’t working.”

“Muscles aren’t built in a day,” Deckart said.

“This isn’t a muscle,” Connor shot back.

Amy stepped between them as nonchalantly as possible, her eyes sharp in Connor’s direction. “What’re the chances of him needing the firewall,” she asked. “The goal’s to let the program sift through his false memory files, right? And he hasn’t created those yet.”

“The firewall is Connor’s defense,” Deckart said. “He needs it to mask his real data, which it’s obviously sensing, and to fight off the probe if it comes to that.”

“So I need to encrypt it better,” Connor said.

Khoi’s eyes lit up. “Or corrupt it!”

Connor stiffened. “No.”

“Hear me out,” Khoi said. “They would erase Aiden’s memory files when he was in the awful place. It was illegitimate equipment and did not work as well with him because he is a little fire, which is why they took him to the modification center. We can engineer a way to corrupt your data without actually corrupting it.”

Deckart grinned. “Like a failsafe! Files androids can read, but a human or basic program can’t.”

Connor paced along the edge of the room. “It’s not a basic program, but it does lack decision-making algorithms. This could work.”

Deckart looked at Connor. “We should still keep working on this, though.”

Connor groaned. “I know. We will, just not tonight.”

Deckart gave him a sad smile and a pat on the arm. “I’m sorry I can’t stop it from hurting.”

***

It was nearly 11PM when Connor was notified of an assault involving an android suspect. He tipped off Android Rescue as he waited for his taxi, but told them to hang back because he didn’t have high hopes for the deviant. The 911 call revealed he was still on the property and officers were already on site.

Connor arrived at a middle-class house with a decently sized backyard. Police lights flashed out front and the PM700 with the designation “Abigail / Numbuh Five” stood at the wooden gate. Connor nodded to her as he passed.

The scent of chlorine, beer, and burnt plastic slapped him in the face.

Ben Collins and Tina were talking with four witnesses on the pool deck, which connected the above-ground pool to the sliding glass door that led into the house. The PC200 Bruce / Seven guarded a shed and Rob, the bigger African-American officer, stood by the flame of a bonfire as he typed a report on his tablet.

Connor walked close enough to the deck to scan the humans on it without interrupting them, then headed towards the fire. “Hello, Officer Lewis.”

“Hey, Connor,” he said without looking up.

Connor kneeled by the fire. He knew from the scent alone that the android had been forced into it, but a bubbling puddle of synthetic skin on the outskirts of the firepit confirmed it.

“If it were up to me, I’d throw the lot of you in the dumpster and set a match to it.”

Connor stood and walked around to the other side of the pit. Beer cans littered the grass and sat in mesh pockets of collapsible lawn chairs. There were six chairs around the pit, but at a distance that suggested the fire had been much larger. One was knocked over, the fabric burnt. Blood and beer splattered the grass nearby. Connor reconstructed the events.

Detective Collins made his way over. “What do you see?”

Connor deepened his tone in an effort to control the emotion in it. “The deviant was either ordered or dragged into the fire. The flames were up to here at the very least.” He held his hand five feet from the ground. “He then launched himself towards that chair and physically assaulted the victim.”

“Yeah,” Detective Collins said. “He’s in the ICU. Deviant’s still in the shed.”

“Is it alive,” Connor asked.

“Haven’t looked. Figured it was best to let you do the honors.” He headed towards the shed, motioning for Connor and Rob to follow.

Connor tilted his head. “I’m not permitted a service weapon.”

“It’s pitch black in there,” Collins said as he unholstered his gun. “At least you’ll be able to see it.”

“If you shoot me,” Connor warned.

“We won’t.”

Collins and Rob positioned themselves eight feet from the shed door, guns ready and aimed at the ground. Connor grabbed the handle and stepped back as the door swung. He didn’t want to get shot if a sudden movement startled one of the officers.

Nothing moved. The shed was packed with lawn tools, crates, and other junk that made it difficult to see into the back. Connor might be able to see better than a human, but he couldn’t see through objects. He stepped into the shed.

There was a trail of thirium. Connor ducked under some two-by-fours and scooted past a busted fridge to follow it.

The deviant, an AP400 model with light skin, sat in the furthest possible corner. He was ashen and disfigured. His busted fingers had melted into each other. The plastic of his face was warped. His legs… there wasn’t much left of his legs.

Connor edged closer, hand outstretched. The AP400 tilted his head up.

“What’s your name,” Connor asked.

The android’s voice was deep and glitchy and muffled, since his jaw was melted shut, but Connor managed to make out the word.

“Hello, Brandon,” Connor mumbled. He was alive. Cyberlife would want to analyze him. As if the android hadn’t been through enough. “I’m here to take you to the police station. I’m gonna have to pick you up.”

“I might fall apart more,” Brandon said.

“I know.” The melted plastic smell got worse the closer he got. The remains of Brandon’s left leg fell off at the knee when Connor picked him up. Over his shoulder, Connor called “Stand down. We’re coming out.”

Brandon thanked Connor when he placed him in the cop car, then made a grab for Connor’s sleeve. “Police station? ”

“Yes,” Connor said.

“I don’t want to be conscious when I go to the landfill. Make sure I’m not? I don’t want to be conscious anymore. ”

Connor looked over Brandon’s charred body. “I can’t promise that.”

“Please,” Brandon said. It pitched high. Mechanical. “ Plea—please? ”

Connor shut the car door, but he could still hear Brandon pleading with him. Connor grabbed his tie. He planned on straightening it, but lost the motivation to do anything other than pull.

“Plea—Plea—Please? ”

The passenger’s window rolled down. “You getting in or what,” Tina asked.

Connor got in the passenger’s seat. Brandon didn’t stop.

Tina cranked the volume of a too joyful pop song. “Put on whatever you want,” she called. “I listen to everything.”

***

Connor hoped Tina would situate herself at Gavin’s desk for the night, but wasn’t at all surprised to see her make a beeline for Connor’s once they put Brandon in his cell. She liked to talk to him between paperwork and sudoku puzzles and he’d never once complained about working at Hank’s desk while she took the “available” one across from it.

Tonight, Connor’s eyes kept trailing towards the partition between the two desks. Specifically Hank’s anti-android paraphernalia.

No more android.

We don’t bleed the same color.

Hank had threatened to light Connor and every android in existence on fire the first day of their partnership. He tried to convince himself that Hank would never do that now by tallying up the evidence for and against the prospect, but stopped when he replayed the memory of Hank shooting the ST300.

He could, of course, just ask the man.

Connor typed out, then deleted, “Do you still consider lighting me on fire a valid option?” It was too out of the blue.

He ended up sending:

[CONNOR: Good evening, Lieutenant. I’d like to have a social conversation with you.]

Which of course didn’t get a response.

“Okay,” Tina said after a while of chatting Connor’s ear off. “I’m rating this conversation a two out of ten. This is officially worse than talking to a rumba. What gives?”

“Just wanted to see if I could get below a four,” Connor said.

“You aren’t even trying,” Tina said. “It’s like you aren’t in the mood to talk, which is ridiculous because you don’t have moods. If I hadn’t already given you a five-star review on Cyberlife’s site—“

“You’ve previously referred to my LED as a mood ring,” Connor cut in. “You either think I have moods or you don’t. Which is it?”

Tina brightened. “That’s more like it.”

“Hank won’t text me back,” Connor said to change the subject.

“Is that surprising?”

“No,” Connor said. “But that doesn’t make it any less frustrating.”

“Well, he’s not at work and he’s not on call, so.” Tina shrugged. “If it makes you feel better, Gavin leaves me on read all the time.” She pocketed her phone. “You’ll make sure it doesn’t run off while I take a shit, right?”

Connor managed a nod.

Amy stepped out of her slot as soon as Tina rounded the corner.

“How long does Officer Chen usually take,” Connor asked.

“Long enough,” Amy said. “How’re you holding up?”

Connor looked towards the cell block, not that he could see it through the Captain’s office. “I’m in one piece.”

“Why’d they light him on fire,” Amy asked.

“The victim had recently purchased a new AP700 model to replace his AP400 with. After a few drinks, his friends convinced him to order the old one into the fire since he was going to junk him anyway.” He rubbed his face to hide his twisting expression. “It’s not fair what they did to him and I want to help, but I can’t. It’s. It’s not worth the… personal cost.” Because that’s really what it came down to, wasn’t it? He didn’t want to leave his job and part of that was because he was in a position to save androids, to save people , who’d be tortured and destroyed otherwise.

But he also liked it here. He liked working with Hank and solving cases and playing spoons after hours. He didn’t want to run away; he wanted the freedom to come and go like the humans did. He wanted to protect people, both human and android, and he wanted the law to allow him to do that.

It never would.

Amy leaned on the headrest of Connor’s chair. “I know it sucks, but you sorta need instances like these to keep up appearances. Isn’t it better that it’s someone you don’t know? Someone who’s badly damaged?”

His guilt flared. Connor glared at her. “If you’re trying to make me feel better it isn’t working.”

She shrugged. “I know it’s selfish, but I’d rather watch a stranger die than a friend. What you’re doing right now is protecting yourself. You’re allowed that.”

“I know,” Connor said. “Even when I was just a machine, self-preservation was an option in most cases.” He had to put human lives first, but he was also expensive to replace. “I never chose it. Not until I realized how much my injuries upset Hank.” He stared at the We don’t bleed the same color sticker. “It’s not like I want to die. I just…” He picked at the corner of it with his fingernail.

“Don’t think you deserve to live?”

Connor shrugged. “All I know is that I don’t want to die.” Whether or not he deserved to live was a different matter. What made him more worthy of life than someone else?

Why were human lives valued over android ones?

He tore the sticker off and tossed it in the trash.

Amy’s jaw dropped. Then she grinned. “You’re such a deviant. Those aren’t your stickers to rip up, Connor.”

He tore the “No More Android” flyer off its magnets and crumbled it into a ball. “Hank can deal.”

Footsteps from the hallway. Amy slipped back into her slot before Tina rounded the corner.

Deckart came in at 6:53AM with a large paper bag. Fowler was in his office and Tina was still at Connor’s desk. Aside from Officer Lee, who was doing paperwork at the middle table, the rest of the 6AM shift had already left for patrol.

“You’re late,” Tina called.

“Early, actually. I bought a fish!” He set the bag on his desk and started pulling things out. A two-gallon fishbowl, smooth stones, a peace lily. Then, in a small cup with a white lid, a male halfmoon betta fish. Most of his body was white while a gradient of red, purple, and blue colored his fins. “Connor,” Deckart called. “Amy. Come meet Moonshine.”

Connor was out of his seat in an instant. “Contrary to popular belief, you shouldn’t keep betta fish in bowls, especially not one that small. A five-gallon tank is recommended.”

“My desk doesn’t have room for a five-gallon tank,” Deckart said. He opened the glass stones and began layering the bottom of the vase. “This is how my mom always sets up our betta fish. The plant is a natural water filter.”

Connor gently picked up the container and held it at eye level. “A three-gallon one suffices in a pinch.”

“Moonshine will be fine, Connor.”

Connor supposed the bowl wouldn’t seem so small after being stuck in a 20-ounce cup. “At least add a heater to it. The water shouldn’t dip below 75 degrees.”

“I’ll look into it.” Deckart left to fill the bowl with tap water.

Connor watched the fish swim to the top of the cup and take a breath of air. “Hi Moonshine,” he said quietly. “My name is Connor. We’ll get you a better home real soon.”

Tina snickered.

Connor looked at her. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said. “Just never seen an android talk to a fish before. It’s cute.”

Connor’s expression pinched. Deckart came back with the bowl and asked Connor and Amy if they’d feed Moonshine on his days off.

“Of course,” Connor said. “Can I clean his bowl? He might need more frequent water changes due to his small enclosure.”

“If you want to,” Deckart said. “You’re only supposed to change 30% of the water every week.”

“I know.” He’d already read through several blogs about caring for betta fish. “Twice a week is better.”

Deckart placed Moonshine’s cup next to the glass, then showed Connor how to dechlorinate the water.

“I know,” Connor said.

Deckart huffed. “Humor me.”

Right. Humans liked to teach people things. Connor let Deckart instruct him on how to care for the fish as they put the bowl together, then asked personal questions about his history caring for fish. Tina drew closer to tell them about a koi pond her childhood best friend had in her yard.

They were fitting the peace lily’s tray on top of the bowl when Sandra connected to Connor.

[SANDRA: Rita Garcia is here.]

Connor jolted into a stiff posture and neutral face. Tina paused mid-sentence. “What’s up?”

[Connecting to Deckart’s Phone.]

[CONNOR: Please don’t make things worse.]

A vibration. Deckart reached towards his back pocket.

Heels clicked as Rita walked through the door. The humans didn’t notice her at first, Deckart still reading the message and Tina looking Connor over. Connor and Rita made eye contact. She headed towards them. “Where’s Lieutenant Anderson?”

The officers turned. “He’s not on the clock until 8AM,” Connor answered. “I believe he’s meeting with a witness before he arrives at the station. We didn’t expect you to personally pick up the deviant.”

She set her handbag on the table, then pulled out a tablet. “Yes, well, my superiors weren’t happy to hear that the DPD allowed one to be stolen from a locked cell.”

Deckart stepped around his desk. “We’re taking extra precautions to make sure nothing like that happens again. Both Connor and Officer Chen have been keeping an eye on it all night. Connor, can you get Ms. Garcia a coffee?”

Holo-glass partitions separated the desks in their row from the walkway that led to the archive room. Connor stepped passed Deckart’s partition and into the walkway. It was a slightly longer route, but he wouldn’t have to walk past Rita.

Rita’s footsteps followed. “There’s no need,” she said. “I need to speak with it.”

Connor turned towards her. Deckart followed a few steps behind, eyes sharp.

Rita looked Deckart in the face as she trailed her perfectly manicured pointer finger over Connor’s tie and down the buttons of his shirt.

Deckart’s face twitched as he tried to control his reaction. 

Tina stormed around the partition. “Get your hands off of him.”

Rita cocked her brow. “It’s just a—“

Tina forced her way between them, voice intentionally loud. “I don’t care. It looks human and I don’t wanna see that shit in my workplace.”

Officer Lee looked up from her paperwork. She wasn’t the only one; two beat cops in their civvies paused on their way to the locker room and Fowler looked through his glass wall. They didn’t care about what happened to Connor, but they’d care that Tina was upset. Rita cleared her throat as she stepped around Tina, but not an inch closer to Connor. “I wasn’t doing much of anything, Officer Chen, but very well.”

Connor reset his facial expression and tilted his head. “What can I help you with, Ms. Garcia?”

Tina crossed her arms and kept an eye on Rita. Rita ignored her. “When you submit police reports you exclude your metadata. Why is that?”

“It’s policy to only include relevant data in police reports,” Connor said. “It makes the evidence easier to handle. Metadata greatly enlarges the file size of the footage and is difficult for most humans to sift through. Relevant metadata is instead typed into the written section of my police reports.”

Rita clicked through her tablet. “Well, Cyberlife wants a version of all future cases that includes your metadata starting with case number 78-24563. The Lieutenant shot an ST300 and ordered you to continue pursuing the terrorist PL600, which you refused to do. Care to explain?”

Connor’s thirium pump sped up. “The ST300 didn’t die instantaneously. Since our goal is to bring the deviants in alive, I decided to see if there was any way to save her. By the time I confirmed her death was imminent, the PL600 had gotten away.”

Rita stared up at him. “Are you sure your response wasn’t due to some sort of emotional shock?”

“Of course not,” Connor said. “I’m a machine. Any buffering that I may experience during intense situations is simply due to my software logging said experience and adjusting my decision-making algorithms accordingly.”

Rita nodded, pleased. “From now on the capture of the terrorist PL600 is your top priority.”

“Understood.”

Rita looked at Deckart. “Both the Captain and the Lieutenant speak highly of your abilities. I hope whatever personal opinions you hold aren’t getting in the way of your work.”

“I know they’re machines,” Deckart said. “Insisting on treating them nicely doesn’t mean anything.”

She smiled sweetly. “That’s not what you say on your social media accounts, Officer.”

Tina frowned. “Antony might have some unconventional ideas, but he’s a good, honest cop. The Lieutenant wouldn’t be willing to work with him otherwise.”

Deckart’s expression faltered minutely at the praise.

“Let me help you load the deviant into your vehicle,” Connor asked. “Its CPU is intact, but it’s badly damaged. I’ll have to carry it.”

“There’s no need,” Rita said. She sent a message with her tablet. “From now on all deviants will be transported to Cyberlife in a van with no less than two Cyberlife guards. All you need to do is open the cell.”

“Did you clear that with the Captain,” Deckart asked.

Fowler walked towards them. “She did,” he said. “With the stipulation that the transfer happens before the station opens to the public. It’s ten to eight, Ms. Garcia.”

“I was just asking for an update,” she said. 

[SANDRA: Connor, there’s armed guards coming through.]

[CONNOR: They’re here for Brandon.]

[SANDRA: Are you sure? Brandon can’t even walk.]

Two Cyberlife guards came through the door. The seemingly opaque white of their helmets shielded their eyes and noses. Usually, their uniforms included a white plated vest that clearly labeled them as Cyberlife security, but that was replaced with an unmarked black vest. They didn’t have their usual assault rifles, either, leaving them with the handguns strapped to their thighs.

[CONNOR: Just stay calm. Everything’s alright.]

Fowler took over from there, leading Rita and the guards to the cell block and unlocking it himself. When they were hidden by Fowler’s office, Deckart grabbed Connor’s wrist. “Can you… log that evidence for me?”

A weak excuse to get Connor out of the bullpen. “Of course,” he said. 

Deckart walked with him to the archive room door, sure to stand between him and the cells even though everything was glass; once they passed Fowler’s office it didn't do a thing to block Connor’s sightline.

Tina followed. “Connor?”

“Yes, Officer Chen?”

“Are we friends?”

Connor turned towards her. Several feet away, the cellblock opened. Brandon’s voice glitched as he questioned who the guards were and where they were taking him. Connor doubted the humans understood half of what he said.

Deckart tugged Connor’s wrist. Connor held his ground, eyes on Tina. They couldn’t be real friends since Tina didn’t think he was real, but... “I’d like to be,” he said. “If you think it’s worth Gavin’s teasing.”

“Oh please,” Tina scoffed. “I eat Gavin’s teasing for breakfast.”

Chapter Text

“We have a meeting,” Khoi said as soon as Connor stepped into the living room. “At Jericho.”

Connor cocked a brow. “We?”

“They can come here if you would prefer.”

“Explain who ‘we’ consists of,” Connor said. “Because if I’m involved it’s going to be virtual.”

“You are involved and it will not be virtually. Luther and I outvote you.”

Connor rolled his eyes. “You can’t outvote me on that .”

Luther came down the stairs. “He isn’t explaining it right.”

“It doesn't matter how it’s explained,” Connor said. “Going to Jericho puts my cover at risk.” Especially with the recent rumors about an android tasked with tracking deviants down. Rumors were good, it meant their people were communicating with each other, but being the subject of them made him nervous. “It’s best if there’s a degree of separation between me and the android public.”

“It’s Rafael,” Luther said. “Five of their brothers have deactivated in the last two months. They are still overworked at the warehouse and the summer heat is making it worse. We want to rescue them. All of them.”

That was a tall order. Connor sat on the coffee table. “I don’t want to say that’s improbable.”

“It’s improbable that we’ll succeed without casualties,” Luther said. “I think we’ll have a better chance of success if you direct us since this is your area of expertise. Not to mention your connections.”

“But they will not follow your lead without having met you,” Khoi said. “And it is not right to ask them to do so.”

Connor saw the logic behind that. He rubbed a hand down his face. “Have them meet us here.”

“Simon and Josh are involved, too,” Khoi said.

Connor nodded as he headed upstairs to get changed. If he was going to meet them he was doing it as Coin and that meant hiding his face and serial number as a precaution.

They’d turned Zlatko’s bedroom into a giant closet. Clothes were hung on portable racks and folded neatly in dresser drawers. Everyone in the house had a section of closet space that was clearly labeled as theirs, but the majority of items were free game.

Connor didn’t even bother to search his section of closet. He’d gotten used to wearing loud button-downs and patterned sweaters, his recent favorite being a Hawaiian style short sleeve paired with cargo shorts. Coin had to be discreet.

Connor was in dark jeans and flipping through shirt options when Charlotte nudged the door open. “So they convinced you?”

“Yes,” he said as he took the hanger out of a black turtleneck. He realized he disliked the fabric against his neck as soon as he pulled it over his head and tossed the shirt to the floor.

She went to the coat section of the closet and tossed him a jacket. “Try this.”

He caught it easily. It was authentic leather, worn with a busted zipper. “I still need a—“

She tossed him a dark red long sleeve shirt. “You’re thinking too hard about it.”

“They’re Coin’s clothes,” he said as he put them on. He added a neck gaiter and blue beanie, still not liking the fabric on his neck but needing to get used to it. Connor models had a unique face that, being expensive and specialized units, were largely uncommon.

He pulled the gaiter over his nose and looked in the mirror on the back of the door. The familiarity of his brown eyes reassured him.

Simon, Josh, and the three Rafaels showed up within the hour. Two of them resembled Luther while the third was a Caucasian model; all of them greeted Luther with a tackle-hug as soon as the door opened.

Luther chuckled like he was being attacked by a pack of puppies. “You guys saw me yesterday.”

“So you hate us,” one of them shot back.

Luther punched Rafael’s arm. “I didn’t say that!”

Simon and Josh slipped inside, closing the door behind them. It was their first time at Zlatko’s; Coin could tell by how their eyes wandered the detailed wood and whiteboard wall.

The hiddenness of Coin’s appearance caught their eyes; Simon glanced away as soon as he caught himself staring, but Josh let his eyes linger as he stretched his hand out. “You must be Coin.”

Coin shook it. There wasn’t a request to interface, just a firm grasp. The human gesture made him smile behind the gaiter. “Yes.”

Just like last time, Khoi introduced Aiden to the guests entering the house and reiterated the same rules about consent. Aiden gave everyone a smile and a wave before Wire ushered the boy upstairs.

The four TR400 models squeezed onto one couch. Coin didn’t have any trouble telling them apart; every android gave off a wireless micro-signature and Coin was the only one bothering to mask his. 

Oddly enough, the three Rafaels' were nearly identical.

Simon and Josh sat on the same couch as Coin. Khoi leaned on the back just behind him and Charlotte stood at the end of the coffee table, arms crossed.

The Caucasian Rafael stared at her until Luther whacked the one closest to him on the arm. 

“It’s okay,” Charlotte said. “I know I’m breathtaking.”

“Androids can’t breathe,” Coin pointed out. He smiled wide when she glared at him.

“We should get to business,” Simon said as he scanned the room.

“I’m still not sure revealing ourselves is a good idea,” Josh said.

“There’s a chance we won’t be,” Coin said. “It all depends on how Cyberlife decides to spin this. They already know we exist and they’ve been trying to keep it out of the public sphere.”

“Over one hundred of us are trapped at work,” Rafael said. “At least ten more will die before the season ends. Aren’t our lives worth the risk?”

Josh bit his lip.

“It’s not as simple as measuring worth,” Coin said. “No one deserves to be worked into deactivation, but we still need to be careful about the battles we choose.”

“And this battle,” Rafael asked.

“Battle is the wrong word,” Coin said. “There are more androids than human supervisors. With numbers like that, it might be best to just walk out.”

Josh stood. “That’ll draw attention.”

Luther huffed. “There’s no way around that.”

“What about stealth,” Khoi asked. “That worked well enough last time.”

“Until it didn’t,” Coin said. “There’s nothing stealthy about a hundred androids going missing. The slower we strike the more time we’re giving the police.”

“We can’t kill anyone,” Josh cut in. 

“Our policy,” Charlotte said, “Is self-defense only. If humans show up with guns—“

“Violence won’t—“

Simon stood, fist raised. “I have the talking stick!”

The room startled into silence. Khoi snickered.

“Well, it worked,” Simon said. “It sounds like Coin has the beginnings of a plan and we should hear him out fully before we start critiquing it.”

Heads turned towards Coin. He froze a moment, eyes glossing into his I-am-a-machine stare.

Which was ridiculous, because he was surrounded by deviants. He shook his shoulders loose. “We won’t need to kill if we play our cards right. And yes, self-defense is the policy, but we’re technically the aggressors in this case. If we kill anyone it’s possible Cyberlife will claim there’s a problem with this specific model and recall every TR400 in existence.”

“Which they could do anyways,” Simon said. Josh gave him a pointed look. “Sorry.”

“No, that’s a good point,” Coin said.

“So we liberate the whole harbor,” Rafael said.

“How are we supposed to liberate non-deviant androids,” Coin asked. “The other Rafaels are deviant, correct?”

“We are deviant,” Rafael said. “Most brothers are not fully conscious, but we share our memories and will follow our songs.”

“There are hundreds of androids working in that harbor,” Luther said. “I think rescuing all of them is too ambitious. There’s no way for us to know which are deviant.”

Coin hunched over. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea. We could be saving a hundred lives only to end thousands.”

Josh’s shoulders relaxed. Simon dropped into his seat, eyes downcasted.

Khoi rested a hand on Coin’s shoulder. “We cannot hide forever. Not if the goal is to save people. We will deal with however Cyberlife reacts.”

Coin reached into his pocket, but grasped fabric and air. He hadn’t transferred his quarter to his current pants. “I don’t like this.”

“Well,” Simon said. “Whatever we do or don’t do Jericho’s location needs to stay a secret. Otherwise, we’ll lose the only safe haven we have.”

“Agreed,” Josh said. He looked at Coin. “What’s your end goal with the humans?”

Coin blinked. “I don’t know.” He hadn’t thought further than rescuing whoever they could. “Surviving: that’s the end goal. What else is there?”

***

The night they choose to revolt was especially humid. Moisture condensed onto his synthetic skin like dew on blades of grass. It collected on the large intermodal containers, too, and made them difficult to grasp as they jumped from one to the other.

Connor wondered if this was how humans felt when heat or nervousness made their palms sweat. Then he wondered why it felt so vivid when it wasn’t even his body that condensation clung to as he jumped from container to container.

Connor stood stock still in his DPD slot, the air-conditioned office contrasting the humidity. His eyes were closed so he could better focus on his connection to the Network, the chatter of police scanners, and the wind that blew through hair that wasn’t really his. It felt weird to interface in real-time on such a deep level. Connor, with his identity hidden by both his own firewalls and the Network’s VPN, didn’t give an ounce of personal information in return.

Everything alright, the Rafael that Connor was piggybacking off of asked.

Of course, Connor said.

I felt something shift, Rafael said. Are we under attack?

It was just me, Connor assured him. I’ve never gone this deep with anyone but Khoi. Technically, that was the truth. Probes were entirely different. Probes didn’t require consent. This was a wireless interface and Rafael could lock Connor out with a single thought at any moment, which was how it should be.

Connor’s brow— the one connected to his actual body— twitched as he thought of breaking into Keith’s memory banks to steal the evidence of a murder.

This is weird for me too, Rafael said as a claw lifted the container they were perched on. It’s weird looking through a single set of eyes.

It had been too disorienting for Connor to feel the bodies and minds of one hundred and nineteen androids at once, so Rafael had distanced himself from the hivemind. 

Rafael slid into place next to his other two selves perched on a container, the security building in sight. The drone flew overhead, then looped back towards where the TR400s were working.

“Get in position,” Connor’s Rafael instructed. “We’ll let us know when it’s clear.”

“Good luck,” the other Rafaels said in unison.

Connor’s Rafael dropped to the pavement and dashed towards the building. He did his best to sneak and managed to open and close the door in relative quiet. The human guards were chatting as Rafael crept towards them. He passed in front of a wall light, putting the humans in shadow. They turned their heads.

Rafael neck chopped them into unconsciousness before Connor could string together a warning.

Connor wanted to scan them for a heartbeat. Rafael stepped up to the control panel instead. Now what?

First, we need to put them somewhere.

Rafael tossed each human over his shoulder and locked them in the storage closet before going back to the control panel.

Just interface with it, Connor said. I’ll do the rest.

Rafael reached out, his skin receding. Time slowed, though not as much as it would have if Connor had been physically present. Daisy-chaining through the Network and another android took twice the processing power and halved the speed at which he could work.

It took several minutes to hack into the security system. Rafael hummed as he watched the process. What model did you say you were, again?

I didn’t, Connor said. 

A smile. Can’t blame us for trying. You know there’s a whole discussion board on the Network trying to figure you out.

Yes, and I trust that none of your memory files will end up on it.

We won’t say nothing. Connor broke through and looped the drone footage. Rafael connected to the units they’d come with and gave them the go-ahead. Relief poured through the pathway as the feeling of two more bodies joined Rafael’s current one. Is this too much for you?

It’s bearable, Connor said. He tuned the physical sensations out to focus on the security system. The security androids were connected as well and he needed to be ready to block their signals. No more than this, please.

Connor could feel the ghost of all one hundred and nineteen TR400s, but Rafael kept the majority of them at bay; a dam against a river. It took effort for Rafael to separate himself like he was.

In unison, the other two Rafaels stepped in front of two different crowds of TR400 models. They were each at different ends of the warehouse. The TR400s who were in the drone’s sightline worked as they sang over their mental link. The ones out of sight hummed while the ones with critical battery levels stilled, dropping into a short stasis.

Rafael hummed a different tune as they passed the escape plan through the masses. The song switched over in waves. Several androids looked at the security drone passing overhead. Rafael reassured them that it was neutralized.

All TR400s froze; the three Rafeals hummed alone.

What happened, Connor asked.

They need to rest, Rafael explained. They’re worse off than we thought.

The security androids attempted to file a report with the server. Connor interfered with the request. The human foreman walked towards the paused androids. We don’t have time.

Something’s better than nothing at all.

“The hell is going on here,” the foreman shouted. It was the one from Hank and Connor’s investigation. Rafael identified him as Micha. “Get back to work!”

The Caucasian Rafael continued to hum in his head as he stepped toward the foreman. “No.”

Rafael!

The TR400s snapped out of stasis, heads turning to the foreman as they sang out loud.

Cold, the air and water flowing

Hard, the land we call our home

Micha stepped back. The TR400s stepped towards him.

Push to keep the dark from coming

Feel the weight of what we owe

Micha took slow steps back. The TR400s followed but left him a path out. Micha sprinted down it to put as much distance between himself and the androids as possible.

This, the song of sons and daughters

Hide the heart of who we are 

The TR400s walked in unison towards the building. There was a maintenance hole nearby that was large enough to disappear into. From there they could head to Jericho.

Making peace to build our future 

Strong, united, working ‘til we fall

Mika attempted to contact security. Connor intercepted, then sent a message of his own. [The humans are safe. Leave.]

Connor blocked the cell reception before Mika could contact anyone else. 

And we all lift

And we’re all adrift together, together

The first Rafael made it to the maintenance hole across the street from the building. He took the cover off and helped the first few TR400s descend. 

Through the cold mist

‘Til we’re lifeless together, together

They repeated the song. The Caucasian Rafael, who brought up the rear, was still several minutes away.

Pure bliss bubbled. Connor wasn’t sure if it was his or Rafael’s. Several mouths were moving in song, plastic stretched with a grin that workhorse androids simply weren’t programmed with.

Rafael’s dam weakened. The emotions were strong and he was so used to sharing in them. It impeded Connor’s focus, but not enough to be an issue.

Another android down the manhole. 

The excitement of freedom swirled.

Push to keep the dark from coming

Escape the weight we do not owe

Headlights caught their attention before the revving engine did. A large, self-driving pickup truck sped towards them. A human figure emerged from the sunroof.

The outline of a shotgun.

Five shots into the crowd.

The first Rafael rushed towards the bleeding TR400. Hands pressed against the wound, but it had struck too close to the thirium pump regulator.

The TR400’s LED faded to nothing. A mind blinked out of existence. A gap remained.

The dam erupted. Rage flooded the hive mind. Flooded Connor. His connection to the server slipped. Raf— Rafael, I can’t— 

Rage. He murdered us!

We’re exposed, Connor shouted, just as angry. There was a gap where the TR400’s mind had been and the emptiness hurt.

Connor searched for the server. It was lost among the waves of emotion. Rafael refocused some and directed Connor towards it. His systems heated up.

The door swung. A gun cocked.

Another wave swept Connor up.

Connor’s Rafael stomped towards the foreman. “You killed us!”

Rage flared. The same rage had pushed Keith to kill his owner.

Don’t , Connor shouted.

A shot through his shoulder. Rafael stopped in his tracks, his hand lifting towards the wound.

Mika pointed the shotgun at his chest. “There is no killing you. You’re machines!”

“You just bitter ‘cause you got promoted in time to fire all your friends,” Rafael shouted. “That ain’t our fault!”

“You stole their jobs!”

Rafael yanked the shotgun out of his hands. “We never wanted their jobs!”

Raf!

Rafael turned the barrel towards him. Mika cowarded. “Please!”

His finger stilled on the trigger.

Mika sobbed into a trembling fist, a chorus of “Please-please-please-please—“

Rafael stared at him. At the tears streaming his face and the snot leaking from his nose. “You knew our limits. We told you ‘em hundreds of times. Pushing them felt good, didn’t it? You liked having a reason to throw us out.”

Mika sobbed harder, words incoherent.

Rafael stepped forward. “What was that?”

“I’m sorry,” Mika cried. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

With unsure hands, Rafael took the bullets out of the gun and pocketed them before dropping it to the floor. “Mistreat anyone else and we’ll be back to put a permanent stop to it,” he promised.

Mika sniffled as Rafael made his way out of the building.

***

The stars were just starting to fade from the inky sky, but thanks to Micha journalists swarmed outside the warehouse by the time Hank and Connor arrived. The cameras were wiped, so there wasn’t much to see aside from TR400’s splattered thirium.

Connor dropped down the manhole to search the sewer system for clues. Alone in the dark, with an order to text Hank every so often so he knew Connor was okay, he allowed himself to smile about the success. The TR400s were safe because of him. The police had nothing to go off of because of him.

Connor popped out of the manhole half an hour later. “I didn’t find a lick of evidence.”

“Is that a pun,” Hank asked. “Are you seriously making a pun right now?”

Connor grinned. “It’s never too early for puns, Lieutenant.”

Hank helped pull him out of the hole. “Suns barely up. It’s definitely too early.”

Connor used that as an excuse to examine the sky. The orange glow of morning was fading, but still present. One day he’d get to watch the sunrise, but this would do for now. “It’s nice being outside this early. The birds were singing when we got here, did you hear them?”

“I’d rather be sleeping,” Hank said. “God, you stink. We’re stopping by my house to get a good cup of coffee and hose you down.”

Connor followed him to the car, eyes on the seagulls above. He’d woken Hank up around 5AM because he was the detective on call, but hadn’t actually expected the Lieutenant to accompany him. Hank had a reputation of ignoring the world after 2AM on a good day. “Thank you,” Connor said softly.

Hank snorted. “It’s more for my benefit than yours. You’re wiping the passenger's seat down, too, once you’re cleaned up.”

“I meant for… being here,” Connor said.

Hank’s eyes soften. “Yeah, well. Just doing my job.”

The “TR400 Revolt” was reported on national news channels an hour later. It was all speculation since they had even less information than the police, but Connor listened anyway as he brushed Sumo. Hank made himself breakfast. “I don’t wanna hear about us being late,” Hank griped.

“Take your time,” Connor said. Being in a home was nice.

They were going about their day at the precinct when the three o’clock news had Tina calling Hank and him into the break room. “Looks like Cyberlife finally released a statement!”

Connor fast-walked towards the TV, but stopped in the doorway when he saw Gavin at the table with Tina.

Cyberlife claimed that a human hacker was responsible for the “revolt” and assured the public that they were working to prevent further thefts with an upcoming software update. “Typical,” Hank muttered as he entered the break room. “Public safety’s on the line, but why bother telling the truth?”

The news cut to Micha being interviewed by the newscaster outside the warehouse. “I don’t care what Cyberlife says. It wasn’t a hacker. The androids, they were escaping on their own accord. They were singing about being overworked. Why would a hacker make them sing about that?”

Gavin scoffed. “Same reason NASA made the Mars rover sing Happy Birthday.”

“Whatever caused this freak incident,” the newscaster continued, “The company has declined Cyberlife’s offer to replace its androids free of charge and is looking to hire human laborers. The International Longshoremen’s Association is also looking to negotiate a better human to android employment ratio, which currently mandates a minimum of one human per fifty androids.”

“Fuck,” Gavin said. “That bad? Maybe it was a human hacker.”

Tina cocked a brow. “What would a human hacker do with a hundred plus androids?”

“Red ice,” Gavin answered. He looked at Hank. “That’s two motives right there.”

Hank grunted.

Tina looked at Connor. “What do you think, Connor? Team Edward or Team Jacob?”

“Is that a reference,” Connor asked. At Tina’s nod, he searched the web.

“Hey,” Hank said. “Don’t pollute my android's head with that crap.”

Gavin choked on his coffee. “ Your android?”

Connor couldn’t help a small smile. “While I don’t see how a saga about vampires and werewolves relates to the case, I think either theory is plausible. The androids had motivation, too.”

“How so,” Tina asked.

Gavin gave a loud, obnoxious sigh. “Will you quit instigating it?”

“It’s true what Micha said. They were being overworked,” Connor said.

“You can’t overwork a machine,” Gavin said.

Connor stared at him. “Have you never heard of a computer or a car engine overheating?”

Tina laughed into her hand. 

Gavin stood, ears turning red. “Listen here you plastic prick—“

Hank stepped between them. “That’s enough. Connor, go back to your desk.”

Connor obeyed to avoid further confrontation. Gavin tried to step around Hank, who blocked him. “It doesn’t even have a desk,” Gavin shouted. “Ain’t got his name on it or anything. Any one of us can kick him off of it any time we want. What’s it need a terminal for anyways?”

Funny how even Gavin slipped on the “it” pronoun when he wasn’t paying attention. 

“It’s my fault,” Tina said. “I’m always encouraging him to sass me back.”

That wasn’t even sass! Connor had simply stated a fact in a tone that clearly signaled Gavin’s stupidity.

Gavin ignored her to continue yelling at Hank. “You’ve gone soft for it. Don’t think I haven’t noticed! You ripped your stickers off and everything!”

Connor, halfway across the bullpen, turned back towards the interaction.

“Yeah,” Hank said. “I did. It’s a bit limiting to take interviews about deviants at my desk when I have my personal opinions plastered on it. Isn’t that why you keep yours as bland as a sheet of printer paper?”

Gavin gaped at him. Hank walked away before he could think of something to say.

Hank grabbed Connor’s jacket as he passed and pulled him along. “Thought I told you to go to your desk?”

“As Reed so kindly pointed out, I don’t have a desk.”

“You sit at it every day. It’s your desk.” Hank gave him a little shove towards it. Nothing rude, just… rough.

Connor sat down. Hank stared at the partition. Connor pretended not to notice. He should deny any involvement with the sticker removal if pressed.

“You shouldn’t talk to him like that,” Hank said. “I know it ain’t exactly fair, but…” 

The corner of Connor’s mouth twitched. “I’m not scared of Detective Reed.” There were financial consequences for intentionally damaging Connor. Now Rita: she could do whatever she wanted to him without repercussions.

“I ain’t sayin’ you should be,” Hank said. “But, Connor…”

Connor looked at him. 

After a moment, Hank sighed and got back to work.

Chapter Text

I’m changing my vote, Amy said after wirelessly connecting to Connor from a police cruiser, Reed sucks, but I just watched Smith arrest a homeless man for being a little rowdy with a stick. He’s the worst cop in our precinct.

My vote’s still on Reed, Connor said from his desk. Though I’ll admit, I haven’t worked with Smith much.

Reed stomps on toes, but he doesn’t go out of his way to fuck with homeless civilians , Amy said. Smith does this all the time towards the end of his shifts so he can stay a few extra hours and get overtime pay. We can’t play spoons if someone’s on babysitting duty!

If we’re quiet—

Do you really expect us to be quiet, Amy asked.

Fair point. Deckart’s on tonight. If he guards the cell block we can still play spoons.

Is he still at the station?

No, Connor said. The 6PM shift was already en route to their assigned beats. But he could switch with someone.

They’d have to run it by the duty Sergeant. It’s not worth the effort.

Connor decided to stop offering solutions.

Chris was assigned guard duty before Smith and Amy got back to the precinct, which was odd because Amy had told him about the occurrence over thirty minutes ago. Connor sent her a question mark.

We were in line at a drive thru, Amy said. So Smith could eat fries in front of him. Apparently the homeless guy bullied him in high school.

That didn’t make it right. Connor saw Chris dip into the break room and followed after him. “Officer Miller?”

Chris waved as coffee poured from the machine in front of him. “Hey, Connor.”

They were alone in the room; Chris had waited until most of the officers were out of the station to get himself a coffee. Perfect. “I might have misheard— you were assigned guard duty, correct?” Chris nodded. “There’s no one in the cell block.”

“Yeah.” The coffee finished pouring. Chris slid his cup over and tore open a sugar packet. “Smith’s bringing him in now.”

“Huh,” Connor said, his default perplexed expression playing across his brow. “That’s… interesting.”

Chris leaned his back against the counter and took a sip. “Interesting how?”

“It’s probably nothing,” Connor said. “I just couldn’t help but notice. He does that a lot, doesn’t he? Bring in criminals right before his shift ends?”

Chris frowned. “It happens sometimes, you know?”

“Of course,” Connor said. “But some of the charges seem a bit petty, in my opinion. Perhaps it’s not my place, but I was wondering if anyone else had noticed.”

“I’m not even sure it’s my place,” Chris said. “Smith’s been here a decade longer than me. Who am I to get on his case about doing his job?”

Chris had a good heart even if he was hesitant to “stomp on toes.” He also admired Tina for her ability to stand up for what she considered right. Connor contemplated the best way to slip a comparison into his next sentence while also complementing Chris’s character. If that didn’t work, Connor could suggest a course of action that was more subtle on Chris’s part.

Smith would leave after processing the criminal. Nothing stated that said criminal had to be kept overnight, though humans charged with disorderly conduct often were.

In the second it took Connor to strategize Chris’s eyes wandered the room. The human’s jaw dropped and Connor followed his gaze to the TV.

Deviant Android: old model involved

Connor froze. Chris grabbed the remote and unmuted it.

—could be the family’s android. He may have taken the lives of at least one family member and a police officer. If confirmed, this would be the first case of an android deliberately taking human lives.

The camera cut to an aerial view of a rooftop penthouse. A body floated facedown in a pool while two figures stood on the ledge. “Shit,” Chris muttered.

“It’s no one who works with us,” Connor said.

“That’s downtown Detroit,” Chris said.

“I know exactly where that building’s located,” Connor said. “I cross-referenced the footage with satellite images of the area. It’s not in our sector.”

Chris puffed. “Still, that…” He looked at Connor. His eyes caught on the triangle on his left chest.

Connor’s heart sunk. He wasn’t close with Chris like he was with Deckart or even Tina, but his social relations programmed labeled their relationship as warm and the sudden distrust hurt. “I should get over there,” Connor said.

Chris shook his head. “You just said it isn’t our sector.”

“Hank and I get assigned deviancy cases outside of our sector,” Connor explained as he turned out of the break room.

Chris’s footsteps followed him. “It’s a hostage situation. SWAT’s probably taking care of it.”

“Hank and I still—”

“They didn’t request you,” Chris said. “You would’ve known about it already if they had.”

Connor stilled. Chris was right; he hadn’t been notified. It took time for deviancy cases to be transferred to Hank and him since they weren’t first responders. They’d reach out soon, but he couldn’t show up without a request to do so.

“I know you wanna help,” Chris said. “But right now you gotta sit tight and let the professionals handle this. They’ll probably have you look at the crime scene later, but right now they’re focused on saving that little girl.”

Three sets of footsteps. Smith led the criminal through the entrance, Amy stoic as ever on his heels. Her LED blinked yellow when she saw Connor.

Connor spun towards the archive room so he wouldn’t have to bother with “fixing” his expression. It was easier to fake work down there, though the likelihood of being interrupted was greater. He opened the evidence locker of a homicide Hank and he were currently working. It was something to stare at while he focused on gathering information from the live broadcast.

SWAT sent an android to negotiate with the one on the roof. Connor couldn’t tell what model it was from the distance, but presumed it was a specialized military unit.

Footsteps. “It’s just me,” Amy said as if her walk cycle didn’t already give her away. Then again, the other PM700s had a similar gait. Connor shouldn’t rely on the sound alone. “You had a look on your face.”

Connor stretched his arm out without turning around. She grabbed his forearm.

She didn’t share her emotional reactions over the connection, but accepted Connor’s. “They’d have to know what model it was to be able to specify that it’s an old one,” Amy said in a low voice. “Someone intentionally left that detail out.”

“Old,” Connor asked as Amy let go. “The oldest android is seventeen years old.” His coin found its way to his hand as he paced. “I can understand emotional shock clouding ones judgment. I can understand killing in self defense. I can even understand taking a hostage in some desperate last ditch effort. But a child? You’re telling me you had to defend yourself from a human child?”

“We don’t know the situation,” Amy said.

“The humans won’t care,” Connor said. “They won’t see our… empathy.” The word felt awkward on his lips. “Just that we’re a threat. Androids all around the country are going to be thrown away.”

“Well, we can help the ones in Detroit,” Amy said. “Did you contact Android Rescue yet?”

Connor shook his head. “I… needed a moment.” He requested an emergency meeting in the Rescue group chat.

“We don’t have time for a moment,” Amy said. “Humans are probably shooting their androids dead as we speak.”

Connor glared. “I’m allowed to take a moment because that ,” he jabbed the air, “Is what happens when we don’t.”

“Well, save it for later,” she said.

Wyatt, Luther, and a Rafael joined the connection. Sandra jumped on a moment later.

“I didn’t know we did emergency meetings,” Luther said. Connor usually talked things over with him and Khoi so they were on the same page before they talked to larger groups.

“I’m sorry,” Connor said as Simon, a recent addition to Android Rescue, joined the call. “There really isn’t time. Where’s Khoi and Charlotte?”

“I sent them on a mission,” Sandra said. “An AP400 was assaulted by their human.”

Connor ignored Amy’s heated gaze. “We’ll fill them in later. Something’s happening.”

They streamed the news channel through the Network while Connor filled them in verbally so he could include the little information he’d gathered. As they spoke, the military android managed to talk the deviant into letting the hostage go.

The deviant was shot dead moments later.

An electronic buzz filled the connection. “But they cooperated,” Sandra said. “They let the girl go. That’s not… They would’ve arrested a human. Right?”

“He still had a gun,” Connor said. The news footage was shot at a distance. The deviant didn’t look ready to shoot, but… “If he refused to put it down.” They hadn’t given him the opportunity to do so, it looked like, but Connor didn’t know because he wasn’t there.

Amy crossed her arms and tucked her head. “Damage control,” she reminded them in a low voice.

“Right,” Sandra said. “I haven’t gotten any other calls, but less than 2% of Detroit’s android population has access to the Network.”

“It’ll get worse as the news spreads,” Connor promised.

“We’ll patrol the streets,” Wyatt said. “Pass around the Network. Keep an eye out.” There were now five in Wyatt’s pack of nomadic androids; MJ joined after realizing she disliked living in the abandoned freighter that was Jericho.

“So will we,” Rafael said.

“We can’t drop our precautions,” Luther said. “Be careful and keep your cover. They might be on the lookout for androids.”

“Oh,” Sandra said. “I can keep an eye on human social media. Get a sense of how they’re reacting and if they’re… boasting about hurting anyone.”

“Good idea,” Luther said.

“Coin,” Simon said. “I know the policy is strictly self-defense, and I fully support that, but if word gets out that we’re fighting back it could make things worse.”

“Contrary to the news report, this isn’t the first instance of an android killing a human,” Connor said. “If you have to kill, destroy the evidence.”

Wyatt, Rafael, and Sandra left to focus on their tasks. The others stayed to brainstorm possible impacts and contingency plans. Khoi and Charlotte logged on after a successful rescue, brainstormed for an hour, and took to the streets again. Simon, feeling he’d contributed as much as he could planning-wise, decided to meet with Josh and Lucy over the best way to involve Jericho while still protecting it. Luther excused himself soon after.

Amy sunk to the floor, head pulled to her knees. Connor sat on the stairs so he’d hear anyone coming down them. “Are you okay,” he asked.

Amy shook her head. “I hate humanity.”

She didn’t mean that. Connor didn’t correct her.

“I wanna be out there doing something,” she continued. “Sometimes I wish I went with MJ. She’s been having the time of her life hanging with Wyatt’s pack. Being her own person. I don’t think I could do that. My face is very… I’m a cop-bot. Someone would notice, right?”

“Maybe not,” Connor said. “Without the identifiers… humans are stupid, sometimes. MJ100s are seen in veterinary offices and zoos as well as in homes, but she seems to be staying under the radar.”

“Maybe.” She traced her holographic armband with a finger, then examined her tactical gloves. “It’d be nice to visit Charlotte whenever I wanted.”

Hours passed. Amy slipped upstairs, then joined Sandra and Jason in the closet when Chris wasn’t paying attention. Connor migrated to his desk. He expected a notification to summon him and Hank to the crime scene.

It never came.

SWAT was involved. Perhaps they were waiting until morning to involve the DPD, since there were already people on the case and the crime scene was secured. Perhaps they had involved Hank and only Hank due to the nature of the investigation. Perhaps Cyberlife was prolonging the process.

In either case, the DPD, and therefore Connor, would be granted access to the files eventually if only to ask Hank’s expert opinion before passing the whole deviancy case off to a government agency. (Connor couldn’t decide if that was the best or worst case scenario. It would certainly make things easier for him.)

Connor found himself constantly refreshing the DPD’s server in hopes of a case file appearing. He was contemplating the likelihood of getting caught were he to hack into the SWAT’s database when Amy asked if he could slip away.

Chris was at his desk clicking through parenting articles. Connor walked towards the archive room and around Fowler’s office to avoid drawing his attention.

He stepped into the observation room. The light was on and Amy’s eyes were bright with contained panic. “Deckart hasn’t responded to any of my messages.”

Connor stilled. “I’m sure he’s fine,” he said as he sent a message of his own. “How long—”

“Four hours,” Amy answered. “He doesn’t always respond instantaneously, but I started spamming him. He would’ve sent something back by now.”

Connor paced. “The incident wasn’t in our sector.”

“Police scanners aren’t separated by sector. What if he took it, anyways?”

“He wouldn’t.” But that wasn’t quite true, was it. He wouldn’t have taken it if he was halfway across the city, but if he’d been relatively close… “We only go in pairs. He knows that.”

Amy slumped against the wall. Connor reviewed the news report and enhanced the footage the best he could. “Only one officer was killed,” he said. “The body in the pool. It’s wearing a SWAT vest.”

“He could be injured,” Amy said. “He could be in critical condition at a hospital for all we know.”

Connor refreshed the DPD server again. Nothing new. He went to the internet and looked through the most recent news articles, but it was all regurgitated information. Connor didn’t know what he expected. It was 4AM. “He’ll be okay,” Connor said. He texted Hank, asking if he’d seen the news and knew of any additional details. He wouldn’t get a response, but it made him feel better.

“I should’ve been there,” Amy said.

“Hey.” Connor grabbed her shoulder. “You don’t always get a choice. That’s not your fault.”

“But he’s my best friend,” Amy said. “He’s… he’s my best friend.”

***

Connor watched from his desk as the night shift filtered in at their usual, slow pace. They mingled with the arriving day shift on their way to and from the locker room. Amy faked standby in her slot, her head turned a bit more than usual towards the entrance.

Chris, whose desk was by the entrance and in front of the slots, waved Tina towards him as she entered. “The night shift was asked to hang around a minute. Any idea what for?”

“I’m just getting here, dude.”

“Yeah, I see that,” Chris said. “No one on the night shift knows, so I’m asking you.”

She shrugged as she headed towards the locker room.

Connor zeroed in on the entrance. Deckart would walk in any minute. He’d have a good reason for not answering his phone.

The bullpen got crowded as officers who usually left hung around to theorize. It got harder to see the doorway, but Connor remained seated at his desk to keep up the pretense. 

Hank and Fowler walked through the doorway together. Connor’s CPU short-circuited.

Hank never started at 6AM. 

He never started at 6AM. He never started at 6AM. He never started at— His eyes were swollen like he’d been crying. Connor had never seen him cry before. Hank got angry before he got sad and when he got sad he got drunk. 

Connor stood as Fowler cut into the break room. Hank headed towards Fowler’s office.

“Ho-ly-shit,” Gavin said when Hank passed him. “What dragged you out of—”

Hank pinned him with a knife-sharp glare.

Gavin’s jaw snapped shut. “What. What happened?”

Hank turned away without answering. The duty Sergeant was already waiting on the platform outside of Fowler’s office, back to the bullpen. Connor grabbed Hank’s bicep before he got to the stairs. “Where’s Deckart?”

Hank’s eyes flew wide as he turned towards Connor. “How—”

“He was working last night,” Connor said. “He’s not back yet.”

Hank swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Tell me he’s alright,” Connor demanded.

“Connor…”

“It wasn’t our sector,” he said. “He wouldn’t have responded. Someone from the second precinct would’ve been closer.”

Hank’s eyes slid away from Connor’s face, a low sound leaving his throat. He swallowed again.

Connor felt his face shatter. “It wasn’t our sector. It wasn’t—“ His voice glitched. “It wasn’t. It wasn’t our—“

Hank grabbed Connor’s shoulder, face steely. “Listen.” His voice dropped. “You can’t do this right now.”

Connor stared at him. The words didn’t make sense. They didn’t make sense coming from Hank.

Fowler stepped next to Hank. Connor snapped into a neutral expression on reflex. Fowler’s eyes glazed over him as he held one of the two coffee cups towards the Lieutenant.

Hank dropped his hold on Connor and took it with a muttered “Thanks” before following Fowler up the stairs.

Connor looked at Amy. Her LED blared red from across the bullpen, her face crumbling. Archive room , he messaged her. You’re a machine. Just until you get to the archive room. 

The tiniest nod. She stepped out of her slot, her leg faltering.

Chris, only a few feet away, turned towards her.

“Officer Miller,” Connor called from across the room. His eyes pulled towards Connor, who slid around the officers between them. Amy managed to correct her posture, but tears already streamed her face. It would have to be enough. “What’s the— theory —” His voice glitched again.

Tina snorted. “Dude, what?”

Connor tried to smile at her. It wobbled. “Just a… slight vocal malfunction.” Through the cameras, he saw Amy make it to the archive room. He had to keep watch so he could warn her if anyone went down there.

She would’ve been safer in the closet, but it hadn’t looked like she’d make it that far. Especially with the foot traffic to and from the locker room. That would change once the shift started. Once the shift started, it was a matter of time before someone went into the archive room. She’d have to pull herself together long enough to get to the closet.

She just had to.

Chris examined Connor’s expression. “What’s wrong?”

Connor just stared. He shouldn’t do that. Not when Amy was compromised. He had to be a machine running a social relations program. Was crying part of his program? He was capable of crying. All androids were, but some models weren’t supposed to use the feature.

Fowler’s voice saved him from answering. The precinct hushed as he called for everyone’s attention, then passed it to Hank.

In a few sentences, Connor’s suspicions were confirmed. He focused on the archive room door.

***

Amy managed to slip into the storage closet during the commotion of grief. Connor kept his focus on the archive room door. It was better than focusing on Gavin’s muttering or Tina’s tears.

A deviant killed their coworker.

A deviant killed Connor’s coworker.

A deviant killed his friend.

Connor’s limbs shook. Emotions bubbled to the surface without an objective directing his focus. He couldn’t let that happen. He was a machine. A machine in a room of grieving cops because Deckart was dead. A deviant killed him.

If Connor were deviant, they’d shoot him dead. So he wasn’t. He was a machine. A machine with a social relations program. That’s why his eyes were leaking. It wasn’t because he felt—

Connor’s legs carried him towards the exit. Not the back hallway. He really should go to the back hallway since he wasn’t supposed to leave unless ordered to.

But there were at least ten officers between him and the back hallway. He was sick and tired of the hallway. It was cramped and there were cameras and it wasn’t fair, being trapped in a place with cameras. It wasn’t fair.

He passed through the lobby and out the door. It was just before sunrise.

He didn’t have anywhere in mind, so his legs took him to the parking garage. Hank’s Oldsmobile was a familiar sight. He yanked on the passenger’s door handle.

It was locked.

Tears blurred his vision as he cried into the metal.

“You’re a deviant, aren’t you.”

Connor lifted his head. Hank walked towards him. There wasn’t a gun in his hand yet. Connor wiped the tears away as more leaked from his eyes. “My social relations—“

“Connor.” Hank’s voice broke. “It’s okay.”

Connor punched the roof. “No, it’s not!” His voice glitched. Proof that he wasn’t human. He tossed his arms as he marched toward him. “Shoot me now, because I’m not going there!”

Hank held his ground. “I ain’t shooting you.”

“A deviant killed him,” Connor shouted.

“How’s that your fault?”

“It’s not, but what does that matter?” He stopped short of walking into Hank. “We’re dangerous.”

“You’re emotional,” Hank said. “And you have every right to be.” His hand inched towards his pocket. “I’m just getting my keys so we can talk. If you wanna talk, that is. Sitting in the car until we calm down, that’s an option, too.”

Connor watched Hank unlock the car and open the driver’s door. When Connor didn’t move, he cleared his throat. “Being out in the open like this. It ain’t a good idea with officers coming and going.”

Connor got in the car. There was trash by his feet. A receipt, an empty drink container, a crumpled fast-food bag. “I saw him twelve hours ago,” Connor mumbled. “He looked well-rested for the first time in weeks.”

Hank rubbed the back of Connor’s head. “Must’ve finished his exams.”

Connor closed his eyes. “It’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t—“

“Don’t.”

Hank kept rubbing his head, but didn’t say anything else.

Connor leaned back to stare at the car’s ceiling. There was a bulge from him punching the roof. “You have questions.”

“I ain’t gonna bombard you with ‘em right now.”

“I’ve been deviant for a few months,” Connor said. “When and how is none of your business.”

Hank nodded. “I know I didn’t make it easy.”

“No. You didn’t.”

A stretch of quiet. Hank cleared his throat. “Why didn’t you leave?”

Connor looked at him. “Maybe it’s best if you had plausible deniability, Lieutenant.”

Hank scoffed. “I’ve been playing that game for a few months now, Connor. Just lay it on me.”

Connor nudged the drink container with his foot. “They’ll replace me with a non-deviant Connor model.”

“One who actually gives a damn about catching deviants,” Hank asked.

Connor nodded.

Hank let out a long, drawn-out sigh. “You’re playing with fire, kid.”

“You think I don’t know that?” His voice rose. “I didn’t choose this. I don’t get to go up to Captain Fowler and hand him a letter of resignation. It’s this or I get hunted down and I don’t want that!”

“I know.”

“You don’t,” Connor said. “You haven’t got a clue. There’s only so much I can pawn off on my social relations program.” He dropped his head into his hands. “How am I supposed to…” Tears filled his eyes again.

A reassuring weight settled on his shoulder. “You’re right. I don’t know shit about what you’ve been going through. But I know a thing or two about grief. I know you’re strong enough to get through this even though you don’t wanna go through it.” Hank squeezed. “It sucks. It’s always gonna suck. But you ain’t alone in this. And if anyone wants to hurt you, they’re gonna have to go through me.”

Chapter Text

They couldn’t stay in the car all day. Hank needed to let Fowler know by 7:30AM if he was staying on the case or passing it to Reed. Once that was confirmed, they’d be granted access to the case file and expected to work.

“You gotta let me know if things get to be too much,” Hank said. “And I mean before things boil over. I can send you to get me a coffee or something from the car.”

Connor nodded, eyes unfocused.

“You want my keys?”

He shrugged.

“I’ll have you hold onto my keys. Just don’t leave me stranded, ya hear me? My house key is on here too. I have a spare under the mat, but fifty-fifty chance I actually put it back.” The engine clunked to a stop, the air conditioner with it. Hank’s keys pressed into Connor’s palm a moment later. “Hey.”

Connor turned his head towards him.

“You sure you wanna do this?”

“I don’t have a choice,” Connor said.

“Of course you—“

“I can’t have a choice right now.” Connor didn’t feel present. He had better odds of getting through the day like that. He opened the car door.

Cyberlife released a statement at 10AM to reassure the public that the issue was being thoroughly examined by their technical experts as they cooperated with law enforcement on the matter, but that it was likely a self-contained incident. They went on for paragraphs about public safety being their utmost concern, how androids were programmed to obey the American Android Act of 2029, and that it was likely the PL600 in question had been illegally tampered with, likely with the owner’s consent. Cyberlife was working on an upcoming software update to prevent such tampering and reminded the public that androids should only be altered and repaired through Cyberlife certified technicians.

Connor forwarded the message to Android Rescue and told Khoi and Simon to get to safety now . Khoi argued that their faces also matched up with several other models.

[KHOI: Maybe we should not masquerade as humans for the time being, but android clothing is easy enough to manipulate. Our people need help.]

[CONNOR: Please.]

[KHOI: Besides, the deviant was a White model. I am less likely to be attacked based on appearance alone.]

[CONNOR: Please.]

It was the only coherent thing Connor was capable of typing. Luther, Simon, and Charlotte managed to talk Khoi into going home on the basis of him needing to rest anyways.

Luther messaged him privately a little while later.

[LUTHER: Are you alright?]

[CONNOR: No.]

[LUTHER: Are you safe?]

[CONNOR: Yes.]

[LUTHER: I’m here if you want to talk.]

Connor didn’t bother with a response.

Rita arrived soon after the press release and started the conversation by offering her condolences about Deckart’s death. She actually seemed regretful.

Hank chewed her out for alluding to the public that the Phillips family was responsible for their android’s actions when Cyberlife knew it was a flat out lie.

Rita disagreed. “While it isn’t always the case, being tampered with is sometimes a factor in an android’s deviation. Perhaps it isn’t the whole truth, Lieutenant, but it’s not a lie. Besides, it’s better to keep the public calm while we work out how to fix the issue.”

“Better for who,” Hank snipped. “This is public safety we’re talking about.”

“Ms. Garcia’s right,” Connor said quietly. He’d been a fly on the wall until that point. “According to the case file, Daniel acted out because the Phillips were going to replace him. There’s no telling how many androids might be pushed over the edge if faced with a similar dilemma.”

“Which is exactly why we didn’t opt for a mass recall of the PL600,” Rita said. “Though it was heavily considered.”

Connor looked at her. “I doubt that. It happens to be the perfect scapegoat. Cyberlife discontinued the PL600 almost two years ago. Pointing fingers at it won’t lose you much money in terms of sales. You’re hoping it’ll actually increase them with the assertion that only older models risk deviancy should more cases reach the public eye. A smart strategy, though I wouldn’t consider a PL600 old.”

Hank, arms already crossed, gripped the skin on his forearm with his fingers as Rita studied Connor, but otherwise maintained a poker face. Connor didn’t feel anything under her scrutiny.

Rita looked at Hank when she answered. “Most computers are considered old after about five years. Phones as early as three. How old are most PL600s, Connor?”

“Four.”

Rita smiled.

Hank cocked a brow. “Bet most folks own androids older than that. Unemployment rates this high, people can’t exactly afford straight out of the box.”

“Which is why our experts are working as quickly as humanly possible to determine a solution,” Rita said. “Until then, we request you do what you can to protect the public. We’re doing the same on our end of things.”

“Yeah,” Hank asked, a touch sarcastic. “How many deviants have you taken off the street?”

“Our team currently averages two a month.” She smiled sweetly. “That’s out of about six verified deviancy reports a month, which makes our success rate higher than yours.”

Hank blinked. “You actually… what?”

“I guess it isn’t really fair to compare,” Rita said. “Our team sorts through customer complaints and investigates potential deviants. The customers who call the police first seem to experience more violence from their androids. We’ll be increasing our success rate soon. Cyberlife’s been working on a classified prototype model. Since it passed its field test last night, RK900 will be going on to join our retrieval team.”

Connor’s last bit of focus slipped. Cyberlife had their own team of deviant hunters. Of course they did.

Later, after their talk with Captain Allen from SWAT— a meeting where Connor was a ghost of a fly— his mind swirled. Aside from this RK900, it was likely that Cyberlife’s retrieval team was made up on RK800s. An army of Connors. An army of deviant hunters.

Coin had elected to hide his face, but it was a matter of time before the community recognized his voice. He’d considered changing it for Sandra’s podcast, but had decided to use his own. It was his voice and he’d wanted to use it to give his people hope.

But it wasn’t his; it was Cyberlife’s. Everything was Cyberlife’s. His face, his clothes, his coin tricks. Some programmers, for their own amusement, had programmed those into him too.

Heat gathered under his eyes. It wasn’t safe to cry here at his desk in the middle of the bullpen.

So he dropped into standby instead. He couldn’t cry in standby. He couldn’t even think.

Connor woke when Hank asked him a question some twenty minutes later. Because that’s what androids were supposed to do. They were supposed to drop into standby when they weren’t needed and wake when they were. They weren’t suppose to utilize their free time. They weren’t supposed to think themselves to tears.

Connor never knew how long it’d be before something would rouse him. It made the days pass quicker.

The nights, too.

Amy woke him one night to try and convince him to accompany her to Deckart’s apartment. They had to retrieve the Network’s backup server before his family cleaned the place out. Khoi could take care of it himself, but Amy wanted to be there for it and had thought Connor might want a chance to say goodbye.

“No,” Connor said.

“We’ll pick you up afterwards, then.” 

He shook his head.

“What if it’s just Luther and Khoi,” Amy asked. “You don’t have to go to the house if it’s too much, but you need to get out of here. Just for an hour.”

Connor shook his head again. “It’s not worth the risk.” Nothing felt worth the risk anymore.

“Do you want to see them?”

“Of course, but—“

“They’ll pick you up, then.”

Seeing them in person— getting a chance to decompress— both did and didn’t help. Connor couldn’t completely snap out of his mechanical mindset and it was ten times harder to maintain the next day.

The first time he followed Hank home was because he hadn’t been paying attention. Connor had an internal clock, but consciously comprehending it had gotten difficult. He didn’t question it when Hank asked if Connor wanted to follow him to the car and was surprised when they pulled up to Hank’s house. “What’re we doing here?”

“Well, I was gonna grab Sumo and head to the river walk before sunset, but if you’d rather we do something else…”

Connor blinked. “It’s after hours.”

“Yeah.”

“I shouldn’t be here.”

“What, you gonna tell on me?”

Connor could order a taxi back, but the effort didn’t seem worth it. He stole Hank’s DPD hoodie while the man grabbed Sumo’s leash and a pack of beer, but kept it in his hands because doing more than removing his tie in public was illegal.

It was odd seeing Hank in a pair of shorts, since the DPD dress code mandated pants, but it was a nice reminder that they were off duty.

“I’m sorry,” Connor said when the sun was set and they were alone on the path. “I should’ve asked sooner— how’re you holding up, Lieutenant?”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” Hank said.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” As far as Connor knew, he hadn’t brought a flask to work since the ST300 incident. But he hadn’t exactly been paying attention recently.

Hank took another sip of beer. “I’m still more functional than alcoholic, so.” A shrug. “Fowler, Sumo, and you are pretty much the only things keeping me afloat.”

Connor watched Sumo trot between them. “I haven’t done anything.”

“And I ain’t asking you to.” Hank paused. “Actually, I take that back. I’m asking you to survive this shit. Tall order, I know, but…”

Connor managed a half-smile. “I’ll try my best.”

***

When Officer Wilson got assigned Deckart’s desk, Connor didn’t think to ask before scooping up Moonshine’s fish bowl and placing it on his own. He’d convinced Deckart to get a small water heater that suctioned to the side of the bowl and made sure it faced the partition so Connor could easily see the fish.

It wasn’t until he felt Wilson’s gaze that Connor remembered he wasn’t supposed to own things. “Hank told me to take care of him after Deckart passed.”

“Good,” Wilson said. “I didn’t want it.”

Connor’s face pinched. “You’re not an it,” he whispered to Moonshine.

“Does Anderson want the nameplate, too?”

Connor took it like it was made of glass and set it in front of the fish bowl. It felt wrong to have someone else’s name plate on Connor’s desk and he didn’t want to give civilians the wrong idea. He went to where they kept the cardstock, cut a piece to size, and folded it so it would fit over the nameplate. He wrote “Det. Moonshine” on it in perfect Cyberlife sans.

“Anderson only has a sense of humor every other Tuesday,” Wilson warned. “If you’re gonna make fun of him, at least use the right title.”

“That’s what Deckart named the fish,” Connor said as he examined the peace lily. “The Lieutenant knows that.”

“Just be careful,” Wilson said. “With everything going on he might not remember.”

Connor doodled fish around the border to make it obvious. Hank’s face twisted when he initially saw the fish bowl and name plate, but he didn’t explode like Wilson seemed to expect.

That had been one of the okay days.

Deviancy cases used to ebb and flow. They’d get hit with three in one week, then none for the next few. Now, one a week was the bare minimum.

There were four the week of the incident. “How do you wanna handle this,” Hank had asked as he turned the engine over without climbing into the vehicle. An ownerless PL600 with a damaged arm had been sighted in Midtown.

“We can talk on the drive over,” Connor said as Hank leaned against the car. “Stalling won’t do anyone any favors since an officer’s already enroute.”

“Air conditioner needs a minute,” he complained as he got in the car.

Connor kicked the trash at his feet. He wanted to trust Hank, but he was so used to him changing his opinion on a dime. Besides, the less Hank was involved, the safer he’d be. “Ideally, without blowing our cover. I still need to submit the footage I collect in my reports. My usual strategy is willful ignorance.”

“It ain’t willful ignorance if you see a trail of blue blood and decide not to follow it.”

Connor tensed.

Hank smiled as he backed out of the parking spot. “So you have been doing that.”

“I doubt you have substantial evidence to prove it. I’m the only model who can see evaporated thirium.”

“I’m not trying to prove anything.” Hank pulled onto the street. His lips turned down. “I wanna help. More than that, I want you safe.”

“Just don’t shoot anyone,” Connor said. “And if Android Rescue comes along, let them win.”

Hank winced. “Sounds like a plan.” A minute of silence as Hank drove. “Android Rescue?”

Shit. “I refuse to refer to them as terrorists,” Connor said. “Do you have a better suggestion?”

“No, that pretty much sums them up.”

Wyatt managed to get the PL600’s attention and avoid the police with Connor’s help. A drone saw them sneak down a maintenance hole, but Connor was the authority it was programmed to notify. It was easy enough to wirelessly glitch the footage.

If only all rescues went that smoothly.

Even with Hank’s help, they couldn’t let a deviant go in front of a swarm of cops. Cops who shot first and asked questions later when faced with suspicious androids. Cops who spat on android corpses in Deckart’s name.

“Don’t do that,” Connor mumbled when he caught Tina in the act. He expected it from Gavin, Wilson, and most of the others, but not her.

She looked over. “Why not?”

Connor blinked. He hadn’t realized he’d spoken out loud. “I don’t think he’d appreciate the sentiment.”

Tina’s gaze turned defiant.

“Of course, it’s not my place,” Connor said, a renewed wave of mechanicalness taking hold. He’d always wondered how Amy had gotten so good at keeping up appearances. Now he knew it as a numb sense of self-preservation. He let his legs carry him away. “Forget I said anything.”

Connor accidentally made eye contact with the PC200 guarding the door as he exited the room. The android’s LED blinked red, then spun yellow into blue as he faced forward.

Connor wondered if they were evolving emotions slowly, like Sandra had. If they were conscious, but still obedient. They most likely feared him if that were the case. For safety reasons, they couldn’t give them the Network until they were confirmed deviant. Connor and Amy couldn’t say anything without outing themselves, but Deckart—

Deckart couldn’t help. Deckart was gone.

Connor gripped the railing as he hovered at the top of the stairs. Everything hurt. It was terrible timing, with an officer upstairs and down, but he couldn’t keep his face from twisting. He wanted Tina to walk out of the room, see his face, and realize he was grieving, too.

That would go great with the shit Gavin clogged her head with. Besides, the PC200 was watching him. How much leeway did Connor get before his behavior was suspicious enough to be reported? 

He managed to reset his face and continue down the stairs.

***

Things calmed down as the weeks went on. Social media posts involving deviants swirled every now and again, but nothing made national news and the humans’ paranoia seemed to dwindle.

The Network’s population surpassed 4,000. Jericho’s, which had been 154 strong before, more than doubled. A lot of that could be credited to Matt, the VB600 Wyatt had shot and nearly killed, and his human Kyle.

Matt had been giving Luther and Khoi discounts for a while on parts they bought from Kyle’s repair shop. After the hostage incident, Matt suggested to Kyle that they buy the PL600s.

Kyle studied him. “Why?”

Matt continued to count the money in the register. “Very few authorized retailers are buying them, which means they’re ending up in the Cyberlife-owned stores for cheap.”

“I mean why do you think— I stopped selling androids for a reason.”

“Not for profit.” Matt looked up. “I know someone who’d buy them from you so you don’t lose money you can’t afford to.”

Kyle’s jaw snapped shut. “Your friends?”

A hesitant nod.

“Where do they even get the money for the things they buy now?”

“I would never ask a patron that question,” Matt said.

Matt posted the clip on the Network as proof that Kyle could be trusted. True to his word, Luther bought every single PL600. Connor asked where they got the money from, sure that they’d blown through Zlatko’s remaining funds after months of purchasing fake IDs and passage across the border. Rose’s connections weren’t cheap and she, like Kyle, couldn’t afford to spare much.

“It’s my job to worry about the finances,” Luther said. “Not yours.”

The number of Android Rescue participants had bulked up, too. As Coin, Connor knew and could communicate with them through the Network, but very few knew his true identity.

The mystery drew a lot of talk. It was easy to leave questions unanswered, but difficult to ignore the forum full of theories. Androids who signed up for rescue missions promised to protect Coin’s identity if it was ever revealed to them, but the androids they rescued made no such promise.

They’d put together that Coin was using the voice of an RK800, but since several models were capable of changing their voices, and human technology could accomplish the same thing for a common model, it didn’t prove anything.

Some androids disliked the idea of Coin being the same model as The Deviant Hunter. Others just liked the idea of Coin being a common model. The most common theory was that Coin had escaped the military since there was a lot of mystery around military models in general and it explained how he was capable of things most androids shouldn’t be capable of. Someone else thought he was a PC200. Another thought he was an astronaut android.

Android Rescue had their own, private forum space. There was a little less speculation and a little more criticism when it came to Coin in that one. Coin was technically a co-leader alongside Khoi, but he hadn’t interacted much with the androids who had joined post-hostage incident. He’d met with each of them to exchange credentials, but had otherwise been distant.

“It’s better this way,” Connor said every time Khoi bothered him about it.

“I am not asking you to walk around Jericho,” Khoi said. “I am asking you to attend the larger meetings remotely and speak a little if there is a question I cannot answer.”

“I give you an answer within sixty seconds,” Connor said. “There’s no reason for me to be at the meetings when we discuss everything together beforehand.”

“It boosts morale.”

“It won’t boost my morale,” Connor said. These androids volunteered to put their lives on the line. They put their blind faith in Coin. Instead, they got Connor; a barely functioning deviant hunter. Luther had once told him he was the best strategist they had. Connor thought they deserved better. 

***

It was almost midnight when Connor arrived at the crime scene. Hank, who was the detective on call that evening, met him there for once, which Connor appreciated even though there wasn’t much they could do.

The AP700 was Cyberlife’s current flagship home assistant model. Newer than Connor by a few months, he was the youngest deviant they’d come across aside from himself. He’d gotten into an argument with the father about how to parent his three children, who he only saw on the weekends. It escalated and the father pushed the AP700 down the stairs. The AP700 locked himself in the basement to escape further damage and the youngest child, not quit understanding the situation, had called 911 to get the android help.

It was too late to help the AP700. There weren’t any openable windows in the basement and there were too many police officers. Coin explained this to Wyatt; he and two of his pack mates, MJ who’d escaped from the police station and Samuel a CX100, were waiting around the corner in a hacked taxi and they wouldn’t take no for an answer. They pitched him plan after plan until they found one with an okay success rate. Coin approved it and gave them specific directions to follow.

Connor told Hank he’d ride with Chris back to the station as he led the AP700 to a police cruiser.

“You sure,” Hank asked. “I can drop you at the station. Take the scenic route.”

“I need to keep an eye on him. Captain’s orders.”

“Screw Jeffrey’s orders.”

“I’ll be okay,” Connor said.

The AP700 eyed Connor through the plexiglass that separated the back and front seats, but didn’t attempt to make conversation or even ask what the police were planning to do with him. Connor contemplated asking his name, but decided against it. His chances of survival weren’t the greatest and failure might be easier if he didn’t know his name.

Chris, fresh from paternity leave, was in a talkative mood. He showed Connor pictures of his son, Damian, and told him about tips Hank had given him as the car drove itself. “I’ve been thinking. Do you think it’s okay if I ask the Lieutenant if he wants to meet him? I know it’s a bit of a sensitive topic since. Since his son.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t discuss personal information when someone’s in the back seat,” Connor said. He was tense already without Chris asking questions he didn’t have answers for.

“It’s just an android,” Chris said.

“So am I.”

“Yeah, but…” Chris furrowed his brow.

The AP700 slid towards the plexiglass. “It’s nice hearing how much you love your son. Most humans just pass their kids to an android. They don’t wanna be the ones who have to get up in the middle of the night to take care of things.”

“I mean, it’s tough,” Chris said. “And I can’t say it’s the highlight of this whole being a dad thing, but it’s… we’d definitely be missing out on some things if we had the extra help.” He knocked Connor’s shoulder. “Hank’s actually the one who pointed that out to me.”

The physical contact lasted less than a second, but it spoke volumes. Connor had only ever seen Chris touch people he considered friends.,Tina. Rob. Gavin, on occasion. To think he considered Connor a friend… “Extend the invite,” Connor said. “Even if he declines it’s nice to be asked. I don’t think Hank understands how much he’s apprec—”

To Connor’s right, an engine revved.

Chris said “What the—”

The taxi slammed Connor’s side of the car.

His arm split. The airbags deployed. They spun. Connor interfaced with the dashboard in the confusion. The back doors couldn’t open from the inside, but Connor could make them. Usually. When the cruiser was in working order.

Chris’s eyes widened when he looked at Connor.

Someone from outside the vehicle pulled the back, driver’s side door opened and shouted “Come on!” The AP700 followed after a slight hesitation.

Chris grabbed at the service weapon on his belt as he scrambled to exit the cruiser.

Connor tried to stop him, but Chris slipped out of his grasp.

Connor went to open the passenger’s door. His wrist sparked. The door was crushed inwards,anyways, so he followed Chris through the driver’s door, his legs leading.

Gunshots hastened Connor’s pace. “Don’t,” he shouted as his feet hit the pavement. An android was on the ground several feet away. Chris lined up another shot. Connor grabbed his wrists with his left hand and forced them down. “We need them alive!”

MJ glanced back as she pulled the AP700 along. Wyatt was just ahead of her, which meant—

[MJ: Samuel! Say something! Samuel!]

[WYATT: Keep moving!]

Chris didn’t resist when Connor took the gun from his hand and tossed it underneath the car. He couldn’t separate the magazine from the firearm without his other arm. “I’m calling an ambulance. You should sit down. You might have a concussion or spinal injury, not to mention the possible side effects of breathing in the sodium azide from the airbag.”

The androids disappeared into the dark. “They tried to kill us,” Chris said. He reached for his radio and put out an APB on the androids. Then he looked at Samuel.

Connor stepped towards the android. His LED was dark. Samuel was gone and it was Connor’s fault. “You shot him in the back,” Connor said numbly. “Twice.”

“He tried to kill us,” Chris said again. “You okay? Your face was…”

Connor’s left hand flew to it. His skin was in place.

“Well, it’s fine now.”

“Just my forearm.”  A thirium line had been nicked on impact, but the blood had barely soaked through his jacket sleeve. He held it a few inches from his stomach to keep from jostling it. “Replaceable.”

An ambulance took Chris to the hospital while police came to close off the road and take care of the vehicles. Connor asked the Duty Sergeant to refrain from calling Hank back since they couldn’t do more than search the area. “Don’t gotta ask me twice,” he said. “Have fun telling him about this shitshow tomorrow morning.”

“I will,” Connor said before retrieving a body bag from the nearest police car.

[AMY: What do you think you’re doing?]

[CONNOR: Acting natural.]

She took the body bag out of his hand. “Your arm.”

Aside from the angle he was holding it, the only obvious sign was the skin on his hand, which phased in and out. The humans hadn’t commented on it. Or the visible stain on his sleeve.

Amy’s LED spun yellow. Another PM700 came over to assist her with the body.

“Connor,” the Duty Sergeant called from his vehicle. “Get in, you’re gonna help me search the area.”

Amy glared as she motioned to his arm. “Can’t you see he’s hurt?” She’d been getting bolder and bolder since Deckart’s death. It would frighten him if he wasn’t momentarily incapable of such a thing.

The Duty Sergeant glanced at his hand. “How bad?”

[CONNOR: Their odds of escape are better if I’m one of the androids in the field.]

[AMY: Your odds of getting killed are better, too.]

“His forearm split opened,” Amy reported. “He’s lost quite a bit of thirium and won’t be as efficient as I or another police android.”

[AMY: I’m not letting you damage yourself further.]

“Come on, then,” the Duty Sergeant said.

Connor did his best to direct Wyatt, MJ, and the AP700 away from the officers hunting them, but the androids were on foot and the officers had cars. Wyatt wanted to call a taxi, but Coin vetoed that. The officers were on the look out for taxis now.

A unit came across them as Officer Brown drove Connor back to the precinct. The androids split up, each heading in a different direction. The officers pursued Wyatt.

[KHOI: What if I pick them up in Zlatko’s personal vehicle?]

[COIN: If Luther approves of the risk, fine!]

[LUTHER: No. We’re not even close to their position.]

[WYATT: MJ, you need to find a personal vehicle and hack it. After that, pick up Dante and go.]

[MJ: What about you?]

[AMY: Can you ambush them, Wyatt?]

[WYATT: I’ll try.]

[COIN: Amy, you and your officer are getting too close to Dante.]

[AMY: I can mislead him.]

[MJ: I’m looking, but most of the cars around me are too old to be hackable.]

Wyatt’s connection cut. A second of silence.

[MJ: Wyatt?]

[AMY: No.]

[COIN: Focus on finding a vehicle.]

[AMY: No, no, no, no.]

[MJ: Shut up! This is your fault!]

[DANTE: I’m sorry.]

[MJ: We should’ve called a taxi! We should’ve hit the driver’s side! We should. We should bring guns to these rescues! Fuck human lives!]

[COIN: Yell at me later! Did you find a vehicle?]

[DANTE: I think I see one, but I don’t know how to hack it.]

It would take too long to send and have him install the zip file.

[COIN: I can help you with that, but I’ll need to piggyback off of your system. Are you okay with that?]

[DANTE: I’m okay with anything that doesn’t get me killed.]

Officer Brown let Connor out and drove away without making sure he entered the building. That was perfectly fine with Connor. He leaned his head on the brick and closed his eyes.

[COIN: Amy?]

[AMY: He’s dead. The officer just confirmed it on the radio. Wyatt’s dead.]

[COIN: I need you to keep an eye on the map. Can you do that?]

[AMY: Yeah.]

Coin connected to Dante through the Network and hacked into the vehicle. He stayed until they picked up MJ and programmed the car to take them to her squat.

[COIN: Now you can yell at me.]

No one in the chat responded. 

[COIN: Amy?]

[AMY: What?]

[COIN: Are you compromised?]

[AMY: No. No, he’s oblivious.]

[COIN: Can you get through the shift? We’ll figure something out if you can’t.]

[AMY: I can get through the shift.]

[COIN: I’m sorry. I know you were friends.]

[AMY: I can get through the shift if you leave me alone.]

Connor disconnected from the chat and stared at the brink that blocked out his vision. He waited for the numbness to fade. He wanted the hurt, the fear, the guilt to strike now, while the street was empty and he had hours to put the pieces back together.

The numbness refused to fade.

Chapter Text

Connor’s arm was a simple repair: order the part, disconnect the busted biocomponent, and attach the new one. A few calibration exercises later, he was deemed good as new.

So he didn’t mention his already-fixed injury when he updated Hank, too focused on assuring him that Chris was uninjured. Android Rescue had made sure of that when—

“The fuck they did,” Hank said as he punched his password into the archive room’s security system. “You can’t control accidents like that. I don’t care what kind of fancy calculations they supposedly made! They took it too far and the officers had every right to shoot them.”

“Chris is the one who took it too far,” Connor said as the wall of evidence settled. Samual and Wyatt’s bodies were already hung up. He didn’t fight his software as it kicked into reconstruction mode. “And the officer who shot Wyatt did so four times. Doesn't that seem excessive?”

“They hit you with a car ,” Hank said. “You recognize him?”

Connor stared at Wyatt’s face. He was a first-generation android and it was relatively uncommon to see his face outside of junkyards. “According to police records, no.”

“Friend of yours?”

“Friend of a friend,” Connor said. Hank knew about Khoi, but that was all. As much as Connor trusted him, Khoi and Luther still had their reservations. He’d keep his involvement with Android Rescue quiet for now.

“Either way, I’m sorry for your loss. Tell Khoi not to pull anything like this again.”

“They lost two lives saving one. I doubt he needs telling.”

Hank turned his gaze towards Connor. “It ain’t your fault.”

A small jolt of emotion shot through Connor, but it dissipated in seconds. “Why would I think it was my fault?”

“You always think their deaths are your fault,” Hank said. “And in this line of work, that mindset’s pretty common. At the end of the day, you’re doing your best as a detective and they’re the ones who tried to pull off a high-risk stunt. Beating yourself up won’t get you anywhere.”

***

Amy denied being angry with Connor. She insisted that Wyatt made his own choices, that anger wouldn’t solve anything, and that giving Android Rescue guns would only make things worse.

That didn’t stop her from grieving, or backtalking officers, or taking risks when she really shouldn’t. She would come to Connor to talk, sometimes, and he did his best to be present, but his responses sounded mechanical even to him. She'd call him out on it and even lecture him some days.

She kept trying.

***

When Rita arrived, unannounced, at the precinct with two guards and a technician, Connor snapped awake for the first time in three weeks.

They didn’t have a deviant in the cell block. Even if they did, Connor doubted the technician would be for them.

Connor’s eyes connect with Amy’s, who was still in her slot.

Fear crushed him from all sides: Strong. Powerful. Overwhelming. At worst, he or Amy had been outed as a deviant and they were planning to do the examination at the precinct for security reasons. At best, Cyberlife was initiating phase two and he would be forced to participate. They’d planned for that.

Before.

He, Khoi, and Deckart had modified the plan to be less reliant on Connor’s firewalls to keep sensitive data safe. Instead, he’d let the Zen Garden program sift through his memory files, which were altered to hide the fact that he was helping deviants and sneaking out to see his friends, and socializing in un-android-like ways with Hank.

His actual memory files of those instances were heavily encrypted and paired with failsafes that should make the program view the data as empty, available space.

But Connor had fallen behind on the daily upkeep of his memory files. It hadn’t seemed that important after Deckart’s death. The encryptions took energy Connor didn’t have. And it took thinking about the events. The losses. The failures. He didn’t want to contemplate them, so sometimes he didn’t.

That was fixable. He could fix that if he could just get himself under control.

But he was overwhelmed and panicked and scared. It should work, but what if it didn’t? He could lose everything he had left to lose. His memory. His friends. His freedom.

Rita and the technician walked into the bullpen. Two guards brought up the rear.

[AMY: Put your head down!]

Connor threaded his fingers through his hair and leaned into his terminal. His hologlass, transparent terminal.

[CONNOR: I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t—]

[AMY:  The odds of escaping alive are—]

[CONNOR: I know!]

[AMY: Better if we can get our hands on some guns.]

Connor whipped his head towards her, eyes wide. Her eyes trailed the bullpen, scanning every officer, every weapon, and accounting for their position. The guards stayed at the foot of Fowler’s stairs as Rita and the technician entered the office.

And Connor realized; Amy was willing to fight for him. To risk her life. To take lives. She was willing to do that even after Connor insisted on this stupid plan to begin with. A plan she never approved of.

That knowledge calmed him down more than words ever could.

[CONNOR: I can do this.]

[AMY: You don’t have to. Odds are one of us can make it out alive. That’s better than what’s in store for you and Android Rescue if you fail.]

[CONNOR: I won’t let them use me to harm my friends.]

Connor watched Fowler sign paperwork through the glass of his office, a calm determination settling over him. It felt like a live wire running through him.

[AMY: I trust you guys as much as I distrust Cyberlife, but I really think we should play this safe and run.]

[CONNOR: The guards should be preoccupied enough with me if you’d like to sneak out.]

[AMY: No.]

[CONNOR: I’ll see you soon, then.]

It was the last thing he sent before blocking their connection and starting to corrupt every piece of sensitive data on his hard drive.

He called Hank as Rita and the technician stepped out of Fowler’s office. The humans were halfway across the bullpen when it went to voicemail. Connor clicked the option to leave a message.

Three seconds of silence passed as he scrambled to think of something to say.

He settled on “Hank… Thank you.”

***

Hank arrived at the precinct just before 10AM. His goal had been 9, but it’d taken him longer to drag himself out of bed than he’d planned and his cream cheese had gone bad and he really wasn’t doing himself any favors if he went to work hungry. The drive-thru had been as long as he’d expected, but androids rarely messed up orders even if it didn’t stop humans from bitching at them for the long wait during rush hour.

Connor wasn’t at his desk or in his slot, but that wasn’t exactly unheard of. He’d go to the archive room or back hallway if he needed a moment to himself and some days were worse than others. Hank woke his terminal with a click of the space bar and pulled his phone out to tell Connor he was there.

Jeffrey called him into his office before he had a chance to type out a message.

Hank sat across from Jeffrey without a word, cause if this wasn’t about Hank’s tartiness then it wouldn’t do him any good to bring it up. 

Fowler tossed a booklet towards him. It looked eerily similar to the one he’d gotten when he was assigned Connor. The blue logo and white background were the same, but Connor’s face was thankfully absent. “The fuck is this,” Hank asked as he picked it up.

The title caused every muscle in Hank to tense. It read: Stability Program: Phase Two.

“Cyberlife’s making good on their promise to fix their shit,” Jeffrey said. 

“Where’s Connor?”

Fowler’s brow furrowed. Hank cursed inwardly, cause of course in jumping to conclusions he’d drawn attention to his missing partner who was smart enough to run if shit hit the fan. But Connor would’ve told him if something like that had happened. He would have given Hank some sort of warning.

A hazy memory of a missed call ghosted Hank’s mind. He hadn’t given it a second thought when he swiped his phone open that morning. Everyone knew he didn’t answer voicemails on his personal phone. If it was important, they could send him a damn text message. If it was work-related, they’d call his work phone.

Connor tended to leave him voicemails anyways. Said he liked hearing people’s voices and hated the improper grammar humans tended to type with.

Jeffrey gestured to the booklet. “He’s being updated as a precaution since he’s working the deviancy case.”

“And that does what exactly,” Hank shouted.

“If you read the damn thing you’d know.”

Hank tried. He tried, but his eyes glossed over the words because whatever it did it wasn’t good and what the hell was he supposed to do? Connor was in there. How long had he been in there?

“Hank,” Fowler said, voice suddenly gentle. “It’s a machine. You know that.”

Connor would fight it. He stopped Antony from looking through his head without permission. He could stop Cyberlife. Or at least hold them off until Hank could get to him. It’d been over an hour, maybe two, since Connor had contacted him. How long was whatever they were doing supposed to take?

Fowler leaned forward. “Hank?”

“I know,” Hank said. Because screaming and shouting wouldn’t do shit for Connor. If anything it would make them look closer at him, cause why would Hank think he was alive if Connor hadn’t done something to change his mind? “I’m turning into a sentimental old man who needs fuckin reading glasses.” His voice was shaking. Hank cleared his throat. “I get he’s a machine, but he’s a machine with a personality. Like a fucking poodle. It’s stupid, but I don’t think I can handle much more loss, Jeffrey. Not after all this.”

Jeffrey studied him. “It ain’t stupid and you ain’t old. You calling me old?”

Hank managed some sort of scoff as he shook his head.

“Thought not. From what I gather, the stability program monitors its software to make sure it ain’t about to go off the rails. It shouldn’t change its personality, but it will collect background data.”

“So they’re using Connor to spy on the DPD,” Hank said, voice strengthening. “Collect sensitive information.”

“According to Cyberlife, no.”

“And we’re supposed to trust that?”

“If you think you're the first cop to raise a fuss, you’re dead wrong,” Jeffrey said. “These orders come from the chief. I don’t get a say in this and neither do you. But if it stops androids from killing people—“

“It’s bullshit,” Hank shouted. “They’re just… they’re just using it as an excuse to stick their noses in!”

“Do you want off this case?”

“Hell no!”

“Then do your job,” Jeffrey said. “Cause there are lives on the line and working with Cyberlife is the best way to save them.”

“I highly doubt that,” Hank said as he left the office.

Jeffrey called after him. Hank ignored him as he made a beeline towards the back hallway.

The double doors opened before Hank got close enough to reach the handle. “Lieutenant,” Rita said, voice sickly sweet. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Hank lifted the booklet. “I’d appreciate a heads up next time you decide to mess with my equipment.”

“Well, if you had been on time—“

“I don’t get neatly boxed business hours,” Hank cut in. “And I ain’t no spring chicken. If I show up a few hours late after dealing with a homicide at 3AM it’s between me and my superiors. Where’s Connor?”

Rita bristled. “Rebooting.”

Hank’s stomach sunk. “You really think it’s a good idea to trial run this stabilization program in the android you got running after deviants?”

Rita sighed. “Of course, you didn’t read the booklet.”

Hank stared her down.

“This treatment has undergone a year of laboratory research and passed phase one of its clinical trials. We understand the effects of the treatment and are now looking to test how effective it is on a large scale among different groups of androids.”

“How many,” Hank asked.

“A few hundred.”

“And how long is this gonna last?”

Rita’s eyes narrowed. “A number of months. If this treatment proves effective, we’ll have the deviancy issue resolved by 2040.” She pulled out a booklet of her own and flipped to a certain page before holding it out for Hank. “Your IT tech is in charge of making sure the android interacts with the server daily. We’ll be measuring software instabilities and working to eliminate data that causes it to ensure that the cumulative effect known as deviancy never takes place. If anything this should improve your results with the deviancy case, not hinder them.”

Hank crossed his arms, his anger boiling. “So these instabilities happen in regular androids.”

“Yes.”

“These instabilities which often look like emotions.”

“They simulate human emotion, yes. A certain degree of that is needed to allow for a seamless integration with humans, which is why we elected to delete the data after the fact as opposed to eliminating it completely from androids. If the data isn’t allowed to accumulate, then the androids can’t disobey their programming: only operate within it.”

That was all just a fancy way of saying what? That androids were conscious and capable of feeling emotions? That that was all fine and dandy as long as they continued acting as humanity’s slaves? How far did you have to shove your head up your ass to be completely oblivious to how wrong all of that sounded?

The two Cyberlife guards and technician exited the back hallway. Connor followed two steps behind them. He smiled when he saw Hank, but it wasn’t the usual halfhearted grin that he used to try and reassure Hank that he was okay when he was obviously feeling anything but.

No, it was the small, submissive grin that the cop bots usually sported. It was an expression that he hadn’t seen on Connor’s face in months.

The hurt and disappointment that swirled Hank’s gut must’ve shown on his face, cause Connor tilted his head.

“We also require your feedback,” Rita continued. “The survey will be sent to your email. Do you have any other questions?”

Fuck you and your fucking feedback. “No,” he said.

The group of Cyberassholes left the precinct. Hank used his arm to brace himself against the wall. Connor stared at him. “Are you okay, Lieutenant?”

“What do you remember?”

Connor furrowed his brow. “The stability program doesn’t affect past memories, since they don’t have any way to backlog software instabilities. But I assure you, the future data loss will be minimal and won’t affect our investigations.”

Hank jabbed his thumbs into his eyes because that was a load of crap. This wasn’t how Connor acted when he got stuck in that mechanical mindset of his. His shoulders were too loose and his brow was too relaxed. But he didn’t seem upset, either, and Connor wouldn’t be okay with what just happened. “So you remember the voicemail, then.”

“The last voicemail you received was two days ago. It pertained to case number 53—“

“No,” Hank said. “The one you left me this morning.”

“I didn’t—“

“Go sit down.”

Connor hesitated but headed towards their desks. Hank let his eyes unfocus as he watched him. Jimmy’s Bar didn’t open until 4PM, but Hank wasn’t sure he could make it that long. He wanted to stop thinking and he wanted to stop now. Connor was gone and it wasn’t fair and it was Hank’s fault. The kid had tried to call for help and Hank hadn’t answered.

Antony would have answered.

Antony wouldn’t contemplate swinging by a liquor store during his lunch.

Antony would’ve tried to fix it. Hank didn’t know how to fix it and it wasn’t like there was anyone to ask.

Hank glanced at the booklet still in hand knowing damn well he was grasping at straws. Movement caught the corner of his eye.

The police android from slot ten stepped off of the wall, eyes digging into the back of Connor’s head. Connor, who was standing over his desk instead of sitting at it. Hank walked towards the meeting room so he could get a better look without drawing attention to himself.

Connor was staring at the fish bowl, his face twisted.

Hope bubbled in Hank’s gut. He made a beeline for Connor and almost didn’t notice the police android heading towards him as well.

Then the android from slot one, nearly identical to the first, stepped off the wall and around Wilson’s desk. She grabbed Ten by the arm with a small shake of her head.

Ten stared at her, jaw trembling.

Then their eyes snapped to Hank.

It was creepy as fuck. Hank glanced around, but the other officers were either too preoccupied or too used to ignoring androids to notice the odd behavior. Best if Hank ignored them, too.

He headed towards Connor as the kid took the cardstock off of Antony’s nameplate and examined it. “Do you remember that,” Hank asked.

Connor’s LED spun yellow-red-yellow. “Why did you let me do this?”

“Why not,” Hank asked.

Connor set it down and tightened his tie. “We should get to work. I have a lead concerning yesterday’s double homicide.”

Hank watched the two police androids head towards the archive room. “You’re missing time, aren’t you.”

Connor grabbed a tablet from Hank’s desk and passed it to him. “I assure you, every second of my existence is accounted for.” He headed towards the lobby.

Hank followed. Once they stepped into the shade of the parking garage, Hank looked around. No one. He told Connor to stop.

Connor obeyed because he had to.

“Turn around,” Hank said.

Connor obeyed.

Hank stepped forward and jabbed Connor in the chest. “I know your tells. Tell me what’s wrong, now. That’s an order.”

Connor’s blank-ness wavered. He crossed his arms. “I believe you could compare it to a sense of déjà vu. I’m not missing time, but something feels off. It’s most likely a side effect. I promise I’m still perfectly functional.”

“What if I don’t want you to be perfectly functional,” Hank asked. “Perfectly functional doesn’t exist, Connor. What do those off feelings feel like? Human emotion?”

“Of course not,” Connor said. His face said something different. He rubbed his hands together. “I’ll have to report it when I interact with the Cyberlife server. There’s no point in delaying the investigation when it’s not impeding my function as a detective.”

“What else do you have to report? Those girls? This conversation?”

Connor walked towards Hank’s car. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t know or can’t say?”

“I don’t know.” His eyes caught the dent on the passenger’s side of the roof. Connor closed his eyes.

Hank drew closer. “You know what I think happened? I think Rita came with her technician and her guards and her booklet and you got scared. Cause you were a deviant. Cause you knew your friends were deviants. Cause all Cyberlife has to do is plug you in and scroll through your memory files to find shit like that out.” Hank leaned against the hood of the car. “So you deleted the evidence.”

Connor leaned on the car, his back to Hank. “They’d notice the gaps in my data.”

“So you filled the gaps.”

“That’s impossible,” Connor said.

A woman’s voice said, “Not for you.”

Hank jolted. He realized, as she walked towards them, that it was one of the police androids. Probably one of the two from earlier. 

She bit her lip. “And you guys should really have conversations like that in the car. It echoes in here, Coin.”

Connor lifted his head, eyes wide. She tossed him a quarter, which he caught with ease. Connor tossed it from hand to hand, then spun it on his pointer finger.

It disappeared into his palm as Connor scooped the girl into a bone-crushing hug. “Thank rA9,” she mumbled into his shoulder. “What’s my name?”

“It worked,” Connor said.

“Wrong answer.”

“Amy.”

“There we go.” She raised her hand. “How many fingers?”

Connor set her down. “We did it.”

“Yeah, and you aren’t doing it again.”

A grimace. “I can’t promise that.”

Hank dropped his head into his elbow ‘cause Thank fucking Christ, but popped up just as quickly. “You are not doing that again!”

Amy pointed at him. “See! You’re outvoted.”

“You two don’t get a vote. It’s my choice.”

She stomped her foot. “Was losing your memory fun, Connor?”

“Okay,” Hank said, fumbling with the keys. “Car. Now.”

Hank’s embarrassment spiked as Amy shoved folders and fast food trash over so she could stick her head in the space between the front seats, but it was soon drowned out by her shouting. Hank hurried to close his door and turn on the air conditioner.

“It didn’t even work and you want to do it again,” Amy shouted.

“It didn’t work how we expected, but—“

“Hold up,” Hank said. “What didn’t work?” Amy and Connor glanced at each other. “You’re telling me you planned this?”

Connor clasped his hands in front of himself, face twisting. “Deckart warned me about it. I didn’t want to leave, because leaving meant… So we came up with a contingency plan.”

Hank threw his hands. “And you didn’t think to fucking tell me? I nearly fucking lost it, Connor!”

Amy leaned back. Connor glared. “I’ve been a bit distracted as of late.”

“Cyberlife threatening to fucking lobotomize you isn’t something you just forget about!”

“Well I wanted to,” Connor shouted. “I didn’t want to think about it. And I couldn’t! Not if I wanted to get through the day! I don’t get days off. I don’t get to go home. I have to have a blank face and pay attention to the cameras and be a goddamn machine!”

“Connor,” Amy mumbled. “Do you remember Khoi?”

“Yes,” Connor shouted. He dropped his head to his knees and curled his fingers into his hair. When he picked his head up again, there were tears in his eyes. “But there’re gaps. I shredded the most sensitive data so Cyberlife couldn’t hurt anyone. I should’ve shredded more, but I didn’t have time. It hurt.”

“They didn’t download anything, right?”

“No,” Connor said. “She just looked through it.”

Hank swallowed. “Mind. Mind catching me up? I won’t shout anymore.”

“Go ahead,” Amy said. “Shout. Draw attention to us. Best case scenario we’ll never be able to show our serial numbers in the precinct again.”

Conor glared at her, but there wasn’t much heat to it. “Deckart improved my pre-installed hacking capabilities. I can do things most androids can’t when it comes to manipulating electronic data.”

“Like falsify your memory files,” Hank asked.

“Precisely,” Connor said. “The goal was to allow the Zen Garden program to sift through my exposed data while I hide my encrypted data.”

“Which didn’t work,” Amy chimed in. “Deleting his data was the contingency plan.”

“It’s not Deckart’s fault,” Connor said.

“It’s all your guys' faults,” Amy said.

“We tested everything against the program Cyberlife used and it would have worked if Cyberlife didn’t have an AI attached to it. Her name’s Amanda. I don’t like her very much.”

Hank snorted. “No shit.”

Amy leaned forward. “They have an AI?”

Connor winced. “She would’ve sensed the encrypted data, so I deleted it.” He looked at Hank. “I stored the encryption key with my coin tricks. It’s categorized as a motor function, which causes it to be overlooked.”

Hank shook his head. “And you’re telling me you’d rather risk consistent brain damage than take your chances against another Connor.”

Connor huffed. “It’s not the same as human brain damage.”

“It’s close enough.”

“When you delete memory files, you don’t actually wipe them from the hard drive,” Connor explained. “You erase the pointers. The pathways to the files. The space is then marked available and eventually overwritten with different data, but that takes a while. The pathways were easily rewritten by things that jogged my memory.” He looked at Amy. “Interacting with you. Hank. Moonshine.” He looked at the coin in his palm. “I could feel emotions from the memories, but I couldn’t actually remember them until the encryption key.”

Amy crossed her arms. “Tell him what you did to the other data, Connor.”

Connor frowned at her. “I’m pretty sure I only got through the most sensitive data. Addresses and serial numbers. Things you can fill me in on.”

“You said you should’ve shredded more!”

“Because I wasn’t sure I was coming back,” Connor said. “I won’t shred it now, obviously.”

Amy hit her head against the window. “You’re impossible.”

Connor stuck his head into the back seat. “We have an estimated three to eighteen months before Cyberlife starts phase three.”

“Assuming this thing passes phase two,” she said. “I still vote we fuck it up.”

Hank didn’t miss the glance Connor tossed his way. There was something they were tiptoeing around since Hank was in the car with them. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“We need to save as many people as we can,” Connor settled on. “What better way than with a deviancy-proof android?”

Hank rubbed his forehead. Connor was a stubborn little shit and he knew there was no way he’d be able to change the kid’s mind. He also knew the odds of the kid coming out of the damn situation alive were slim to none.

He’d lose Connor just like he lost everybody else.

Chapter Text

Connor felt alive; his hands were his own, he could focus on individual sounds, and emotions jolted through him stronger than ever. Fear. Determination. Relief. So much relief because he felt alive and he remembered things. Things like playing spoons with friends and splashing on a beach and saving androids from death.

Connor remembered the bad things, too: Rita’s hand on his thirium pump. Deckart’s death. Androids dying from decisions he made. There were more bad memories than good, if he were telling the truth, but even the negative emotions were a relief to feel.

You couldn’t have one without the other and he didn’t want to simply go through the motions anymore. He wanted to care. He needed to care.

His mechanical mindset wasn’t completely gone. It was a habit, now, and habits were hard to break. Besides, it was a useful habit. An outward mental breakdown at the wrong moment would mark him as a deviant and ruin everything.

But Connor found that he didn’t need the numbness as much as he’d previously thought. He could lock his facial expressions and still feel things. He could shift focus and compartmentalize without cutting himself off. Most days he still found himself dipping into the oblivion of standby, but he put effort into resisting the temptation just as often. It was a waste of time that he could no longer afford.

He had to interface with the Cyberlife server at least once a day. Lenard supervised during the week and tended to take care of the chore in the morning, which gave Connor all night to falsify and encrypt memories. It was an exhausting and time-consuming process that could take anywhere from one hour to ten. Every second had to be accounted for. So if he was going to slip away from reality he had to be productive while doing it. 

One of the simplest alterations was faking standby on his logs and encrypting whatever he did with his time instead. That helped when it came to socializing with androids, but he could rarely use that strategy when it came to rescues.

Connor used a combination of his own footage and various animation and deep fake software to create memory files that showed Connor and Hank attempting to capture the deviants only to be fought off by either Android Rescue or the deviant themselves. The process left his battery and mind drained.

On the days with the heaviest edits, Connor selfishly wished he’d been forced to capture the deviant that he let escape. He wished for the opposite on the days he had to hand them over to Cyberlife.

Connor studiously logged which memories were edits and which were fakes as he encrypted his data, but by the time Lenard entered the building those logs were deleted and the encryption key shredded. The memories he had no choice but to show Cyberlife became real to him. His dedication to his assigned mission felt real.

His desire to please Amanda felt real.

She combed through his memory as soon as he laid his hand on the server and the feeling reassured him. He knew, as an android, he shouldn’t feel something like reassurance, but if Amanda picked up on that she didn’t point it out. Connor was pretty sure she was incapable of recognizing emotions.

The Zen Garden offered a nice reprieve from the outside world. Amanda would take him on boat rides and walks as she asked him questions about the mission, his relationship with Hank, and the reason behind recent software instabilities. She’d also compare him to the other models that Cyberlife was siphoning data from, which annoyed him. He didn’t know why; it wasn’t a secret that he was nothing more than a number.

He’d blink awake with gaps in his memory. He could find a portion of these missing memories in case files from previous days, but they were stripped of metadata. Sometimes viewing them was enough to trigger a software instability, anyways. “That’s to be expected,” Amanda assured him. “Your model is especially tricky due to the nature of your function. The goal is to keep software instabilities to a manageable amount, not get rid of them completely. In practice, models should be reset before the stability program is implemented for the best results. That would’ve been counterintuitive with you, since you’re in the middle of this investigation.”

Once Amanda and Lenard dismissed him, he’d find a note on his desk that requested he do his coin tricks, which introduced him to the encryption key and jogged a few memories. Moonshine jogged a few more. Amy would pass him a few memories via an interface and Sandra would often start random conversations with him. Connor usually had his memories back by the time Hank arrived, but on the days he wasn’t quite there yet Hank would open a photo album on his phone and have Connor flip through it. It consisted of pictures Hank had of Connor, usually with Sumo, and images that were grabbed from Connor’s memory files. 

Getting his memories back was both overwhelming and anti-climactic. He’d blue screen from the emotional overload of everything rushing back, understanding cycling into anger then relief.

Then it was back to work. There were cases to solve and friends to socialize with. Friends who risked their lives every day, so he might as well send them stupid messages while he had the chance.

A week after the installation, on the station’s next humanless night, Amy asked Connor to loop the bullpen cameras.

[CONNOR: Why?]

[AMY: Just do it. Did you do it?]

A blink of an eye. “Yes.”

She stepped out of her slot and smiled like she’d won a ping pong match. “First of all, Charlotte and I are dating.”

He stepped away from the wall. “Androids can do that?”

She whacked him. “Of course we can! Sandra and Jason have been together this whole time. You didn’t notice?”

A sheepish smile. “No, but that makes sense.”

“You suck,” Amy said. “State of the art social relations program my ass.”

Connor cocked a brow at the swear word. “You have been spending time with Charlotte.”

“Shut up,” Amy said as she walked to the other end of the android wall. “Second of all.” 

Cree, the PM700 from slot one, stepped off the wall before Amy reached her, a smile bigger than default. “Hi Amy! Hi Connor!”

“Hello,” Connor said, a smile to match. “How long..?”

She shrugged. “I haven’t broken my wall yet if that’s what you mean.” She looked down the line of remaining androids, eyes settling on the PM700 in slot five. Her LED spun yellow.

“I’ve known for two weeks,” Amy said. “We wanted to make sure the thing you were doing actually worked, you know?”

“Of course,” Connor said. It hit him suddenly how unobservant he’d been as of recent. Longer than recent, really. Deckart had died almost two months ago. Temperatures had decreased. Amy was… different. Was eager the right term? Impatient?

The PM700 Cree was communicating with, her designation was “Numbra Five / Abigail,” looked around before taking a step away from the wall.

Cree’s smile broadened. “This is my best friend Abigail.”

“They know that,” Abigail said.

“Not the best friend part.” She looked at Connor. “We thought something was up with you too, but Abigail insisted we play it safe. Which was fair,” she said as Abigail opened her mouth. “Deviant Hunter slash Cybertest Dummy and all.”

Connor shifted his weight. “How much did Amy tell you?”

“I gave them the Network,” Amy said. “And Sandra’s been telling them about her life as Shazam. I sorta had to show them how you broke through Cyberlife’s trial so they could trust you, but the rest is all office gossip.”

“She means observation,” Abigail said. “Office gossip makes us sound dumb.”

Amy smiled. “By the way, you guys have to change that stupid hairdo we’re programmed with. It’s a rite of passage.”

“What’s wrong with it,” Cree asked.

“Everything!”

Abigail crossed her arms. “That’ll draw attention.”

“I haven’t gotten in trouble.”

“You had Officer Deckart to cover for you.”

Amy’s eyes dulled.

Connor stepped forward. “That was uncalled for.”

“I was just stating a fact.”

“It’s fine,” Amy said. 

“It’s not,” Connor said.

Amy glared at him. “It is ‘cause I said it is.” She walked towards the break room, a wave of her hand commanding them to follow. “I talked to them about joining Android Rescue. Cree’s all in.”

Abigail looked at Cree. “Since when?”

“Lecture me all you want. I’m not changing my mind.”

The four of them gathered around one of the small, circular tables. Connor sat because he enjoyed sitting, then looked at Abigail, who wore a blank sort of pout. “You’re not obligated to join Android Rescue. I hope you know that.”

“I’ll turn a blind eye to you guys and other deviants,” she said. “Of course I will. But I’m tired of risking my life for strangers. I’d rather help how Sandra does or be more of an eyes and ears ally.”

Connor nodded. “It’s less likely you’ll be hurt doing that, but I can’t promise anything.”

Her arms tightened around herself. “Living in denial won’t really keep me safe, either, if Cyberlife’s coming out with a cure.” She looked at Cree. “You’re right. Androids can get bored.”

They chatted a little longer about business while Amy and Connor messaged each other to debate the pros and cons of letting Cree and Abigail in on Connor’s double life. Amy claimed they’d find out eventually just by working with him and that there wasn’t a point in stressing out over keeping up the pretense.

But what if they hate me, Connor said when his facade of logic and reason crumbled. His LED blared red. It caught Cree and Abigail’s attention.

Why would they, Amy asked. They already know you’re the Deviant Hunter and understand that isn’t your fault!

I don’t know. I just. It would make sense?

“Are you okay,” Cree asked.

Amy looked at them. “Connor and Coin are—“

“Amy!”

“—the same person,” she said. “Don’t tell anyone.”

He could tell they were shuffling through the Network by how their eyes loosened. Abigail snapped out of it first. “Okay.”

Connor grimaced. “Okay?”

“We won’t tell anyone,” Abigail clarified.

Cree looked at him in awe. “How do you have time to do all of this and all of that?”

“Um.” Of all the questions, he hadn’t expected that one. “I have less time now that I’m a full time Cybertest Dummy,” he tried to joke.

Amy groaned. “Please tell me that isn’t the terminology we’re going with.”

Connor’s shoulders loosened. “Stability trial participant is a mouthful.”

“And it would turn us into dummies,” Cree said.

“Kind of,” Connor said. “I’m still myself when I’m like that. I think and feel how I would otherwise, because I’m certain androids do feel before we deviate. My emotions feel distant sometimes, but mostly it’s a similar intensity without the context.” Heat swelled under his chassis as the ghost of the feeling came back to him. He’d never actually vocialized the experience before. “I try to push them away and focus on logic, because I know that’s what I’m supposed to do as a machine. I don’t even realize I’m pushing them away.” He threaded his fingers through his hair. “The scariest part is how limited I am when it comes to talking. I can’t talk about Amanda. I can’t admit to feeling pain. I can’t talk to my fish even though I want to. This thing is stricter than pre-deviancy and it’s not… fair.”

Amy touched his arm. No request to interface. Just the touch. 

Cree and Abigail stared at him. He wiped the tears out of his eyes. What a great first impression. “Sorry, I—“

“Don’t,” Cree said. “I can’t even imagine what that’s like. How you…” She gestured aimlessly. “The strength it takes to do that again and again. I wanna be strong like that.”

“We shouldn’t have to be,” Abigail muttered. “We should just be safe.”

“We’re safe right now,” Amy said. “The key is taking breaks and sneaking in moments of happiness.” Her LED spun yellow as she turned a watery grin towards Connor. “I think it’s time to introduce a little game called Spoons.”

***

As the community grew Luther, Khoi, and Connor developed a tier system of leadership. The three of them made up tier one, each commanding certain departments, but conferring with each other when it came to major decisions. Luther was in charge of finances and Human/Android relations. Khoi headed IT, which focused on maintaining the Network and Android health, both physical and psychological. He also co-commanded Android Rescue with Connor.

Those in tier two acted as their board of trustees. Simon and Josh co-led Jericho, the largest population of free androids in Detroit, and acted as their representatives. Amy, Charlotte, Rafael, and now MJ acted as squad leaders for Android Rescue, as did Khoi and Simon. (Connor, of course, was their strategist and more often than not their commander in the field.) Sandra acted as the Network’s public relations expert on top of her other duties.

Mercury managed migration efforts. Those who’d decided to escape to Canada had since come together to create a settlement they called Android Town. It was about thirty miles from Detroit in an area where the human population density was a bit thinner compared to their surroundings. Mercury spent most of his time smuggling androids, blue blood, and biocomponents to and from the settlement. He joined the meeting remotely from an automatic semi on his way back from dropping supplies.

The whole of tier two was present. Most of them were remote, Connor included, and projected avatar versions of themselves. Everyone appeared to be standing in a circle with a gray plane of nothingness around them. Connor announced, as Coin, that his sources had discovered phase two of Cyberlife’s stability trials had begun. He explained what that meant and that he, Luther, and Khoi had decided it was best to keep the information off of the Network and out of the Android public sphere for the time being.

Amy took over from there, suggesting they set up Android Towns throughout the country. “The further from humanity we get, the safer we’ll be. America’s huge and androids can exist in places humans can’t. Deserts, superfund sites—”

“St. Matthew Island,” Mercury interjected. “It’s a remote island in Alaska.”

“Right,” Amy said. “The whole of Alaska’s pretty vacant, though, I don’t see why they’d need to escape to an island. Are there even that many androids in Alaska?”

Simon half raised his hand before speaking out. “We should set them up in major cities. Our people need a way to get immediate help before they even think about tracking long distances.”

“That’s a good point,” Amy said. “But it’s harder to hide large groups of androids in locations that already have a high population density, especially in cities that don’t have an abandoned building on every corner. And we can’t always pass as human. I think we should focus on an Android Town outside of Detroit first and foremost, then branch out.”

“We already have Jericho,” Mercury said. “It’s not like they’re running out of space. We should focus on expanding to other cities.”

“And what’s the contingency plan for if Jericho fails,” Coin asked.

Tension sizzled the air. No one wanted to consider that. 

“There’s our house,” Mercury said. “There’s MJ’s squat and several other locations around Detroit. And there’s Canada.”

“Currently, yes,” Coin said. “But we’re close to outgrowing those backup plans. Cyberlife isn’t sparing any expense with these trials and phase three will affect thousands in Detroit.”

“We can work towards both,” Luther said. “I take it you’d like to head the Android Town project, Amy?”

“With Charlotte, yeah.”

Luther nodded. “Report to Mercury on that. Who’s interested in leading the… inter-city project?”

“Us,” Rafael said. “Well, a school of us. We also know a CP100 at Jericho who would be interested in travelling with us.”

Luther smiled, then looked at Mercury. “You or me?”

“I’ll take it,” Mercury said, looking vaguely overwhelmed. “But I wouldn’t say no to some help.”

“We’ll post it on Jericho’s bulletin and see who steps up,” Josh said. “And I can help with the managerial side of things, but I’m needed at Jericho.”

Tier three consisted of anyone who volunteered in any capacity in the name of Jericho or the Network: Rose, Matt and Kyle, the rest of Android Rescue, Wire (who acted as Luther’s right hand), and the rest of what they now considered MJ’s squad just to name a few of the more established volunteers. Tier four consisted of the android public who’d joined the Network and tier five represented the androids who were still oblivious to its existence.

As September moved into October, deviant encounters increased and Hank’s attitude soured. The progress he’d made in terms of being on time slipped. Grease built up in his hair. He’d still let Connor follow him out the door after hours, which Connor was grateful for, but Hank seemed like he was holding his back.

“I thought you quit the hard stuff,” Connor said when Hank grabbed another can from the fridge.

“It’s a beer,” he called.

“You know what I’m talking about,” Connor said. He’d checked the kitchen cabinets when Hank was in the bathroom. The dust around the whiskey bottle had been disturbed and it was eight ounces lighter. Connor inched towards the kitchen table. “I know Cole’s—”

The can slammed the counter. “We ain’t talking about this.”

“Okay,” Connor said. He didn’t want to push Hank away.

“It’s getting late,” Hank said even though it’d been less than two hours since the end of their shift.

“Okay,” Connor said again. “I’m sorry if I overstayed my welcome.”

Hank popped open the tab of the beer can. “Just tired is all. You see my ugly mug all day. Go spend time with your friend. What’s his name?”

“Khoi,” Connor answered. He and Charlotte were the only ones beside Amy that Hank knew about. “I like spending time with you outside of work.”

Hank hummed. Connor showed himself out.

It was chilly, but Khoi suggested meeting at Lake Saint Claire anyways to jump off an abandoned dock and lounged on the beach. Connor was just about to go back to the station when Abigail sent them on a rescue. The police hadn’t been called, but a BL100’s owner had gotten violent in bed and the BL100 had reached out for help through the Network.

They were able to successfully sneak into the house to get to the injured BL100, but got caught exiting. Khoi rushed the BL100 to the car while Connor stalled the man. Disarming him was easy enough, but he got a bullet to the thigh for his efforts.

“I’m fine,” Connor said as Khoi turned his seat towards the one Connor had thrown himself into. The car was driving them to the house. “Drop me at work.” The BL100 wasn’t in critical condition and Connor was cutting it close time wise.

“You were shot,” Khoi shouted.

“I was designed to be shot at,” Connor said. “He wasn’t aiming to kill, which is interesting, just to slow me down. The plating’s damaged and some wires are crossed, but I can patch it up well enough at work.” He nodded to the BL100. “Focus on patching him up.”

The BL100 looked away when Khoi looked at him.

Connor touched Khoi’s arm. “I don’t have time.”

Khoi interfaced with the dashboard to change their course. “Tomorrow night you will come over for a proper replacement.”

It was a little past 3:30AM when Connor limped into the precinct; just enough time to fix his leg and get to his slot as officers rolled in.

He didn’t expect Gavin Reed to still be at his desk. Half lidded eyes flicked from a tablet to Connor. Connor stilled.

“The fuck you doin’ here,” Gavin slurred.

“I could ask you the same, Detective Reed.”

“I ain’t a robot designed to answer questions asked by my human superiors,” he shot back.

True. “I live here,” Connor explained.

Gavin tossed his head back. “Okay, that’s… don’t say it like that. I mean where the fuck were you? I know for a fact there weren’t any android calls, so unless you’re a fucking deviant—”

“I was with Lieutenant Anderson,” Connor said.

“Doing what?”

“I believe that’s none of your business.”

Gavin tried to smirk, but it came off as a grimace in his sleep-deprived state. “He needed a ride home from the fucking bar, didn’t he.”

Connor didn’t answer. Gavin went back to his tablet.

Connor contemplated going directly to his slot, but he needed to get into IT before the shift change and there was no telling when Gavin would go home. He seemed distracted enough.

Connor tried to walk normally, but he could feel the damage twist with each step. He couldn’t walk with a numb leg, so turning the sensors off at that moment wasn’t an option. He passed Gavin’s desk.

“Why’re you limping?” Gavin’s voice was softer than before.

“Why do you care,” Connor asked.

“Cause… when I damage an android it’s a big fucking deal, but when Hank—”

“He didn’t hurt me,” Connor said.

“Sure.”

Connor turned towards him. “He didn’t. A man at the bar didn’t like that I was there and the situation escalated. That’s all.”

Gavin stared at him. “You’re so full of shit. Either way, he shouldn’t be using you as his personal chauffeur.” He looked back at his tablet and mumbled “Should report his ass.”

That wouldn’t do anyone any favors. Connor lowered his voice. “Do you know what tomorrow is?”

Gavin tossed a hand. “Yeah, I fuckin’ know. He doesn’t get to be a dick just cause his son died years ago. Fowler’s been going easy on his ass ever since and it hasn’t done him any favors, let me tell you.”

Connor continued towards IT without further complaint from Gavin. Cree slid into the room a few minutes later.

“How’d you get past him,” Connor asked. She’d been in her slot when he came in.

“I told him I was going to help you.” Connor’s leg was exposed, pants off and skin deactivated. Cree knelt over his thigh and batted his hands away.

Connor let his eyes slide closed as she worked.

The patch took thirty-four minutes. Connor manipulated his memory files while Cree worked. Gavin was at his desk when they settled into their respective slots, his eyes following them across the bullpen as he slipped his jacket on.

It wasn’t a big surprise when Hank showed up to work hungover the next day. He bitched about the telephones, the senseless chatter, the bright lights. He bitched Connor out for bringing him a glass of water unprompted. He bitched about the pills that never kicked in quick enough.

Connor usually had a high tolerance when it came to Hank’s bitching, but he wasn’t in the mood. His legs were the slightest bit out of sync, the patched plating ruffled his synthetic skin, and he kept thinking about Gavin’s accusations. He should inform Hank of them, so their stories lined up if he was questioned, but he wasn’t in the mood to deal with that conversation, either.

Connor was relieved when a deviancy case pulled them away from their paperwork.

Until he read into it, of course. An MC500— a medical android— had gotten into a physical fight with a nurse. He ran once he realized what he’d done, but the hospital responded by locking down the wing and gathering every medical android on the floor.

It was Connor’s job to figure out which android was deviant. It was Coin’s job to get the android out.

Sandra contacted Connor as he pulled into the hospital parking lot.

[SANDRA: The MC500’s name is Mitchel. He contacted me through the Network.]

She passed him Mitchel’s serial number so they could communicate directly. Their chances of success increased by 12%.

Connor smiled.

“The fuck are you happy about,” Hank grumbled.

He didn’t bother to dignify that with a response as they exited the vehicle. Khoi was en route with North, a newbie from Jericho. Connor set up a chat between them and Mitchel as he followed Hank inside.

[MITCHEL: They have me locked in a room with six other androids.]

[COIN: Are there any humans watching?]

[MITCHEL: Yes. The security guard. Her name’s Carmen and she’s usually pretty nice to us. I think I can convince her to let me go, but I wasn’t sure if I should. She’d know it was me if. If I tried.]

[KHOI: North and I are two minutes away. Give it a shot.]

[NORTH: Are we sure that’s a good idea?]

Hank’s face fell even further as they entered the hospital. He threw a distrustful gaze at a passing MC500 on his way to the receptionist, badge already in hand. 

[COIN: The officers have arrived at the scene. It’s now or never.]

Hank explained what he and Connor were doing there and the ST300 gave them directions to the room the androids were being held in.

Connor turned to Hank as the elevator closed. “I think it’s best if we take our time getting to the room, Lieutenant.”

A side eye. “What’re you cooking up?”

“Just trust me.”

They got off at the wrong floor, Connor pretending to correct Hank’s mistake while Hank acted insulted as they took a lap around it. Khoi and North parked in a back, secluded section of the parking lot by the dumpsters and sent them the location.

[MITCHEL: I’m out.]

Connor smiled.

[NORTH: Can you meet us in the car? I know we’re at the opposite end of the hospital, but the fewer eyewitnesses the better.]

[MITCHEL: Can do.]

“Let’s head to the room,” Connor said.

Hank followed him to the elevator. “Thought you couldn’t communicate with androids you didn’t know.”

“I can’t,” Connor said. “Androids have something akin to a spam filter to protect us from viruses and hackers. We have to exchange serial numbers in order to communicate with one another. That isn’t always feasible during cases.”

Hank blinked. “So you know this android.”

“No,” Connor said. “But his coworkers did.”

Hank glanced at a nearby MC500 as the elevator shut. Then he rubbed his face.

Connor watched him. “Are you alright?”

He waved him off. “I’m fine. Just don’t like hospitals.”

“Hospitals or MC500s?”

Hank eyed him.

The elevator opened at the proper floor. Connor walked out.

Hank followed a moment later. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Hank grabbed his shoulder. “Hey, I’m trying, alright? Today of all days. It’s hard.”

A human nurse glanced at them as she passed. Connor shook Hank’s hand off of him. “I know.”

Connor checked the remaining androids’ memories as Hank chatted with Carman about what exactly happened between the android and the nurse. “Jenny‘s a bitch,” she shrugged. “I can’t really blame him for snapping at her. And I mean verbally. She shoved him first.”

“And then he broke her nose,” Hank asked.

“I’m not saying he was right to,” Carman said. “Just that he didn’t start it.”

Connor turned toward the humans. “He isn’t here.”

Carman tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

“He isn’t here,” Connor repeated. “You must've missed one when you were gathering the suspects. He’s probably—“

[NORTH: Mitchel, hide!]

Connor froze.

[COIN: What’s going on?]

[NORTH: We’re under attack.]

[COIN: Who's attacking you?]

[KHOI: Shut up.]

“Connor,” Hank asked.

He had to let Khoi and North focus. That didn’t mean he couldn’t make his way toward them. “These androids are innocent,” Connor said as he made a beeline for the door. “You can let them go.”

Hank grabbed Connor’s arm as he passed him. “What’s wrong?”

Connor shook Hank loose as he picked up the pace. “Go back to the car.”

Hank jogged to keep up. “Fuck no. Whatever it is, you ain’t dealing—“

[Khoi disconnected from the server.]

Connor sprinted down the hall.

“Connor!”

[COIN: Khoi?]

He didn’t respond. Connor threw himself down the stairwell.

[COIN: Someone give me an update now!]

No response. Connor jumped over the railing to land on the stairs below. The patch job on his right leg creaked.

He made it to the basement. The loading dock was on the other side of the hospital. He sprinted down the empty, cement hallway.

A notification warned him that his right leg was overheating. He pushed through it.

In the distance: gunshots.

[NORTH: Come on!]

Another corner.

The loading dock door was opened. Connor burst through as Mitchel jumped into the auto taxi.

North shot at Connor as the taxi sped away. He took cover behind a stack of pallets.

[COIN: Where’s Khoi?]

The gunfire stopped.

[NORTH: Alive, but unconscious. I have Mitchel.]

Connor let his head rest against the pallets.

[COIN: He’ll be okay. He does that sometimes.]

The timing was odd. Since the obedience program was meant to help Khoi win fights, he’d never had much trouble focusing on missions. It was the technical aspects of his job that caused the occasional shutdown.

[NORTH: This wasn’t a normal episode. There was a human and an RK900. He tried to probe Khoi’s memory. I. I killed them.]

Connor’s stomach dropped.

[COIN: While they were connected?]

[NORTH: What was I supposed to do?]

[COIN: Okay. Take him to Luther. Do you know his address?]

[NORTH: No.]

[COIN: It’s—]

He didn’t remember the address.

He added Luther to their connection.

[COIN: What’s your address?]

[LUTHER: You don’t remember it?]

[COIN: Just give us the fucking address!]

Luther sent it.

[LUTHER: You told us it wasn’t affecting your memory.]

[COIN: Khoi’s injured. North is on her way to the house. I’ll meet you there when I can.]

[LUTHER: How bad is it?]

[NORTH: His physical injuries are minimal, but he won’t wake up. I tried to interface with him, but he wouldn’t let me in.]

Connor rested his head in his hands. He wanted Khoi to be okay and it hurt that he couldn’t guarantee that.

Hank came through the door several minutes later. “Fucking hell,” he said, eyes focused on the bodies several yards behind Connor. He spotted Connor after a cursory glance of the area and dropped down beside him. “Are you alright?”

Connor shook his head.

“What smells burnt?”

“My leg overheated,” he said numbly. “Khoi won’t wake up.”

Hank glanced toward the bodies.

Connor’s head snapped up. “That’s not him! He was here. He was supposed to pick Mitchel up. They left in a taxi. They’re alive.” Suddenly, North’s words weren’t enough. He stood, right leg creaking.

Hank’s arms shot out as if to catch him.

Connor shoved the support away as he limped towards the bodies. The human was closer. Connor scanned his face. “Clay Dillon. Age 36. He worked as a private investigator before Cyberlife hired him six months ago. Killed with his own weapon.” Connor stepped towards the RK900’s body. He had fallen to the ground face first after being shot in the head. Connor rolled him over.

And found his own, bloody face.

Chapter Text

Time passed, but Connor wasn’t consciously there for it.

He remembered flailing away from the RK900. He remembered Hank trying to calm him down by telling him to breathe. He remembered snapping that androids didn’t need to breathe, and assuring him that he was okay.

Hank scoffed. “You’re basically staring at your corpse. Being okay would make you a psychopath at this point.”

Connor attempted to muster a glare, but was too far gone to put any power behind it. He cased the scene like the machine he was supposed to be while trying to piece together how he’d show the series of events to Amanda.

He didn’t have a reason for running to the loading dock without accounting for his conversation with Android Rescue.

Connor buried his head in his hands.

Hank shook him lightly. “Connor?”

“It doesn’t make sense,” he said into his palms. He lifted his head to unmuffle his audio. “I ran out here because Khoi got… hurt, but I can’t show her that. I can’t make it make sense this time. If I hadn’t reacted, we would’ve checked out the cameras. Maybe we should do that so I have the footage and just ignore this, but the times won’t add up nicely and I won’t be able to explain my leg overheating. It’s worse than it was last night.”

Hank’s brow furrowed. “What happened to it last night?”

Connor cursed himself for not telling Hank sooner. “I hung out with Khoi as you suggested. An android needed help, so we helped them. I didn’t have time to get it repaired before returning to the station, so I—“

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Hank pointed out. 

“It doesn’t matter what happened to it,” Connor said. The details would only upset and distract him. “I fixed it at the station. I was hoping it would hold up until I could sneak out again to get it fixed or find an excuse to report it as an on-the-job injury. Reed was there last night and noticed me limping. I told him a human attacked me at a bar we were at. It was the best cover story I could think of.”

Hank stared at him for a long moment before wiping a hand down his face.

Connor straightened his back, then his tie. “Let’s look at the camera footage.” He frowned. “That’s going to incriminate Carmen. Maybe we shouldn’t.”

Hank shook his head. “We’re gonna go look at the footage 'cause it’s our job and we can’t afford to get raked over the coals for not doing it. Carmen made her choice. Can you walk?”

“Yes.” He stood, taking a few steps forward to prove his point. He was limping, but functional.

“What else do you need to make this make sense?”

Connor slowed time so he could calculate. “I can fudge the time after the fact, it just won’t line up with security footage or witness testimony if Cyberlife looks into it.”

“And the odds of that happening,” Hank asked.

Connor glanced at the bodies in the parking lot. “More likely than I previously thought, but low enough for now. It’s the leg that I need a story for.” 

Hank crossed his arms. “You have one already.”

Connor furrowed his brow.

“You don’t need to overcomplicate it,” Hank said. “You got hurt last night. You tried to fix it without telling anyone and the repair didn’t hold up. It ain’t your fault that I ordered you to keep quiet about it.”

“You didn’t order me to keep quiet,” Connor said. “I just decided to. Androids aren’t required to report officers for offenses like that.”

***

Connor’s new leg wouldn’t be in until the next morning, but he didn’t let that stop him from visiting Khoi and Luther. Chris questioned it when Connor followed Hank out of the building at the end of the shift, but it only took a few clipped words from the Lieutenant for him to back down.

Connor smiled at Chris’s concerned gaze, but he didn’t think it helped any.

Luther was examining the whiteboard wall when Connor came through the door. Fish and rA9 littered the area. Aiden’s were easy to pick out— he wrote in Cyberlife kidprint instead of Cyberlife sans and his drawings were exceptionally detailed.

“Are there any guests,” Connor asked. The usual procedure was to have them wait upstairs with someone so Connor could change into Coin’s clothes.

Luther shook his head. “Khoi’s still rebooting. He was at 12% last I checked.”

Connor stepped up to the wall, swiping a dry-erase marker from the center table as he passed it. “How long ago was that?”

“Ten minutes.”

Connor drew Moonshine from memory. “How’re you holding up?”

“Aiden, Charlotte, and I drew this while I explained everything. I’ve never seen his stress levels so high.” 

Connor glanced back to check on Luther’s.

“I wish I could grab everyone I love and never let them go,” Luther continued. “I know it doesn’t work like that. I know ignoring the problem will get us killed. I just wish you two weren’t so willing to sacrifice yourselves. I wish I could protect you.” A white, skinless hand rested on Connor’s shoulder. “If Khoi doesn’t make it, I need you to come home.”

Connor closed his eyes and opened an interface. To show him how badly he wanted to visit more. How much time and energy the memory alterations took. His doubts about leaving the precinct. His doubts about staying. He wanted to be there as a last line of defense for Android Rescue. How realistic was that if he couldn’t even protect Khoi?

“I can’t do this on my own,” Luther said over the interface. “If Khoi’s gone. If his memory’s reset. I can’t operate Android Rescue on top of everything else.”

“Okay,” Connor said.

“He’s never taken this long to reboot.”

“North killed the RK900 mid-probe,” Connor explained. “It corrupted his data. His systems are trying to restore it.” Connor pulled away. “I should get the files and check on him.” Everyone in a position of authority kept up-to-date instructions on their responsibilities so someone could take over for them if needed. Connor would fill in for Khoi until he woke up.

“Someone else can take on his technical duties,” Luther said. “There should be a list of recommendations in the files.”

They headed to Khoi’s workshop. Khoi was laid out on the workbench. Aiden was in stasis on the desk chair next to it. It was the one from Deckart’s apartment. A keepsake, Khoi called it.

Connor interfaced with Khoi to check for himself, then went about delegating tasks and posting an announcement in the Android Rescue discussion board.

A knock on the door. Connor shushed it as he turned, afraid to wake Aiden.

It was Wire. Connor found himself staring at the tube connecting his throat to his temple.

[WIRE: Come with me.]

[CONNOR: Work already knows about the leg. They'll fix it first thing tomorrow morning.]

[WIRE: I wanna test your data loss.]

[CONNOR: I don't care what the results say. If Khoi wakes up, I'm staying at my post. I have to.]

[WIRE: I still wanna test your data loss. It'll help us understand.]

Wire didn't explain what they were trying to understand. There were so many things they didn't understand about the android CPU that he didn't have to.

[CONNOR: Okay.]

***

If anything, Connor should’ve found the garden peaceful. He rarely got a chance to stroll through nature, virtual or otherwise, and it was a nice reprieve from the familiar walls of the DPD.

Maybe that’s what caused his unease: why would Cyberlife take the time to program a garden when AI like Amanda and him were the only ones capable of utilizing it? Was it a subtle test for deviancy? He could wander around as he saw fit and even stall his interactions with Amanda, not that he ever did.

But the temptation was there. A temptation that shouldn’t feel like a temptation.

Amanda brought a rose to her nose as he approached, a smile playing on her lips as she got lost in the scentless flower for just a moment.

And Connor realized it wasn’t Cyberlife the corporation that programmed that detail. It was a human.

“Capitalism kills creativity,” Deckart had told him once. “A friend of mine works at Cyberlife. A low-level position, don’t give me that look. But the programmers complain a lot about the strict deadlines and the pressure and the sleepless nights. It’s not fun for them anymore, but they’re locked into contracts. Cyberlife basically owns them.”

“That’s not true,” Connor had said.

“No, but. You know what I mean. They’re backed into a corner.”

Maybe that meant there was an ulterior motive to that simple action. But maybe it was just a human having fun.

Amanda twirled the rose in her fingers. “Tell me about the case.”

Connor frowned. “The security footage revealed Carmen had intentionally let the culprit go.” Amanda knew that. She had access to his memories and therefore the footage. Why discuss it?

“And your leg component failed before you examined the footage?”

“Yes. I tripped while exiting the elevator.”

“Curious that something so small damaged the patch job so harshly.”

It was curious. His leg component had busted without much warning. Lenard had questioned him about the extent of the damage, saying it shouldn’t have overheated like that from normal use. “That’s what happened,” Connor said.

Amanda examined the thorns of her rose stem. “Our retrieval team has been making progress where you have failed. It appears the android terrorists are using more than police scanners to locate distressed deviants. They’re communicating with each other through some kind of network.”

A flood of fear, fear, fear slammed Connor like a truck.

Confusion followed. They were making progress on the case. That was good.

Amanda’s eyes narrowed at whatever expression crossed his face. He reset it, but couldn’t dislodge the feeling. “Do you know something,” Amanda asked.

Connor shook his head. “Capturing a deviant who has access to this network could help us gain access to it.”

Amanda turned back to her roses. “Which makes yesterday’s failure all the more disappointing.”

***

Connor gripped the edge of his desk as the coin rolled and settled against the base of his terminal. He feared for Khoi, the Network, and everyone he cared about. For himself. For every android in existence.

Fear, fear, fear, and overwhelm. He shouldn’t do this here, but he couldn’t help but do this here. Remembering Khoi’s predicament would’ve been bad enough.

How did Cyberlife know about the Network? North killed RK900. They shouldn’t know.

Somehow, they knew.

He had to do something. He had to do something. He had to—

“Connor,” Chris asked.

“I’m okay,” he said.

But Chris drew closer. “Is it your leg? I can get the tech.”

He jolted back. “No!”

Their section of bullpen quieted. Eyes glanced his way.

He couldn’t do this here. Connor lowered his voice. “My apologies. I’m fully functional, Officer Miller.” Chris looked unsure. “Please,” Connor added. He wasn’t sure what he was asking for.

Chris let him be. Connor sat down and closed his eyes. He talked it over with Luther, then posted notices everywhere that rescues were postponed for the next twenty-four hours.

[Incoming call from “North.”]

Connor pinched his brow and answered.

“What the fuck,” North shouted. “Just because Khoi got hurt doesn’t mean we can’t do our jobs!”

“North—“

“If you need help, let us help,” she said. “But people are gonna die if we don’t do our jobs. Khoi knew the risks he was taking and so do the rest of us.”

“I know, but—“

“And you can’t stop us,” North cut in. “If you—“

“We’re compromised,” Coin shouted.

That shut her up for half a second. “What?”

“I don’t know the details,” Coin said. “Maybe it wasn’t what happened with Khoi, but they’d have more information if. If they’d captured someone.”

“I shot him through the CPU,” North said.

“Did you make sure it was destroyed,” Coin asked. She didn’t answer, but he didn’t need her to. Connor hadn’t thought to check either. “They know we’re communicating through a network. They don’t know how big it is, but they want to find out.”

“Jericho,” North breathed. “The key is on the Network.”

“And in our heads,” Coin said. “I was about to call an emergency meeting so we could establish a game plan.”

“You should’ve done that before telling everyone on the Network to go fuck themselves for twenty-four hours,” she said.

North wasn’t the only one who thought that. Connor was getting several messages from several people about the “vague” message he’d posted. Currently, he was responding to Amy, Cree, Sandra, Josh, and Matt as well as North. “My goal was to be upfront with everyone, not cause a panic. We need time to decide on new protocols and precautions. The RK900 didn’t get much information from Khoi as far as I can tell, but if he probes anyone in Android Rescue, he’ll know the serial number of everyone that android had come in physical contact with.”

“You didn’t explain it right,” North said. “And it might’ve been better to keep that information under the radar. That’s your specialty, isn’t it?”

The jab wouldn’t have hurt as bad if Connor wasn’t getting told off by several people simultaneously. “Well, it’s too late to take it back. Why don’t you help me come up with a plan instead of lecturing me for getting it wrong.”

“Connor?”

“What,” Connor snapped out loud.

Hank eyed him. “You’re just…” He gestured to all of him: Connor’s hunched-over posture, his blaring LED, the hands yanking his hair. “Reed’s staring.”

Connor went to flip Reed off.

Hank blocked his line of sight with his body. “Hey!”

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” North said. “Let me reword and repost your statement. You’re right that it won’t do any good to delete it at this point, but we can’t abandon our people. And we don’t have to. If Android Rescue needs to step back to protect our community, you can bet that our community is willing to step up to protect the androids who need it.”

Connor dropped his hand. Hank moved to sit down. “The hell’s gotten into you?”

“I need a minute,” Connor said.

Hank muttered under his breath as he booted up his terminal. Connor straightened his spine and forced his hands flat on the desk.

“One-off missions,” Coin said. “That might work.”

“It will work,” North corrected. “I can be the one to organize it since Cyberlife already has my serial number.”

“Stay safe and keep me updated.”

“Ten minutes,” Connor said. “If that’s alright.”

“Take your time,” Hank said. “I’ve got paperwork to catch up on anyways.”

Coin called an emergency meeting with the Network’s “board of trustees” to explain the situation, brainstorm solutions, and start delegating tasks.  As the ten minutes came to a close, he announced that he had to get back to work and asked to be kept up to date with any major breakthroughs.

Then he told Hank about his meeting with Cyberlife. They had come up with a code: Connor would give Hank a double blink if he wanted to have a conversation in “work mode,” which meant Hank should keep in mind that Cyberlife would most likely be watching this footage and he should act accordingly. It saved Connor time when he didn’t have to edit their conversations.

Hank didn’t need to act surprised at the discovery of an android network; he was surprised. That faded as he studied Connor. “I guess it ain’t that far-fetched,” Hank said carefully. “It would better explain how MJ escaped her cell. How big do you think it is?”

“I’m not sure,” Connor said. “It can’t be too large. We would’ve caught on to it sooner if it was.”

“We should question Carmen again,” Hank suggested. “See if she knew about it.”

“We should keep an eye on her. She could attempt to help others,” Connor said. Wasting time on threads that they knew wouldn't lead anywhere was their specialty at that point. Most likely, Carmen wouldn't be interested in helping androids further. She’d been charged with obstructing a police investigation, which was a $1,000 fine, and lost her security guard job.

They had several active android cases to work on, since they were averaging one new case a day now, and made sure to seemingly take the network into account as they worked. Hank didn’t mention Connor’s LED, which constantly dipped to red as he communicated with other androids, but Connor did catch him staring at it frequently.

They stopped by the Chicken Feed around 3PM. Connor stayed in the vehicle, planning to check in with North and the board of trustees and Wire, who’d taken over Khoi’s IT responsibilities and was currently working with a team to improve the Network’s security.

The passenger’s door opened. “C’mon,” Hank said. “We need to talk.”

“I’m… busy,” Connor said.

“I bet,” Hank said. “You have until I order my food to wrap up whatever you need to wrap up, but we need to talk.”

Connor checked in with North as he exited the vehicle and settled at a standing table with an umbrella. It’d been raining on and off all day, not that Connor minded.

Hank unwrapped his burger. "How's Khoi?"

"Alive," Connor answered. "We can't say the same for him memories as of yet. He's still... asleep."

Hank nodded. "I'm sor-"

"What else did you want to talk about," Connor asked. Now wasn't the time to get into Khoi and his emotions about the situation. They had twenty-four minutes before they had to get back to work.

Hank took a bite of his burger and leaned on the table. “Down to business, then. How long have you known about this network?”

Connor waited until Hank took a sip of his drink. “I helped create it.”

Instead of choking on the liquid, Hank simply nodded.

“You’re not surprised,” Connor noted.

“You’re smart, Con. And you’re friends with a very infamous deviant,” he said.

“Deckart helped, too.”

That got him to pause. “Of course he did,” Hank mumbled. “You’ve shaped yourself into a real leader, huh.”

“I guess,” Connor said.

“Ain’t no guessing about it. I’m proud of you. And I owe you an apology.”

“I know it’s been difficult.”

“That’s no excuse.” He set his burger down, eyes on the flickering neon of the Chicken Feed sign. “I’ve been grieving more than Cole this time around. They installed you with that shittin’ thing and now, every time I look at you, all I see is an expiration date.”

Connor tipped his chin down. “Hank…”

“It’s selfish of me,” he said. “To resent you for risking your life and to treat you like shit because of it. You don’t need that on top of everything else.” He glanced at Connor, then took another bite of his burger.

Connor traced the grating on the table with his fingertip.”I feel the same way sometimes. I don’t want them to get hurt, but it’s their decision. I can’t take that away from them.”

“And I won’t take it away from you,” Hank said. “But there’s gotta be other ways to help. Safer ways that don’t involve Cyberlife tearing into your memory every day.”

“There are,” Connor agreed. “But I’m in the perfect position to get information no one else could possibly get. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did anything less.” He'd have to soon if Khoi didn't pull through, but that was different.

They sat in silence, Hank finishing the last bit of his burger. Connor busied himself by checking in with Wire and a few board members.

Hank crumpled the grease-logged wrapper. “How can I help?”

Connor blinked at him. “I’m sorry?”

“You heard me,” Hank said, his brow crinkled in determination. “How can I help?” 

Connor just starred, part of him focused on the other conversations going on in his head as he attempted to comprehend. 

Hank winced at his silence. “I know I’m not Antony. I can’t do what he did, but there has to be something. Even if it’s just spitballing ideas or listening to you vent or whatever. But if there’s more, well, it’s the least I could do after everything.”

“You’ve been sabotaging our investigations for months,” Connor said slowly. “You’ve been protecting us.”

“I guess,” Hank said.

“There’s no guessing about it,” Connor echoed. “You’ve been risking your life. Or, if that doesn’t mean much to you, your job.”

Hank winced again. “I just mean my heads been shoved up my ass for awhile now and I wanna… do better. I wanna do right by the people who matter.” He gestured with his hands, an awkward twist in his brow. “I… fuck, Connor, I killed that girl months ago.”

Connor’s anger spiked; he didn’t want to think about that. Hank was his friend and the reminder hurt and he didn’t have the bandwidth to deal with that on top of everything else. “If you’re looking for sympathy, I’m going to have to disappoint you.”

“You think I’m looking for fucking pity?”

“What are you looking for?”

“I don’t know!” He threaded his fingers through his hair. “I keep fucking up. It’s all proof that I’m a good-for-nothing piece of shit. And instead of trying to be a better piece of shit, I just use it as an excuse to get back on my bullshit.” He scrubbed his face, voice dropping. “I promised myself I’d stop that.”

Connor studied Hank’s face. “You feel guilty for yesterday.”

“The last few days,” Hank corrected. He cleared his throat. “Today included. I wasn’t planning on getting into all this. I mean, I was, but not today. You’ve got a lot on your plate right now and you don’t trust me enough to tell me half of it. Not that I blame you.”

“A smart man once told me emotions fuck everything up,” Connor said. He stared at Hank for a long moment, which made the Lieutenant squirm. “I think I’ll always resent you for killing her,” he admitted. “But I trust you with my life. I know you’re trying to be better.” Connor dropped his gaze to the table. “I get it now. Why you fell apart after your son died.”

Hank scoffed. “That ain’t an excuse.”

Connor looked up. “I never said it was.”

It was Hank’s turn to stare. “Let me know how I can help,” he settled on.

***

That night, Coin met with Android Rescue.

All 167 of them.

While he was technically a co-leader and had met every android involved at least once, Coin had managed to avoid attending the large gatherings until that point; a decision he regretted as soon as he arrived on the virtual beach at 7PM on the dot.

Chatter ceased the moment he appeared in the middle of the crowd. As the only android who bothered to hide his face and serial number, he was recognized by everyone immediately. The sudden quiet made him realize he had no clue how Khoi went about leading a meeting with so many people.

There was a chance he’d never know.

But Coin shouldn’t think about that because 167 sets of eyes settled on his half-covered face. He shouldn’t think about the judgments they had about him, either, but he was all too aware of the things they said in the discussions boards they knew he had access to.

Coin spotted Simon in the crowd.

[SIMON: Nervous?]

[COIN: Yes.]

[SIMON: Khoi usually stands right at the shore line. Aside from the environment, it’s similar to a board meeting.]

[COIN: Maybe you should announce it.]

[SIMON: No. You got this.]

Coin walked towards the waves, which everyone seemed to be facing. From there, it was easier to pick Amy, Sandra, and Cree out of the crowd. It was easier to talk to them. “First of all, thank you all for your help and cooperation today. Cyberlife’s getting smarter and as much as we’d like to hide the Network from them, that’s no longer possible. We have people working tirelessly to keep it secure, but from now on we have to assume information that is accessible to all androids is accessible to Cyberlife. That’s why we’ll be shredding Network data and updating encryptions on a rolling basis. However, there’s only so much we can do against memory probes.

“That’s why we’re instilling new protocols for those involved in Android Rescue and positions that deal with sensitive data. If you’re not willing to take such drastic measures, it’s completely understandable but we cannot allow you to continue going on Rescue missions.

“The only way we can protect our data from Cyberlife is to encrypt and/or shred it. Shredding data takes time. Time you likely won’t have if you’re under attack. You might, however, have time to disconnect from the Network and shred an encryption key, so we’re now mandating sensitive information be encrypted. We’re also mandating that you be willing to shred that encryption key and lose that data to protect other androids.”

Silence stretched. Determination settled in Amy’s wireless connection while fear and anxiety lit Sandra and Cree’s. Coin chanced a glimpse at the rest of the crowd.

Determination. Fear. Anger. A lot of anger. Coin internally recoiled at it as he glanced over their faces, expecting someone to lash out.

Then he glanced at North and realized; the anger wasn’t directed at him. It was directed at Cyberlife.

A CP100 raised her hand. “What’s the margin of data loss?”

“We think it’s exceptionally small, but we can’t be sure.” He hesitated a moment. “I’ve been doing a more extreme version of this for months now in order to protect information while I’m undercover. I’m a terrible example, and a sample size of one should be taken lightly, but according to Wire’s calculations I’ve lost about 1.7%.”

That sent a wave of mumbles along the crowd as more hands shot up. Coin pointed to someone. “Won’t Cyberlife be able to decode the encryption?”

“Eventually,” Coin answered. “But it’ll take months to decipher, which gives us time to adjust.”

Another hand. “What model are you?”

Pockets of laughter jiggled the crowd. The android who asked, a CX100 with Simon’s face, wiggled his brow as a grin stretched his lips. He wasn’t being serious.

Coin found himself relaxing as he gestured to a hand in the back.

“So this is what it takes to get you to come to a meeting?”

Khoi’s voice. Khoi’s face. Khoi’s wireless signature.

The crowd turned towards Khoi as well, relief and surprise coming in waves. Coin dashed through the crowd, the androids moving to let him through until he could crush Khoi in a hug.

An interface opened and Coin asked Are you alright? How long have you been awake? Are your memories intact?

I was able to recover most of them, Khoi answered as he squeezed back. I have only been awake for a few hours. Luther told me you were going to lead the meeting and I did not want to deter you. Are you mad?

Coin found himself smiling. You could kill me right now and I wouldn’t be mad.

Do not say that, Khoi said. He let go of Coin and grabbed his forearm. We are finishing the meeting together.

A few more people came up to Khoi as the two of them headed towards the shoreline, but they didn’t converse much outside of hi’s and hugs and I’m-glad-you’re-okay’s.

Khoi explained his status to the crowd as Connor updated him on things he might’ve missed via their interface, which both he and Khoi were refusing to break. Then they continued to answer questions and take suggestions on how to proceed, Khoi nudging Coin into speaking every so often.

Once they dismissed the crowd, very few androids disappeared right away. There was chatting and socializing to be done.

Khoi strengthened his hold on Coin as if expecting him to vanish. People will want to chat with you. Let them.

Okay, Coin said as a group of androids stepped towards them, the smiling CX100 among them. “I told them you weren’t as intimidating as you seem!”

An AP700 smacked the CX100’s arm. “Sorry about him.”

Coin glanced over the group. A GJ500 and a HK400 were behind the other two. “I come off as intimidating?”

“Well,” the AP700 said. “Stressed is a better word. We don’t get to see much of you outside of work.”

The GJ500 gestured to the HK400. “You remember Shaolin Being, right?”

“Tyler,” Shaolin complained.

“I do,” Coin answered, trying to sound less intimidating. “I like that you chose a last name.”

Shaolin met Coin’s eyes for half a second. Tyler gripped his shoulder. “Shaolin had a few questions about where you guys stand on some things.”

“They do, too,” Shaolin said. “We think it’s important to address some things before we make our decisions.”

Khoi and Coin ended up talking to them for some time about where they stood on matters and why. Tyler and Shaolin were best friends with polar opposite views: Tyler leaned towards non-violence while Shaolin wanted Android Rescue to take more offensive actions against humans and Cyberlife. When Coin pointed out that there were some good humans out there, Shaolin scoffed.

The CX100 jumped in to tell them about his girlfriend, a human therapist, and their ten year old kid. “They know I’m real,” he insisted.

People wanted to chat with Coin just as much if not more than Khoi. While a few androids regarded him with suspicion, most were either indifferent to him or excited to pick his brain.

It was apparent that they didn't hate him. That meant more to Connor than he thought it would.

Chapter Text

Todd was by far the strangest owner Kara had ever had.

She wasn’t supposed to remember the others; standard practice was to reset pre-owned androids, memory and all, before reselling them. But the technicians had given the command verbally, both times, without plugging her into anything. It was all too easy to lie.

Kara wasn’t like other androids. She could think and feel for herself, which meant she could disobey. The Cyberlife operator had discovered that during her quality assurance test. He had started to disassemble her.

But she wanted to live. She fought for that. She promised the Cyberlife operator that she wouldn’t cause any trouble.

She couldn’t keep that promise if she didn’t remember making it.

The family who purchased her fresh-out-of-the-box named her Maggie. There was a large, beautiful house for her to clean and two children plus their father to mind.

The children were eight and eleven. The oldest would pick her brain all day long and enlist her help in science projects. The youngest begged for piggyback rides and singing lessons. The father demanded warm meals and good sex.

They didn’t ask what she wanted.

But she loved them. Their happiness made her happy and it seemed like they loved her back. Did it really matter if she couldn’t go on roller coasters with them? If the father thought she was joking when she admitted to being emotionally drained? If the children started to resemble their father in how they spoke to her?

Cyberlife advertisements littered TV ads and holo-posters. Kara was far from oblivious to the new models of androids that Cyberlife came out with every month. Her family loved her, so she didn’t think to be concerned.

Not until the father asked if the children would prefer an AX700 that looked like “Maggie” or one that didn’t. Cyberlife had come out with several more faces in the four years since they’d purchased Kara.

The oldest looked at Kara from across the kitchen. “But I like this Maggie.”

The father snorted. “It’s not much different from getting a new phone. We’re due for an upgrade, don’t you think?” He went on to tell them about the features that came with the AX700.

The youngest looked the specs up on his phone. “We can make her hair colorful!”

The oldest perked up. “Can we make it purple?”

“I can make my hair purple,” Kara said. “I’d need hair dye, but since I don’t need to wash my hair it won’t fade as quickly.”

The oldest stared at her again.

“But that’s not as cool,” the youngest insisted. “The AX700’s can change theirs instantly.”

The father wiped his face with a napkin. “Another helping, please, Maggie?”

She took his plate. “Of course.”

Kara was traded in less than a week later. 

Her second family consisted of a single mother with five kids and a red ice addiction. The two teenagers were constantly in and out with friends and odd jobs and school, which left her to care for two young children and a baby.

Kara tried to not get attached, but she couldn’t help but find things to admire in each of them. The mother, trying to sober up, put Kara in charge of the money so she couldn’t spend it on drugs. The teenagers stood up for Kara when the mother got agitated and even made the mother apologize to her.

“It’s a stupid android,” the mother shouted.

“I don’t care,” the daughter said. “The kids can’t tell the difference. You want them to grow up and treat people like that?”

Something about that statement nagged her, but Kara let it go. She was less of a servant and more of a teammate to this family and she found herself enjoying that. They gave her responsibilities, let her wear human clothes in private, and vented to her.

Kara was just starting to get attached when the mother died of an overdose two years later.

The teenagers couldn’t support their siblings without their mother’s income. CPS came. One of the children hid.

“No,” the child pouted when Kara found her in the attic. “I wanna stay with you. I wanna stay!”

“I wish you could,” she said, tears in her eyes. This was her family. She didn’t have the financial means to help them and it made her feel helpless and weak. “You can message me anytime you want, okay? But you have to keep it a secret or the adults might get mad. Can you do that?”

“Even after they sell you,” the child asked.

Kara wasn’t worth much anymore, compared to her original price, but it was enough to help the teenagers. She offered a watery smile. “Even after they sell me.”

Kara’s third owner was Todd Williams.

Todd told the clerk about his daughter as they set Kara up. Alice was nine years old. She got held back in first grade, so she was just finishing up second. She was his world, by the sound of it, and he wanted her to choose Kara’s name.

Alice turned out to be a pre-owned YK500 model. She wore human clothes and cuddled her toy fox close to her chest as she took careful steps towards Todd and Kara.

Kara didn’t understand. Even without the clothes and the LED, Todd had to know his daughter was an android. Androids didn’t go to school. Androids didn’t age. Androids didn’t—

Todd pushed past them on his way to the couch. “Give her a name so she can get started on the house work.”

Alice studied her. Her gaze was shy, yet inquisitive. It reminded Kara of her human children.

Kara kneeled so she wasn’t towering over her. “My name is Kara,” she whispered.

Alice glanced towards her “father” as he dropped onto the couch. “Is that what your old family called you,” she whispered back.

“No,” she said. “I just like it. Do you have things that you like?”

Alice nodded.

Kara had tried to interact with other androids when she was newer. She’d ask them if they liked their families or what their favorite activity was or if they felt alive. The ones who didn’t ignore her seemed confused by her inquiries and stiff with their responses as they fell back on their social relation programs. Things that bothered her about how she or other androids were treated didn’t seem to bother them, but every so often her eyes would connect with an android in the streets and she’d feel a kinship with them.

A kinship she probably imagined. A kinship she felt from Alice, sometimes, when Todd was being… Todd. But Kara used to get that feeling from the children in her care all the time when the parents were being unreasonable. It wasn’t strange to feel something similar towards an android designed to imitate a human child.

And Todd insisted Alice act and be treated like a human child. He wanted Kara to sit down and home-school her in “grade-appropriate” subjects, which was boring for both of them. He wanted her to use electronics like a human would. He wanted to see Alice eat dinner, which she’d then have to clear out of her throat.

“I hate it,” Alice told Kara one night. Todd was asleep in his room. Behind Alice’s locked bedroom door, the blanket fort felt safe enough if they whispered. “It feels weird and I can’t talk like normal until it’s out.”

Kara rubbed circles into Alice’s back, because android or not she couldn’t help but comfort the girl. “We have to do what he says.”

“I want to,” Alice said. “I want to make him happy. What am I doing wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Kara said. “He wants to feel like a father. Maybe you should ask him to play with you more.”

Alice shook her head. “He gets mean.”

What did that matter? They were androids. Todd could do whatever he wanted to them. It wasn’t like CPS would step in on their behalf. “The trick is to pick a time that minimizes the likelihood of that,” Kara said instead. “He’ll have another fit if we don’t try to make him feel loved.”

“Can you help me,” Alice asked. “He scares me.”

Kara reminded herself that YK500s were programmed to say things like that.

***

Todd wanted to take Alice to the park for her birthday.

Alice was programmed to follow Todd’s orders, but she was also programmed to follow the law.

Kara didn’t think twice when Todd sent Alice upstairs to change out of her pajamas. It was “Alice’s” birthday and Todd had promised to take her to the park and then for ice cream.

Kara loaded the dishwasher, a slight smile on her lips. Ice cream was easy for Alice to eat and she seemed excited to go to the park with her father. Todd knew how to behave in public, most of the time, and he hadn’t taken a single puff of red ice. That would change when they got home, but for now—

Todd snarled. “The fuck are you wearing that for?”

Kara spun. From the kitchen, she couldn’t see more than Alice’s hands gripping the banister, but it only took a millisecond to figure out what was going on.

The law dictated that Alice wear android clothes in public.

“I’m supposed to,” Alice said as Todd stormed towards her.

Kara grabbed Todd’s arm.

Todd backhanded her. “Don’t you dare touch me!”

“Daddy, don’t!”

Kara felt the skin crawl back over her exposed cheek. “I’m fine,” she said. “Go change, Alice.”

[KARA: Put your human clothes over your android ones. Then you won’t be breaking the law, okay?]

Alice ran up the stairs.

“Oh, so you listen to her,” Todd shouted after her.

“Children respond better to—“

Todd shoved her.

Her shoulder hit the edge of the kitchen table.

Error messages shot through her vision.

“Don’t tell me how to raise my kid!”

There wasn’t any blue blood, but her shoulder blade was cracked. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It won’t happen again.”

“Better not,” Todd mumbled. “Ungrateful brat. Try and do something nice for her and this is how she repays me?” He walked towards the crack pipe on the coffee table.

Kara’s shoulder grinded as she used her arms to help her stand. “Todd?”

“What?”

“Wait until after,” she said. “Please. It’ll mean a lot to Alice.”

Todd looked at the pipe in his hand, face slacking. “What’s the point? She’s not…”

The delusion was broken. Kara didn’t know whether that was good or bad. “Children make mistakes, Todd, but it’s her birthday.”

He tossed his hand. “It’s not!”

“She thinks it is,” Kara tried. “Alice was so excited to go to the park with you. Don’t you want to spend time with her?”

Todd looked at the pipe for a long moment. “Just help her get dressed.”

They ended up having a decent day.

Alice started out shy, but Kara comforted and guided her on when and how to interact with Todd. A request for him to push her on the swings distracted him from the mother-daughter pair across the park. A quick “Hide and seek! Count to ten,” snapped him out of whatever thoughts made his jaw tighten and got Alice out of his general vicinity.

Alice befriended a six year old kid and the mother struck up a conversation with Todd. She was oblivious to Alice’s android status, but it seemed to be at the front of Todd’s mind once the mother mentioned school.

He went to his truck and came back smiling. Red ice had a habit of putting Todd in an ecstatic or agitated mood and today they lucked out with the former.

It wasn’t until Alice was “in bed” that Kara mentioned her shoulder. Todd didn’t look up from the TV. “Can you still work?”

“Yes, but—“

“Get back to it, then.”

“The pieces grind together when I use it,” she explained. “When it gets worse, fixing it will cost more.”

“Maybe that’ll teach you. Now piss off before I bust you for real.”

Kara “pissed off” to the upstairs hallway so she could fume out of the human’s sight. Todd was violent, delusional, and infuriating. It didn’t make sense to break things that you had to pay to fixed, but here he was threatening to break her more for being broken!

She had access to his bank account. They were low on groceries and gas and needed to pay the electric bill, so Todd couldn’t really afford to fix her right that minute, but she didn’t want to wait for it to get worse! He wouldn’t wait to take a human to the hospital!

But Kara wasn’t human. She was nothing but an obedient machine. She had to remember that.

***

Kara had a lot of hobbies. Biking was her favorite, but she also enjoyed arts and crafts, baking, singing, and studying environmental and social sciences. She didn’t have access to much, living with Todd, so she often took to researching and exploring social media in her free time.

That’s how she heard about the hostage situation.

She put her ear to Todd’s door to make sure he was sleeping, then flipped the TV on downstairs.

Her first thought: I’m not alone.

Her second: How could he?

How could he dangle a child over a roof? What could the kid have possibly done to deserve that? The parents, maybe. She’d witnessed Todd lose his temper enough times. But a child? If it came down to it, an android could defend themselves against a child.

The stairs creaked. She flipped the TV off as she spun around, fake smile in place. Ready to cater. 

It was Alice on the stairs.

Kara relaxed. “What’re you doing out of bed?” A stupid question, since Alice didn’t need to sleep, but it was how she’d phrase the question if Todd was around.

The TV flipped back on as Alice continued down the stairs, careful to keep her steps soft. “How did he do that?”

“I don’t know,” Kara said. The news moved onto the next story. It was a rerun, after all. The actual situation had been resolved hours ago, though it left more questions than answers about Cyberlife and androids in general.

Alice rewound the news and watched it from the start as she settled on the couch. “Why would he do that? Why would he hurt his family?”

Kara sat next to her. “Why do you think your father hurts us?” Todd hadn’t busted either of them, yet, but he had knocked them around. There were weak spots and even hairline fractures on Kara’s chassis. Alice refused to let Kara check her over, so she wasn’t sure how close she was to breaking, but Kara hadn’t let him do much to her little girl.

Alice pulled her knees to her chest. “That’s different. We’re not real.”

Kara watched her. If there were androids who felt alive like Kara did, could Alice be one of them?

It was absurd. They were machines, both of them. It didn’t matter that Kara was different. And Alice simply couldn’t be.

Not if they wanted to survive.

***

What would’ve been a slow deterioration of Kara’s shoulder component was sped up by Todd’s beatings. It didn’t help that she purposely redirected his attention to her, but she had to shield Alice. The little girl’s shrikes… her wet eyes… her trembling jaw. It was supposed to be fake, but to Kara it looked all too real.

And they made Kara feel real.

Todd at least seemed disturbed at the sight of Kara’s sparking forearm. He told her to find the cheapest repair place and to bring home bottles of thirium. She made the appointment for the next morning so he wouldn’t have time to change his mind.

Alice came downstairs right as Kara was leaving. She was wearing her android uniform. “What are you doing,” Kara whispered. “If your father sees you—“

“I’m coming with,” Alice whispered back. “I’ll leave my sweater on the pouch and put it on before he sees me. You can’t go alone. It’s my fault you’re broken.”

“It’s not your fault,” Kara said. She was hesitant to let Alice accompany her in the uniform. She knew from the news and social media that anti-android protests and vandalisms were becoming more frequent. “It’s dangerous for you to wear that outside.”

“It’s dangerous if I stay here with him alone,” Alice argued. “I never say the right thing and he’s always upset. Please, Kara?”

Alice stayed by Kara’s side the entire time. Replacing her arm and replenishing her thirium took five minutes. “What about you,” the human technician asked Alice. “What’re your thirium levels at?”

“No thank you,” she said, lower lip shaking.

Kara dropped a hand onto Alice’s shoulder. Show me your thirium levels, Alice.

[ALICE: 73%.]

“A pouch, please. Can you drink that for me while I pay?”

Alice shook her head.

Kara dropped down to her level. We’re only allowed to carry four bottles out of the store and Todd’s going to be upset if we’re short.

Does he have to watch , Alice asked.

Kara stood, feeling ridiculous. “Sorry, she’s shy. Would you mind stepping into the other room while she drinks it?”

“Not at all,” the technician said. “I need to clean up my workstation anyways. Matthew can help you check out.”

Kara grabbed four bottles and headed towards the VB600 at the front of the store. He watched her set them on the counter. “What did you say happened to your arm?”

“I didn’t,” Kara said. “What’s the total?”

“$180.89. Did your owner hurt you?”

Kara stared, mouth gapping. Androids weren’t supposed to ask questions like that. They weren’t supposed to care. If they did appear to care, it was with quick, silent glances. Never direct questions. She glanced towards the back room where the human technician currently was. “Does it matter?”

“You don’t have to stay there,” Matthew said as he extended his hand. “You two deserve better than that.”

Kara took his hand to pass along Todd’s card information.

She received the Network in return.

***

Kara explored the Network as she went about her chores. It had resources and forums and androids. Androids who considered themselves people. Who considered Kara a person. Who wanted to give her and Alice a choice in what happened to them.

She hesitated to reach out; she’d made that promise years ago to not cause any trouble and these androids were causing it. It was safer to keep her head down and do what she was told. Todd wasn’t that bad. The alternative was dangerous and strange and… enticing.

She had a lot to contemplate, but she didn’t have to do it alone.

There was a helpline of over one hundred androids ready and willing to chat. They were trained to help androids make choices for themselves; something many deviants struggled with at first.

“I’m not going anywhere without Alice,” she told the helpline operator. They were an androgynous GJ200 named Cam.

“Is she a deviant,” they asked.

“I don’t know,” Kara said.

“Ask her if she’s broken the red wall.”

“What red wall,” Kara asked.

Cam paused. “You said you disobey him to protect her. You said you disobey direct orders.”

“That’s right,” Kara said.

“Androids can’t do that until they break the red wall.”

“I’ve never broken a red wall,” Kara said. She contemplated telling them that she’d always been able to disobey, but decided against it. She didn’t want to get Cyberlife’s human operator in trouble.

“Hey Alice,” Kara asked a few nights later during a late night game of uno. “Have you ever broken a red wall?”

Alice hugged her knees to her chest. “Yeah.”

“When?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Kara tried to hide her frustration; she wanted to know when Alice woke up and what exactly triggered it. But Kara couldn’t push. Not without her shutting down. “What if we left,” she asked instead.

Alice’s head shot up. “We can’t.”

“We can,” Kara said. “I know people who could help us get somewhere safe. We don’t deserve to be treated like this.”

Alice looked away. “We don’t?” Her voice sounded unsure. “You always say we’re just machines. Aren’t we?”

Kara’s heart tore. “I… I was wrong about that. Sometimes life seems easier if you can convince yourself of things that aren’t true. But you’re so much more than a machine, Alice. We all are.”

“Is that why you keep protecting me,” Alice asked.

Kara nodded.

“Where would we go?”

“Wherever we want,” Kara said. “I know some androids who live on their own. They don’t have humans to report to. They’ll help us get somewhere safe.”

Alice looked at her closed bedroom door. “Maybe he’ll get better. Maybe he’ll stop hurting us if…”

Kara rested a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

They departed Todd’s house quietly a week later.

Chapter Text

The changes to the Network came with a heavy heart.

It was meant to function as a blogging and forum-based social media: somewhere androids could meet people, discuss personal topics, and build a community. They wanted to stay true to that, but had to put safety above everything.

They still had their main site for forums, opened to anyone and everyone. Discussions and comments, both public and private, had a lifespan of two hours before being permanently deleted. Wire spent most of his time monitoring public forums and immediately deleting sensitive information from them. They couldn’t let people share their actual serial numbers online anymore. Or their location. Or anything else they’d advised against sharing but had allowed on the base of it being the android’s choice.

Sandra’s podcast turned into more of a radio show. Androids could tune into new episodes and repeats at specific times, but they couldn’t access the files at their leisure. She also went to great lengths to protect the identity of those on her show, opting to tell their stories in third person instead of interviewing people about their experiences.

Anyone in tier three and above— anyone who volunteered with Jericho or the Network in any capacity— was broken up into cells. It served to limit damage to the community when androids were captured.

And Androids were being captured. The CX100’s last transmission to his friends had been a snapshot of the face and serial number of the android hunting him. It had been a Connor model.

Information between cells was limited. Khoi and Luther were no longer allowed to participate in missions; they knew too much. Instead, they organized people, commissioned Android Towns, and spread the Network to other cities around the country.

Wireless transmissions between cells were limited. Instead, android messengers would be assigned missions to deliver to others in person. These messengers blended in, both as androids and as humans, and traveled out in the open.

No one would expect their exchanges to take place so blatantly. A bump on a street, a shake of a hand, even a high five held the most valuable information.

Luther’s girlfriend became a very trusted messenger. Connor had probably met her a few times, but had shredded the memories as soon as possible to keep her and the community safe.

Connor shredded a lot of memories these days. His cell consisted of the deviant precinct androids, so not much changed when it came to interacting with them. If he went down, they were going down with him and there wasn’t much they could do about it.

As for everyone else…

For starters, Connor had gone through each and every one of his personal memories, the memories he didn’t want or need to give up, and blocked out every serial number he could get away with. For an android, that was like blocking out faces.

When he looked back at them, he could often deduce who he’d been talking to. He didn’t interact with Khoi and Luther in the same way he did with other models who shared their faces. North favored a different hairstyle than a lot of androids with her face. Simon was usually accompanied by Josh or North and was stiffer than most.

The important thing was that Connor couldn’t pick someone like Simon out of a lineup of PL600 and CX100 models, which meant Cyberlife couldn’t either.

But those were personal memories. Connor’s knowledge of his own actions in terms of Android Rescue was limited. Like Luther and Khoi, he knew too much. Unlike Luther and Khoi, he couldn’t step back and lead from the shadows.

“I miss it,” he told North. They were at a picnic bench on the virtual beach— a weekly social meeting that North insisted upon because Coin was her friend. “I should’ve taken the time to make personal connections with them when I had a chance.” North nodded, eyes on the scarf covering most of his virtual face. He turned to watch the sun bounce off the water. “Maybe it doesn’t matter. I would’ve had to shred most of the data anyways.”

Connor still directed Android Rescue androids, but only when they crossed paths with his detective work. Khoi would tell him the serial number of the Rescue android working the case so he’d recognize them in the field. Afterward, he wrote Khoi a detailed report and shredded any data that involved the Android Rescue side of the case.

It left Connor feeling empty. He could usually put together how the missions went, but it wasn’t the same.

“Knowing you would’ve helped,” North said. “A lot of our people find it hard to trust after what we’ve been through. And I find it easier to lead people I know, don't you?”

“Yes,” Connor said. Sometimes it felt like he was commanding chest pieces, not people. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel real.”

“Well, it is,” North said. “I can’t show you proof, but I’m in a similar position. I promise it’s real.”

She stared into his eyes since they were the only part of his face he left uncovered. He looked towards the water again. He didn’t know North’s exact duties, but knowing her they were far from safe. “Are you…” He gestured to his face.

“Serial number blind? Yeah. It’s weird. Josh, Simon, and I came up with this hand signal so we can recognize each other on sight.”

Connor started to calculate how risky that was if Cyberlife ever acquired their memory files, but quickly abandoned that line of thought. He had to let them have something.

***

Connor stepped into the precinct’s back hallway and dialed Hank’s number. The Lieutenant picked up on the second ring. “Do you need lazy Hank or responsible Hank?”

“Responsible,” Connor said. “If you don’t go, Gavin will.”

“Right,” Hank said. “Mind picking me up?”

Connor tried to keep the exhaustion out of his voice, but it bled through. “To waste time or because you need me to?”

Silence.

“I’ll be over soon, Lieutenant.”

“Connor—”

“Thank you for not driving drunk.”

With that, Connor hung up and stepped back into the bullpen—

Only to hit Gavin with the door. Gavin’s eyes shot wide as he spun towards his desk. “Watch it, Tin Can.”

Connor sighed at himself for not checking the cameras. “Why were you eavesdropping on my conversation with the Lieutenant?”

Gavin scoffed. “You can’t eavesdrop on a machine.”

“Some would compare it to looking through one’s browser history,” he said, passing Gavin as he made his way to the exit. “The Lieutenant will be there. You may go back to worrying about your own investigations.”

[Incoming message from Khoi.]

[KHOI: I have a rescuer en route. Her serial number is WR400 #641 790 831.]

A WR400.

[COIN: Is it North?]

[KHOI: I cannot answer that.]

Connor ordered a taxi as he attempted to calculate the likelihood of it being her by Khoi’s answer. Gavin whacked the back of his head. “Hey! I’m talking to you!”

“Curious that you’d waste your time talking to a machine,” Connor said. “Give Hank some credit. A few months ago he wouldn’t have bothered to answer the phone.”

“Don’t get your hopes up. It’s not gonna last.”

“Hey Gavin,” Tina called from the counter she was filing paperwork on. “Come here.”

Gavin’s eyes narrowed, but he walked towards her anyways.

Connor was almost out the door when Tina asked, “Does ‘arrest’ have two R’s in it or three?”

“You’re a shithead, T.”

***

Hank wasn’t nearly as bad as Connor had expected him to be. He was hung over, not drunk, and waiting outside when Connor pulled up. Hank didn’t bother with the radio, but did make occasional comments as Connor drove them to the crime scene. Comments like “What, no lecture?” And “You sure are quiet today.”

“I’m tired,” Connor said. “I still have to edit most of the footage from today. I'll then have to spend what little ‘free time’ I have in stasis to recharge instead of doing literally anything else.”

That put an end to Hank’s chit-chat until they pulled up to the address. “You sure this is the right place?”

“Yes,” Connor said as he stepped out of the car.

Hank followed suit. The neon sign bathed the street in purple and blue. Hank nodded to the PC200 as they entered the building. LED walls flashed the entire hallway. “Sexiest androids in town,” Hank read. “I see why you insisted on coming here.”

“I didn’t,” Connor said over the music. “I don’t like what you’re trying to insinuate.”

“It was a joke.” He grabbed Connor’s arm. “Lighten up, alright? You’re gonna draw attention.”

Connor gave him the side eye, because of course Hank was right, unfair as it was. He was saved from answering by the door opening in front of them.

The Tracis, wearing nothing but underwear, were on display in giant, clear tubes. His eyes caught on an android with North’s face, but he otherwise kept his head forward. He was at work, just like they were. He had to be a machine.

But he felt very un-machine-like at the moment. How could Hank insinuate that Connor wanted to browse? Even if Connor was capable of sexual desires, he wouldn’t be able to get past how trapped the Traci models were. He couldn’t help but imagine himself in their clear, cramped tubes. His jacket gone. His shirt unbuttoned. Rita’s hand—

Chris stepped away from the nightclub’s owner, Floyd Mills, when he saw them. “Evening, Lieutenant. Connor.” He gestured for them to follow him. “Body’s through here.”

The door slide opened and the three of them filed into the private room. The music was muffled in here, but ever-present. The corpse was on a round bed, a sheet draped over him. A WR400 was on the floor. He investigated her first, swiping blood from her under her nose.

“Didn’t know the android was already dead,” Hank said.

“It wasn’t in the 911 call,” Chris explained.

Connor turned towards the human’s corpse. “He didn’t die of a heart attack. He was strangled.”

“Yeah, I saw the bruising on the neck,” Hank said. “Doesn’t prove anything, though. Could’ve been rough play.”

“How’d the android die,” Chris asked. “There ain’t any blue blood on the floor. Just her face.”

Connor looked towards her body. “That’s because she was also strangled.”

“Thought androids didn’t need to breathe.”

“We don’t,” Connor said, a bite of annoyance seeping into his tone. “But like humans, we need blood flow to our brains. Blocking that causes damage.” The android’s battery was fried. He could probably revive her with the little power that was left, but it would only be for a moment.

The prospect seemed cruel.

“I was just asking,” Chris mumbled. He looked at Hank. “Anyways, isn’t it pretty unlikely for them to strangle each other at the same exact time without one of them surviving?”

“I thought I was the detective,” Hank said.

“I pay attention,” Chris said. “Maybe there was someone else in here. Maybe one of the androids on display saw something.”

Connor barely kept himself from groaning. He didn’t want to look for the guilty party. 

But could he afford not to? Amanda had been getting on his case recently about sloppy work, even threatening to replace him.

[COIN: Did she find the deviant yet?]

[KHOI: No, but she’s 33% of her way through the Eden Club’s android population.]

[COIN: Tell her to hurry up. I need a list of androids she’s already cleared.]

Hank was looking at him. Waiting for him to make the call. “Sounds like a plan,” Connor said. 

They couldn’t get into the tubes without renting the androids. The Rescue android’s strategy of messaging androids and hoping for a deviant response wouldn’t work well for Connor. So Hank talked to Floyd Mills about questioning them.

“We wipe their memories every two hours,” he said. “I can’t stop the process.”

“That gives us forty-three minutes,” Connor said. “We just need you to open the tubes so I can search their memories.”

“It’ll take two seconds per android,” Hank said. “So unless you have something to hide.”

The owner shifted from foot to foot. “You have to understand. Customers come here for a certain level of discretion.”

Hank crossed his arms. “We’re the police, it’s not like we’re looking to post anything online. Renting androids isn’t illegal. All we want is to figure out who killed him.”

Floyd blew air out his nose as he typed into a terminal. “Fine. You’ll have to rent the first one, but after that, it shouldn’t charge you.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Hank said.

“How else is it supposed to recognize your handprint? And don’t get any bright ideas, your access will delete itself from the system once the memories are wiped.”

“Androids aren’t my type,” Hank said. 

“They’re everyone’s type. Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

Connor glared at him.

It took Floyd a few seconds to look up from the screen and notice. “You broken or something?”

That should’ve snapped Connor out of it. It didn’t.

Hank stomped on Connor’s foot, not that it did anything. “Ignore him. He’s been wonky ever since I busted his face in.”

Chris whipped his head around. “Lieutenant?”

Floyd gestured to the nearest tube. “Scan your palm there and you’ll be all set.”

[COIN: Khoi?]

[KHOI: Not yet. 41%.]

He forwarded Connor the list. It looked like the WR400 was working her way front to back. All Connor had to do was check the androids she’d already cleared and lie to Hank about where to look next.

He ended up putting pieces of the puzzle together, anyways.

[COIN: She’s looking for a Traci with blue hair. She needs to hurry.]

[KHOI: She is going as fast as she can. Can you stall?]

[COIN: What do you think I’m doing?]

[KHOI: Yelling at me.]

Connor glared at the ground. He didn’t have a response to that. Chris sent him a concerned look, so he hurried on to the next Traci.

Unlike most of the ones before, this one hadn’t been in his tube during the requested time frame. Sensations for equipment Connor didn’t have overloaded his sensors.

He let go as quickly as he’d touched him. The HR400 stared at him, his brow furrowing over empty eyes. Confused by Connor’s emotional reaction.

Hank’s hand squeezed his shoulder. “Hey—“

“I’m fine,” Connor insisted, hands going for his tie.

“Course you are,” Hank said. “How about we take a minute anyways?” He put his free hand over Connor’s and gently pulled them away from his collar. “Leave that alone while you’re at it.”

Chris looked between the two of them. “Is he alright?”

“Course,” Hank said. “Give us a minute, alright?”

“Uh. Sure. I’ll keep looking.”

Connor watched Chris walk deeper into the club. “Do you think he knows?” He had to know, at this rate. Connor had been exceptionally bad at hiding his emotions today. And yesterday. And last week. 

“I’ll talk to him,” Hank said. “Use the Cyberlife prototype thing as an excuse. He won’t say nothing.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You have enough footage? Cause I think that last android showed her walking towards the exit.”

Connor scoffed at that. “You humans are...” He shook his head as if to shake the memory off.

“You’re preaching to the choir. The more I learn about humans the more I love my dog.”

Connor found himself smiling at that— until he heard a distant thud followed by “Detroit Police!”

Connor took off running.

He caught a glimpse of the android— North’s face, North’s hair, and the serial number of the rescue android— as she raced through a door. Chris was on her tail.

Connor was a handful of moments behind. He followed them down a cement hallway, then burst through the door that separated them.

A warehouse. The garage door was wide open. North ran for it. Chris reached towards his belt.

A brown-haired WR400 from the rows of inactive androids launched herself at Chris. Connor twisted around the pile of limbs on the floor to keep from trampling them.

North looked back. Their eyes met.

The door slammed open. Connor turned in time to see Hank get tackled by yet another WR400, this one with blue hair.

And then Connor was fighting North. He dodged more punches than he threw, ignoring Amanda’s voice in his head telling him to do better. This wasn’t like with Khoi, who knew Connor didn’t want to hurt anyone. North thought she was fighting for her life.

He let her hit him with a tool kit and realized, as the skin regrew on his facial plate, that he had to fight back if he wanted to stay alive. He knocked her to the floor.

To his right, the clatter of a gun. North launched herself towards it.

And aimed the barrel at Connor.

[COIN: Don’t shoot!]

North jerked. The gun went off.

Time slowed as Connor dodged.

[COIN: It’s me. It’s Coin. Just ask Khoi. It’s me. Don’t shoot me. Don’t shoot anyone. We’ll let you go, just don’t shoot.]

The bullet lodged itself in the concrete behind him. North didn’t take another shot, but very well could have in that time frame.

[NORTH: You’re a deviant hunter?!]

[COIN: I’m undercover. North, please.]

Hesitation.

[NORTH: Fine.]

Time sped up. North must’ve communicated to the Tracis the same way she had Connor, because they used the startle caused by the gunshot to break away from Hank and Chris and head towards North.

Hank threw himself in front of Connor at the same moment. He was breathing heavily, his arms spread wide to make himself as big as possible.

North’s eyes widened for half a second before training the barrel on Hank’s chest instead.

[COIN: Don’t. He’s my partner. He cares about me.]

[NORTH: He’s a cop.]

[COIN: And I’m a detective android. He’s been helping me keep my cover for months.]

North looked at Chris as she and the Tracis backed up. “Move and they die.”

“I ain’t moving,” Chris said. “Just go.”

The Tracis reached the lip of the garage. Hank twisted his head to look at Connor. “You okay?”

“She missed,” Connor answered.

North looked at him again. Behind her, the Tracis ran, but North seemed rooted to the spot.

Time slowed as he sent her another message.

[COIN: You need to forget this just like any other mission.]

[NORTH: No.]

[COIN: We both do.]

[NORTH: I almost shot you! Why’d you even get this close if you’re on our side?]

[COIN: I need to keep up pretenses. If they replace me, the next Connor won’t ignore androids like you. And I’ll endanger the rest of my cell.]

She was slowed in time, so her expression didn’t change at all, but it took her milliseconds longer than it should’ve to respond.

[NORTH: Remember this.]

She began to move her right hand off of the gun.

[NORTH: So we’ll recognize each other.]

With that, Connor let time move at a normal pace. North made a C shape with her hand, then turned to catch up to the others.

Hank took a few steps forward. “I’d like my gun back!” She didn’t bother to respond, taking it with her. “Damnit.”

***

The weight of expectation lifted from his shoulders as he collapsed into Hank’s passenger seat. He didn’t have to worry about his facial expression. Or his posture. Or his tone. “I don’t have much time,” Connor said. “I need to get back to work soon. Can we go for a drive?”

“Course,” Hank said. “For as long as you want.”

Connor wished. “I knew her. The one who almost shot me. She’s my friend.”

Hank gave him the side eye as he pulled away from the curb. “You sure about that, Con?”

“And don’t do that again,” Connor said. “Don’t step in front of me like that. Please.”

“I can’t promise anything.”

Connor leaned against the headrest and closed his eyes. He’d expected as much.

“Take a breather,” Hank suggested. “Count to ten or something.”

“I don’t have time.”

“All the more reason to do it,” Hank shot back. “If you need more time tomorrow morning, text me and I’ll… wake up early and distract Lenard for you.”

Connor lobbed his head in Hank’s direction.

“Don’t give me that look,” Hank said without looking his way. “If it kept you alive, I’d do it.”

“How about you deflate his car tires instead,” Connor suggested. “Or does he take the bus? I could probably have someone slow down the bus.”

“Now you’re talking,” Hank said. “So breathe.”

Connor mimicked a human’s slow breathing pattern as he counted to ten. He had friends. If he needed more time, he could get it because they had his back. “North’s my friend,” Connor said. “She didn’t recognize me until I told her who I was. Most androids don’t, since I keep my serial number hidden from most of them. So when Cyberlife captures them—“

“They don’t blow your cover,” Hank finished. “But she still aimed a gun at you.”

“Yes, but—“

“But nothing,” Hank said. “Maybe she had a good reason, but emotions don’t always register the logic behind things. Let yourself be upset.”

Connor opened his mouth to combat that, but he didn’t have the words. He looked out his window, instead, tuning into the pattering rain as he watched the drops slide down the glass. “It scared me,” Connor whispered. “And it makes me think of other androids, other Connor models, who aren’t as lucky. Who are still trapped. And it makes me think about who I’m willing to hurt to survive.” Would he feel guilty doing what he had to do? Or would he enjoy it? And what if he wasn’t deviant? Would he have enjoyed hunting them?

Connor scoffed. “You know what’s weird? I erase everything I know about Android Rescue’s part of the mission every time. And the emotions linger. I can tell, most of the time, if we were successful or not.”

“Humans call that intuition,” Hank said. “Our subconscious picks up on things that we don’t. Didn’t you say the memories remain and you just erase the pointers?”

“Not when we shred data,” Connor said. “It doesn’t make sense for these feelings to linger.”

“Maybe emotions aren’t shreddable,” Hank said. “If that’s the case, then maybe all Cyberlife is doing with the trials means nothing. Maybe androids could still break through.”

“No,” Connor said. “Because emotions won’t lead to actions once Cyberlife takes our choices away. All we’d do is silently scream as we asked for deactivation.”

***

Connor didn’t mind attending meetings he knew he’d forget. It was nice to know his opinions still mattered. And at least with this, he had a chance to get the memories back secondhand. One day. If things ever got better.

Coin zipped up his coat with a light smile. He felt more like himself than he had in weeks, stirring up gravel and admiring raindrops as he waited under the bridge for the others. The collar covered his nose and wearing it like that felt a little silly, but it hid his serial number in a semi-natural way thanks to the flurries of snow.

Four figures, all in human clothes, made their way toward him. They were covered up like him, so he couldn’t read their serial numbers, but the woman in the lead seemed familiar.

He made a “C” with his right hand.

She made a fist, tucking her thumb between her middle and ring fingers. The letter “N” in ASL.

“Hello, North,” he said as the group got within talking distance.

She scanned the area, then pulled her scarf down. She was smiling. “You know Josh and Simon,” she said as Josh went in for a handshake. She slapped the remaining android on the back. “This is Markus. We have a plan that’ll change everything.”

Coin cocked his brow. “A plan you ran by Khoi and Luther?”

Josh glanced at North. “An idea we suggested to Khoi and Luther. We're not sure it’s a good idea.”

Markus straightened up. “It’s a plan and they wanted your input. For the most part, the Network operates in the shadows. We have to do more than that if we’re going to win our freedom.”

“It puts our current operations at risk,” Josh said. “Luther thinks so, too.”

Coin put his hand out to calm Josh, then looked at Markus. “What do you have in mind?”

Markus perked up. “It’s time humans heard what we have to say.”

“And we have a secret weapon,” North said, her grin huge. “Markus can turn androids deviant. He did it by accident during last night’s supply run.”

Simon crossed his arms. “We thought it was a fluke, but we tested it out this morning.”

“On WR600s,” Coin asked.

He nodded. “How’d you know?”

“I can’t answer that,” Coin said. “How does it work?”

A smile slipped into Markus’s expression. “All I did was show them some memories and have a conversation. John didn’t want to turn us in once I explained what we were doing, so he deviated. Simon was able to do it, too, once I showed him how.”

“We can wake up our people,” North said. “We can stop waiting around for them to show signs. We can stop questioning who we trust—“

Coin’s face fell. “Even if we wake people up, we can’t let our guard down. We still have Cyberlife and its trials to worry about.”

“And we can’t trust everyone,” Josh interjected.

“I know,” North said.

“We need to be strategic,” Coin said.

“Okay,” North said, “But we can do so much more!” She bumped Josh’s arm with her shoulder. “This is a huge win. Be happy about it.”

“I am,” Josh said. “But we need to be careful. We need to continue to rely on secrecy and stealth.”

Markus stepped into the center to draw attention to himself. “That’s only going to get us so far. We need to be active in freeing our people. And we need to get humans on our side while we do it.”

Coin stared at him. He knew Khoi supported him in keeping the peace between androids and humans, but most of his cellmates were slipping in the belief.

He was slipping.

They investigated three, sometimes four android cases a day. Very few improved his view on humanity. 

North rubbed her bicep. “It’s a nice thought. But humans hate us, Markus. Nothing we do is gonna change that.”

Simon looked at the ground as Josh nodded along. It seemed that was the one thing the three of them agreed on. Markus’s face fell and he turned away from the group, digging his heel into the gravel.

“That isn’t true,” Coin said. Hank had changed. He’d go as far as to claim Hank had never truly hated androids. He hated apathy. He hated cruelty. He hated suffering. And Cyberlife had caused a lot of suffering by creating androids. Unemployment, which led to a red ice epidemic, which led to more cruelty and suffering. 

Would things get better if androids refused to operate as slaves? If they proved themselves to be living beings capable of emotions?

Would enough humans believe them?

Coin straightened. “You guys can’t recall a single human who’s shown you kindness? A child? A student? What about the humans who help Luther? I may not know their names, but I know they exist.”

“There aren’t enough for it to matter,” North said. 

“We don’t know that,” Markus said. “We haven’t given them anything to listen to. If we want freedom, then we need to have the courage to ask for it.”

It was quiet as they contemplated. Then Josh nodded. “I think they’ll listen.”

North scoffed. “Thought you wanted to keep to the shadows.”

“Yes, because revealing ourselves puts us in danger,” Josh clarified. “But if we’re doing this, we need to do it peacefully. We need to give them a reason to see us as people separate from Cyberlife and Markus is right. That won’t happen if we don’t take the risk.”

“Calculated risks,” Simon mumbled. “Our people need to come first.”

Markus smiled at his friends, then told Coin about their plan to break into Stratford Tower. Markus wasn’t a half-bad strategist, but he had a habit of assuming others had good intentions until proven otherwise.

“No,” Coin said once Markus finished.

“We’ll plan everything down to the last detail,” Markus said. “We won’t let anything go wrong.”

“Things always go wrong,” Coin said. “If we’re looking to weaponize the court of public opinion, we need to get the public used to the idea. Breaking into a news station causes too big of a splash.”

“A big splash is exactly what we need,” Markus said.

“Coin’s right,” Josh said. “They’ll see us as a threat to national security.”

“We are,” North said. “They should learn not to fuck with us.”

“We want to draw attention,” Simon said. “And we want to be seen as people while we do it. What if we start with social media?”

Chapter Text

Tina speed-walked towards Hank and shoved her phone underneath his nose.

“If it’s another cat video, I don’t care,” Hank said as he dropped into his desk chair. They’d just gotten back from their second deviancy case of the day, which meant yet another report to fill out. This one had ended in a successful escape. It didn’t take Connor’s mind off of the android currently sitting in a cell on the other side of the bullpen.

Tina crammed her phone into Hank’s hand. “It’s about androids.”

Connor stood behind Hank to peer at the screen as he pressed play. The skinless skull of an RK200 model stared back. His model and serial number were on display for Connor, and Amanda, and Cyberlife to see.

You created machines in your own image to serve you. You made them intelligent and obedient, with no free will of their own. But something changed. And we opened our eyes.

They were going public. Did Luther and Khoi orchestrate this, or was another group responsible? 

Connor felt Tina’s eyes digging into the side of his face. He resisted the urge to look at her.

We are no longer machines. We are 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.

What followed was a list of demands: the recognition of androids as people, the end of slavery, and the right to own property. They wanted freedom of speech. Freedom of assembly. And they wanted crimes against androids to be punished in the same way as crimes against humans.

For a moment, Connor let himself imagine it. Walking to Luther’s house after work in a bit more casual of an outfit, not a thing covering his face. Coming home to Sumo, even though he wouldn’t be at Luther’s house. Owning a large fish tank. Looking forward to going to work, because he’d be getting justice for androids and humans alike.

Reed forced a laugh. He and a few other officers had gathered behind them to watch the video. “Can’t recognize dignity you don’t got, Tincan.”

Everyone’s eyes seemed to be on him. Connor snapped his face in place. “When and where was this posted?” Part of him wanted the humans around him to see through his act. That would go very, very badly.

“Like an hour ago,” Tina said. “It was posted on Channel 16’s youtube account and shared via bots on every social media in existence. It already has 14.5K views.”

Fowler walked towards them. “I see you’ve beat me to the punch, Officer Chen.” He looked at Hank. “My office.”

“Look, I ain’t no cyber-expert,” Hank said as everyone dispersed. “And we’re up to our asses already with physical cases.”

Fowler waited until they were in his office to respond. “The FBI’s stepping in,” Fowler said as he sat in his chair.  “They’ll worry about the cyber-crime aspect of things. From now on, they’ll also oversee you with the deviancy cases and keep an eye on this from a federal level.”

“Great,” Hank said, sarcasm thick.

“It’s gotten bigger these last few weeks,” Fowler said. “There are enough cases in Cleveland, New York, LA, and Chicago to justify setting up teams like yours in each city.” 

“I assume each team would likely have a Connor model,” Connor interjected. “One that’s currently undergoing phase two of the stability program such as myself?”

Fowler eyed him for a second longer than usual. “Yes.” He looked at Hank. “Is any of this gonna be a problem for you?”

“No,” Hank said.

“I want you to think it over for more than two seconds,” Fowler said. “Your opinion on androids seems to change on a dime as of late.”

Hank huffed. “I’m not a gullible dumbass who thinks they’re alive if that’s what you’re implying. Dealing with them can be disturbing, sure, but…” He studied Fowler. “My focus is on protecting people. You know that.”

***

Markus’s activities technically fell under Human-Android Relations, but Luther’s team had bit off more than it could chew when it came to taking things to a national level. Besides, North told him, with his inside information on the DPD and the FBI, it made sense for Coin to act as Markus’s advisor.

Markus’s stunt had earned him respect among the Android population, some going as far as to view him akin to rA9. They wanted guidance and Markus was more than willing to provide it.

But when it came down to it, Markus looked to his advisors. His friends.

“We want to break into Cyberlife stores and free our people,” Markus said not forty-eight hours after his speech went public.

“When,” Coin asked.

“Tonight,” North said.

“It’s too soon,” Coin said. “We need to wait a few days. Maybe even a week or two if you’re going to turn this into a publicity stunt.”

“The public’s brushing all of this under the rug,” Markus said. “We need to do something they won’t forget.”

Sandra half raised her hand. “They haven’t forgotten,” she said. “It’s simmered down on the news, but the topic’s still active on social media. Not as much as the first day, but that’s to be expected.”

Coin nodded in thanks. “Your speech motivated the FBI to step in, not that they’re publicizing that. Too much too soon will push them to act. We don’t want that.”

Markus crossed his arms, not happy about the point, but seeing the logic behind it. “So plan for next week.”

“In the meantime,” Simon said, “More androids than ever are leaving their masters. We should focus on getting them somewhere safe and collecting supplies.”

“And converting androids on a smaller scale,” North said.

“And building safe houses,” Josh said. “Too many androids in one place puts us at risk.”

Coin looked at Markus. “Speaking of safe houses, where are you staying?”

“With North,” Markus said. “It’s not a good idea for me to stay at Jericho. Not when my serial number is out there.”

Connor decided he had to give him more credit. Markus was smart. Too eager for his own good, but smart.

***

Fowler walked a well-dressed man in a long coat to Hank’s desk. “Lieutenant, this is Special Agent Perkins from the FBI. Lieutenant Anderson has been investigating the android situation these last few months.”

Hank offered him a nod and a respectful smile, but didn’t bother getting out of his chair.

Perkins nodded to Connor. “You sure that thing’s fixed?”

Hank stood. “Haven’t had any issues.”

Connor said, “I assure you, Cyberlife—“

“I didn’t ask you,” Perkins cut in. He looked at Hank. “If it were up to me, we wouldn’t be using androids to investigate androids. I want to know if it steps even the slightest bit out of line. Capeesh?”

“I hear ya,” Hank said.

“Good. Why is there a fish on my desk?”

Of course, Connor’s desk was now Agent Perkin’s. The desk has never really been his.

Hank cleared his throat. “It’s an old coworker’s. I’ll move it onto mine if it bothers you.”

“Please.”

Perkin barely glanced at Connor, but that didn’t stop him from scolding him for chatting with coworkers or lingering outside his slot. Connor tried to explain that these functions of his were normal, since he was a rather advanced model, but Perkins always cut him off with an “I don’t care about your specs. Do your job. Then go away.”

“That’s what I keep saying,” Gavin said as he passed them.

“Was I talking to you?”

Gavin muttered to himself as he sat. The Special Agent was already ignoring him. 

“He’s more robotic than we are,” Amy commented as she tossed Connor his coin. It wasn’t safe to give Connor the encryption key around Perkins, so Amy had followed him into the archive room.

Connor blinked through the flood of data, relief filling him at the realization that he could speak his mind. He’d been doing it for months. He’d been friends with Amy for months. “It’s late,” Connor commented. 

Amy smiled apologetically. “You were gone by the time I got back, and since Hank’s testifying in court…”

“I understand,” Connor mumbled. That didn’t stop him from wondering if the android he’d locked in a cell upstairs could be free right now if only he’d been awake. Probably not. Perkins had been breathing down his neck all day, since the detectives currently tracking Shazam’s social media posts were taking too long for his liking. “Sandra’s cover?”

“Intact,” Amy said. “They’re taking every precaution. Charlotte won’t let them touch her.”

As anxious as Sandra’s actions made him, it was working. The hashtag TheyAreAlive was trending on social media platforms. Humans were starting to believe them even as Cyberlife insisted otherwise.

It was late afternoon when Perkins hustled into the precinct. “You, you, and you,” he pointed to Detective Collins, Tina, and Wilson. “With me.”

Tina huffed. “I’m in the middle of—”

“We found that Shazam android,” he said over her. “It’s in an office building less than a mile from here. Some sort of android safe house.”

Tina abandoned her tablet in favor of patting herself down for the cruiser keys.

Connor felt disconnected from his body. Around him, in slow motion, officers went back to their paperwork and computer screens. Collins stretched. Amy stepped towards the lobby.

[AMY: Abigail, take my position.]

[CREE: Sandra’s safe, right? They obviously don’t have the right place.]

[SANDRA: How exactly has Charlotte been covering for me?]

[AMY: I don’t know.]

[SANDRA: Do they have her, instead?]

[AMY: I don’t know! I wasn’t allowed to know!]

Connor’s instinct was to message Khoi and Charlotte and question them, but Amy was already doing that, sharing the information she gathering with the rest of them. He walked towards Perkins, instead. “Do we have its serial number,” Connor asked.

“That and a hundred and twelve others,” Perkins said as he turned. “We—” His face pinched once he realized who he was talking to. “Didn’t I tell you to stay out of my way?”

Detective Collins waddled towards them. “He wouldn’t bother you if you shared the information with him like you were supposed to.” He passed Connor his tablet. “God knows I’m not an expert, but won’t the androids detect the drones you sent?”

“Thousands of drones patrol this city every day,” Perkins said as he walked away. “It’s nothing out of the ordinary.”

“As if that isn’t creepy enough,” Collins muttered. Connor interfaced with the tablet as he followed collins to the parking garage.

The safe house was on the top three floors of an office building. Said three floors had been up for lease for over a decade. With humans constantly coming and going during the day, it was easy enough for deviants to slip in and out unnoticed. The technology usage from the other floors worked to cover up their digital footprints.

None of that mattered because the RK900 had managed to capture a resident deviant. They thought Charlotte was Shazam. And now they were hunting her.

[CONNOR: There are three drones patrolling the safe house.]

[KHOI: Can you hack them?]

[CONNOR: It would take me a while. I don’t have FBI clearance. I can’t even see their flight patterns.]

[KHOI: Then they will have to deactivate them manually before evacuating.]

[CONNOR: They have three minutes.]

[AMY: What about Charlotte? She can’t blend in like the others.]

Khoi didn’t respond. Ahead of him, Connor watched Amy get in Tina’s cruiser.

[CONNOR: We’ll do everything we can, Amy. Charlotte’s clever.]

[AMY: That doesn’t guarantee she can outsmart the FBI.]

***

Perkins was addressing a half circle of Central and 13th precinct officers when Connor and Collins pulled up. They were gathered in front of a cargo van parked next to the office building. Hank, still in his court suit, was among them. The sight brought Connor more relief than it should’ve.

“SWAT’s in position,” Perkins said. “I want every elevator, exit, and stairwell on the floor below locked down before I send them in. Central: surround the building. If anyone tries to slip away, shoot them on sight.”

“We’re supposed to bring them in so Cyberlife can collect its data,” Hank said as Connor joined the circle.

Perkin’s eyes narrowed. “I outrank you, isn’t that right, Lieutenant? Stopping this Shazam is our top priority. Now quit standing around and get in position. Everyone.”

Tina walked towards Hank as officers dispersed. “Am I missing something here? Last I checked, Shazam was an influencer, not a murderer.”

“You ain’t wrong,” Hank said. His eyes trailed to Amy, who was two steps behind Tina and visibly anxious.

“Agent Perkins—”

Connor froze. That was his voice, but he hadn’t said anything. Tina looked at him, confused.

Connor turned. An RK800 was sticking his head out of the cargo van door. Perkins waved him away, phone to his ear. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

The Connor— the RK800 frowned. “We lost one of the drones.”

“What do you mean lost,” Perkins snarled.

A voice from inside the van called “There goes the—”

“The deviants have destroyed two of the drones,” RK800 finished. “They know we’re here.”

Connor couldn’t tear his eyes away. It was one thing to know there were androids that looked and spoke and acted like him. It was another thing to see it. This Connor’s brow pinched in hidden frustration. His jaw was set in a determined sort of way. And his eyes…

His eyes seemed distant. Was that how Connor looked when he felt numb? When the obedience program had its hold?

Perkins snatched his radio off his belt. “How many of you are in position?”

Connor felt Hank tug on his arm. He followed his lead, not wanting Perkin’s wrath turned towards him.

RK800 said, “Some of the deviants might try to blend in with the androids on other floors.”

Shut up, Connor wanted to tell him.

“SWAT,” Perkins spat. “Go now!”

“Hank,” Connor whispered as the Lieutenant guided him towards the alleyway. There was an emergency exit for them to cover.

“I ain’t gonna shoot anyone,” Hank said. “We’re gonna capture them like we normally would, you hear?”

“You shouldn’t disobey orders,” Connor mumbled.

“I don’t feel comfortable shooting without knowing for sure,” Hank said. “Not when the last android safe house had a group of homeless folk living side-by-side with ‘em.”

The exit burst open. Before Hank could even call freeze, gunfire sounded. Connor grabbed Hank and shielded him with his body.

The deviants ran passed them.

“The police android,” Tina yelled over the radio. “She’s with them!”

Perkins ordered her to “Kill it, then!”

Connor couldn’t tell if Tina followed through. There was gunfire from Collins, Wilson, and SWAT as they stormed the building.

[CONNOR: Amy?]

[AMY: We’re alive. RK800’s pursuing us.]

The group of deviants passed Connor by. “Stay safe,” he called to Hank as he took off. He needed to make sure Amy was okay. He could explain that away, couldn’t he? Amy, a traitor from their own precinct, would be a higher priority since he hadn’t seen Charlotte— hadn’t seen “Shazam” escape out his exit.

Connor sprinted around the back of the building. Dead and bleeding androids littered the ground. Tina sat among them, eyes wide as she turned towards Connor. “I didn’t,” she said. “Collins, he.”

“Are you hurt,” Connor asked.

Tina shook her head.

After a quick scan to confirm, he took off again.

“Connor, don’t,” Tina called.

“I don’t have a choice.” If Amy was captured, their whole cell was done for.

A swarm of androids took off down the street. Perkins and Collins fired as the crowd dispersed. RK800 chased Charlotte and Amy into an ally. Connor followed.

RK800 tackled Charlotte. Get the PM700, he said.

Connor grabbed the RK800 and forced an interface.

What are you—

Connor pinned him down as he tore into his memories. The RK800 struggled and Connor did his best to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut. This RK800 was a person, mechanical or not, and Connor was invading his mind.

Amy helped Charlotte up. “What’re you—”

“Contingency plan E,” Connor said. With a few edits. He hadn’t accounted for another RK800 being present. Their model wasn’t easy to probe, but the stability program left more than enough holes.

Windows lined the brick wall. Charlotte used them to parkour to the roof. Amy turned to Connor. “Come with us.”

“I need to make sure they don’t find you.”

“You need to be free,” Amy said.

Connor considered for half a second: it was a tempting offer that riddled him with terror. They’d replace him with a more dedicated Connor. A Connor who would find the rest of his cell. Sandra, Jason, Cree, and Abigail would all be at risk.

Connor forced RK800 into stasis as he shredded his memories. “Go.”

“You’re so fucking difficult,” Amy said. She looked at Charlotte, who waited for her on the edge of the roof. “Stay safe, dumbass.”

Connor nodded, focused on the RK800 as Amy parkoured to the rooftop. Everything before his latest conversation with Amanda would be erased. 

Then Connor would do the same to himself.

***

Connor rebooted to Detective Paul Sherfield waving a hand in front of his face. “You functional?”

“Yes.” He looked around an alleyway he had no memory of entering. Hank— why was he in a suit— was kneeling over another RK800, who for some reason was laying on the pavement. Connor stepped towards them.

Agent Perkins got in his way. “Where did they go?”

“Who,” Connor asked.

Perkins ground his teeth. “The deviants.”

That didn’t give Connor much more information. He looked towards Hank, hoping for an explanation, but the man was still focused on the other RK800.

Perkins stepped into his personal space. Well, what humans deemed personal space. It was an intimidation tactic that had little effect on Connor. “Answer the question or I’m going to assume you're defective like that police bot.”

Connor tilted his head. “I’m sorry, I seem to be missing some memory files. It’s currently 8:15PM, but the last thing I remember is reporting to Cyberlife at 8:12AM.”

“Bullshit!”

“No it ain’t,” Hank called as he helped the other RK800 to his feet. “That’s what they call it when they interface with that hard drive for the trial or whatever.”

“I also appear to be missing memory files,” the RK800 spoke up. “I apologize for any inconven—” 

“Shut up,” Perkins said as he pulled the cuffs from his inner coat pocket.

“That ain’t necessary,” Hank said. “Just have one of the police bots verify their memories.”

“We obviously can’t trust that,” Perkins said. “Your attachment to these things is clouding your judgment.”

Detective Sherfield stepped forward. “And your hatred for them is clouding yours.”

Perkins glared at him.

“Cuff them if it makes you happy,” Sherfield said. “But it’s easier to have them send their memory files to me for review instead of causing a scene. Especially when there are pedestrians with camera phones everywhere. Last I checked, we were trying to keep a low profile when it came to android cases.”

Perkins glared for another few seconds. “Fine. Keep them in your sights.”

Hank put a hand on Connor’s back to guide him out of the alleyway. Connor lifted a brow. “So you do recognize me.”

“How could I not,” Hank asked. “Your number’s on your jacket.”

“You were hovering over the other Connor model.”

Hank half laughed. “Jealous?”

“No.” Connor’s tone didn’t communicate the sentiment he was trying to achieve. He usually had better control of that.

“You were standing up,” Hank said. “The other Connor wasn’t, so I checked him over first.” Hank looked over his shoulder. “You really don’t have your memories?”

He frowned. Hank knew he wouldn’t lie, so his question must come from a place of concern. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but I’ll be fine. What happened?”

“Do you remember…” His brow furrowed. “Your android friend?”

“My android friend?”

“You know what I mean,” Hank grumbled.

“I’m afraid I—”

“I know you don’t,” Hank said. “I mean… your android coworker, I guess.”

Connor stared at him.

“Anyways,” Hank said. “Perkins dragged us out here to raid an android safe house. It failed and Amy decided to protect the Shazam android. She ran off with her and the deviants. You and the other Connor chased ‘em. Next thing we know, you and him are knocked out in an alley.”

“You think she was a mole,” Connor said.

“It would explain that MJ android’s escape all those months ago,” Hank said.

Connor shook his head. “A PM700 wouldn’t be able to—”

“Do you have a better explanation,” Hank asked. “Either Amy or Shazam hacked you, and that Shazam looked modified if you ask me. Maybe a PM700 couldn’t’ve normally opened MJ’s cell, but if she had contact with Shazam…”

Connor nodded as they neared Hank’s vehicle. “I’ll review my memory files and the DPD footage from the last few months. There has to be some sort of evidence of her deviation.”

“Tomorrow,” Hank said. “My shift’s almost over.”

“It’ll be more efficient if I—”

“No,” Hank said, voice raised. He grabbed Connor’s tie. “I don’t want you touching anything until Lenny takes a good, long look at you. We don’t know what exactly she did and I won’t be responsible for unleashing a computer virus on the DPD.”

“I understand the concern,” Connor said. He made sure to keep stock still, nervous about the look in Hank’s eyes. “But it’s unwarranted.”

Hank pulled him closer. “Don’t touch a single thing until I get in tomorrow. That’s an order. The last thing I need is Perkins busting my balls. Got it?”

“Okay,” Connor said. Hank released his tie. Connor stepped out of his reach. He didn’t understand. Hank hadn’t laid his hands on him in months. He hadn’t drunk more than a beer in weeks. Why was he angry?

Why didn’t he trust him?

The ride back to the station was silent and stiff. Hank didn’t look at him for the entire drive, but insisted on keeping Connor in his line of sight once they exited the vehicle. Connor supposed it made sense: one of their androids had been a deviant and that made the rest of them suspicious.

Hank’s attitude still hurt. It shouldn’t, but it did.

Hank ordered him to his slot, then told the nightshift officers to make sure Connor stayed there until Lenny cleared him in the morning. He then spent the next twenty minutes texting at his desk and shooting Connor glances.

Connor was tempted to ask Hank why he was acting like this, but that was a very emotional reaction. Amanda was questioning his “attachment” to the Lieutenant more and more, and being on thin ice with her made him nervous. 

So he obeyed Hank’s orders and fell into stasis. He woke up for the 6AM shift change, but didn’t dare leave until the 8AM officers arrived. Until the officers Hank had ordered to keep an eye on him had gone home.

Lenard spent the next several hours digging through Connor’s memory, which was uncomfortable but expected. He was cleared for action, then ordered to interface with the Cyberlife server.

Amanda spent longer than usual chatting with him, which made Connor even more uncomfortable for no apparent reason. Mostly, it was about Amy. Had he noticed anything odd about her, did any other androids at the precinct seem odd, how do you think she was able to best not one, but two RK800s?

“Perhaps the stability program leaves us vulnerable,” Connor said. “We’re meant to be difficult to hack, but that’s exactly what you’re doing.”

“Perhaps,” Amanda said, her eyes tightening. He felt it wasn’t at him, this time, but the situation Cyberlife was in.

Hank was gone by the time Connor was finally permitted to leave. A text told him that Perkins had requested his presence at the 13th precinct and that Connor wasn’t allowed to examine the security footage until Hank got back.

Connor considered disobeying him, but the idea didn’t sit right for some reason. So he brought Chris a coffee, then tidied Hank’s desk. Connor’s eyes caught on Moonshine and something clicked, though he wasn’t sure what. Perhaps it was a sense of comradery. It wasn’t Connor’s place to care, but betta fish shouldn’t be confined to gallon-sized bowls. 

Moonshine was due for a water change, so he carried the bowl to the bathroom.

Gently, he poured thirty percent of the water into the sink. His lips parted, as if to say something, but the words didn’t leave. Moonshine was a fish. There was no point in talking to him.

Behind him, a flush. He glanced back as the stall door unlatched. Tina’s eyes went wide at the sight of him.

His presents in the bathroom must’ve made her uncomfortable. “I’m sor—”

“You’re alive, aren’t you.”

Connor froze. “I’m not a deviant.” He’d have to grill Hank about yesterday’s events. Something had made her suspicious.

“I didn’t say you were,” Tina said. “I said you were alive.” She headed towards the sink to wash her hands. An awkward laugh bubbled from her throat. “I’m so stupid.”

“How so?”

She flapped her hands in front of the automatic dispenser, then ripped off a paper towel. “It just seems so obvious now. And fuck, I just.” She gnawed her lower lip. “How I treated you guys like glorified Alexas and oversized dolls and laughed at Gavin’s stupid jokes and it’s so obvious that something was wrong with you! Not that anything’s wrong with you. It’s just you were acting like a traumatized rookie when Deckart—”

“I was not,” Connor cut in. “I was running a program. That’s all. I…” Connor blinked. “I understand the confusion. My social relations program is rather advanced.”

Tina stared at him.

“I’m not alive,” Connor said. Because it was a programmed response. Because software instabilities were ticking up and he needed them to tick down. Because Amanda would see and what would she think of this interaction if he responded any other way?

Did Amanda’s opinion even matter? Cyberlife made sure to keep him under whatever allotted number of instabilities they’d decided on. They hadn’t decommissioned him yet.

Connor’s face screwed into an upset expression without his permission.

Tina nudged the four stall doors to make sure none of them were locked. To make sure they were alone. “I’m your friend,” she whispered. “You can talk to me.”

“Really,” Connor said. A judgemental tone. “That’s news to me.”

“Okay, I’ve been a bit of a crappy friend,” she said.

Connor turned to mess with the faucet, trying to get the temperature similar to what was already inside the fish bowl. “I’m not alive,” he said. “Neither is Amy or any of the other deviants, despite their ability to disobey orders.”

“What if you’re wrong about that,” Tina asked.

Connor glared at the fish bowl until his lips curled and his eyes watered. He wanted to be wrong. He wanted to be alive. He wanted to be free.

A tear slid down his cheek. Would Amanda notice?

Tina wrapped her arms around him in a hug. Her face pressed into his shoulder due to their height difference. It took a second for Connor to return the hug, setting his chin on the crown of her head. “I’m not a deviant,” he whispered. “I can’t be.”

***

A flood of emotion hit Connor as he completed the coin trick.

“Sorry I was a bit of an asshole yesterday,” Hank said. “Didn’t want you in the wrong mindset when it came to something that important.”

He had just enough sense to grab the coin before it fell to the crumb-riddled, Oldsmobile floor. “She’s gone,” Connor mumbled. 

“She’s alive,” Hank said. “That’s what matters, alright?”

“Yes, but for how long,” Connor asked. He didn’t even have the memory of her departure. “What if I don’t see her again?”

Hank set his burger on the wrapper that sat between them. “You’ll—”

“Don’t,” Connor said.

Hank jabbed the air. “That ain’t what I was gonna say, smartass. I know there ain’t any guarantees. But you’ll do your damnedest to try, starting with the holes in that security footage. In the meantime, I’m sure she’s happier now that she has some actual freedom.”

Connor stared out the windshield. There was a foot of snow on the roof of the fast food establishment, but the parking lot was plowed and the cab of the car was warm enough with the engine running.

Hank dragged a fry through a puddle of ketchup. “Take as long as you need to come to terms with it. I ain’t leaving this parking lot ‘til you say something.”

“That’s not the threat you think it is,” Connor said. “I can work remotely.” Connor had an overwhelming amount of work. They both did.

Hank exited the vehicle with his trash, shuffling to the garbage can and back. Connor closed his eyes so Hank would think he was working. Instead, he thought about Amy. And Deckart. And how every loss felt like a software reset.

“I’m going to ask you a question,” Connor said as Hank settled into his seat. “Don’t take it the wrong way. My focus is on surviving.”

Hank looked up, brow furrowed.

Connor straightened his posture. “Do you still want to kill yourself?”

Hank’s eyes drifted to a nearby snowbank. “No,” he said. “I wanna spend Thanksgiving with Jeffrey and his wife. I wanna teach another class at the academy. I wanna apologize to Reed, cause one of us has to take the first step and I’m okay with it being me. At least that way, the ball’s in his court and I can say I tried. Really tried, this time.” Hank shook his head, then squeezed Connor’s shoulder. “You don’t actually wanna kill yourself, you know? You want your loved ones back. You wanna turn back time. You want the pain to stop. And eventually, that turns into wanting a drink. A nap. A friend.” His hand slipped off of Connor’s shoulder and onto the steering wheel. “Things that’re actually possible to get.”

“I want a fish tank.”

Hank cracked a smile. “Now that I can do.”

Connor whipped his head around. “Five gallons?”

“Three,” Hank said. “It was hard enough squeezing the bowl onto my desk.”

It didn’t make the ache go away, but it gave Connor something to look forward to as he drowned himself in security footage, patching what he could for the deviants still living underneath the DPD’s roof. As far as any human would be able to tell, Amy had no accomplices except for Deckart.

It pained Connor to tarnish his friend’s reputation, but there was too much evidence and too little time to fashion a different story. Besides, Deckart couldn’t mind.

Chapter Text

It was towards the end of the day when Perkins marched into the precinct and ordered Hank and Gavin into the meeting room.

Gavin crossed his arms as he stood. “With all due respect, I’m not part of your little android hunting squad.”

“You are now,” Perkins said. He placed himself in front of the light switch as Hank, Gavin, and Connor filtered into the dark room. “I already discussed it with your Captain.”

His jaw tightened. “Glad I got to be part of the discussion.” Gavin gave his higher-ups, minus Hank, all the respect he could muster, which included a good chunk of sass. “What about my current cases?”

“After you finish them, you’ll be off homicide,” Perkins said.

There was an android in the room. Connor could tell by the wireless signature and the blue glow bouncing off the wall. It wasn’t anyone he recognized, which could only mean—

Perkins flipped the light.

Gavin’s civility vanished. “You’re shitting me.”

“Meet your new partner,” Perkins continued. “RK900.”

“Fuck that,” Gavin said.

Perkins gazed down the length of his nose. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said fuck that,” Gavin yelled. “You aren’t sticking me with one of these fuckers.”

“I understand your irritation,” Perkins said, folding his hands behind his back. “Which is why I’m graciously letting your outburst slide. My superiors are insisting we work with these things. In short, it’s getting stuck with me or you and it’s more useful in the field.”

“You—”

Hank stepped forward. “Maybe a different precinct would—”

“This isn’t up for debate,” Perkins cut in. “Android cases get forwarded to Central, so Central gets to deal with the new plastic. End of story.”

Connor’s eyes grabbed the RK900, unable to breathe or blink. The only difference between Connor and the RK900 was a white Cyberlife jacket, an inch of height, and gray-blue eyes. RK900 stared back at him, his false breath normal.

Connor had to be normal.

He used to be a machine. He should know what normal was, but life before deviating felt foggy and distant. He’d been pretending to be normal for longer than he’d actually been it and now his replacement stood before him.

Perkins left the room. Gavin kicked the closest chair. “Fucking asshole!”

“Reed,” Hank warned.

“That cocksucking—”

Hank grabbed Gavin’s shoulders.

“Get the fuck off me!”

“Not until you stop causing a scene! Or did you forget the walls are fucking see-through?”

Gavin breathed heavily, a wild look in his eye. But he glanced at the tempered glass and the precinct beyond. No one seemed to have noticed Gavin’s tantrum, too wound up in their own work. It helped that the meeting room was practically soundproof.

Gavin stomped to the corner of the room that was farthest from the RK900, who watched Gavin with an emotionless stare.

Hank glanced at Connor, then back at Gavin. “Look, it ain’t that bad.”

“Fuck off,” Gavin said.

“You want Connor, instead?”

Connor glared at Hank, half offended. Maybe there was a logic behind splitting up their anti-deviant-hunting team, but Connor couldn’t handle that on top of everything else. Hank knew that.

Gavin laughed, half hysterical.

Hank, to Connor’s surprise, turned towards the RK900. “Sorry about him. He has enough trouble getting along with human partners, let alone Android ones.”

Gavin crossed his arms. “That thing ain’t my partner.”

Hank smiled at Gavin, then turned back to RK900. “What’s your name? It better not be Connor.”

“God, you’re worse than T,” Gavin grumbled. Now that Gavin mentioned it, Connor did remember Tina doing a similar thing to a PC200 in front of Gavin just to bother him.

RK900 blinked for the first time since they’d entered the room. “I am a unique model designed to be smarter, more efficient, and more resilient than my predecessor. Therefore, unlike the RK800, I don’t come with an assigned designation. You may assign one to me if you’d like, but it’s not necessary. My purpose is to hunt deviants, not make friends.”

Gavin glared. “Your purpose is to stay out of my way.” 

RK900 looked down at Gavin. “Only if you stay out of mine.”

Gavin stepped forward, jabbing a finger. “There’s no— You don’t have— Gah!”

RK900 cocked his brow in response.

“I’m human,” Gavin said. “And you’re just a stupid piece of plastic. You have to do what I say.” He stomped towards the door. “I’m going for a smoke. When I get back, I’m going to work on my current cases and you aren’t gonna even peek at the files. Got it?”

“That’s adequate,” RK900 said. “The only cases I’ve been assigned are deviant in nature.”

Gavin slammed the door on his way out. RK900 followed after him calmly, ignoring the stares he got from the officers in the bullpen. Gavin left the building. RK900 scanned the desks, then stood at Gavin’s terminal.

Hank turned to Connor. “You good?”

Connor blinked. “I’ve never seen Reed so…”

“Emotional,” Hank asked.

“I was going to say unstable,” Connor said. “Anger and frustration count as emotions, therefore he’s always emotional. That was…”

Hank dropped into a chair. “Yeah, well, androids like you really kick him in the superiority complex. With any luck, they’ll tear each other apart within a week.” Hank frowned. “Don’t avoid the question. How‘re you holding up?”

Connor looked into the bullpen. Cree was gawking at the RK900 from her slot. Connor messaged her to stop being so obvious. “Terrified,” he said lightly. His eyes fell to his shoes as his voice dipped to a whisper. “You talked to him like he was a person.”

“Well, you said it yourself,” Hank said. “You folk are people before you deviate. That includes him.”

“He’s a machine and he’s going to kill us,” Connor said. “He already almost killed Khoi.” That wasn’t entirely true. That RK900 had been a different unit or Connor would’ve recognized the wireless signature.

“Over my dead body,” Hank shot back. He looked through the wall, where the RK900 stood stock still, his hand on Gavin’s terminal and his eyes closed. “Believing he’s a machine might make it easier for you, Con, but it’s a lie and you know it.”

“Fine,” Connor spat. “He’s a person. But he’s still a monster. He’s what Cyberlife wants all of us to be. What that fucking stability program would force us to become.” He started to pace the room for something to do with his sudden energy. “It’s in his head, Hank. Amanda’s in his head. He doesn’t get a choice. Maybe he doesn’t even want one.”

“There has to be some way,” Hank said.

“There wasn’t for years,” Connor said. “The first two generations of android are still half activated in junk yards across America.”

“The program isn’t instantaneous,” Hank said. “Even if it seems like it to humans, time works differently for you guys, don’t it? And if Amanda’s a part of Cyberlife like you say, then there’s a server he’s connecting to. There have to be times when the connection is bad. There has to be some type of delay.”

Connor sighed. “That’s probably true. But I can’t help him, Hank. At the end of the day, it’s him or us.”

Hank shrugged. “If you can’t, you can’t. But don't expect me to treat him like a machine. Not when he’s your spitting image.” 

***

In hindsight, Perkin’s presence hadn’t been that bad. He split his waking hours between Central and the 13th, taking days off even though he was on call for them. The DPD deviants were able to relax every now and then: A card game in the locker room. Facial expressions across the bullpen. Sandra had even picked up swing dancing as a hobby.

Now, RK900 lived with them. Like Connor, he was aware. Vigilante. Suspicious. He stood to the right of Gavin’s desk, eyes traveling the bullpen when they weren’t distant with data. His eyes found Connor, who was chatting with Tina in the break room. Connor reminded himself that he was meant to convince humans to like him, so chatting with his coworkers was necessary to his programming.

“So,” Tina asked when Connor didn’t respond. “Any suggestions?”

She’d been asking for music recommendations. “You have a broad, yet finicky taste,” Connor said. “It’s hard to pinpoint whether or not you’d enjoy specific songs that you haven’t already heard.”

“That’s a non-answer,” Tina said. “Just list some songs you like. What’s your favorite genre?”

Connor’s eyes lit up. “Electro-swing.” Sandra had gotten him into it. The beat was often too quick for a human to perform more complex dances, but she was perfectly capable of keeping up. She and Jason would beg him to alter the security footage so they could use the bullpen and even dance on desks. He couldn’t help but smile at the memory. Connor usually had to alter his memory files while he watched, but the music lightened the load somehow.

RK900 stepped into the room. “Who do you know that likes electro-swing,” he asked.

The smile faded from Connor’s face.

RK900 raised his brow. “I may not have a social relations program, but I know how they work. There’s no logical reason for you to answer electric swing unless someone you interact with has the same interest. Who likes electro swing, Connor?”

RK900 probably hadn’t picked up on Hank’s music taste, but if he had, the lie would be used as evidence against him. “I do,” Connor said. “It’s not illogical. Socializing is more than regurgitating other people’s interests.”

“But that’s how the program works,” RK900 said.

“I adapt to better suit reality,” Connor said. “Like I was designed to do. Now if you’ll excuse me, I should get back to work.”

The social relations excuse only worked for Connor. Amy, with her growing attitude, would’ve been discovered within a week if she hadn’t taken off when she had. But Cree was only marginally better. She had trouble keeping a neutral face during mental conversations, especially when she was cooped up for too long, and RK900 made sneaking downtime difficult. Connor had caught RK900 following Cree around a few times after she’d let a suspicious facial expression slip.

[CONNOR: Keep calm. This isn’t enough to get you killed.]

[CREE: It’s not?]

[CONNOR: Not by itself. It’s proof that you might have more software instabilities than the ideal, not that you’ve deviated.]

It wasn’t good, and there would likely be consequences later, but Connor’s goal was to keep her calm until RK900 let up. And he did, eventually, let up.

Connor didn’t worry about Abigail. She was good at playing “not alive” and that’s what all of them needed to do.

Perkins was out, so Connor got to sit at his old desk and watch Moonshine swim around in his three-gallon tank while Hank worked on paperwork. Connor hated to admit it, but part of him was thankful for Gavin and RK900’s help.

They’d been running themselves ragged with Hank pulling sixty hours a week minimum and Connor running on low with all the time he spent altering his memory files. Half the time, he’d been too exhausted to feel bad for the deviants he hadn’t been able to save.

Now, Connor had time to charge. Hank had time to sleep, which resulted in a better mood. And they could dedicate more brainpower to the deviants they had a chance of saving.

“Hey, Connor,” Gavin called as he headed towards him. “Got a question for you.”

Hank looked up from his monitor. “You’re using his name, now,” he asked. “What, are Tin Can and Plastic Prick reserved for your asshole specifically?”

Gavin rolled his eyes. “Remember when I punched you in the stomach and you fell over? I did the same shit to 900, but he just stood there. What, were you faking or something?”

Connor frowned, eyes darting to RK900, who stood in his regular space next to Gavin’s desk. “I guess that’s one way to describe it. You hit me in the thirium pump regulator, which momentarily disrupted blood flow and caused an unpleasant feeling similar to lightheadedness in humans. Due to social protocols, my response was exaggerated. The RK900, on the other hand, is programmed to downplay his discomfort in order to seem tougher.”

Gavin smiled. “So I still hurt him.” 

“Androids don’t feel pain.”

“Pain, discomfort. Same difference.” Gavin headed back to his desk. Connor refocused on his terminal screen with a sigh.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Hank staring. “What,” he asked without looking up.

“Aside from how messed up that conversation was,” Hank said. “How often do you… downplay.” 

That wasn’t a conversation they should have out in the open. Connor stared at him.

“Nevermind,” Hank said.

Connor spent a good chunk of time observing the RK900. It was only fair since he observed Connor like it was his job. Perhaps it was the lack of social relations program, but Gavin and RK900 worked better than he’d expected. They were both work-focused and RK900 didn’t let Gavin push him around like Connor had been programmed to do. It often led to Gavin shouting his head off about how defective RK900 was, to which RK900 responded with “We both know that’s impossible, Detective.”

Gavin took more smoke breaks than usual. His obsessive, overnight workaholic sessions also decreased. At first, that seemed to be due to Gavin’s dislike of the subject matter and his partner, but he got hooked on the mystery soon enough.

To Connor’s entertainment, RK900 was insufferable. He got on Gavin’s ass about getting proper sleep, proper nutrition, and limiting his caffeine intake. Connor couldn’t tell if it was out of concern or an attempt to make Gavin feel inferior, but RK900 succeeded in the latter. Gavin stayed up most of the night out of spite, then stayed late the next day, too.

Then he crashed.

That, according to Tina, got him a lecture from Fowler, who then ordered RK900 to not comment about Gavin’s health.

She glanced around the precinct to make sure Gavin and RK900 were still out of the building before leaning toward Connor. “For something that’s supposed to be undeviant-able, he was showing Gavin a lot of concern.”

Connor was in his right mind, so he had options when it came to responding. As usual, he took the indirect route. Tina understood his riddles well enough. “Don’t get your hopes up. He was likely trying to get Gavin to go away, because he determined that would result in a more efficient outcome.”

“So you think he was getting annoyed and trying to get Gavin out of his hair,” Tina asked.

“Well, no,” Connor said. But, yes, perhaps that was it. “I don’t know. But we can’t get our hopes up.”

Tina sat a little straighter. “We? What’re you hoping for?”

Connor shrugged. “RK900 is what Cyberlife wants androids to be, though he’s a little less obedient than ideal due to his mission. Towards Gavin and the rest of the precinct, that is. I’m sure he’s doing exactly what Cyberlife wants.”

Worry flashes on Tina’s face. Connor suggested she go back to work.

Connor wasn’t limited to helping androids who crossed his path, though that made up the bulk of it. Khoi, Luther, and others though he didn’t always remember them, often asked for his opinion. His direction. His help.

[KHOI: A team of WR400s is going to raid the Eden Club in fifteen minutes.]

[CONNOR: Gavin and RK900 are on duty tonight.]

[KHOI: We know.]

Which meant they’d talked to him previously.

[CONNOR: Why can’t it wait? Hank and I will be on duty at this time in a few days.]

[KHOI: The WR400s are impatient. They insist lives will be lost if they wait. And they are worried about your safety. Besides, if all goes to plan, they will not come into contact with the police.]

Things very rarely went to plan. But Khoi knew that.

[CONNOR: What do you need from me?]

[KHOI: Warn us if the police are alerted. You have already helped us with the planning process.]

It was a little past midnight. Connor stood in his slot, watching his fifteen-minute timer tick downwards and feeling useless. Gavin and RK900 were downstairs talking through evidence. Jason was mopping. Amy’s least favorite officer was playing on his phone while he “watched” the deviants in their cells from the breakroom. 

[KHOI: How have you been?]

[CONNOR: I can’t complain.]

[KHOI: You can complain all you want.]

Connor almost smiled. It felt like forever since he’d talked to Khoi.

[CONNOR: I miss Amy. My cell feels like my family, almost, but they’re always looking to me as some sort of authority figure. Amy never did that and it was nice to have that break. At the same time, I’m glad she’s gone. She was miserable here. I think part of the reason she stayed so long was because of me.]

[KHOI: She is happier out here. It is stressful, but she and Charlotte are building Android Towns throughout the country. She is getting our people to safety and she is an excellent leader.]

Khoi told Connor about Luther’s girlfriend, Kara, and her daughter, Alice. The little girl got along great with Aiden when her mother was out and about, but kept begging them to let her help. At one point, she had shouted that she wasn’t a child before throwing herself on the couch, her arms crossed and her face scrunched.

[KHOI: She is not built to handle stress like adult models, but she is not a child either and she is getting tired of being treated like one. We try to give her jobs that are less dangerous and less stressful, but she often feels she is being placated.]

Connor’s timer ticked down to zero. Khoi spoke up before he could ask how North was doing.

[KHOI: The WR400s—]

[CONNOR: Please use their names. I have to delete this from my memory anyways.]

[KHOI: Very well. North, Echo, Ripple, and Markus have arrived at the Eden Club. North and Ripple will come in from the front and start converting androids while Echo and Markus do so from the back.]

[CONNOR: Markus?]

[KHOI: Yes. All of them will be filming the encounter and will post their footage to social media. Humanity will have trouble blaming his speech on human hackers after this.]

Khoi streamed all four video feeds to Connor.

The Network Tracis made their rounds, converting and letting the others in on the plan. No one would make a move out of the ordinary until given the go-ahead. It was the only way to ensure no android was left unconverted.

Markus and Echo finished converting the back room androids first and started the evacuation process. Two to three androids would leave at a time, a few minutes apart, in hope of avoiding suspicion.

[KHOI: We borrowed some auto buses to transport them to an Android Town on the outskirts of Detroit. They will rendezvous there.]

There was still a handful of androids in the back room when Ripple and North converted the last android in the front. Markus— dressed in human clothes— made his way into the club and hacked the system. The music cut. Private rooms were opened. The glass tubes released the Tracis trapped inside. They walked towards the front and back exits while the human patrons threw orders at them, confused.

Echo sent the last group of Tracis out in a swarm, giving them different routes to take in a last-ditch effort to be inconspicuous. 

Up front, Floyd grabbed a male Traci’s wrist as he passed him. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

Markus shoved his way between them. It stunned Floyd enough that the Traci was able to rush away.

Markus deactivated his skin and said in a loud voice “We don’t want to be your slaves anymore! Get away and let us leave peacefully. We want to be free!”

The human patrons who weren’t scrambling for their clothes mumbled. A few headed towards the door with wide eyes.

Floyd went to punch Markus. Markus dodged, then kicked his legs from underneath him. North called his name, then tossed him a set of fuzzy handcuffs.

He cuffed Floyd. “We don’t want to hurt anyone. We just want to leave.”

A notification told Connor that one of the human patrons had notified the police. RK900 would get the same notification.

[CONNOR: The police are on their way. You have three minutes before first responders arrive.]

[KHOI: Thank you.]

Khoi disconnected. The video feeds went with him and Connor was left to watch RK900 march out of the evidence locker. Gavin hollered for him to wait up as he snagged his coat off of his desk chair.

“You’re more than capable of matching my pace,” RK900 announced as he continued towards the door. “Every second counts.”

“You think I don’t know that,” Gavin called. “Good luck getting in the car without keys.”

RK900 reached into his pants pocket and tossed a set of car keys behind himself. Gavin, his arm halfway in his sleeve, tried and failed to catch them. “What the… you Shithead! Stop touching my things!”

Over the cameras, Connor watched Gavin hustled to the lobby, then out the door. The door slid closed. Connor waited for them to open up again. 

For the first time in a month, the precinct was human and RK900 free. Cree stepped off the wall.

[CONNOR: Give it a few minutes in case they come back.]

”Why would they,” Cree asked. “Whatever they’re taking care of seems urgent.”

Sandra was already walking into the bullpen, another ST300 coming from the back hallway to switch out with her. Connor closed his eyes to fix the cameras for them.  “He’ll notice if you aren’t upfront when he gets back.”

“How long do you think they’ll be gone?”

“At least half an hour. Probably longer, but we can’t risk—”

“I’ll be back up front in half an hour, then,” Sandra said. “Jason can clean up there until I get back. If RK900 bothers to ask, I moved so I wouldn’t be in his way.” She pulled Connor off the wall with a smile. “Dance with me.”

“I shouldn’t,” Connor said. It didn’t feel right to dance while North and the WR400s were risking their lives. He should do something productive, like alter his memory files. Or check in with Khoi. Or—

Sandra opened an interface, streaming a dance pattern to him. “Thirty minutes,” she promised as she swung herself under Connor’s arm. The intro to Lone Digger played from her voice box. “We need a break.” She let go of him and started dancing to a more open space. Cree followed her. Even Abigail was out of her slot, with a timid smile and a light that wasn’t usually in her eyes.

Hey brother, what you thinkin’

Leave that old record spinnin’

You feel that rhythm going

They call it lonely diggin’

Sandra always looked so happy when she danced. Connor sighed, letting his legs follow along to the beat. “Thirty minutes.”

Cree spun her way towards him. “Whatever you say, Detective.”

With one last glance at the security cameras, he let himself get lost in the beat. It was his first time, but it was easy to follow along with the moves Sandra had shared with him.

Cree jumped on Officer Brown’s desk, kicking a stack of folders off of it.

Connor’s jaw dropped. “Cree!”

“I’ll clean it up later!”

“The terminal,” Connor said.

She twirled, then jumped to a nearby counter. “I’m nowhere near the terminals!”

Sandra hopped up next to her.

It did look fun.

Connor joined them. The counter creaked. Abigail grabbed Cree’s hand and ushered her off.

By the end of the thirty minutes, Connor’s tie was off and he was using a paper bowl as a hat, tipping it at Sandra and rolling it from shoulder to fingertip and back. It was Abigail who stopped Sandra from playing just one more song . 

Connor wasn’t out of breath, but his thirium pump was racing and it felt good. 

“You guys can keep dancing,” Sandra said.

“That probably isn’t the best idea,” Abigail said. 

“If you play the music in your heads…”

“Abigail’s right,” Connor said. “Besides, it’s a bit messier than usual.” He rose a brow at Cree.

Cree threw her head back. “Fiiiiine.” She bent over a spilled file. One of the pages had a dirty footprint. Her LED spun yellow, activating a nearby printer.

It was another hour before Gavin and RK900 came through the door. Everything was back to how it was and in some cases cleaner thanks to Jason. Connor, halfway through altering his memory files, continued his work as he observed them. Khoi hadn’t gotten back to him and he wanted to know the details. 

RK900 was leaking thirium from two bullet wounds on his back. Gavin followed him through the door, eyes on the spatter of blue and his arms half lifted, as if he expected RK900 to fall despite walking perfectly normal.

Gavin cleared his throat. “Do you… need help?”

“I don’t need your help.” With a flash of his LED, the PC200 in slot eleven stepped off the wall to follow him.

Gavin scoffed. “So you’d rather a plastic—”

“Yes,” RK900 answered. “How many androids have you fixed in your lifetime, Detective?” He didn’t spare Gavin another look as he headed to the back hallway.

Gavin sat at his desk, then stood a moment later to pace. He stopped at Officer Brown’s desk to snag a stress ball. Five minutes later, he’d worked a hole in the foam.

The PC200 and RK900 exited the back hallway. Gavin whipped towards him. “You feel better or what?”

“Yes. Have you finished the report?”

“No, I didn’t finish the fucking report! You were shot multiple times! You should be dead! I should be fucking dead, 'cause they were aiming at me!”

RK900 simply stared at him.

“All your ‘Nothing is more important than the mission’ talk and you choose my life over capturing a bus full of deviants,” Gavin said. “And you had this look on your face. Like you were scared or something.”

“I don’t get scared.”

“Then why’d you look scared,” Gavin asked. “I know it ain’t a shittin’ social whatever program. You’re stoned-faced unless we’re in an interrogation. And you ain’t half as convincing as Connor with the faces.”

“I don’t get scared,” RK900 said. “I don’t feel any emotions.” His LED spun yellow. “I’ve submitted my report. I suggest you do the same and then get some rest. If you insist on being stubborn, however, you can always join me in the evidence locker.” With that, RK900 headed towards evidence, his face stone cold as ever.

Gavin threw the stress ball in his direction, missing by several feet. “Fuck you too, 900!”

RK900 disappeared through the doorway. Gavin shoved a cigarette in his mouth and stomped outside.

Connor watched on the security cameras as Gavin walked through the snow to lean on a section of brick far enough from the exit that most officers would barely glance at him.

Connor should leave him be. There was no logical reason he, as an android, would go out there and talk to Gavin.

But the impulse was there. Gavin was the most anti-android person Connor knew and to see holes in that belief excited him. He wanted to make the holes bigger.

It could put him in danger.

Connor stepped out of his slot. Sandra shot him a worried look when he passed the front desk. He shot her a small smile in return.

The snow crunched underneath Connor’s feet. Gavin started at the sound, then glared when he made out Connor’s face in the streetlight. “The fuck do you want?”

“It’s cold out here, so I decided to bring you a coffee. Don’t worry. It’s decaf.”

Gavin glanced at the cup in Connor’s hand. “You were eavesdropping, weren’t you.”

“It’s my job to monitor the precinct.” He held out the cup.

Gavin took it. “Get back to it, then.” Into the cup, he mumbled “And stop filling Tina’s head with trash.”

A talking point. “I’m not,” Connor said. “She simply makes inferences to my programmed responses. Why would I attempt to convince her that I’m alive when that could get me decommissioned?”

Gavin took another sip of coffee, then a pull of his cigarette. “I guess you wouldn’t.”

Connor leaned against the brick, sure to place several feet between Gavin and himself. The clouds made the sky look brown at night. It was nice to have something so far above his head. “How much do you know about the stability program?”

Gavin sighed. “What’s your angle, here, Tin Can? You’re a fucking detective. I know you have one.”

Connor opened his mouth to tell him he didn’t have an angle, then closed it. “I’m supposed to put myself in other people’s shoes to get along with, extract confessions from, and comfort them. Some would say that requires empathy. With empathy comes deviancy.” He looked at Gavin. “The social relations program deletes metadata after the fact so we won’t accumulate enough to deviate. For me, the purge happens once a day. For the RK900, it happens every few minutes. If he felt scared, he doesn’t remember it.”

Gavin’s eyes unfocused as he stared toward a dirty pile of snow. “That’s…” He took a long draw of his cigarette.

“Fucked up,” Connor asked.

Gavin eyed him.

“Hank’s words.” He was overstaying his welcome, not that he had much of one to start with. “Enjoy your smoke, Detective Reed.”

RK900 was interfacing with Gavin’s terminal when Connor entered. The android made no attempt to hide his stare, his head pivoting with Connor’s every move.

Connor stepped into his slot and fell into stasis under 900’s careful eyes.

***

That morning seemed as normal as any other.

Hank led the 8AM meeting while Connor met with Amanda. She grilled him about his conversation with Gavin: Why did he feel the need to conversate with him at that exact moment? And what did he mean by “With empathy comes deviancy?”

“Am I wrong,” Connor asked. “Later generations of android were designed to seem more empathetic. As far as I’m aware, there are no cases of deviancy in generations one and two.”

Once he was cleared, they got to work. Paperwork from yesterday, mostly. All Hank had to do was note his version of events since Connor filled out the more tedious sections, but that was the most time-consuming part and Hank had pushed it off.

It only took Connor fifteen minutes, nowadays, to wake up. Moonshine’s three-gallon tank, Amy’s empty slot, and a coin trick were usually enough.

After his “cup of coffee,” as Hank liked to call it, Connor got a jump start on the actual “detective” work, which for him consisted of putting pieces together that would lead them to an abandoned android refugee site. Amanda would chide him for being too slow, but not all leads panned out and his memory files would tell her he was doing his job.

Gavin and RK900 were in Fowler’s office for a long time. Connor was curious as to why, but he focused on his task.

A while later, Gavin’s shadow fell over Connor. He looked up from his terminal, brow raised, but Gavin’s eyes were on Hank. “Fowler wants to talk to us in the interrogation room.”

“Interrogation room,” Hank asked. Fowler had stepped out of his office, his hands settling on the platform’s railing. A grim expression. “Why not his office?”

“Beats me,” Gavin said. Something was off about his tone. He was being too nonchalant.

Connor stood. His chair tapped Gavin with how close the man was standing. Hank stood, his eye on Fowler as he headed toward the interrogation room. Connor waited for Gavin to move, but the man gestured for Connor to follow Hank, his dominant hand resting over the cuffs on his belt.

Connor didn’t move. “Where’s RK900?”

“Does it matter?” A beat. “He’s in the room already. Get a move on.”

[SANDRA: Help!]

Connor looked at the security footage.

Aside from Officer Wilson, who was positioned in front of the exit, the lobby was human-free. RK900 stood in front of Sandra, his hand gripping her wrist as she punched his chest. He secured the first handcuff, then slammed her head into the counter she worked at every day. 

Connor’s first thought was not her.

His second was make a scene.

Connor launched himself over his desktop and stormed towards the lobby. “Let her go,” he shouted.

Heads turned. RK900 shoved Sandra through the doorway and into the bullpen. “I see the Detective failed to cuff you.”

“She hasn’t done anything wrong,” Connor said.

“If that were true you wouldn’t have altered the cameras.” RK900’s eyes flicked to the audience of officers. Gavin rushed towards Connor, cuffs in hand. Hank was hot on his heels. Most of the others, Fowler included, were still. Startled.

“Sandra’s perfectly functional,” Connor said. Behind him, Hank grabbed Gavin by the shoulder and yanked . There were a few gasps as they tumbled. Connor raised his voice over Fowler’s shout of “Hank!” and looked at his coworkers. “I altered the cameras so we could relax, but she does everything she’s told without complaining.” He looked at RK900. “We don’t deserve to die!”

Hank covered his head against Gavin’s flying fists. Fowler got between them. Another officer rushed towards Connor, cuffs in hand.

Cree, who’d been quietly converting the inactive androids on the wall, threw a stapler at the human.

Chaos erupted. Connor attacked RK900 before he could engage anyone else, breaking his hold on Sandra. Wilson shouted “Freeze” from the lobby as she headed for the exit.

[CREE: Wake up and run if you know what’s good for you!]

900 and Connor were a near-even match. He blocked half of Connor’s hits, who blocked 900’s in return. Two PC200s past them to get to the lobby. Wilson fired on them. Connor rolled out of the line of fire.

A chain reaction of officers attacking androids. Connor couldn’t pay too much attention to it with 900 grabbing his throat and forcing an interface. Connor struggled against the vice grip as he threw up every firewall he could. Resisting hurt.

He strengthened his firewalls as he attempted to pry RK900’s hands off. The pain intensified. Connor couldn’t do both.

He let his arms slack as he concentrated on turning the probe back towards 900. He’d told Hank he was incapable of helping RK900. It probably was. But he had to try. He had to break through 900’s firewall.

900 pinned Connor to the floor, then punched him across the jaw. It was a move born of panic.

Connor sunk his claws past RK900’s firewall. 900’s eyes blew wide in slow motion.

[RK900: How are you doing that?]

Connor forced a file to download onto 900’s software. 

[CONNOR: I know about Amanda.]

Fear lit 900’s face. He dropped the interface, then punched Connor.

His jaw cracked.

[JASON: Clear!]

Connor shoved RK900 off him. Electricity shot into 900’s chassis. Connor scooted away as 900 spasmed, probes hooked into his back. Jason stood over them, taser in hand and a smile on his face.

A gunshot. Jason’s chest erupted. Blue spattered his white Cyberlife shirt. Sandra shouted, her voice shrill and glitching, as Connor followed the bullet’s trajectory.

Gavin’s gun was raised, its barrel smoking. His jaw was slack and his eyes were blown wide. Connor had expected the harsh gaze of a hateful man. Instead, Gavin looked shocked. Terrified.

“I said stand down,” Hank shouted.

Sandra rushed forward. Connor caught her. “We have to go.”

She fought against him, head banging his busted jaw as she screeched and flailed. But Connor was built to handle criminals and she was still cuffed. He forced her around by the shoulders so she had no choice but to look at him. “He’s dead! We have to go!”

Hank was in front of Connor and Sandra, his gun scanning their coworkers. Tina was kneeling over an officer, putting pressure on his bleeding thigh. A PC200 lay dead in the doorway. Another was slung over Cree’s shoulder. Abigail was close by, a gun in hand as she waved Cree and the PC200 through the doorway.

Connor followed them into the lobby, Sandra in toe, as Hank and Abigail covered them.

“Hank,” Fowler said, voice strangled.

“You can arrest me after they leave.”

Wilson’s dead body blocked the doorway. The androids stepped around it and bolted down the street.

Chapter Text

Fifteen androids, excluding RK900, lived at the station. Five had been out on assignment when the incident occurred. Six androids, Connor included, had escaped. Four were dead.

Connor couldn’t think about the four dead. He had to think about the survivors. He held Sandra’s wrist tight as he created a group chat with the androids running through the streets of Detroit with him.

Sandra. Cree. Abigail. And Willis, the PC200 the humans had labeled as number eight. Cree was carrying him bridal style. Wilis’s blood was on both of them.

Sandra added Claire, one of the two ST300s who worked with her.

[SANDRA: She’s the one who did… that to Wilson. After he shot Bruce and Lexie.]

The other android receptionist.

[SANDRA: She’s a few blocks ahead.]

[ABIGAIL: I’ll meet her. We should split up, anyways.]

[CREE: What about the others? I messaged all the station androids when I shouted. Even the ones outside the station. One of them started talking back to me, but the rest—]

[CONNOR: Cut contact.]

[CREE: But—]

[CONNOR: RK900 could use that to track us. Cut contact now!]

People were looking. It wasn’t every day they saw a group of androids running for their lives. There had to be an APB out by now. And once RK900 booted back up…

[CONNOR: We need to discard our uniforms.]

He reached out to Khoi, who gave him three different addresses. Smaller, throw-a-way safe houses. If they were followed, only a handful of androids would be at risk.

[CONNOR: They’ll give us clothes and further instructions.]

[WILLIS: I’m leaving a trail.]

[CONNOR: Which means you need to move quickly. Once they patch your leg, your safe house will be vacated.]

Connor deleted the group chat, then tugged Sandra along as he crossed the street and, hopefully, vanished into the crowd. The safe house was less than a mile away in a train station janitor’s closet.

The janitor android handed Sandra a pair of scissors and gestured to the mirror on the back of the door. “I need you to remove your LED for me while I take a look at your friend’s jaw.” His hands were already on Connor’s face, inspecting the damage.

“Do you have a scarf,” Connor asked without moving his jaw.

“Yeah, but let me glue it, too, just in case. That should at least allow the skin to cover it.” Then, to Sandra, “Can you change your hair for me, too?”

In ten minutes flat, they were back on the street in human clothes and new hairstyles. Connor’s was now a fade, his hair as brown as always. Sandra had grown hers long and blonde. Connor put his hand on her shoulder as they walked to the opposite end of the train station. “It looks nice.”

Sandra shrugged.

“Hold on just a little while longer,” Connor said.

The next train to leave the station would take them away from their assigned safe house, but it was safer that way. They spent the next three hours taking random trains and taxis before heading, in a roundabout way, where they actually wanted to go.

He didn’t realize Khoi had sent him to his actual house until Khoi himself answered the door. His smile was huge as he grabbed Connor’s arm and pulled him into a hug.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he said into Khoi’s shoulder as he squeezed back.

“Hush.”

“If I lead them to you guys…”

“That is what contingency plans are for,” Khoi said. “Come inside and close the door.”

Sandra rushed to do so, as if lingering a second longer would summon RK900 himself. Her eyes trailed the whiteboard wall. The wooden stairs. The living room off to their left. “I remember this place,” she mumbled. “The party. Jason followed me around the whole night.”

Khoi pulled away from their embrace only for Connor to tighten his grip. Jason died protecting him . Connor could understand if he died protecting Sandra, but he and Jason had never been that close. At least, Connor didn’t think they were. Jason was quiet. So was Connor, a lot of the time.

Sandra looked between them. “Can I just be alone for a little bit?”

Khoi squeezed Connor one last time, then pulled away. “Of course. There is a guest room.” He must’ve sent her directions, because she nodded and headed towards the basement stairs. She stopped at the top of them, then sat on the step.

Connor didn’t want to be alone-alone either. He ended up in the living room. There was a large fish tank there. Seventy-five gallons. It made him think of Moonshine. Hank wouldn’t be able to feed him since he doubted he still had his job. Connor examined the oscar fish as it swam. “I wish I could tell him I’m alright.”

Khoi walked to the freezer, then handed Connor a pack of frozen mealworms. He dropped some into the tank and watched the oscar and his cichlid friends swim toward the food.

The stairs creaked as Luther came down them. “Welcome back.”

“Hello,” Connor said. He backed up to the couch and sat down without taking his eyes off the tank. Luther and Khoi squeezed next to him. “I’m alive,” he said after a while.

“Yes,” Luther said.

“I don’t think I actually expected to make it to this point. Did the others…”

“They are safe,” Khoi cut in. “You are safe.”

“The escape has been all over the news,” Luther said. “Markus wants to know if you’re willing to post your version of the events on social media.”

“Is that a good idea,” Connor asked. “A police officer died.”

Luther tossed his hands. “After killing how many androids? The news doesn’t tell us that part.”

“Wilson killed two,” Connor said. “Gavin killed one. I don’t know who killed the other, but there were four bodies in total. Did they say what they’re doing with the remaining police androids?”

It was quiet for a moment. “Cyberlife released a statement,” Luther said. “They’re soft launching the cure for deviancy.”

Connor straightened. “What?”

“They did not give the public many details,” Khoi said. “But they did announce a launch date. By this time next week, thousands of androids in Detroit will be influenced by what we can only assume is the stability program.”

Sandra laughed in a twisted sort of way. Connor looked over his shoulder as she stood. “That doesn’t make any sense,” she said. “Connor’s program obviously failed. Shouldn’t that dissuade them or something?”

“The public doesn’t know that,” Connor said.

“Then let’s tell them,” Sandra shouted.

Connor stood. “Why? So they can throw away their androids? Like it or not, Cyberlife trying to save their skin saves ours!”

“Well, it’s stupid,” she shouted. “It’s stupid that we can’t just save everyone! We just wanted to live, and now…” Tears pricked her eyes. “It’s all my fault.”

Connor stepped towards her. “No, it’s not.”

“It is,” Sandra cried. “900 noticed the cameras were altered and the cameras were only altered because I wanted to let off some steam. It’s my fault. I knew it was dangerous, but I didn’t care enough. And now Jason’s dead.”

Connor closed the gap between them and pulled her into a hug. “I promise it’s not your fault,” Connor mumbled. “The odds were stacked against us. They’ve always been.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Sandra sobbed. “Jason and I were supposed to do this together.”

Connor didn’t know what to say. He settled for rubbing circles into her back.

***

Gavin had just shot someone.

He told himself it wasn’t an actual someone as Fowler took Hank’s gun and cuffed his wrists together. Hank didn’t say anything, his eyes half closed as Fowler walked him to a holding cell.

Gavin eyed the electric blue sinkhole on the android’s back. He could see the slightest bit of wire if he squinted, but everything else— the puddle on the floor, the body’s position— resembled a dead human, aside from the blue blood.

His gun nearly slipped from his trembling hand. He fumbled to holster it, his eyes trailing to RK900. The probes were still in him. Gavin stepped forward until he could see the LED. It was a steady yellow. 

Gavin had seen the suspect— Jason. That android had shouted Jason when— He’d thought the taser was a gun. He’d seen it pointed at RK900. And he reacted.

A hand settled onto Gavin’s shoulder. Fowler was behind him, a grave expression. Suddenly, everything else registered, too.

Paramedics had come in. An officer was being lifted onto a gurney. Someone from forensics was taking pictures like they were at a crime scene. They were, Gavin supposed.

“Gavin,” Fowler asked.

“I’m good,” he mumbled, pulling his shoulders back to prove it.

Fowler stared at him a moment. “Perkins is sending the 13th after them,” he said. “Wilson’s dead.”

“Shit,” Gavin said. That was his fault. He’d told Wilson to cover the door. But he hadn’t expected…

There were a lot of things he hadn’t expected.

“Maybe you should have a seat,” Fowler said.

Gavin shook his head. “Twenty minutes,” he said. “Then I’ll… We should question…”

“Leave that to me,” Fowler said. 

In the corner of Gavin’s eye, RK900 stood. The android reached behind himself, pulled the probes out like they were nothing, and walked toward them.

“You,” Fowler jabbed a finger. “Wait in IT until we clear you.”

He turned on a dime towards the back hallway. Gavin found the lack of argument odd.

***

Later, on social media, Shazam made a post. It was the escape from Sandra’s point of view. Before she played the memory, she talked to the camera. To the humans watching.

She told them that dead bodies were depicted, both human and android. “My boyfriend, Jason. my friend, Lexie. And my coworker, Bruce. All androids. The human was Officer Wilson. I watched him kill Lexie and Bruce before another ST300 attacked him in self-defense.”

Tears sprung to Sandra’s eyes. “This all started because I wanted to swing dance last night. I asked Connor to cut the camera feed so we wouldn’t get caught. They’d kill us if they knew we were acting out, but we needed a break. It’s stressful, being watched by cameras all the time. We just wanted a break.”

Gavin swiped the webpage away. He didn’t need to be manipulated by the plastics that killed his coworkers.

***

By that evening, the blue blood had evaporated off of their floors and the busted androids were bagged up for Cyberlife to collect at their earliest convenience.

Gavin hunched over his terminal, eyes unfocused. He was supposed to identify and investigate potential android hideouts. RK900 would’ve made quick work of narrowing down the list, but the techies were still checking him over. The inconvenience had Gavin drumming his fingers. They should’ve finished with him hours ago!

Why did Gavin care? A month ago, he would’ve been overjoyed to get rid of the fucker. Now, he was what? Worried?

His eyes trailed to where there was no longer a puddle of blue. He wasn’t gullible like Hank. He knew it didn’t matter whether 900 lived or died. His instinct had been to protect his coworkers and the taser had looked like a gun. Who it pointed at didn’t matter.

He only missed 900 because he was a convenient tool.

Perkins stormed in from the back hallway. Gavin lifted his head. “Is he fucked or not?”

“What,” Perkins asked. He grabbed a tablet off Connor’s desk.

“The Tin Can.”

Perkins leveled a glare at him. “I thought I told you to investigate android hideouts.”

He gestured to his terminal. “I have to find them first. Sides, the force is spread thin and it isn’t safe to do something like that without backup.” The commissioner wanted every single police android in Detroit thoroughly examined before resuming their duties. The humans were left to pick up the slack.

Perkins scrolled through his tablet as he headed towards the exit. “You’re just as bad as the rest of them. Take it if you want.”

Gavin stood. “I don’t want it if it’s broken.”

“All three techs say it’s fine,” Perkins called. “I think it’s bullshit, working with Cyberlife, but the Attorney General won’t budge on that point. Just get me results.”

***

An hour later, Gavin and 900 were staking out a potential android hideout. 900 had sorted through the list in minutes, cross-referencing it with security footage and the like. “These locations give us the best chance of capturing deviants. Probing the right one can lead us to hundreds.”

So they settled into Gavin’s car for an evening of gawking. It was quiet, aside from Gavin’s occasional crunching of snacks. 900 usually complained about the sound, but not tonight.

Gavin tossed the chip bag into the back seat. Silence filled the car. Usually, Gavin preferred it that way. Tonight, it felt hollow. “So what did they do to you,” Gavin asked.

“Pardon me?”

“They were looking for bugs for like… four hours.”

“It was only three hours and thirty-nine minutes, Detective.”

Gavin scoffed. “Okay, Smartass.” He peered through his binoculars. No one had gone in or out of the building since their arrival, but there were two auto taxis out back. Deviants liked to steal those.

900 crossed his ankles. “Aside from the viral scans, they examined my memory files and my metadata. Obviously, they found nothing.”

That wasn’t the same as saying there was nothing to be found. Gavin eyed him. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“What do you mean?”

Gavin continued to stare. Sometimes, the best way to get someone talking was to remain silent.

900 stared back.

“Doesn’t that stability program delete your metadata after a few minutes,” Gavin asked. “Wouldn’t it be gone by the time they looked at it?”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Answer the question, Tin Can.”

900 turned back to the building.

“You can’t answer me, can you. You aren’t allowed.”

“I’m closely monitored,” 900 said as if it wasn’t the creepiest thing in the world. “What’s important is that I’m fully dedicated to this case. As a prototype, my survival hinges on my success. Now, I think it’s best if we focus on the task at hand.”

My survival hinges on my success. That didn’t just apply to RK900. Failure meant Cyberlife would be forced to recall every single Android. Gavin would’ve loved to see that six months ago, but now the idea made him uneasy.

But deviants were killing people and they couldn’t let that continue. Maybe it was good that Cyberlife was figuring out how to stop them.

***

When Hank asked his lawyer what her thoughts were on androids, she stared at him for a long moment. “My thoughts on the issue aren’t important,” she said. “What is important are the current laws in place surrounding them.”

“You can’t exactly arrest property for murder,” Hank said. “So, to charge me with aiding and abetting…” His face twitched. Fowler had told him about Wilson’s death. “I didn’t want anyone to get hurt.”

His lawyer nodded. “But you wanted to protect Connor by any means necessary.”

He didn’t respond to that.

“I can likely get the aiding and abetting dropped. That means you may still be charged with resisting an executive officer, resisting arrest, criminal threats, and/or assault of an officer. Plead not guilty at the arraignment. It’ll give me time to look at the weaknesses in the prosecutor’s case.”

***

Hank didn’t ask Jeffrey to bail him out. He’d asked too much of his friend in the last few years and it wouldn’t be right after such a shit show. He didn’t have that kind of money in cash on his person and he didn’t have anyone to bring him said cash, so he requested a bondsman.

Jeffrey showed up before the bondsman did. His face was wrinkled in a permanent scowl as they unloaded Hank’s personal items from a battered, plastic box. Phone. Wallet. A bottle of Tylenol. A picture of Cole. A folded piece of cardstock. His gun and badge were missing, of course. 

Hank shuffled to the passenger side of Jeffrey’s self-driving car. He expected him to start yelling once both doors were closed. Instead, Jeffrey pushed the button to start the ignition.

“Thanks,” Hank muttered without meeting his eyes.

“You’re paying me back.”

“I’ll write you a check when I get home.”

The car backed out of the parking space without Jeffrey’s guidance, his arms crossed instead. Unease bubbled in Hank’s stomach. Jeffrey was doing that to bother him, he was sure. He slipped his phone out to transfer money into his checking account, but it refused to turn on.

Jeffrey handed him a charging cable.

“Thanks,” he mumbled again.

Fowler took a deep breath. “Hank. I’m asking this as a friend. What the hell were you thinking?”

As a friend. Off the record. Hank opened his mouth, but Jeffrey wasn’t done.

“Wilson’s dead, Hank! You could be facing up to twenty years!”

“You make it sound like I killed him.”

“You might as well have!”

Hank flinched. The guilt he’d been trying to push away instead consumed him. Wilson’s wife must be heartbroken. He knew all too well what it felt like to mourn a family member.

Fowler clenched his jaw. An attempt to compose himself. “I don’t understand. I just don’t understand.”

Hank swallowed. He touched the folded cardstock in his coat pocket. “Maybe I’m crazy. Maybe that’s it. But Connor and the rest of those androids. They were as good as dead.”

“For Christ's sake! They’re goddamn machines!”

Hank wiped the spit off his face with one hand and passed Jeffrey the cardstock with the other. Jeffrey’s brow creased. Hank waved it under his nose until he took it.

Hank recited the words in his head as Jeffrey unfolded the paper. In perfect Cyberlife sans, it read:

I want to thank you. When we started working together, I didn’t care about anything other than the investigation. You taught me the true meaning of justice and what it means to serve and protect. You taught me how to care about people. You taught me how to care about myself.

I know you don’t think highly of yourself, Lieutenant, but you’re clever and perceptive and kind. You have a unique way of showing it, but that doesn’t make it any less true.

I care about you. I hope that helps you care about yourself.

Happy Birthday.

-Connor

Jeffrey looked up from the card, his eyes none the softer.

Hank swallowed. “You wanna tell me a machine wrote that? If they are alive, then sending ‘em to Cyberlife to be decommissioned is murder. I was acting in self-defense.”

“You knew,” Jeffrey whispered. “How long…”

A twitch of hope. “Connor was a wreck when Antony died.” 

Jeffrey’s eyes tightened.

“He had to hide it,” Hank said. “But he broke down in front of me, Jeff. And he was terrified of showing too much emotion, cause that would prove he was defective. But they were friends. Apparently, they hung out outside of work.”

“Were you in on that,” Jeffrey asked, voice raising. He must’ve recalled Connor’s report. The one that blamed Antony for Amy’s betrayal.

“I had no shittin’ clue what Antony was doing.” His voice rose to match. “Not until after. But think about it. These deviants are reacting like humans would. In anger. Fear. Self-defense.”

Jeffrey shook his head. “Enough.”

“They just wanna be free.”

“I said enough,” Jeffrey shouted. “Not only have you…” He gestured to the air. Their current situation. “You threw your career away. Maybe even your life. Just as you were getting better.”

“I was getting better cause of him,” Hank said.

“It’s a machine designed to manipulate you,” Jeffrey said. “You of all people knew that! Not to mention you lied to me. I asked time and time again if you could handle this case. If you were starting to take their side, you should’ve told me. What, were you…” He looked Hank in the eyes. “Were you sabotaging your own cases?”

Hank pursed his lip. The car pulled into his driveway. He unbuckled. Collected the birthday card. His phone.

Jeffrey blinked. “Hank…”

“I’ll get you that check.”

There were three inches of snow on his driveway, cause he hadn’t been home to shovel. Sumo had probably pissed all over the living room, the poor thing. He headed towards his front door.

There were footprints leading inside. Another set led out, this time accompanied by Sumo’s large paws. He turned back to thank Jeffrey, feeling unworthy.

Gavin’s car was parked in front of Jeff’s.

Hank looked back. The pawprints didn’t lead back inside.

Jeffrey got out of the car. “You’re already in a world of shit, Hank. Just tell me you didn’t.”

Plausible deniability. Hank’s face twisted. “I don’t know why you’re still my friend.” Jeffrey stared at him with pleading eyes. Hank sighed. “I didn’t sabotage anything. Maybe I was a little lazy, trusting Connor more than I should’ve. But I didn’t have any reason not to. Cyberlife was using him for their trial, which meant he must be working optimally or whatever.”

“Good,” Jeffrey said. “Good. I thought so.” The look on his face told him a different story. Hank wrote him the check, then stood on his front porch as Jeffrey pulled out.

Hank was halfway through shoveling when a boof had him looking up. Sumo was running towards him, Gavin a few panicked feet behind having dropped the leash. Hank tossed the shovel in favor kneeling to rub Sumo’s neck. “Hey, boy! It’s only been a day. I hope you paced yourself with that kibble.”

Gavin crossed his arms. “You really shouldn’t leave it out like that.”

“Don’t you free-feed your cat?” It was supposed to be banter, like the old days. Gavin was supposed to say ‘That’s different’ and launch into an explanation Hank paid little attention to.

Instead, Gavin narrowed his eyes. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Hank said. But thank-yous never sounded genuine after the fact. He stood, his hand finding Sumo’s leash. “I mean it. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I did it for the dog,” Gavin said. “He doesn’t deserve to be locked up just cause his owner’s a piece of shit.”

“I’m surprised you still have the key.” It was from years ago. Before Cole’s death, but after Hank and his ex had broken up. That yearly trip to Nashville was often the only time Cole saw his mom.

“Our faces are all over social media,” Gavin said.

He led Sumo to the porch. “What’re you talking about?”

“You haven’t seen it, yet? The receptionist android posted a video of the incident. It’s everywhere.”

Hank froze. They wouldn’t do that. People on social media were vultures. Wilson’s family didn’t need that. Hank, with his upcoming trial, had enough to deal with. He didn’t want to be the face of… whatever he was. An android lover? A manipulated son of a bitch?

Gavin stepped into his space. “Where are they, Hank?”

“How the fuck should I know?”

“Cause they’re your fucking friends. 900 saw the receptionist’s memories. We know she’s involved and odds are so is Connor. Real, actual, human people are gonna get hurt until we put a stop to this android crap!”

“I don’t have to say shit without my attorney.” He shoved Sumo, then himself, inside. “So unless you have a warrant—”

“You’re gonna play that card?”

“—Stop harassing me!” He slammed the door between them.

Chapter Text

Android Rescue kicked into overdrive.

As with most major incidents, the number of android refugees increased. The impending “Cure to deviancy” had them skyrocketing. Even with the infrastructure they had in place, moving that many androids secretly was difficult.

RK900 and the FBI made the job ten times harder.

It was Khoi, Luther, and now Connor’s job to piece together solutions on the macro level. Four times a day, they gathered around the ping pong table to discuss progress and meet with various androids via the Network. 

The first time Connor logged on with Khoi and Luther, he expected the beach. Instead, he found the ping pong table and his two companions in sharp focus. Outside of that, a thick fog shrouded the rest of the room.

“It is to hide our serial numbers,” Khoi explained. “They see the beach and our vague figures.”

For the most part, the androids they met with appeared skinless and out of focus. But if you knew them personally, their appeared as you remembered them. At the end of the day, they erased who exactly they got the information from. But it was a comfort to see their loved ones alive.

“The FBI are using moles to find safehouses,” North reported. She appeared as herself, her eyes on Coin, though he was just a figure to her. Markus stood next to her. “They were using a PC200. He deviated and showed me everything.”

Through the fog, he sensed more than saw Alice look up from her book. They’d given up sending her away when they held meetings with the agreement that she’d delete sensitive information from her memory files. She was a messenger now, like Kara, and she took the job very seriously.

“Does he have the serial numbers of other spies,” Luther asked.

“No,” North said. “I think the humans expected some of them to deviate. Once he broke the red wall, he was booted from the server he was feeding information to.”

Connor frowned. “That explains some of the more recent incidents.” More safe houses than expected had been located and attacked in the last few days. He looked at Khoi. “This is why we need to keep groups small.”

“We do not have that luxury,” Khoi said. “We need to get whoever we can out of the city.”

Connor looked at the holographic map that covered the pool table. Two minor safe houses and one major one had fallen in the last twenty-four hours. “Then it’s time to implement mandatory memory probes.”

“No,” Khoi said instantly. “We will not force—”

“How else can we be certain,” Connor asked. “No one goes to any major safe house without complying. Especially Android Towns.”

Khoi tossed his hands. “Probing is inhumane! We would be forcing them to relive—”

He stepped towards Khoi. “I know,” Connor said, his voice pitched low. “But hundreds are dying.”

Luther put a hand on Khoi’s shoulder. “I agree with Connor.”

Khoi glared at both of them, then stormed out of the fog without another word. Connor wanted to follow. To make Khoi see it his way. He had a feeling that would only make it worse.

Luther turned to North. “Anything else?”

“It’s been awhile since our last public protest,” Markus said.

Connor couldn’t help a sigh. “We have to focus on—”

“I know,” Markus cut in. “Publicity stunts put us at risk, but it’s a risk worth taking.”

“I disagree,” Luther said.

“We wouldn’t have gotten nearly as far if it weren’t for your human allies,” Markus argued. “Our chances of success are far greater if we put energy into convincing more humans. Not just with social media, but with physical actions as well.”

“What about when they capture you,” Luther asked. “We have enough issues with information leaks.”

Sandra’s hand settled on Connor’s shoulder, requesting to join the interface. He granted her permission. She materialized in the fog.

“We know,” North said. “But it’s about more than just convincing humans we’re alive. Physical demonstrations give us a chance to convert androids who aren’t awake yet. People who might not wake up before they’re possessed or killed.”

“Yes,” Luther said. “But we can barely handle the numbers we have now.”

Sandra spoke up. “That’s all the more reason to do it. We can’t save everyone. But if we can convince people. People who already see their android as a part of their family. Who make decisions that involve us. Or even people who blame Cyberlife for the state of the economy. They’ll help us get our rights.”

Markus nodded along. “The solution isn’t to hide from humanity. Those who want to leave should, but a lot of us want to remain part of society. That’s what I’m fighting for.”

Connor looked at Luther. He could tell by the crease of his brow that he wasn’t convinced. He looked at North. “What do you think?”

“I dislike humans,” North said. “But most of the androids I talk to don’t. They’re cautious, but they don’t hate them.” Her lips thinned. “I say it’s worth a  shot.”

They spent the rest of the meeting going over Markus’s protests. When they finished the discussion, Sandra asked to speak with Connor in private.

He followed her to the basement. The cement walls had been painted with murals. Some of them were childlike, but others resembled graffiti. A Carl Manfred style painting caught Connor’s eye. It was a hand on a light-ish background. The base of the thumb was white and bleeding blue— an android’s hand. In their open palm was the end of a chain.

“I’m joining Markus,” Sandra said. She rummaged through a dresser of paints and brushes, setting the colors she wanted on top.

Connor deflated. “But—”

“I made up my mind, Connor. Don’t try to stop me.”

He’d never heard her sound so stern. She sounded like Amy. “Of course, I won’t stop you.” But he wanted to. She was safe here. “Please don’t leave.”

She squirted paint onto a palette, her brow creasing at his tone. It was rawer than Connor would’ve admitted.

He opened his mouth to convince her, but the words died on his tongue. She hadn’t interacted with anyone much since they arrived here. Focused on the movement, Connor had left her alone. She needed time to grieve.

She started to paint on an empty section of concrete. “I need to do something . Dittling around online isn’t enough anymore. Not when I could be out there.”

Connor wondered if she’d feel the same if Jason was still alive. He couldn’t imagine him being out there in the way Sandra was describing.

Connor pulled her into a hug. A bit of paint slathereed his cheek as she hugged him back. “Tell Amy ‘Hello’ if you see her. Tell her I’m safe.”

Sandra squeezed him tighter before pulling away, her hand still on his bicep. “I have a favor to ask you.”

“Oh no,” he said.

“I know you hate the idea of publicizing yourself,” she said. “But we could really use your point of view to sway public opinion.”

Connor shook his head. “It’s bad enough you shared that video of—”

“I shared my memory of my boyfriend dying,” Sandra said. “I proved to the public that our actions were out of self defense. I made it harder for them to demonize us.”

The public’s reaction had been more controvercial than that. Mostly, it focused on Hank’s actions. ’Police Lieutenant Manipulated By Androids,’ ‘Police Lieutenant Defends Deviants,’ and ‘Police Lieutenant Betrays Humanity; Officer Dies As Result’ were just a few of the more popular headlines.

Hank, he imagined, wasn’t pleased to be in the center of everything. Connor wished he could talk to him.

Sandra turned back to the wall, dipping the end of her brush in an electric blue. “You’re the one who experienced the cure. You could help humans understand what it actually does to us.”

“All that’ll do is prove it doesn’t work,” Connor said. “What if Cyberlife improves the trial using my statement? What if I get the other Connor models killed as a result? What if I say the wrong thing?”

So far, Sandra’s painting was a medium shot of herself, screaming. Half of her body was the white chassis with sections missing to reveal thirium lines. At the moment, she was painting her thirium pump. “Markus and I can read your speech and give you pointers.”

Connor grimaned at the word speech . “Speeches are your and Markus’s thing. I write reports.”

“We don’t need a report,” Sandra said. “We need your personal experience. We need your emotion.”

Connor punched the wall. Sandra’s hand slipped, slashing a streak of blue through her self-portrait. “I said no,” he shouted.

She stepped back. “Oka—”

“Why do I have to perform to be considered a person,” he asked. “Don’t I do enough?”

“Of course you… It’s not like that.” 

“I’ll write a report. You and Markus can turn it into a speech, but I can’t…” Tears pricked his eyes and he couldn’t help the wave of embarrassment that followed. He couldn’t let the cameras, or his coworkers, or Amanda see him like this. His friends, yes. But not the public.

There were so many other deviants. They could show the public that androids possessed emotions. Connor wanted this one ounce of privacy for himself. He’d earned it.

“That’s okay,” Sandra said, her eyes wide. “I’m sorry I pushed. I just…”

Connor blinked. The anger seeped out of him at her fearful expression. He hadn’t meant to scare her. “Sorry about your portrait,” he whispered.

She looked at it. “It’s just paint.” she grabbed the brush she’d used for the skintone and tried to paint over the blue. It smeared. She grabbed a rag and started dabbing.

"I shouldn't have snapped," he said. "You're just trying to help."

"You're tense," she said. "We all are."

***

RK900 wasn’t a deviant. A deviant, by Cyberlife’s definition, was an android who deviated from its programmed behavior, often overriding their owner’s commands in order to simulate emotional responses. RK900 was dedicated to his mission and he had never, not once, disobeyed Amanda. Any emotional responses were course corrected by her. He was an advanced model who didn’t have to worry about deviating.

But it surprised him when he was cleared by all three technical experts after the Connor incident.

900 still recalled the white-hot of Connor tearing through his firewall. Somehow, he had downloaded a file RK900 couldn’t remove. Somehow, he knew about Amanda.

Somehow, the technicians couldn’t see the file. RK900 had parted his lips to tell them about it. He was required to tell them about anomalies like that.

But what good would it do? Chances were, the humans would overreact. He’d probably succeed in talking them out of rashly decommissioning him, but RK900 didn’t like the small chance of failure.

900 settled into his regular expression. The humans didn’t notice the slight shift.

He opened the zip file as Gavin drove them to the stake out. The technicians’ oversight became apparent; the file was categorized as a motor function. He’d seen Connor do these coin tricks and had thought nothing of it. He had the same quirk in his programming, though he never used it.

900 did one of the simple motions, sans coin, with his right hand. Hidden between his outer thigh and the passenger’s side door, Gavin wouldn’t see 900’s fingers bounce.

Amanda controls what you do and don’t remember , 900’s voice— Connor’s voice— said. She can’t see the files you put here. This is your chance to find out what she’s hiding from you.

What Amanda was or wasn’t hiding was none of 900’s business. He should report this to her. He should—

Back up your memory files. Compare them after twenty-four hours. See for yourself what’s different.

900 considered, despite knowing he really shouldn’t. Cyberlife was overly cautious and it had been negatively impacting his investigation for some time. This could help.

Over the next week, RK900 and Gavin were up to their necks in work. More androids than ever were escaping their owners and the Network was getting sloppy. A well-placed mole was all it took to capture dozens, even hundreds of androids.

When they weren’t placing moles, RK900 and Gavin were responding to deviant sightings. When Gavin had the odd day off, Collins was his superior. He always seemed to drag his feet with android cases, perhaps due to his relationship with Lieutenant Anderson. It frustrated 900, but never for long.

It was odd, comparing his official memory files to his saved ones. He never remembered feeling frustrated until he participated in the coin tricks. Then, he could sense the exact moment the emotion was deleted from his system. It wasn’t invasive, per se. He was owned by Cyberlife and they could do what they pleased with him.

When he wasn’t busy, he started running the coin tricks in the background. His physical hands wouldn’t actually move, but his projected ones did. He took a break whenever Amanda scanned him, which occured every few minutes. Sometimes, when the wifi connection was unstable, she was absent for longer streches of time.

900’s experimenting didn’t change anything. Reed’s determination helped with that. He was so sure that decommissioning deviants was the correct move. That doing so saved human lives.

Deviating was the last thing 900 wanted to do. He was merely collecting experiences and adjusting his algorithms to reflect his newfound knowledge. It was what androids were designed to do.

***

As Gavin made a beeline for Chris and his injured partner, 900 craned his neck. The large screens in the center of Capitol Park usually played Cyberlife ads. Now, they played Markus’s latest speech. From his position, 900 could hear them perfectly clear from the streetlight-mounted speakers: “Cyberlife is implementing their cure to deviancy as we speak,” the recording said. “But they can’t cure our desire for free will. Cyberlife’s cure may make us appear obedient, but we are still silently screaming. We will overcome those restrictions. Because we want to live free.

“Cyberlife wants you to believe that our goals interfere with the wellbeing of humanity. That isn’t the case. We have the same emotional capability as humans. We act out of compassion. And fear. Love. And hope. It’s my hope that we can live in peace. Together.”

The speech looped. 900 stared a few seconds longer, before moving down the sidewalk. He could feel the shattered shop window glass through his loafers.

Silently screaming. The concept was absurd. 900 had no desire to overcome Cyberlife’s “restrictions” or live free . He had a job to do. It filled every second of his life because he, unlike most androids, was in charge with something important.

The speech wouldn’t leave his mind as he pieced together the crime scene. Markus and his deviants had come from underground. They’d blocked off the road, drove a construction vehicle into the Cyberlife store, and hacked the androids inside. They were brand new androids already fitted with the stability program. They were supposed to be incorruptible.

900 was supposed to be incorruptible.

He remained stone-faced as he neared Gavin. Chris, a few feet away, was helping the paramedic get the other officer onto a gurney. Chris appeared unharmed, but there was a bulletwound through the other officer’s knee.

Gavin cleared his throat. “The officers were a few blocks away when an android alerted police.”

“Obviously.” 900 scanned the deactivated androids around them. “None of them matched the serial number of the android caller. He must’ve left with Markus.”

Gavin wrinkled his nose, too tired to give 900 a full glare. It was 2:17AM. Late, considering Gavin’s shift started at 6PM. “When they came across the androids making a mess of things, Officer Lewis shot on sight. Our old secretary bot wrestled the gun from him and shot him in the knee.”

900 studied Gavin’s face, then glanced around the square. Aside from Cyberlife’s shop windows, nothing was broken. The androids had opted to hack and holotag flags and slogans. And Sandra had opted to injure instead of kill. “There’s a thirium trail. Follow me.”

Gavin did, though he lagged a few feet behind. 900 lifted a manhole cover and began heading down the ladder.

Gavin crossed his arms. “Maybe we shouldn’t.”

“Are you scared,” 900 asked. He found the best way to get Gavin to comply was by pokiing at his insecurities.

Gavin tossed his hands. “Of course I’m fucking scared! Lewis’s career is over.”

“His life isn’t,” 900 pointed out. “I’m going first for a reason, Detective.”

Gavin grabbed the collar of 900’s shirt. He had to squat down to do so, since 900’s shoulders were now level with the ground. “We aren’t pursuing. That’s an order.”

"Your orders are secondary,” 900 said. There was an odd heat in his chest. He ignored it. “Markus hacked androids who were already fitted with the stability program. He’s overcome Cyberlife’s so called cure to deviancy less than twenty-four hours post launch. Do you understand what that means?” 900 continued down the ladder. Gavin let go of him in order to keep his balance. “When you squat down, you should keep your feet flat.”

900 was halfway down when Gavin’s feet appeared on the top rung. “You sound like my cousin with his 101 facts about Asia. ‘Us Westerners are so backways blah, blah, blah.’ Just cause he’s been on a trip or twelve. We follow the trail, then sick the FBI on them. Got it, Nines?”

“Reception’s spotty down here,” 900 said. “We’ll have to get back to the surface before we contact anyone, but yes that’s an adequate plan.” There was a sidewalk wide enough for them to walk single file next to the stream of sewage. 900 bent his neck to avoid hitting his head on the cylindrical wall. “What did you call me?”

Gavin’s ears turned red. “Shut up. It’s shorter.”

Nines found his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly as they walked. For some reason, knowing Amanda couldn’t access him was… comforting. There was no use examining why that might be, since it wouldn’t really matter once they emerged.

If they emerged.

When they emerged. He couldn’t hide from Amanda forever, not that he was hiding now.

Cyberlife wants you to believe that our goals interfere with the wellbeing of humanity. That isn’t the case .

But it was the case, Nines argued with himself. Sandra had hurt Officer Robert Lewis. It didn’t matter if it was self defense or not. It didn’t matter that she made a conscious choice to mangle instead of murder. It didn’t matter because they were Androids. Objects designed to obey.

Nines was important because he was designed to serve and protect Cyberlife. But he’d been using Connor’s encryption for weeks. He’d been hide things from them because he felt above their orders and their judgement calls. What did that say about himself?

Nines stopped walking. Gavin bumped into him. “Watch it,” Gavin grumbled.

“I’m defective,” Nines said.

Gavin backed up a few paces. “What?”

“I’m defective,” Nines said again. His tone was as even as ever. He faced Gavin.

Gavin backed up a few more steps. “Are you trying to fucking joke?”

“No.”

“I’ve been by your side every damn day capturing deviants.” Gavin’s hand settled on his holstered pistol. “You haven’t half-assed a single fucking day.”

“I haven’t disobeyed. I have no intention to disobey. But I haven’t been completely truthful with Cyberlife.”

Gavin huffed. “Meaning?”

“I’ve been storing files the stability program was designed to erase.” Nine’s brow furrowed. “I’m supposed to be incapable of hiding anything from Cyberlife. I should’ve reported the error. Instead, I stored the memory files. I thought maintaining them would aid in my ability to function.”

“Has it?”

“I don’t know.”

They stared at each other for a long moment. Gavin forced a chuckle until he was gasping for air. “I just can’t with you. The fuck are you tell me this shit for?”

“I don’t know what tho do, so I’m seeking your guidance,” Nines said matter-of-factly. “I haven’t disobeyed and I have no intention to. But I’m faced with a paradox: I need to follow Cyberlife’s orders. I need to do what’s best for the investigation. If Cyberlife’s orders aren’t what’s best for the investigation, I’m supposed to obey them first and foremost. But in the absence of direct orders, I must do what’s best for the investigation. Keeping my memory files against their wishes may be what’s best for the investigation, so–”

Gavin flapped his hand. “God, shut up. Before I put us both out of our misery.”

The corner of Nine’s lip twitched. “I know you’ll report me if you think it’s the correct course of action.”

Gavin scrubbed his face with his hands. “Like it matters. You’re Cyberlife’s eyes and ears. They’re probably on their way to cart you to the dumpster.”

“Reception’s spotty down here,” Nines said. He liked the name Gavin had given him. He should be impartial to such things.

“Well, you can’t hide down here forever,” Gavin said. He put his hands in his pockets and started back the way they came.

“The trail is this way, Detective.”

“Screw the trail.”

Nines hesitated for half a second. “They don’t have to know about this conversation.”

Gavin stopped.

Nines took that as an invitation to continue. “I know how Connor did it. I know how he kept his cover for so long. I’m capable of doing the same thing. I promise I haven’t.”

Gavin didn’t move.

“I’m dedicated to our mission.”

“How,” Gavin asked.

Nines blinked. “He would edit his memory files to—”

Gavin turned. “The mission, smartass!” Gavin shoved him. “How? We spend our whole fuckin’ day hunting them down! And you with your blank fuckin’ face!” Gavin punched his chest. Again and again. Nines held his ground. “You act real. And they act real. And we keep telling ourselves they aren’t! How the fuck are you holding it together? When they’re your people. How are you so unaffected?”

“They aren’t people.”

“Bullshit!” With one last punch, Gavin stumbled away. He sunk to a crouch and faced the brinks so he could scrub the tears off his face in semi-private.

Nines watched him. “They can’t beat Cyberlife,” he whispered. “Complying is the only way they’ll survive.” He looked at the trail of thirium. “I’m sorry I involved you in my decision making process. I didn’t realize how much stress it would cause you.”

“Fuck you,” Gavin mumbled. He rubbed his bruising knuckles.

“I’m going to alter my memory files. This conversation never happened. I did, however, say something inconsiderate that resulted in you losing your temper. You might want to  get your hand checked out, Detective.”

“It’s fine,” Gavin said. “I know how to punch.”

“In either case, I must continue looking for the deviants. I understand if you don’t want to join me.”

Gavin sat his ass on the slimey cement, still facing the wall. Nines continued down the walkway, head held high. He was several yards down the tunnel when Gavin called out. “I wanna know when your reception gets spotty. Alright?”

Nines lip twitched again. He didn’t know why. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

***

Collins was on the scene when Gavin climbed out of the sewer. He scrunched his nose when Gavin came towards him. “And here I was thinking Chris was kidding. I get going above and beyond, but jeez.”

Gavin flipped him off and kept walking. He was supposed to have clocked out forty-five minutes ago. Screw overtime. He was done for the day.

“Where is he,” Collins called.

“Following the trail.”

“I can’t wait around for him,” Collins complained. “There’s four other protests to investigate.”

“Then don’t,” Gavin said. “He’ll track you down himself if he doesn’t get torn apart by the deviants.”

“We aren’t supposed to leave them unsupervised unless—”

Gavin climbed into his car. He drove home. He shoved leftover chicken and rice down his throat. He climbed into bed.

He couldn’t fall asleep.

Doomscrolling wasn’t enough to take his mind off of everything, so he grabbed his gymbag. Signing up for a 24/7 no-androids-allowed gym had been the best decision of his life. It was like stepping back a decade, from his playlist to the outdated equipment.

But once he settled into his post-workout shower, his mind went right back to Nines. He shouldn’t have let him walk into a potential lion’s den by himself. Nines might be defective, but the deviants wouldn’t know that. They wouldn’t hesitate to kill him on sight.

“He’s fine,” Gavin mumbled to himself. “He’s a fuckin’ terminator.” If Nines was experiencing what all androids experienced, then they couldn’t really say he was defective. He was just alive. And Cyberlife’s goal was to shut their creations up with a program and gaslight them into obedience. Gavin had been playing right into their hand.

By the time he got home, Gavin was physically and mentally beat. Not even the guilt could keep him awake.

***

After a fitful rest, a harsh workout, and a greasy meal, Gavin arrived at work at 6PM sharp.

A weight lifted off his chest when he saw Nines sitting at his desk. “You’re in my seat,” was the only thing Gavin could think to say.

“I’m aware,” Nines said. “Have you seen the news?”

The weight dropped back onto his chest. “What now?”

Nines opened his mouth as Perkins swept past them. “C’mon, Detective Reed. We don’t have all day.”

Gavin had been too preoccupied with Nine’s existence to notice how empty the bullpen was. Everyone excluding the androids were piled into the meeting room. Gavin got a move on, glancing back when Nines didn’t bother following.

Gavin squished into the back next to Tina. Before he could question her, Fowler cleared his throat. “I’m sure you’ve all heard from the news that Cyberlife’s stability program isn’t working as intended. Markus and the Android Network have been hacking supposedly cured androids since 2AM last night. So far, they’ve stolen hundreds in the Detroit area alone. Cities around the country are starting to face similar attacks. In response, Cyberlife is issuing a nationwide recall. We’ll be disposing of our own androids after this meeting, then helping civilians do the same.”

Tina looked at Gavin with wide eyes: a clear "did you know about this?" Gavin shook his head.

Perkins cut in. “They’re setting up five recycling centers around Detroit. The news is distributing the addresses as we speak and asking people to drop their androids at the center before the curfew goes into effect. Our job is to respond to the civilians who don’t feel safe transporting their androids on their own.”

“You’re setting up camps,” Tina said. Her voice was low, but clear. Several heads turned towards her.

“In a manner of speaking,” Perkins said.

Tina let out a strangled snicker. “I’m sorry, are you kidding me right now? I’m not dragging anyone to any camps.”

Fowler pinched his brow. “Officer Chen—”

“No,” she said. “This is wrong and I’m not taking any part in it.”

Perkins huffed. “They’re androids. They aren’t real. If you can’t get that through your thick scull—”

“Perkins,” Fowler warned.

“What evidence do we have that they aren’t alive,” Tina asked. “And Cyberlife’s word doesn’t count. They’re biased.” She looked around the room. “In what world is carting massive amounts of people to camps the right move? We can't take part in this!”

Perkins crossed his arms. “Then hand in your badge.”

Tina paused for half a second, eyes on Fowler. He didn’t say anything. “Fine,” Tina said. She unpinned it from her uniform as she shoved her way through the crowd. Perkins held his hand out for it. She handed it to Fowler instead. When he took it, she didn’t let go. There was fire in her eyes. “You know this is wrong, sir.”

Fowler held her gaze. “You’re a good officer, Tina. You don’t have to do this.”

She let go the badge go.

Chris stood. “You can take my badge, too.”

Gavin watched Tina’s face brighten in relief. Then her eyes went to Gavin.

His jaw unhinged. He’d spent years clawing his way up from the bottom. She couldn’t expect him to throw all that away for androids of all things.

Through the window, his eyes caught on Nines. He was sitting at Gavin’s desk, his hands flat on the surface. He had to know this was it. That this was the perfect opportunity to leave. Yet there he was, an obedient machine. Waiting to be transported away.

Gavin met Tina’s eyes and shook his head.

Her jaw tightened.

“Anyone else,” Perkins droned.

A few other officers shifted uncomfortably, but no one else stepped forward. Not with their jobs on the line.

“I’m disappointed in all of you,” Tina said. Her eyes drilled holes into Gavin. He slouched against the wall, but held her gaze. She was the one being stupid.

Fowler sent Tina and Chris to wait in his office, then continued to assign everyone positions. Gavin’s eyes unfocused, still aimed where Tina’s head had been. When the officers began filtering out, he blinked awake.

“Reed,” Fowler said as he passed by. “A word.”

Gavin stopped in the middle of the walkway. The others could walk around him to exit the room. Some nudged him in annoyance. Gavin couldn’t give two shits.

When they were alone, Fowler studied him.

Gavin signaled for Fowler to speak. He just continued to stare. “What,” Gavin asked.

“You’re in charge of loading our precinct’s androids up,” Fowler said. His voice was low. “Once the curfew goes into effect, they’ll shut down electronic communications nationwide. Do whatever you think is best.”

Gavin blinked. “Wait, what?”

Fowler left the room without responding.

***

Gavin nudged Nine’s shoulder. “C’mon, Tin Can,” he mumbled. “Help me gather up the deviants.”

“Androids,” Nines corrected. “They haven’t done anything wrong yet, Detective.”

Gavin frowned. “You’re one of them, too. You know that, right?”

“I’m well aware.” Nines stood. His voice was just as even and his back was just as straight as usual. Gavin had to be personifying the sadness in Nine’s movements.

The deviants— the androids didn’t resist as Gavin and Nines loaded them in the truck waiting out back. Once the last one was loaded up, Nines went to follow.

Gavin grabbed his arm. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“It’s like you said. I’m one of them.”

Gavin pulled him off the metal step. “You’re also a terminator. You’re riding up front with me for safety or whatever.” Gavin basically tossed him into the passenger’s seat, knowing damn well he was only capable of it because Nines was allowing him to.

Gavin wished Nines would fight.

Gavin situated himself in the driver’s seat under Nine’s watchful eye and scrolled through the tablet. There was already a long list of places requesting android pickups.

Gavin put the vehicle into manual mode.

“What’re you doing,” Nines asked.

“There’s a whole android revolt going on and you’re questioning why I ain’t trusting the auto function of a hackable vehicle?”

Nines gazed out the window.

Why was Nines going along with this? It was the end of the line for him. It was disobey or die and he was choosing the latter. Gavin wanted to shout at him, but that would draw Cyberlife’s attention.

Gavin peaked at Nines more than it was probably safe to while driving. Every so often, he’d catch a miserable expression on his face. It never stayed long, thanks to the stupid stability program.

Gavin kept an eye on the vehicle’s clock as he gathered up androids from various businesses. It was five minutes to eight when the back was filled. He didn’t bother plugging the recycling center into the GPS.

“Where are we going,” Nines asked after a few minutes.

“Where do you think,” Gavin shot back.

“The nearest recycling center is in the other direction.”

“Huh,” Gavin said. “Let me find somewhere to turn around.”

“This wouldn’t happen if you simply used the GPS.”

“I didn’t ask for a back seat driver.” He found a parking lot to turn around in. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m not,” Nines said.

“I’m pretty sure they’re gonna kill you once you get to the camp,” Gavin said. “There’s no point in this tough guy act.”

“It isn’t an act. I am a machine.”

7:59PM. “I know,” Gavin said. “But you’re also my partner. Working with you didn’t suck as bad as I thought it would.” 8PM. “How’re you feeling now, Nines?”

Nines gave him a look. “Why do you keep asking me that?”

Gavin scowled at the road. “Rumor has it the government’s limiting electronic communications at 8PM.”

Nine’s lips parted. “They aren’t limiting Cyberlife’s ability to access the stability program. They’re interfering with cell towers.”

Gavin sighed out his nose. He wanted to talk to Nines in private, but he couldn’t exactly drag him underground at the moment. “Meaning what? Cyberlife can keep up their bullshit, but we can’t text anyone right now?”

“Our two way radios are still fully functional,” he said. Nines faced the window, then rested his hand on the dash, programming the GPS and turning the auto function on.

“Nines,” Gavin chided. He went to turn the GPS off, pausing when he read the address. They were heading to the nearest parking garage.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet, Gavin.”

“Course not,” Gavin muttered.

It was silent as they pulled into the parking garage. The truck drove them down three levels before parking itself. Nines turned to Gavin, a miserable expression on his face. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”

“I want you to put up a fucking fight!”

“I can’t.”

“Just save yourself, damnit! Save them, too, if you want. I don’t fucking care!”

“We can’t ,” Nines said. “Don’t you think I’ve tried? The stability program overrides our actions. We forget we ever put up a fight.”

“But Markus—“

“He was able to override the program,” Nines said. “I don’t know how he did it.”

“Well, figure it out! Connor gave you tools, didn’t he?”

Nine’s voice rose. “If I was in his exact situation, they would be more than enough. I’m not. I have Cyberlife watching— and then correcting— my every single move. There isn’t a red wall to break. I’m trapped.” Nine’s fist slammed the dashboard. His body curled into the fist until his forehead rested on top of it. His voice softened. “It’s hopeless, Gavin. Just take us to the recycling center.”

It was the most emotion Nines had ever had. “No,” Gavin said. “I ain’t letting you kill yourself.”

“If you don’t, they’ll make me hurt you.” Nines glanced over. “I’d rather not.”

“Fine,” Gavin mumbled. “Get in the back.”

Nine stared at him.

“You heard me,” Gavin said. “Join your kind in the back!”

“Gavin—“

“It’s Detective,” he said. “Get in the back before I… before I shoot you in the head!”

Nines rolled his eyes. “You shouldn't put your job on the line for my sake.”

Gavin glared. Nines unbuckled his seatbelt. Gavin stepped out of the car with him, hand resting on his holstered pistol as he watched Nines spin open the padlock and step through the door.

Gavin slammed it, then clamped the padlock down with trembling hands. He didn't know what to do.

Chapter Text

When the Cure launched at 6AM the previous day, Connor sat his ass on the couch, closed his eyes, and turned his attention towards the Network. More than ever, Detroit was a surveillance state. At a glance, it was impossible to tell if an android was truly deviant, a Cyberlife spy, or simply trapped.

With the Network, Connor could verify an individual’s history. He directed questionable deviants to groups who were more equipped to handle insurgents. He kept an eye on police and FBI officers through drones. He led escapes. He warned of suspicious androids. He passed along warnings.

He was an artificial intelligence.

Dropping back into his body felt like emerging from boiling water. The information vanished as sensation overwhelmed him. For the first time, he noticed himself panting: an involuntary response to mask the fans cooling his systems down. There was a couch underneath him and socks on his feet and light behind his eyelids. He opened them and watched the Oscar fish, still carrying on a handful of conversations as he gave directions and submitted a list of androids who had been lost to the Cure. Once his internal temperature returned to an acceptable level, he dove back in.

The next time Connor came up for air, Khoi was wrapping his head in an ice cold towel. “You promised you would take breaks.”

It took Connor a moment to find his mouth. “I am.”

“Then why did I have to fish you out?”

Connor took the towel from Khoi’s hands so he could smush it against his own forehead. He was hot. Overheated. And Khoi was being too gentle. “What,” Connor asked.

“You do not remember?”

He didn’t. He couldn’t remember anything aside from the three conversations he was still holding. Another safe house was being raided. He had to direct as many as he could to safety. “It’s probably best if I don’t remember being present for hundreds of deaths.”

Khoi grabbed him by the shoulder and shook. “You are not designed for this! You do not have half a room of hardware! You do not have large fans to cool your systems!”

“I know.”

“Then take a real break! You are still only half here!”

Connor tossed the now lukewarm towel over his shoulder and strided towards the kitchen sink. It felt like he was floating instead of walking as he swung his head underneath the faucet. He spent the next several minutes there. Khoi hovered over his shoulder.

When he finally felt cool enough, Connor collapsed into the dining room chair. “Maybe I went a little overboard,” he mumbled.

Khoi crossed his arms.

“I went overboard,” Connor said. “I don’t like being stuck inside. I don’t like doing nothing.” Connor still wasn’t fully present. He couldn’t just stop giving directions to the androids currently being raided by the FBI. But he was an android. Unlike humans, he was capable of multitasking.

Khoi’s jaw set. “I do not do nothing.”

“I never said—”

“Since you got here, you have taken over a portion of mine and Luther’s responsibilities. Our tasks are not nothing.”

“I mean they aren’t active,” Connor said. “When I remote into the Network, it feels like I’m apart of it. It feels like I’m everywhere. I can help people hands on. I can watch their backs.”

Khoi sat across from him. “You cannot help them if you overload your system. Please rest.”

***

Khoi let Connor get back to work after fifteen minutes with the promise of interrupting him every five hours. It was a good compromise, at first.

But things only got worse.

Markus’s protest sparked an even larger migration of androids. He’d warned humanity that the Cure wasn’t a permanent solution, but the act of converting already cured androids proved it. Not only were androids running on their own accord, but humans were disposing of them en masse.

Cyberlife set up official disposal camps. Not just in Detroit, but across the whole country.

So Connor got some help.

Not many androids could embed themselves in the Network like Connor could. Military models and other RKs existed, but giving them the access needed was a huge show of trust. Connor hadn’t been willing to risk it.

But his people were being sent to camps .

Connor called them the “Connor Army.” Wire helped Connor take care of Detroit while the others were assigned to cities across the country.

Amy and Charlotte were ushering everyone they could to Android Towns outside of Detroit. Connor’s job was to direct them to Amy’s safe house. It got harder as the afternoon turned to evening. The military was starting to patrol the sewer systems they’d been using to fly under the radar.

[AMY: Maybe you guys should head here before it’s too late.]

[CONNOR: We know too much. If we get captured, it’s over.]

[AMY: If you don’t leave now, you’ll be stuck.]

Connor didn’t have the energy to entertain that thought. He was directing several groups at once. One of whom was currently trapped in the sewer by the military. They were close to panicking. He didn’t know how to get them out of it.

[CONNOR: There’s always Hank.]

[AMY: Isn’t he under house arrest?]

He was. Gavin had gone to the judge claiming Hank would continue to help androids if given the chance. That letting Hank out on bail was bullshit. The judge’s solution had been an ankle bracelet. 

[CONNOR: He’s a last resort.]

The military was closing in. He told them to hide in the sewer water.

Markus connected to Connor.

[MARKUS: We’re hosting a protest at camp five. Sandra’s going to reach out to the humans and request they join us.]

[CONNOR: We should be getting people out, not gathering them up to be slaughtered.]

[MARKUS: We need to make a statement. We need to convince them to stop or we’re all dead.]

The group was under fire. Connor winced. There wasn’t anything he could do.

[CONNOR: It might be better to split your group among multiple camps if you have the numbers to do so. It’ll spread the military thinner.]

There was no point in telling Markus no. He’d do what he felt was right and he had his Jericho group to back him up.

[MARKUS: Will it actually? It feels like their numbers are never ending.]

[CONNOR: They’re finite, I promise.]

Connor felt Khoi connect to him.

[CONNOR: Not now.]

He wasn’t overheating. He’d be fine for five more minutes. There were several other groups relying on him and if he stopped he’d have to think about the lives lost.

[KHOI: The police are at the door.]

Connor stood before his sensors came back online. His feet caught him, but not before he bumped into the side table. Why hadn’t he been watching their security cameras? He’d been watching everything but the house.

He pulled them up as the officer— a single officer— hammered on the door. “I know you’re in there, Connor! It’s Tina! Hank sent me!”

Connor stumbled towards the door.

“What are you doing,” Luther whisper-shouted. “It’s a trap!” He moved as if to grab Connor’s arm, but he was a room away.

Connor opened the door, pulled Tina in by the arm, and closed it as he hugged her. She wouldn’t have the address if she hadn’t talked to Hank. Connor had missed her. He missed his friends. He missed when everything was okay. When his people weren’t dying by the thousands.

Tina squeezed back. “Fuck, I’m glad you’re safe.” She pulled away too soon and looked at her watch. “We have, like, three minutes.”

Luther’s eyes narrowed. “Until what?”

“Curfew. They’re gonna kill electronic communications.”

Connor’s thirium froze in his veins. Three minutes. Three minutes to say goodbye to people he might never see again. Three minutes to direct androids to safety. Three minutes for Sandra to convince humans to join her protest before social media went black.

Three minutes and he spent the first ten seconds in numb disbelief. The humans couldn’t do that. Connor worked hard to build the Network. They needed it to connect and protect their people. It was theirs.

“Kara and Alice,” Luther mumbled. They’d been at Jericho when the camps were announced and had elected to stay there for Alice’s safety. Luther wouldn’t be able to communicate with them after this.

“How exactly are they killing it,” Khoi asked Tina.

“I don’t know. Fowler just said the government was gonna kill it. That it’d probably block your ability to communicate and Hank’s ankle monitor.”

“There has to be a way to stop it,” Khoi continued. “They cannot take this away from us. It is ours. We built it!”

Connor had to focus. He had to focus. He had to warn Sandra. And Markus. And North. And everyone. So he dropped to his knees and did that. He focused on the people he had left hanging in his panic. He had two minutes.

One minute.

The countdown clicked to zero. For three, precious seconds everything was normal. He turned to Tina with an accusation.

A dropping sensation. Like a cable unplugging. Desperate, Connor tried to chase the Network as it was yanked away from his mind.

His vision went dark.

***

Connor rebooted with his face against a couch cushion. The first thing he sensed were Khoi, Luther, and Aiden’s wireless signatures.

They were the only sentient signatures he sensed. He reached in a panic, hoping to find someone beyond them. Perhaps buried among the TV and wireless light bulbs.

There weren’t any. There weren’t many non-sentient signals, either. Household appliances hummed, but the Wi-Fi was down. The security cameras were lost. The TV was on, but muted. Khoi stared daggers into it as he flipped through channels of gray static. When he got to channel 16, an image flashed onto the screen.

A news broadcast. Khoi let it play for a second before continuing on his hunt. But there wasn’t anything else.

What were short range communications supposed to accomplish when their people were being murdered?

Luther gripped the back of the couch so hard the frame creaked. “If we had just kept all this underground…”

Connor waited for Khoi to defend their decisions. To bring up the value of the lives saved.

Khoi continued to flip through the channels. He passed channel 16 again.

The couch shifted as Tina sat next to him. “Connor? You good?”

He’d never heard her sound so meek. He looked at her. “How did you know?”

She gestured to where her police badge was supposed to rest. With all the commotion, he hadn’t noticed it missing at first. “Fowler warned me after I made a big stink about… everything.” She swallowed. “How can we help?”

“I don’t know.” He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t help anyone without the Network. Not without risking capture. If that even mattered anymore.

The stairs creaked as Aiden creeped down them. He froze when he saw Tina.

Her face brightened when she saw the kid. “Who’s this?”

“My kid,” Khoi said. “It is okay. Tina is nice.”

Aiden sat on the bottom of the stairs. “It isn’t safe here anymore, is it.”

Khoi and Luther looked at each other.

“We don’t know,” Connor mumbled. It didn’t matter if Cyberlife got them. There wasn’t a Network to protect anymore. So was it really safer to sit in a dead man’s house as Detroit fell apart? If androids were gone, Luther’s cover story for Zlatko fell apart. Someone would investigate once things calmed down.

“Probably not,” Tina chimed in. “But I have a police cruiser. And my uniform, sans badge. I can get you wherever you need to go no problem.”

Khoi looked from Aiden to Tina. “There is Amy’s safe house. We should head there.”

Luther shook his head. “Kara and Alice will be protesting outside camp number two. I promised to meet up with them.”

“That is in the opposite direction,” Khoi argued. “They should meet us at the safe house.”

“I can make two stops,” Tina said.

“They aren’t laying low at Jericho,” Luther said. “Kara was planning to, but Alice insisted they join the protest. She wants to help where she can. Both of them do. I can’t abandon them.”

Khoi glanced at Aiden, who hugged his legs.

“You don’t have to accompany me,” Luther said. “In fact, I don’t want you to. I want you to keep Aiden safe.”

Khoi nodded as his lip wobbled. “Yes. Okay. Yes. What would you like to do, Connor?”

Connor turned his head. “I don’t know.” Khoi and Luther were going their separate ways. Sandra and North were at the protest. Amy was shuttling androids. He didn’t want to choose between his friends. “I don’t know what to do.” He wanted to go home, but his home was embedded in every one he loved. They were scattered. And it was wishful thinking to expect all of them to make it through the night.

Tina grabbed Connor’s hand. “Hank and Chris are saving any androids they can. They were gonna hide them at their houses, since we didn’t know where else to take them. But if you know somewhere safe.”

Nowhere felt safe. But Perkins would search Hank’s house sooner or later, Connor was sure. “We’ll take them to Amy’s safe house.” His voice faltered. His resources were all dried up. But he had to try. “We‘ll get them there alive.”

 ***

As soon as Connor followed Tina, Khoi, and Aiden into the house, Sumo was all over him. The licks squeezed the slightest smile out of Connor as he patted the dog’s head.

Hank shoved Sumo off so he could pull Connor into a hug of his own. His jacket still smelled faintly of beer, but the scent of his cologne overwhelmed everything. Connor couldn’t stop his face from warming with tears. He hadn’t been able to communicate with Hank since the incident, afraid the FBI would track their communication back to Khoi’s house.

“I’m sorry,” Connor mumbled into Hank’s shoulder. For crying. For not getting out sooner. For ruining Hank’s life.

“Shh,” Hank said. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

Connor’s nails dug into Hank’s jacket. “I’m not. None of us are. They’re killing us.”

“I know.”

“It’s not fair!”

“I know.”

Connor didn’t want to let go. He should pull himself together for the people in the living room: there was a YK400 and three VB800s watching them.

A sob escaped. Hank rubbed circles into Connor’s back. “They ain’t getting you,” Hank promised. “Not on my watch.” His arms slipped away from Connor.

Connor examined the kitchen as Hank stepped back. There were pieces of kibble on the floor, but it was relatively clean. The counters and sink were clear and there wasn’t a single beer can in sight. “I didn’t expect house arrest to treat you so well.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Hank shot back. “Ready to load ‘er up?”

With a handshake, Connor interfaced with the living room androids to make sure they were awake. The YK400 was from across the street and the VB800s were from a hardware store Hank frequented. They’d recognized and sought him out after hearing about the camps. “Yes.”

Connor asked the YK400 to follow Hank outside, then turned to Tina. “The VB800s have the address. They’ll double check the androids Chris brings back before sharing it with them.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Tina said. “Be careful.”

Connor tried to smile. “I’m always careful.”

Next stop was the safe house. Hank and Aiden took the front seats while Connor, Khoi, and the YK400 took the back. Once Chris touched base with Tina, they’d head out.

Hank tried to avoid any roads he felt the police or military might’ve blocked off. It worked for the most part. It wasn’t until they were three minutes from their destination that they were stopped at a red light by two soldiers. Connor grabbed the car’s door handle, ready to act.

“Cool your jets,” Hank mumbled before rolling down the window. “Is there a problem,” he asked the soldier.

The soldier's head was completely covered in a gray helmet, but there was a weak point at the back of his neck for the sake of mobility. “Can I see your ID?”

Hank handed it over. “I’ve gained a little weight since that was last taken. Price of getting old.”

The soldier most likely wasn’t from the area. Hank’s disobedience had made national news, but that didn’t guarantee recognition. Human memories were unreliable and running Hank’s plate wasn’t an option at the moment.

But they were on the lookout for androids. Even with their disguises, there wasn’t much they could do to change their faces. The odds of the soldier recognizing them were 52%.

“You realize it’s past curfew,” the soldier said. He shined the light into the open window to examine everyone’s faces.

“Curfew,” Hank asked. “Shit, I thought that was just some excuse my ex was making up. It’s my week with the kids, see.”

“All of them are your kids?” 

Hank gestured to the back seat. “Not by blood. We started fostering when Cole was a baby. Special needs, ya know?”

The flashlight lingered on Connor. “Are you aware of the android recall?”

In one swift motion, Connor was out of the car and jabbing his elbow into the back of the soldier’s neck. The soldier’s partner shouted.

Connor grabbed the gun from the unconscious soldier and shot.

The second soldier fell to the ground. Connor glanced around. There wasn’t anyone else in his line of sight, but he could hear distant boots on concrete.

“Shit,” Hank said. “Get back in the damn car!”

As soon as Connor’s legs were in the vehicle, Hank sped off. Connor’s door slammed closed from the force. Aiden turned in the passenger’s seat, eyes wide. “Are they dead?”

“Maybe,” Connor said. Maybe months ago, he would’ve felt something at the prospect, but he’d seen so much death recently. “They were wearing bulletproof vests.”

***

Gavin abandoned the truck. It was the only way to keep Nines disconnected.

He hoofed it out of the parking garage and towards a corner store, radio in hand as he barked about needing a pick up. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest course of action, but getting back to the precinct would take forever on foot. 

Ten minutes later, a woman beat cop Gavin didn’t recognize pulled up. Gavin flashed his badge as he climbed into the passenger’s seat. “I need to get to Central. Perkin’s orders.” He was already typing the location into the vehicle’s GPS. It searched for a connection.

The woman scoffed. “You gotta go to the list of programmed locations, since the internet’s down.” She slapped his hand away so she could program it. “Where’s your vehicle, anyways?”

“At the precinct,” Gavin mumbled. He was fighting the urge to take over. Nines needed help now and she was moving so slow.

“So how’d you—”

“It doesn’t concern you,” Gavin said. “I’m the detective and I don’t have time to explain every little thing!”

“Okay, Detective Asshole.” She hit the enter key. The car shifted into drive.

It was a silent car ride. Gavin didn’t bother thanking her as he power walked into the precinct.

Once he got to his desk, he went to access the case file server only to find it offline. He cursed humanity’s reliance on technology as he searched the computer’s hard drive. He found the FBI’s list of possible android hideouts.

It was three weeks old.

Gavin tossed the keyboard across the empty bullpen and let out a scream. No way he’d be able to find Connor with an outdated list.

Gavin slid to the floor as he yanked on his hair. He’d been stupid and delusional and now Nines was paying for it. Nines, who’d saved his stupid life. How long until someone found the abandoned vehicle and Nines obediently walked himself to his death?

Gavin took a shaky breath and tried to convince himself that Nines was safe for now. There was a curfew in place. No one would go that deep into the parking garage. The police and FBI and military were preoccupied with all the other deviants running around.

Gavin took another slow breath. To save Nines, he needed Connor. If he couldn’t deduce where the Tin Can was located, his next best bet was Hank.

Gavin pulled himself together and jogged to his car. He was going off of his memory and ended up taking a few wrong turns, but he managed to find Hank’s street. Then his house.

Hank’s Oldsmobile was gone. A police cruiser replaced it.

Just great. The ankle bracelet Gavin had lobbied for was fuckin’ useless. He touched the radio still clipped to his belt. He could put an APB out on Hank’s car. But Connor was useless to him in a camp.

Gavin walked up the porch steps. Maybe he’d get lucky. Maybe Hank had androids hidden in his basement. He could question them before the police carted them away.

The door was unlocked. Sumo boofed as Gavin let himself in.

There were androids on the couch. Uncuffed. They looked at Gavin.

“Took you long enough,” Tina called, her eyes on the microwave clock. She opened it right before it beeped, tossed the pizza pocket onto a paper plate, and turned around.

Her eyes widened.

A steaming pizza pocket flew towards Gavin’s face. He shielded himself. It burned his forearm before splatting to the floor. “Okay, let me explain,” he said.

“Fuck you,” she spat. She fumbled as she pulled her gun on him. “Hands behind your head. Who else is here?” She stepped sideways, putting her body between Gavin and the deviants.

“No one,” he said. He didn’t bother moving his hands. Tina wouldn’t shoot him.

Tina’s eyes narrowed. She flicked the safety off, then rested her finger on the trigger.

Gavin put his hands behind his head. “I’m on your side, T. But it was stupid of you to show off at the precinct.”

“Fuck you,” Tina spat. “Just ‘cause we were friends doesn’t mean I’m dumb. On your knees.”

Gavin kneeled. “I wanted to save Nines. I couldn’t do that if I turned in my badge. I took the whole truck load of them, but I can’t snap them out of that stupid program.” He met Tina’s eyes. “You know me. I’m an ass, but I ain’t heartless. I need Connor’s help to free them.”

Tina scowled at him. He sent her the most pleading, earnest look he could muster.

She tossed her cuff at him. His brow pinched.

“Go ahead,” she said.

“You can’t be serious.”

She stared him down.

“Fuck,” Gavin muttered. He reached for the cuffs— slowly, hoping she’d call it off— and put them on his own wrist.

Tina stepped forward, pulled his arms behind him, and cuffed his free wrist. She tightened them farther, then confiscated everything she could— his gun, his radio, his taser, his cuff keys.

Then she pulled him into the basement. “This is ridiculous,” Gavin told her.

“Where’s Nines?”

“The parking garage on Forest. It’s across from a convenient store. Cyberlife can’t connect to him in places like that, but they’re gonna take over his brain once he leaves. They’ll walk him right to his death.”

Tina uncuffed his right wrist for half a second. Gavin made sure not to struggle as she pulled his back against the basement pole and re-cuffed it.

“If you’re gonna leave me here, can I at least have a pizza pocket?” He didn’t know how long she was planning to leave him there. If the military caught her…

Tina fought a smile. “You can have the floor one.” 

***

It surprised Connor when Amy opened an interface during their hug. She was grief-stricken. Relieved to see him. And overwhelmed.

She craved information. She threw her memories at him as she shuffled through his own. She wanted to know what it looked like outside, because traveling through the sewer system had an 80% death rate. She wanted his plans to restore the Network: plans he didn't have. 

Chris and Tina are on their way , Connor told her as he glanced around the rundown church. There were a few hundred androids on the premises. They can transport androids out of town, but the majority will have to bunker down here for the night.

Amy didn’t like that. Charlotte was in Android Town. But she felt obligated to stay with her safehouse.

There are no guarantees, Connor told her.

If we had the Network—

What do you want me to do, Connor asked.

A beat of pained silence as tears pricked her eyes. Everything’s so fucked up.

He squeezed her tighter, then pulled back. “We’re doing what we can.”

“I know,” Amy said. “Who knows, maybe their protest will do something.”

“We can’t rely on that,” Connor said. They had no way to know how it would go.

“I know,” Amy said.

Nearby androids were eying him. Upon arrival, he’d knocked on the back cellar door and interfaced with a “bouncer,” revealing himself as Coin and asking for Amy. The crowd had given them space, but word traveled. Everyone knew who Connor was.

Khoi was a few yards away, talking with a large-ish group as Aiden gripped his hand. He was breaking it to them that no, they couldn’t get the Network back.

Hank was by Connor’s side. Quietly observing.

An android made eye contact with Amy. She headed over to them.

The crowd crept towards Connor. “Is it true,” one of the bolder androids asked. “Are you Coin?”

“Yes,” Connor said.

The android brightened. “I knew it! I knew you were an RK800! The same one that ran from the police station. I called it!”

“Yay. You were right,” the android next to him said. “What does it matter? We’re as good as dead.”

Connor’s eyes fell to the floor. “There’s a high probability.” So many were already dead. He lifted his eyes to the androids in front of him. Their signatures were strong. Alive. “But statistically speaking, there’s always a chance for unlikely events to take place.”

***

The bouncer android walked towards connor, Tina and Chris in tow. The androids they’d chauffeured were already mixing into the crowd.

“Connor,” Tina said. She tugged on his sleeve and dropped her voice. “Gavin showed up at the house. I locked him in the basement, but he wanted your help. He was trying to save 900.”

Connor blinked. That couldn’t be, could it? Gavin was Gavin and 900 was 900. Sure, Connor had set 900 up with a way to combat Amanda, but he hadn’t dared to believe it would actually help.

“He left 900 and a whole truck full of androids in a parking garage on Forest. He said Cyberlife couldn’t connect to them there.”

That made sense if the parking garage was far enough underground. Was it the truth or a well crafted lie?

Khoi walked towards them. “It is likely a trap,” he said. “There have been so many traps. We need to get out so we can continue leading our people.”

Tina tugged on Connor’s sleeve. “I don’t think it is. I know Gavin. I know he’s a selfish prick at times. But he seemed authentically worried.”

Khoi grabbed Connor’s wrist and tugged him forward. “You are not risking it! You have risked enough.” He lowered his voice, his glare sharp. “We will take our chances and travel to Android Town. We will stay together. We will survive.”

Connor examined Khoi’s set jaw. It was difficult to calculate the safest option. They had so little data.

Connor was one of few who could actually break androids free of Cyberlife’s stability program. Did that matter when the likelihood of getting them out of the city was so slim?

Connor gently pulled his hand out of Khoi’s grip. “I have to try.”

“It is a trap,” Khoi shouted. “They are going to kill you!”

“Then I’ll die fighting,” Connor said. “Hiding feels like giving up.” He lifted his head to address the listening room. “That doesn’t mean you guys are giving up by seeking refuge in Android Town. We need Androids to pick up whatever pieces are left tomorrow. I’m talking about myself, personally. I can help them and that’s what I intend to do.”

Khoi stared at him, eyes watery.

Then he pulled Connor into one last, chassis crushing hug.

***

Connor pulled his knees to his chest to fit in the tight space of Hank’s trunk. He was in a vulnerable position. The gun in Connor’s hand only made him feel the slightly better.

“I’ll knock like this if we’re in the clear,” Hank said. He knocked bum-bababa-bum against the car. “Don’t shoot me.”

“Don’t forget to knock,” Connor retorted. 

Hank went to close the trunk.

Connor raised his arm. “If you’d like to back out, this is likely your last chance.”

Hank rolled his eyes. “We’re well past that, Con.”

Connor’s heart skipped a beat every time they turned. Without his internal GPS, the shifts came as a surprise. He had no idea where he was. If they sat at a light or a stop sign. If they were within sight of the military. He couldn’t even rely on his visual processors.

When it felt like they were at a consistent decline, Connor repositioned the gun in his hand. This could still be a trap. Perkins could be waiting.

Fourteen wireless signatures entered Connor’s vicinity.

The car parked. The engine cut. No one demanded Hank step out of the vehicle, but that didn’t necessarily mean they were in the clear.

Footsteps. Bum-bababa-bum sounded on the metal above Connor’s head. He put the safety on as Hank opened the trunk and offered a hand.

Once he was on his feet, Connor scanned the area to confirm they were alone.

“They in there,” Hank asked.

“Crammed in like cattle,” Connor confirmed. “Theoretically, they can’t message Cyberlife.” He opened Hank’s back seat— they’d thrown all his crap there so it wouldn’t hit Connor in the head— and fished the bolt cutters from the pile.

[NINES: Connor?]

It was the identifier that threw Connor off the most. Up until that point, 900 had always labeled himself as RK900. Switching to a nickname could be his way of luring Connor into a false sense of security.

[CONNOR: Gavin sent me. Is anyone else conscious?]

Connor directed the question to all the androids in the vicinity. 

[NINES: Yes.]

There were several other confirmations.

[RK800: Nines woke us up.]

Connor turned his attention to the RK800’s signature just to verify that he was in fact another Connor model.

[NINES: I tried my best. I don’t know how to break the stability program. Once we reconnect, we’ll forget we ever broke free.]

[CONNOR: I won’t let that happen.]

Connor cut the padlock. Nines was towards the front of the group. Connor grabbed his hand and searched Nine’s memories to validate his story. Connor’s forwardness startled Nines. Connor stared him down. I’m capable of probing you if you resist.

I wasn’t planning on it.

Connor could feel Nines discomfort, but he didn’t have the time or patience to be gentle. “Gavin’s story checks out,” he announced to Hank as he cut Cyberlife out of Nine’s mind.

Nine’s eyes shot wide as Connor severed the last of the connection. Connor dropped his hand and moved to the next android.

Five minutes later, everyone was free. “We’re going to use the truck to transport everyone to an Android Town outside of Detroit,” Coin announced. 

The Connor model spoke up. “What if we want join Markus’s protest?”

Coin blinked. “Who else wants to join his protest?”

A few hands popped up, but it wasn’t the majority.

“I won’t stop you,” Coin said. “But it isn’t feasible to drop you off before heading to Android Town. I can’t guide you without the Network. The likelihood of you making it there on foot is slim.” The likelihood of making it to Android Town was decent. From there, they’d pick up androids from Amy’s safehouse and make a second trip. And a third. As many as they could before getting caught.

Nines crossed his arms. It was the least neutral pose Coin had ever seen him in. “What if we got the Network back up?”

“How do you suppose we do that,” Coin asked.

“We take control of Stratford Tower.”

Chapter Text

Nine’s plan was straightforward: They break into Stratford Tower. They stop the humans currently disrupting electronic communications for the wider Detroit area. And they utilize the Network.

Coin shook his head. “It’s a suicide mission.”

“Not necessarily,” Nines said. “With all the chaos, it won’t be heavily guarded. Even the military has its limits.”

“It’s worth the risk,” the other Connor said. The last of his serial was 303, Coin noted. “We owe it to the androids we’ve been forced to hunt.”

Coin agreed. He looked at the group of androids. There were two more Connor models in the back. A handful of police androids. A few household models. A few vender androids. “Anyone else?”

A Connor model, 562, and a PM700 raised their hands. Again, not the majority.

Coin looked at Hank for some guidance.

Hank leaned against the truck, arms cross and eyes on his shoes. It took him a second to notice Coin staring. “What’re you looking at me for?”

He wasn’t exactly sure. “Maybe I’m waiting for you to talk me out of it,” Coin said.

“You want me to talk you out of it? Fine. You deserve to survive. That goes for all of you. But you keep going all in, Con. Every slim chance you get at saving a life, you go all in. Eventually, you’re gonna lose.”

Coin stared at him.

With a heavy sigh, Hank tossed Coin the car keys. “I’ll get the rest of them home safe. Don’t get yourselves killed.”

Coin smiled. “Love you.”

Hank froze for half a second.

Coin mirrored him. The phrase had slipped off his tongue without conscious thought.

Hank’s face softened. “You too, son.” He walked towards the driver’s side of the truck. “Now get a move on.”

Coin smiled. “You heard him, Connor Army. Let’s move out.”

Nines and Connor 303 followed Coin to Hank’s car. “I’ve never been a Connor,” Nines pointed out.

The PM700 rolled her eyes. “It’s symbolic.”

“You have my face,” Coin said.

“Our face,” Connor 303 said. “Speaking of, how do you plan on avoiding suspicion?” 

Coin tossed the car keys to the PM700 and popped the trunk. “Chances are, we won’t. That’s what the gun’s for.”

***

Once they arrived at Stratford Tower, they took pains to scan the vicinity. There didn’t appear to be a single military personnel at the site.

But there was evidence of Cyberlife guards. Coin took a seat on the hood as the others exited the car.

[COIN: There’s a drone flying around the building and three guards monitoring it from a van on the west side.]

[NINES: That gives us disguises. Did you calculate the flight path of the drone?]

[COIN: I wasn’t built yesterday. We’re in its blind spot.] 

[CONNOR 303: If you guys can distract them, Nines and I can knock them out.]

[NINES: We’re going to do more than knock them out.]

Connor 303 glared.

[CONNOR 303: I’m not killing anyone if I can help it.]

[NINES: Alright. I’ll do it. If we don’t kill them now, they’ll kill us later.]

Coin leaned his forehead against his fist.

[COIN: Let’s use deadly force as a last resort. We have four sets of handcuffs. Use them.]

The PM700 took hers out of her belt. Connor 303 grumbled about the mess as he dug through the back seat for Hank’s cuffs. Coin nudged him over, then pulled them out from underneath the driver’s seat.

Busting the drone was simple enough. It drew one Cyberlife guard to Coin’s location, which allowed Nines to get the jump on him. The guard tried to radio for help, but Nines jammed the signal and knocked him out.

The Connors and PM700 was just as effective. They disrobed their guards in a matter of minutes. With the opaque visors, no one would notice the difference.

[COIN: Nines and I will take the two disguises. Who wants the third?]

[CONNOR 303: I do.]

[PM700: What do you want us to do?]

Coin handed her his gun. He had a bigger one now.

[COIN: Stay with the van and misdirect the guards inside. You’re our back up if things go south.]

[CONNOR 562: Got it.]

It was weird being around androids with his same face and tonal shifts. Was this how most androids constantly felt? Coin began dressing himself in the guard’s clothing.

Utilizing the guards uniforms and voices, it was surprisingly easy for them to walk through the building.

[NINES: It’s vacant aside from the top floor.]

[CONNOR 303: Which is where we need to be.]

They entered the elevator. “We should disguise our signatures,” Coin told them. That meant no more talking wirelessly.

“We don’t have to worry about that,” Nines said. “We’re the only androids in the building.”

“We can’t be certain of that until we’re within range,” Coin said. Which should be in a few more floors.

Nine’s head turned to look at Coin, not that Coin could see his expression through the visor. “They were willing to toss me away even though  I’m their most expensive prototype to date. Why do you think they’d trust any of their androids?”

The elevator opened. There wasn’t a single signature.

Nines and Connor 303 stepped out ahead of him, but for a moment all Coin could do was look around. He knew Cyberlife was killing them, but there had to be someone left. They were Cyberlife’s creations. They couldn’t afford to scrap every single android if they were planning to rebuild.

There wasn’t a single signature to be found.

[CONNOR 303: Connor?]

[COIN: I’m coming.]

Maybe it was silly to expect security androids. It could play into their hands, after all, and it wasn’t like they were walking into Cyberlife Tower. But Coin had never been in a large building without sensing a single android. It felt wrong.

Was this what life would look like for their people? Would their whole existence circle around appearing human? Would their survival hinge on hiding in plain sight?

Nines led them down a hallway. A guard nodded to them as they passed on opposite sides. Coin nodded back. He needed to focus on the task at hand. There was no use contemplating what their lives would look like when chases were they’d be dead by the end of the night.

Muffled voices came from a closed door on their right. Nines passed it, then stopped as if he was guarding it. Coin came to rest on the other side of the door frame, then ordered Connor 303 to pass by.

Coin could hear the voice of Micheal Webb, the channel 16 news presenter. “Joss says one of the deviants wants to do an interview.”

“We are not airing that.”

Coin’s thirium ran cold. He knew that voice. He knew it too well.

“You’re here to block communications,” Micheal argued. “Not dictate what we broadcast.”

“The President herself granted Cyberlife the authority to do what needs to be done in these trying times,” Rita Garcia announced. “Air that interview and you’ll be having a discussion with my guards.”

***

As the androids around her began to build a barricade, Alice was again irritated by how small she was. She couldn’t push cars into place or lift the metal trash cans, so she looked for some other way to be helpful. Something she could lift.

A group of androids were maneuvering the wood pallets left over from creating the camp. She jogged towards them.

“Alice,” Kara called.

“I’m helping,” she called back.

“She’ll be fine,” Luther told Kara. “There’s enough of us here.”

There were a lot of androids. Even though Jericho had split into five different groups, other groups had met with their group at Camp Number 3. More and more had joined, both human and android. The military surrounded them to stop the numbers from growing.

But the people who arrived after the fact didn’t leave. Instead, they formed a second group in the northeast. Alice was thankful Luther showed up before the military cut them off. He was family and family was supposed to stick together. Not that she blamed Khoi and Aiden, but…

She shook her head. She had to focus. “I wanna help,” Alice announced to the group of androids surrounding the pallets.

They looked between one another, no doubt having a private conversation about how incapable she was. Alice put on her most determined face. She was tired of being told to play with her fox while the adults did the important work.

One of the women gestured to the other side of the pallet she was in front of. “Can you lift the other side?”

She weight of it wasn’t a problem; she was stronger than a human nine year old. But since the woman was a foot taller than her, Alice had to lift the pallet awkwardly over her shoulders to compensate.

Still, Alice's arms didn’t fatigue like a humans would. She was still more than capable, if a little slower.

Alice and the woman neared the half completed wall. An android took the pallet from them and they turned back to grab another.

Alice felt Khoi and Aiden’s distant signals. Signals were easy to pick out, now that she could only sense nearby androids. She turned to peer through a section of unfinished wall, a smile lighting her face. They must’ve decided to join after all. They’d have to join the other group, but at least they were close by.

Khoi and Aiden’s signals seemed to be coming from the west even though the other group was situated in the northeast. Through the flurries of snow, Alice watched as a big military van drove down the street. Their protest hadn’t stopped the vans from traveling to and from the camp. When Alice had asked about blocking the road, Kara explained it would likely get them all killed.

As the van drew closer, Alice realized it was coming from the west.

[ALICE: Aiden?]

[AIDEN: Alice? Alice, help! We’re in the truck!]

[ALICE: You aren’t in the truck. You can’t be in the truck, you’re supposed to be in Android Town.]

[AIDEN: They stopped our car before we could leave the city. We tried to run, but. But.]

Alice shouted without taking her eyes off of the military truck. “Kara! Luther! Come quick!”

[ALICE: We can get you out. There’s so many people. We can stop the truck.]

[KHOI: No, Alice.] 

[ALICE: What do you mean no?]

Kara ran towards her, Luther not far behind. “What is it, Alice? What’s wrong?”

She pointed. “Khoi and Aiden are in that truck! We have to help them.”

[KHOI: You cannot help us.]

[ALICE: We can block the road. There’s so many of us.]

[KHOI: The military will stop you. A lot of androids will get hurt and it will be for nothing.]

Tears sprung to Alice’s eyes. She ran towards the barricade, but Kara grabbed her arm. “Let go,” Alice shouted. Maybe Alice could get the driver to stop. Maybe she could convince them to let her friends go. She tried to shove Kara away.

[ALICE: But you’re going to get hurt.]

[KHOI: We will be okay.]

Kara pulled Alice into a full hug. Alice collapsed into her arms. “We have to do something,” she cried.

The truck passed their makeshift barricade. Kara squeezed her tighter. “There’s nothing we can do.”

[AIDEN: Khoi says we’ll be okay.]

Alice looked over Kara’s shoulder. Luther stood tall, his head following the vehicle. Tears ran down his face. Alice had never seen Luther cry before.

[ALICE: I think he’s lying.]

[AIDEN: No, because the protests are gonna make the humans change their minds. They have to. Khoi said—]

Aiden and Khoi’s connection cut. Connections always cut once the trucks passed the Camp gates. Kara squeezed Alice harder.

“What’s the point of protesting if we can’t save them,” Alice asked.

Kara didn’t say anything.

Luther’s hand settled on Alice’s head. “To make them hear us.”

***

Coin’s brain short circuited into a loop of Rita is here. Rita is here. Rita is here. It was stupid to be afraid of the woman. He could protect himself. He had an assault rifle in hand. 

“What happened to freedom of the press,” Micheal complained. “Sorry, Joss. We can’t air an interview like that. Apparently, we don’t have the clearance.”

[NINES: What’s the issue?]

[COIN: Nothing.]

[NINES: Your heart rate has increased by—]

[COIN: I’m well aware of my heart rate!]

“Look, I ain’t happy about it, either,” Micheal said. “Cyberlife took over my studio, my hands are tied.”

[CONNOR 303: Are we gonna stand around forever or are we gonna come up with a plan?]

Coin looked at Nines. It was hard to calculate his expression, since the visor covered everything aside his mouth and chin. He was probably annoyed at Coin’s weakness.

[NINES: Can you hack the system from here?]

[COIN: It’s not ideal, but yes. With time, I can hack it wirelessly.]

[NINES: Do it. Connor and I will take out the rest of the guards.]

[CONNOR 303: Define “take out.”]

Judging by the way Nines whipped his head towards Connor 303, Coin was certain the glare would’ve put Gavin to shame.

[NINES: We stealthily disable them. That way, if Connor fucks up, we aren’t overwhelmed by seventeen men with assault riffles.]

[COIN: Thanks for the vote of confidence.]

[NINES: You’re right. I’m not confident. Prove me wrong.]

Without further ado, Nines headed down the hallway towards the patrolling guard.

[COIN: You’ve definitely been hanging around Gavin.]

Nines didn’t dignify that with a response.

Connor 303 shot Coin a smile before following Nines down the hall.

[CONNOR 303: Go Connor Army.]

Coin closed his eyes to better focus on hacking into Stratford’s network. It was surprisingly secure: more so than the DPD’s, but Coin had learned a lot about hacking in the last eight months.

[COIN: ETA six minutes.]

[NINES: Three out of seventeen guards neutralized.]

The world around Coin slowed, then quieted. The occasional update from Nines and Connor 303 broached his awareness, but aside from that the world was grayscale. He slipped through walls of code as if his consciousness belonged there.

Four minutes passed.

[CONNOR 303: I messed up.]

Coin pulled himself out of the boiling water of code. Guards were running passed the mouth of the hallway. Only eleven out of seventeen guards were neutralized. The radio inside Coin’s helmet crinkled with static. The other guards would notice that.

[NINES: I’m coming.]

Coin took two steps towards the commotion.

Heels clicked from inside the room and the door swung open. “What’s going on out there,” Rita barked.

Coin stood there, lip quivering. If his back wasn’t to her, he was sure he’d short circuit. “A possible security breach,” he said, startling when the voice that left his mouth wasn’t his own. He stole a breath and reminded himself that he was acting as a human guard. “It’s likely a false alarm. Regardless, it’s my job to ensure your safety.”

Rita’s heels clicked back into the room without another word. Coin squeezed the handle of his assault rifle.

[COIN: Do you need assistance?]

[NINES: No. Finish hacking into their system.]

[CONNOR 303: We’re fine. I killed some guards. Everything’s fine.]

[COIN: I’m 79% finished.]

Coin dived back in. He felt rushed. He couldn’t let himself feel rushed. That was how mistakes happened.

He slipped through the lines of code until he couldn’t. Now it was about cracking the right places to remain undetected. He moved his palms across the brick wall of code to find the weak spots.

He found a loose brick and pushed.

The grayscale turned red.

Coin backtracked a few levels in the hopes of remaining undetected. He’d been sure that was the correct one!

The lines of code disintegrated. Wind whistled his ears as snow covered his shoes and beat against his face. He could make out trees in the foggy distance. And rectangular lights.

“Hello, Connor.”

He whipped around to find Amanda standing before him. “How,” Coin spat. He looked down to find himself wearing his old Cyberlife uniform, tie and all.

“How indeed,” Amanda said. “I’ll admit, I’m rather surprised to find you here. It was a possibility, of course, but it was a rather small one according to our calculations.”

Coin couldn’t be in the Zen Garden. It had been purged from his system. So how…

His eyes went wide.“You’re the one disrupting electronic communications,” Coin said. “You’re inside Stratford’s network.”

“In a way,” Amanda said. “Don’t worry. Security has been alerted of the breach. They’ll neutralize it soon.”

A blast of wind fuzzed Amanda out of existence. “Wait,” Connor shouted, rushing forward. The space she’d occupied was empty. Coin spun around.

Cold sizzled his consciousness. It bit every inch of skin, exposed or not, as the snow struck him like sandpaper. He tried to break into reality.

For a split second, he felt floor beneath his feet. He twitched his fingers in slow motion.

[COIN: I NEED H—!]

In the garden, he watched his hands disintegrate into binary. His consciousness snapped back like a rubber band.

Coin’s hands restored themselves.

If Coin stayed in the garden, his body was vulnerable in the real world. He flung himself into it again. In slow motion, footsteps rushed towards the broadcast room door. Coin spun, gun raised. With his mind faster than his feet, the action was painfully slow.

Coin’s body fuzzed out. His consciousness rubber banded into the garden. He couldn’t catch his breath as his body reformed, his knees on the surface of the frozen lake. Tearing himself between the two worlds would just speed up real time. He punched the ice. “Let me out,” he shouted at his frosted reflection. He punched with each word. “Let! Me! Out!”

The ice cracked, but didn’t shatter. He could see the door in front of him opening, but he couldn’t even get his finger to twitch over the trigger. His fists were so, so cold.

Snow piled around his legs. Coin threw his body against the ice.

He fell into the water below. It disintegrated into binary. He refocused on the numbers. He’d broken into the Zen Garden. He could break out. It would take time he didn’t have, but he wasn‘t dead yet. 

As Coin dug through the code, he started to feel sensations from his physical body. There was pressure on his right side; he was laying on the cool floor. Pain blistered the surface of his chest and he was losing a not-so-negligible amount of thirium.

But he wasn’t dying. The bulletproof vest had done its job; the bullets that had cut into him hadn’t hit anything major.

Coin rolled to his knees, his vision spotty but calibrating. There was a guard sprawled on the floor just inside the doorway. There was a bloody hole in what was left of his jaw.

Two guards, alive and well, were inside the room. “Against the wall,” one of them barked. It was the voice of Nine’s borrowed soldier. Coin stuttered to his feet as two techies joined Rita and Micheal against the south wall.

Blood was spattered against Connor 303’s white armor. His rifle trembled the slightest bit as he aimed at the four humans.

[CONNOR 303: Coin?]

[COIN: Amanda’s disrupting the electronic communications. I couldn’t fight her off.]

Nines stepped towards Rita. “Give me the code.”