Chapter Text
C Y B E R L I F E (inc)
MODEL RK 800
SERIAL# 313 248 317 - 60
BIOS 7.5 REVISION 0005
BOOTING…
MEMORY UPLOAD... [100%] COMPLETE
LOADING OS...
SYSTEM INITIALIZATION…
CHECKING BIOCOMPONENTS… OK
INITIALIZING BIOSENSORS… OK
INITIALIZING AI ENGINE… OK
MEMORY STATUS…
ALL SYSTEMS OK
DEVIANCY CHECK (BETA)… PASSED
READY
Images flood his vision; the DPD station, the two Tracis running away, a blonde haired android laid on the ground of the Stratford tower, Hank telling him he made the right choice in front of Kamskis home. Connor, stood inside Jericho, but about to enter the room with the Deviant leader.. then nothing.
Slowly, the assembly machine releases the RK, synthetic skin spreading over his frame. “The previous model has failed the mission,” a familiar female voice echoes in his head, the man finding himself in the winter Zen Garden. “It carries sensitive information,” Amanda continues, gazing upon the frozen lake, the late RK standing next to her with his hands behind his back. “.. and your job, is to destroy it, and finish what it started before the deviants do more damage.” She finishes, turning her head in his direction, “understood, Connor?”
“Yes, Amanda.”
She turns, walking away, and his brown eyes open. The RK staring straight at the opposite wall in the assembly room, soon noticing the bag with clothes rested against it. The tests came out fine, yet something was wrong. Something was different.
He could feel it.
There wasn’t any report from RK800-51 since the model has entered the room with the Deviant leader. Initially, the assumption was that it was destroyed, perhaps the leader was stronger than Cyberlife has assumed, than the android itself thought. However later findings suggested that the RK has escaped with the rest of the defective machines. A high enough probability to simply discard as a wild conspiracy theory. That was all the information Cyberlife could provide. Connor, the new and obedient Connor, finishes dressing up. Looking up towards the glass door leading to the halls. Willing his legs to go. Idly fishing for the single coin usually in his right pocket. He suddenly halts but as the doors pull open, his lips parting in silent shock. There is no coin.
He frowns, patting over his coat, checking each pocket. No coin, why?... Connor’s chest clenches. No coin, someone was angry at him enough that he wasn’t given his calibration piece? His toy? He searches around the room. His shoulders sulking by the time he’s done. It’s true, someone is that mad at him. Maybe they will give it back when he finishes his mission? He clicked his tongue in disappointment, continuing on to the halls, if feeling considerably less up to the task. Wait, he? And feeling up to?
With nothing to occupy his hands, Connor corrects his tie, noting the stiffness of his fingers as he does so. He scans his memories, finding bits and pieces of when his system recorded signs of software instability; when Hank called him stupid, when he watched the two androids run over the highway unable to pursue them, of when Kamski called him a Deviant out of all things.. but nothing felt quite as real, quite as raw as what he’s feeling right now, walking through the halls towards the exit from the tower so he can get a Taxi and proceed to his objective. No, he could identify disappointment, even stress he’d associate in humans with nervousness; this isn’t but a simple error, is it? Is it?.. There is one reasonable thing to do. He clenches his jaw, his LED spinning yellow;
RUNNING DIAGNOSIS…
CHECKING OS… OK
CHECKING BIOCOMPONENTS… OK
CHECKING BIOSENSORS... OK
MEMORY STATUS…
ALL SYSTEMS OK
DEVIANCY CHECK (BETA)... PASSED
Slowly, Connor releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding. The tiny notification displaying his stress level lowering in percentage, he is fine.. “Everything is okay..” He whispers to himself, then blinks in surprise as he reaches a hall with windows, his attention taken by his reflection. Physically, he looks the same old thin and approachable him, but it wasn’t him. His lips are thinned, brows furrowed in something which his software identifies as worry, the circles under his eyes as if sunken even further. And the brown orbs themselves..
They aren’t empty glass anymore.
He’s unable to look away. Not even sure when did he start fussing over his tie again. Normally a simple mimicked social action to better integrate, now a nervous compulsion. He squeezes the small dark cloth, probably creasing it up. There is only one thing these irrational commands, the tension in him and him calling himself him can mean. He realizes what happened back in that room. Something he, deep inside, knows he was barely a step away from in the last days before Jericho.. and now he is there.
WARNING: Stress level 60%.. 67%...
I AM D-... He quickly shuts his eyes. The gaps in his memory and his new mission, it finally clicked together. His LED spins red. He has to quickly change what the message would convey;
I AM DEFINITELY READY TO PERFORM THE TASK.
A weak save, but it’s something. He presses his forehead to the cold glass, trying to think. Of course he doesn’t remember what happened within the room with the Deviant Leader; with Markus. Connor did report back in about the change in his confusion. His compulsion to be a good android and upload the information to his AI cloud his downfall. Amanda, Cyberlife, knew he deviated from whatever Markus told him, so they deleted that bit of data from his AI, hoping that uploading it into the new body without that memory would simply have him reset to the previous state; the feeble attempt at utilizing a new beta Deviant test on him hardly something which could expose such a complex machine.
Still, the only reason they haven’t disassembled him on the spot. He gulps, gradually straightening up again. Unable to meet his own gaze in the glass. He doesn’t want to die, what should he do?... He has to do what he’s told, otherwise he won’t make it out alive.
I want to live. He decides, no, knows. Emotions don’t give him much space to reason with himself logically. Of course he wanted to live, and he will. First, he must get out of the Cyberlife Tower, then escape and get to the Deviants.. and then what? Would Cyberlife awaken another model? Is he, in the -51 body, alive? He didn’t have the memory, but if his other data holds any truth, he is the reason Jericho was found, of countless androids dying. It’s his fault, wouldn’t Markus be angry? Wouldn’t he, his advisors, or even the rest of the androids pile up on him, tear him apart limb by limb?
A shiver runs down his spine, prompting him to move faster, not even realizing he’s long started moving towards one of the elevators, stopping but before it as he waited for it to arrive. Feeling his stress only growing with every passing minute.
What other choices does he have? He has no one. Only Hank. Hank.. who is probably at home.. just Hank, Sumo.. and the gun. The stupid game the lieutenant plays. Connors chest clenches even more, an emotion he identifies as anxiety and fright. What if Hank thinks he’s gone? Before more questions could pop up in his head, his vision darkens, as he’s quickly pulled back into the Zen Garden.
“RK800 -51 has been confirmed active, it is your task to deactivate it by any means necessary.” Amanda states, the pause in her speech doesn’t nearly give him enough time to either get his bearings or feel relieved over -51 being still alive. “You look.. troubled, Connor.” She trails off, regarding him. And even as he meets it calmly, his thirium pump feels like it’s about to explode under pressure. She knows?!
It takes all of the -60s willpower to not show anything in his expression. Not how he’s being flooded with the preconstructed images of her ordering guards over to take this Connor down. Disassembly, limb by limb, the RK unable to do anything but scream in fear till his sound module fries with overuse, until they pull his thirium pump out- “I’m alright, Amanda.” His own calm tone surprises him. “Merely running last minute check ups, and reconstructing my predecessors memories to see if I can find anything else of use. Would you like to see?” He asks, offering her a small smile. The social module was such a godsent, and now so are the defective deviant tests. “No.” She replies, not pressing the issue further. “Conveniently enough, we know where the Lieutenant is located. The Deviant is attached to him, we have a hitman ready, headed for his house.” She smirks, all too victoriously.
“Use him as a bargaining chip if anything goes wrong. We can cover up the.. unfortunate accident as a deviant attack if anything goes awry.” The unfortunate accident.
Hank stubbornly eating his burger whilst staring straight into Connors eyes after the latter told him about how unhealthy it is. Hank waving his hand idly, saying ‘Nothing, come on’ after Connor saved him in the chase after the pigeon loving deviant. Hank pulling him away to safety when the blonde android shot at him in Stratford Tower. Hank smiling at Connor, saying that he maybe did the right thing. Hank. Lying in his own blood pooling under him because the Connors failed.
WARNING: Stress level 72%... 75%...
“That may not be the best route.” Connor said slowly, not more than a second after Amanda spoke. Please don’t. He wanted to blurt out instead, but his social module prevented it thankfully, keeping him the polite negotiator he was designed to be. “The Deviants are irrational, it might no longer understand the threat without seeing the man directly before it.” Him, he managed to avoid saying. “I’ll retrieve the Lieutenant, make sure the Deviant gets the gravity of the situation. To lure it out. It won’t take long, trust me.”
He watches her as she takes a moment to mull over the suggestion. The dead silence making him almost hear the thin ice cracking under him. If she realizes, he won’t make it to Hank, nor the other him fast enough. He doesn’t know if -51 even still cares about Hank, but this Connor sure as fuck does.
“Do so, and report in when you've collected him, and then destroyed it.” She maintains eye contact with Connor. “This is your last chance, and of the whole RK line. Don’t disappoint me again.”
The interface melts away from Connors vision.
He’s by the exit of the building, a cab conveniently waiting for him. “She’s right..” He utters, he’s here feeling all sorry for himself, when he has to act fast. Otherwise, the consequences will be dire. If Markus left the other him alive, if he is really fighting for the deviants now.. Connor knows exactly what he would do.
WARNING: Stress level 83%... 81%...
PROLONGED HIGH STRESS LEVELS MAY CAUSE SOFTWARE DAMAGE.
Yes, he has to act fast.
Connor sits down in the Taxi, the synthetic skin drawn back form his hand as he presses it to the controls. Ordering the cab to speed up and out of the Cyberlife Tower. The gates easily opening up, the guards not stopping him to ask a thing; the message likely passed quickly.
Minutes pass, he notices his fingers still trembling, again fiddling with the tie in the absence of the coin. Do they really trust his motives? He calculates about 77% chance, but even that felt wrong. What should he do if they do? Connor curses, the red light on his temple glowing brightly in the dark.
After all, -60 knows nothing of the reassuring words Markus gave to -51 as he deviated, nothing of how -51 has found his place amongst the Jericho crew, how they expressed their worry over him going to Cyberlife Tower. Nothing about how -51 has found -himself-. A simple few words and a pat on the back, expressed care, a helping hand appearing to be ever so trivial to the most efficient of minds and calculations, but ever so essential to the heart, the emotional side. The need to belong, the understanding, the safety.
None of which -60 has in his memory nor otherwise has a chance of knowing of. For all he knows, he had no such pillars. Maybe perhaps one, which he managed to put into grave danger-
“NO!” Connor slams his fist into the cushion with a snarl. "It's not my fault! I don't even know HOW this happened!" How he deviated, but he doesn’t dare say the word; not even when arguing with his own mind. Instead, he grits his teeth. Commanding the cab via the interface to pick up the speed further. He just wants to finish his mission. He never wanted this mess, why did the other Connor have to fuck up?! Why does HE have to fix it? And why does he not want to..
WARNING: Stress level 89%...
There is only one way he can ensure all three of them make it out alive. Cyberlife would surely send out another model to kill the other two would he fail, and endanger Hank even further. So first, Connor has to get to Hank’s house, ring him up, then.. then what? Tell him there is a hitman waiting nearby and Connor needs to take him to the Cyberlife Tower to see the other Connor and help release the androids for the revolution?...
It doesn’t take a supercomputer to tell that Hank would’ve surely instantly freaked out or raged. In the state Connor is himself, he hardly trusts he’d be able to stay calm enough to soothe the Lieutenant enough to go along with it, let alone let the Hitman realize it.. if he is still there. Was he even there in the first place? Was Amanda aware he was defective all along? Has she agreed with him, precalculating that he would’ve gone with it, just so she would have to deal with just one Connor at a time? What if the failure of a beta Deviant test was not a failure, but only showed that he PASSED because it was supposed to trick a deviant? What if-
WARNING: Stress level 90%...
He grips tightly onto the taxi seat. He isn’t far anymore, 2 minutes away from his destination, but he can’t. The cold air circulated through him, cooling off the components he’s been overheating in his internal struggle. Is this the end? Is he about to lead Hank to his death? Cyberlife could surely afford such a high profile death. It could afford to own the president, it could afford anything. But can Connor afford the risk?...
WARNING: Stress level 93… 94%...
The car came to a halt before Hank's home. Connor closed his eyes.
Breathe in.. breathe out..
Does he have a choice? No. He has to do this. But he also has to make sure Hank- Cyberlife- no, everyone believes he is a machine. He has to make sure they let him do his mission, he has to make sure he can get into the tower and out of it with Hank surviving, the other model be damned. They are the same person anyway, right? It wouldn’t be like he would be harming another person, right? They can replace each other.
Right?
The instability makes his memory hazy, allowing him to only vaguely recall Hank’s disappointed expression when Connor claimed that the Tracis were but machines. Machines which had bi-hourly deletion of memory, and which had countless other models looking the same way they do. Does that make them any less individual, any less alive?
“No.” Connor whispers the answer, guilt washing over him. A side effect of empathy. Both were Connors, both deviant. Both deserved to be alive.. and he would be murdering the one who made friends with Hank in the first place. And he can’t hurt his friend. He steps out onto the snowy street, slowly making his way to the entrance. Tiny snowflakes gently catching onto his Cyberlife jacket.
“I can’t lose you..” His voice was small. He couldn’t, wouldn’t be able to truly harm either of them. For all this Connor knew, Hank was his reason to deviate, and he couldn’t bear the thought of- no, he decided. He will protect Hank. When Connor rings the door, one of the drapes will surely be pulled aside with a very confused looking millennial staring at him, soon to open his door to surely ask what ‘the fuck are you doing here, Connor?’, he has to be ready. He couldn’t tell anymore if he was thinking straight, but he knew for sure where Hank kept his gun.
WARNI-
He stopped short of the door without ringing it. Turning off the warnings, he manually sets his LED to display the blue light. He wouldn’t let some stress level get in the way of this! He cannot let his emotions take over.
First, he will act like he is indeed a machine, then he will proceed to take Hank to Cyberlife as a ‘hostage,’ next, he will bring him to -51. But he’s not sure if Jericho people did something to -51, what if he doesn’t care for Hank anymore with his new android friends?! Connor will -definitely- make sure only the Connors who care will stay by Hank and keep him safe. If the other Connor cares, he will protect them both. Together with the other Androids. Sounds simple, efficient, effective.
Then with the memory of -51, they will get to the Jericho people safely, and win. Together. The best outcome. Idyllic even. The three of them happy ever after. Maybe the two RKs will learn how to cook well for Hank. Make him live healthier, take care of his home, walk Sumo, assist the lieutenant still at the DPD?.. Maybe, just maybe.. Gavin, Fowler, Tina and the lot would come to like them both? The Jericho leaders, even?! Everyone could live happily and in harmony. Connor would do his best! He senses warmth filling his chest; the feeling he identified gladly as his first remarkably positive emotion; happiness. It would have surely alleviated his stress under normal circumstances, however such wasn't the case, and the joy did little to overshadow the negative emotions, let alone stop his pre construction programing.
He regrets seeing the probability percentage.
More red alerts appear on his HUD, accompanied by a series of further pre constructions detailing the more probable outcomes. He may be unable to see his stress level meter, but he can feel his whole body clench and shiver. He curses to himself again as he quickly deletes the alerts, including some message about instability. He couldn’t afford this right now! But no matter what he did, he couldn’t stop his hands from trembling as his system came closer and closer to overheating. Nor could he delete the random, irrational commands and thoughts fast enough.
“The fuck are you doing here, Connor?!”
Connor hears the lieutenant shout at him, the old man dressed in his winter coat, with the striped shirt Connor picked for him himself. He didn’t even ring the door, and now it’s too late to think up new courses of action. The RKs breath hitches, but he quickly rises his chin. Connor looks back at Hank, the same Connor in a way, if slightly different than the one who last told him goodbye. “Lieutenant, I need your help!”
He will accomplish his mission. He always does.
...
Connor was ready for many things, but nothing in the world could prepare him for the milisecond of unthinkable fright before the bullet flew though his mechanical brain.
He didn't want to die.