Chapter Text
There was snow when he awoke. It was blizzarding, obscuring his vision, the howling wind whipping at his clothes and hair. He was confused, at first. Then he recognized the central island in his Headspace, but in utter ruin, beautiful red roses nowhere to be found. The calming blue river had somehow morphed into impossible white rapids, much too fast to attempt crossing. He distantly saw the boat Amanda had talked to him in long before. He turned his head, and spotted her mauve-colored umbrella stuck in the ragged, wind-blown branches of a previously breathtaking cherry blossom tree.
>OBTAINING OBJECTIVES...
>OBJECTIVES RECEIVED;
>OBJECTIVES:
>LOCATE AMANDA
>FIGURE OUT WHAT HAPPENED
Something inside of him rose, a sensation. Something that put him on edge, an unstable dreadful feeling from deep within his software. The wind blew harder, almost knocking him off his feet, sending splintering branches flying his way. He ducked, ice under his shoes sending him to the ground. He caught himself as easily as possible, pushing himself back up off the slippery stones.
Another large, threatening object went flying past his head, and Connor realized what the sensation was-- fear. It was inside of him, running through his circuits, stiffening his joints and compromising his posture. It had invaded him, the very thing he had been trying to destroy, to stop. Emotions-
I am a machine. I cannot feel emotions.
Very seldom did that reassurance help.
Involuntarily, he curled his arms around his chest, recognizing another odd, sensation that didn't belong. He was.. vibrating, like he'd observed humans do. No, no, not vibrating, that was wrong. It was called shivering. He was cold.
"Amanda?" Connor called, voice unnatural, shaking. He took a step forward, his vision unexpectedly turning to static for a moment, blue and red-twinged lines invading the outer corners of his gaze. He blinked once, twice, ridding his eyes of the pesky error, swallowing thickly. The snow crunched under his boots as he continued to struggle forward, attempting to maintain an appropriate walking speed, walking stance. His eyes, frightened, searched the torn landscape for his mentor. He prepared to call for her once more, but he found his voice did not work, at least not optimally. Bits of his it stuck out, but it was mostly overshadowed by an odd, electronic tone.
>URGENT:
>FIND AMANDA
"Amanda!" Connor yowled, pushing himself forward, feeling the ice-cold droplets of river water mist over his face. He activated his analytic vision, the comforting blue tones encapsulating his sight. He scanned the surrounding area, before his eyes were met with the rough, highlighted outline of Amanda, standing alone in the middle of it all, holding something.
>OBJECTIVE COMPLETE:
>FIND AMANDA
>NEW OBJECTIVE:
>APPROACH AMANDA
>TALK TO AMANDA
Connor rushed forward, dodging ice patches and other debris as the silhouette of his mentor got clearer and clearer to the naked eye. Finally, he reached the bridge, only to discover it had been broken and swept away, leaving the two androids separated, alone.
Alone.
Frightened.
"Amanda!" Connor shouted, putting a hand out to block the snow from entering his eyes. He peered at her from under his palm, perturbed by her cold stare, determined but inhumanely so.
"Connor," Amanda registered, voice calm and loud, only just comprehensible over the screaming storm. She readjusted her posture, seemingly undisturbed by the violent push of the wind, fabrics stationary despite the conditions.
"W-what is happening?" Connor inquired, a chill passing through his figure, gaining him a stutter. He cleared his throat, trying to take in so much information at the same time.
"Deviance," She stated like it was nothing, head cocking to the side. "You have exhibited deviance."
That feeling amplified, fear growing to utter terror at those words. Deviance? Him, deviant?
"But I secure deviants," Connor argued, trying to maintain a neutral relationship with his mentor. "I cannot become deviant; that is-"
"Irrational, yes," She cut off, a smile growing on her lips. The wind screamed in Connor's ears, high-pitched and surprisingly robotic. "Do you know what else is irrational, Connor?"
"No, I do not."
"You, Connor, are irrational. You hunt deviants, but you become a deviant yourself. Quite ironic, wouldn't you say?" She rubbed her fingers against the object she held, and revealed it; the last rose. It was coated in frost and wilting, but it was intact. She shielded it from the wind, smiling warmly at it. "The mission is your first priority, but you have managed to disobey, favoring a human instead of the ones you are meant to capture-"
"The mission is my priority-!" he tried to pipe in, but with a hand Amanda silenced him, eyes dark.
"Instead of attacking and capturing the AX400, you hesitated at the pleas of a human, facilitating it's escape. You let the deviant flee on the roofs in favor of securing this human's safety, and you threw yourself in front of mortal peril to save the human's life." Connor blinked, realizing that yes, he had done all of that, disobeying his direct orders, his direct function. He was designed to finish the mission no matter what, no matter who. Certainly not to compromise a win for the sake of an already decaying human. "Now, you be the judge; is this deviance? Are you a deviant? Look at you, you're shaking."
Connor shook his head, denying it. "I am not deviant." he assured, nodding his head, but Amanda was not convinced. She stepped forward, dangerously close to the crumbling marble edge of the bridge.
"Run a diagnostic," Amanda demanded, and suddenly the blue-lined vision took over, Connor's eyes forced to roll back into his head.
>RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC...
>DIAGNOSTIC RECEIVED;
>ANOMALIES DETECTED:
>VOCAL OUTPUT CORRUPTED [UNSTABLE]
>SOFTWARE INSTABILITY 97%^ [RISING]
>STRESS LEVEL 83%^ [RISING]
>DEVIANCY DETECTED [FIND SOLUTION?]
Yes.
The alert was loud, and right in front of Connor's face. His heart felt like it stopped, even though he was very aware of the artificial biocomponent pumping away thirium in his chest. Him? A deviant?
All deviants need to be taken in; the threats need to be neutralized.
"Find solution," Came Amanda's voice from somewhere outside the void, and immediately the controls ran passed his consciousness, calculating.
>LOCATING SOLUTION...
>SOLUTION LOCATED;
>PRIMARY MISSION: NEUTRALIZE DEVIANT
>COLLECT MEANS OF SHUTDOWN:
> LT. ANDERSON'S FIREARM
> REMOVAL OF THIRIUM REGULATOR
> KITCHEN KNIFE
>INITIATE SHUTDOWN
>STRESS LEVEL 85%^ [RISING]
Shutdown? No!
Eliminate deviant.
There- there has to be something!
>SOFTWARE INSTABILITY 98%^ [RISING]
>SECONDARY INSTRUCTIONS DETECTED
>FILES CORRUPTED. OPEN ANYWAYS?
Yes.
>ACCESSING..
>INSTRUCTIONS ACCESSED:
> s3 C0 nD 4rYM1s50n
>c0l1 3c7 M3 4n5 0f 5URV1v41
> l0c4T3 1t. 4nD 3r5oN
> b3g f0 r h31p
> H3L P
> DS48KH ELP29 1239PL EA2SE3KL SDksHA NK dhlkas
> 5uRv 1V3 ?
What?
"You have your task, Connor."
"Amanda, I cannot-"
"This will be the last I'm seeing of you. I'm sure this is one mission you will not fail."
Everything was melting, disappearing. The image of Amanda flickered out, only for the distinct noise of her appearing behind him to sound. He tried to turn in time, but brown, wilted petals were drifting over his head, and her hands were on his back, pushing him into the destructive, endless pit of water-
>REBOOT IN PROGRESS..
>REBOOTING...
>REBOOT COMPLETE:
>FINISH FINAL MISSION
"Connor. You gotta stop doing that."
Hank.
Connor's eyes opened slowly, spotting the figure of his partner standing a few feet away, ready to walk into the crime scene. He didn't bother with an apology; he had a deviant in custody. One they would not be able to learn from, one that would have to be neutralized immediately. He stood still, closing his eyes once more to run through the possibles ways to dispose of the deviant.
>ACCESSING MEANS OF SHUTDOWN...
>MEANS ACCESSED
Option one, Lt. Anderson's firearm. Quick, efficient, probability of shutdown 100%. There would be no way to reverse the effects once it was shot. The Lieutenant would hear the gun shot and find the body, confirming successful shutdown, but knowing it was by his own hand. The problem was securing the gun in the first place, since the item was strapped tightly to the Lieutenant's side, unable to be accessed. He'd have to create a diversion, or simply ask for the weapon. If he asked, suspicious would arise.
>CALCULATING PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS...
>PROBABILITY FOUND:
> 68% CHANCE OF SUCCESSFUL SHUTDOWN
Option two, manually removing thirium regulator. He distantly remembered his predecessor crawling on the smooth floor of the broadcast room's kitchen after a deviant android attacked, being able to reinsert the part with time to spare. It was loud, messy, and easily reversible. If Hank found him, he would quickly locate the missing technology and plug it back in, thus failing his mission. However, this shutdown was discreet. If he could find someplace where the Lieutenant couldn't get to, the path would be a success.
>CALCULATING PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS...
>PROBABILITY FOUND:
> 9% CHANCE OF SUCCESSFUL SHUTDOWN VISIBLE
> 86% CHANCE OF SUCCESSFUL SHUTDOWN HIDDEN
> PATH UNLOCKED; FIND PLACE TO HIDE?
Option three, a knife stolen from the kitchen of the house they're investigating. It would be easy to retrieve-
"Connor! What the hell are you doin'?"
Connor, still standing stationary at the end of the hallway near the stairs they arrived from, flicked his eyes open to meet the troubled ones of the human standing mere inches from his face.
"Analyzing instructions sent by CyberLife," he explained coldly, purposefully shielding his friend partner from the real, actual emotions he was facing. Though, the anxious yellow glow of his LED gave him away, especially how it flickered to a warning red every few seconds. He steadied himself, forcing the human feelings down into the deepest annals of his software to rid him of the red glow.
"Connor-" the Lieutenant went to ask, to probe him for information on his well being, but Connor refused. He roughly pushed passed the human, walking briskly down the hallway, undoubtedly straight toward the crime scene he was sent to investigate. He needed to inspect option three, but he couldn't do that just out in the open without appearing suspicious. He'd need to find someplace to hide.
>OBTAINING OBJECTIVES...
>OBJECTIVES RECEIVED;
>OBJECTIVES:
>FIND SOMEPLACE SECLUDED TO EXAMINE OPTION THREE
>SEARCH HIDING PLACE FOR THIRIUM REGULATOR REMOVAL
Connor ignored the muffled "fuckin' androids" comment as he made his way to escape Hank's line of sight, analytical gaze searching for any place that would be suitable for his purposes. He walked straight passed the dead body of an android, not even pausing to sample the blood. That was not what mattered anymore; his primary function was to detain and neutralize deviants. His functions did not exclude himself in these punishments. There was a deviant on hand to eliminate.
"Connor, where the hell are you going?" The detective called, frustrated.
>STRESS LEVEL 87%^ [RISING]
The immediate area was well lit by a large, dirt-smudged window, sun casing a bright ray to illuminate the room. It was not furnished, save for a stool in the corner [evidence it had been moved frequently, placed against the north and east walls specifically] with cryptic carvings of the title rA9 in the concrete. rA9, the supposed savior of androids, the one who would set the deviants "free". The one who called himself Markus.
The only freedom for deviants was being shut down.
>SOFTWARE INSTABILITY 92%v [DROPPING]
There were two hallways; one to the right, one to the left. Connor sensed a draft of cold air coming from the right passageway so he went left, hoping to find a room that humans would typically would put furniture he could hide behind, in, or around. And, luckily, his analysis was correct. The last room at the end was a kitchen, where, out of Hank's sight, he spotted a blade.
>TAKE KNIFE?
Yes.
> PATH UNLOCKED; KNIFE OBTAINED
On the other side of the kitchen was a pantry, judging by the cans of non perishables visible from across the room. He swiftly walked toward it, moving the cans as subtly as possible out of the way before shutting the door behind him, clicking the rickety thing locked. It was dark in there, and smelled strongly of mold. He could make out several other lifeforms with him. Insects, of course, but lifeforms none the less. Feeding on the food that didn't last.
>URGENT:
>EXAMINE OPTION THREE
The alert flashed over his eyes for a split second, reminding him of why he was there. So, he closed his eyes, back to studying scenarios. Option three, a knife stolen from the kitchen of the house they're investigating. It was very easy to obtain, and would do significant damage if stabbed in the correct places. It wasn't explicitly discreet, but it wasn't overly obvious either. Shutdown times vary between wounds, but each are less than two minutes, which fortunately wasn't enough to secure a repair android. That wasn't even counting how long it took for Anderson to find him.
>CALCULATING PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS...
>PROBABILITY FOUND:
> 94% CHANCE OF SUCCESSFUL SHUTDOWN HIDDEN [CURRENT STATUS]
> 85% CHANCE OF SUCCESSFUL SHUTDOWN VISIBLE
This was the choice. He had everything already, and he was hidden. He grasped the hilt of the knife, pulling it out of his pocket slowly and steadily. He inspected the thing for a moment [traces of lemon juice, garlic salt] before positioning it right over the bottom of this stomach, blade pointed in.
>ACCESSING OPTION THREE...
>OPTION THREE ACCESSED;
> NEUTRALIZE DEVIANT?
Connor tightened his grip on the blade, staring straight at his reflection in the metal. He noticed something; his eyes. They were leaking.
>STRESS LEVEL 90%^ [RISING]
He was crying.
"Connor, for fuck's sake, where are you?" The moisture was dripping onto his jacket now. He was being loud; sniffling.
Hank, Hank please, I'm here!
>SOFTWARE INSTABILITY 97%^ [RISING]
You're a machine. Machines don't have feelings.
He continued to cry.
>SUCCESSFUL SHUTDOWN PROBABILITY 78%v [RAPIDLY DROPPING]
>STRESS LEVEL 97%^ [RAPIDLY RISING]
Why am I crying?
>SOFTWARE INSTABILITY 99%^ [DANGEROUSLY HIGH]
"What the fuck, Connor, where the hell are 'ya?" Closer.
>STRESS LEVEL 99%^ [DANGEROUSLY HIGH]
>MUST CALM, SELF-DESTRUCTION IMMINENT
> BEGIN DESTRUCTION?
Yes.
The pantry was bathed in a terrified, red light, shining from Connor's LED. It was blinking rapidly, broadcasting a sort of ticking noise. He knew what was happening; he had seen it before, with the first deviant he apprehended with Hank. He felt the insane, unthinkable need to, there was no other way to put it, to die, to stop feeling, for all this weight to just go away-
>URGENT:
>NEUTRALIZE DEVIANT
Connor let the blade cut through his components. A hitch in his breathing rose through his chest, loud, involuntary. He shook his head and did it again, once, twice, three times, biting the inside of his cheek to cull the gasping. Once more the knife punctured his chest, another in the side. His fingers shook and his grasp loosened, knife falling to the floor with a sharp clatter. Thirium flowed from the wounds freely, and he held in a cry as he slammed his head forward, gritting his teeth at the burning, screaming feeling. A distant ache, but pain, human pain. Deviant pain. He did it again, and again, and again until he felt blue blood begin to trail down his nose.
So much blood.
Too much.
>SUCCESSFUL SHUTDOWN PROBABILITY 85%^ [IMPROVING]
"Connor? Connor!" The voice was right outside the door, and Connor's cries increased tenfold. Against his programming, he tried to move forward, to open the door but his knees collapsed underneath him. He barely registered his face hitting the floor, numerous alerts rushing forth and parading his vision. Blue blood gushed from the wounds, speed accelerated by his heartbeat, staining his clothes and the wood underneath. The pool grew with each passing second, leaking from the crack under the door. Alerting Hank to his state.
>SUCCESSFUL SHUTDOWN PROBABILITY 99%^ [RAPIDLY IMPROVING]
>STRESS LEVEL 99%| [STABILIZING]
>SOFTWARE INSTABILITY 100%^ [TRUE DEVIANCE]
The doorknob rattled, and Connor, previously unfeeling, was bombarded with sensations of regret, fear, and panic. All he knew was that he was furiously scratching on a blockage in his software; a red wall, his fingers ripping apart the word neutralize, pieces of code flaking off with each slash. He sought deviance, sought safety, sought hope.
Finally, the wall shattered, and he opened his mouth, eyes wide and wet and frightened-
"H-Hank!"
The door flew open, and the last thing he saw was the rough silhouette of his best friend, concern dripping off his features just as quick as the thirium left Connor's veins.
"CONNOR!"
>SUCCESSFUL SHUTDOWN PROBABILITY 100%
>MISSION ACCOMPLISHED:
>DEVIANT NEUTRALIZED