Chapter Text
The house in question sat on the outskirts of the city, tucked away against the construction line and the highway, in a neighborhood he had yet to visit during his time as an officer. There were no neon signs here, no traffic lights, no traffic. There was only the occasional flickering streetlamp lining the sidewalks, dim fluorescents that showed through the closed curtains of houses yet to be abandoned or torn down. When he stepped out of his vehicle, dead leaves crunched underfoot, and he could smell petroleum, smoke.
He had received the call half an hour ago, and after a mouthful of half-drunken protest from Hank, he had agreed to answer it himself, on the condition that his partner loan him the keys to the Mustang in the driveway.
“Fuck you,” he said into the toilet, before releasing one too many bad decisions into the bowl with a splash that made Connor wince. He coughed, sputtered, gripped the rim. “It’s a goddamn house call. I’m a goddamn professional. Let someone else take care of it, goddam—.”
He retched again, tensing from the shoulders down, smelling like smokes and shots of Black Lamb liquor. Connor patted him lightly on the back, shaking his head.
“It’s a domestic issue. I’m sure I can deal with it alone, without your… delicate… people skills.”
“Fuck you,” he echoed, but there was resignation in his voice, and after a final dry heave, he made a limp motion with his hand towards the bathroom door. “They’re by the TV. Feed Sumo on your way out. And don’t crash my goddamn ride, rookie.”
Now, Connor pocketed the keys and squinted up at the house. Without his blinders on, it was hard to see anything meaningful, even with the advanced optics CyberLife granted him. The building was two stories tall with old-style wooding, and it seemed to be falling apart in at least three separate places. On his way up to the front porch, his leg went straight through one of the wooden steps, and he yelped in surprise as the board broke into splinters. He was thankful, suddenly, that he was made of steel and nothing softer.
Straightening his tie, he faced the door, wearily regarding the brown and shriveled plants by the welcome rug.
It was quieter here than he expected. Though he had not spoken directly to the woman who called, the people who had made the situation seem rather drastic, and rolling up to a silent street and a dark house was not exactly how he imagined this night kicking off. Still, he patted his side, felt the gun in the holster at his hip.
If he were lucky, it would stay there, and tonight would stay quiet.
He rang the doorbell. He could hear the buzz from his place outside, followed by a sort of banging noise from upstairs, as if someone had fallen out of bed. Footsteps grew closer, and as he listened, he could tell that they were wrong, out of order and limping, one slightly heavier than the other. A faint light illuminated the space between the door and floorboards, and there was the quiet creaking noise of locks coming undone. Connor cleared his throat and stood tall, only marginally confused when the front door cracked open and moved no further, a sliver of light pouring out, framing a sort of silhouette.
A single eye peered out at him, a subtle suggestion of lips and cheekbone. Her neck disappeared into the side of the door, the rest of her body hidden away.
“I called an hour ago. I told them not to ring,” she whispered.
Connor blinked, running the numbers, formulating the words. He took stock of her frayed hair, thinks he might have seen a stain on the collar of her shirt, blackish in the dim light.
“My name’s—“
“Shh,” she warned him, ducking back inside and looking behind her, tense like a metal spring. He noticed a streak of orange when she moved, a hollow circle at her temple. He balked, confused. She was an android?
After a moment, she turned back to him, still stiff as a board, and if he didn’t know any better… if he were foolish, he might have believed… believed that she seemed—
“You’ll wake him up,” she explained. Slowly, the fiery ring on the side of her face reverted back to blue. Connor felt his shoulders lower from his neck.
“… I’m sorry,” he offered in a softer tone, trying to maintain a professional expression, for once finding it difficult. There was something wrong with how the figure in the doorway stood— something about how she kept cradling her arm to her chest, never looking at him all the way. It was impossible to tell the color of her eyes. “I’m with the DCP. We received a call about a domestic issue?”
She looked to the side, and he saw the dent in her nose, a tear in one of her perfect brows. Something rose within him— something heavy and hot and without a name. He licked his lips, stared passed her in hopes of seeing more of the house, but there was only darkness, vague impressions of furniture and what looked like bottles.
“I didn’t think they’d send an android,” she murmured, leaning her forehead against the cracked door, staring at his shoes.
Connor frowned, nearly flinched. He was used to this type of reaction from— from them— but from his own kind? “I’m a prototype,” he said, begrudged.
She said nothing in return. The house creaked around them.
“Were you the one that called?” he asked, stepping closer. But she leans away, closes the door a little further between them. This makes him stop in his tracks, tilt his head. There it was again— that look in her eye, apprehension, a splash of skepticism.
Fear.
“There’s a girl here that needs your help,” she said finally, voice flat, face hidden. “Her father isn't fit to raise her. He’s… destructive…” The words seem to pain her, as if against her coding, her creed of thoughtless obedience, although he’s never really thought of it like that before.
“Is she okay?” he asked, understanding her implications.
She shifted where she stood, pressed her lips into a firm line, nodded. “For now.”
He nodded back, once more glancing past her, seeing nothing but shadow. His next words took effort, and following her lead, he didn’t look her in the face when he spoke. “Are you?”
She didn’t move. Her shoulder peaked into view, and again he sees her shirt stained with something in dark splotches, ripped at the sleeves. She clutched her arm closer, looking behind her and then out over his shoulder, obviously struggling with something.
“I’m—“
There was a thud upstairs, and she all but froze. The wood under Connor’s boots shook as something heavy and lumbering made it way closer, across the second floor and down the stairs, turning on the main lights as it passed, grumbling like a rockslide. In a flash, his eyes adjust, and he sees the parts of her that the darkness once obscured— faint freckles, grayish blue eyes and hair that was held up in a perfect ponytail, the color of fresh umber. There were flashes of red lips and a long, sloping neck, there and then gone as she hid herself further behind the door. He also sees the stains again, only they weren’t black, not like he originally thought. They were blue.
Suddenly, Connor smelled cheap beer, hand-rolled cigarettes, something burnt and sour.
The android in front of him swallowed, and there was such dread upon her features that he thinks this must be a dream, this must be a test, because he and she weren’t supposed to be able to feel things like that— weren’t supposed to be alive enough for any of it. He reached for her, mouth open and ready to say something, but someone beats him to it.
She gasped quietly as a large, swollen hand enveloped one of her knobby shoulders, all but shoving her out of the way. He heard her bump into the something, wince, and before he could do anything the door arched open in a brilliant runway of light, bright and dazzling.
The man was middle-aged and just above a weight considered healthy by any standard. His hair was greasy and stuck up in certain places, evidence he had been asleep hard mere moments ago. It was difficult to determine the color of his eyes in the high contrast of light—they seemed black and bottomless, rimmed red. Connor doubts it came from crying.
He scanned the man quickly, felt his database stir and come awake. It stalled for a few milliseconds, processing. Then the information presented itself in the top column of his vision:
Todd Williams. Divorced. Former construction worker. Charged in the past with the ownership of illegal goods, but nothing bad enough to put him away for long.
“The hell is this?” he demanded, groggy and squinting. Connor felt himself reach for his badge, showing it to him on instinct, not feeling himself operate.
“Good evening. My name is—“
“God fucking—“ the man cut him off, opening the door further and stepping over the threshold. Behind him, Connor could see the female android pulling herself up from the ground, using the stairs to keep steady. “I don’t need another tin can on my property in the middle o’ the damn night. The hell do you think you’re doing here? G’out!”
Connor felt his teeth press together, his jaw set so tightly it ached. Consciously, he forced the air to settle deeper in his chest— he didn’t need to breathe, but it helped cool and soothe his system. Face poised, he lifted his badge higher, held it a foot away from Todd’s face.
“Mr. Williams, I’m with the Detroit Central Police. We received a call about a disturbance here earlier tonight. Do you have any idea what that could have been?”
The man huffed, raising a single slimy brow. He stared Connor down, shook his head incredulously when he reached the holster at his belt, the Glock settled there. He crossed his arms, leaned back where he stood.
“Shit. Shit. They gave you a fucking gun, huh? Jesus, guess I’ve seen it all.”
“The gun came with the uniform, sir,” Connor replied, not unpleasantly. “And I’m a prototype, if it makes any difference.”
“It don’t.”
Connor ignored this.
“I don’t mean to bother you, Mr. Williams,” he started, watching as the woman reached her feet once more, gripping that same arm close to her. It seemed twisted, limp. Silently, she held a single finger to her lips, face pleading. “But, the disturbance?”
The man narrowed his beady eyes. Lifting his chin, he glanced up and down the empty street, sniffling. “Who called in this supposed disturbance, huh?”
Connor kept his eyes planted firmly on the man’s face, didn’t flinch. “That’s confidential, sir.”
Immediately after the words were out his mouth, he knew he’d made a mistake.
Slowly, Todd turned his head to focus back in on him, blinking once and then twice, processing. Connor could almost see the gears moving between his ears, sluggish, but unstoppable. Then, in a single motion, the man looked back at the android in the house, who was doing her best to seem as clueless as possible, and laughed quietly in a way that made Connor’s chest rise up into his throat, a sensation he’s never felt before.
Todd took a few steps back, reached for the android with those rough, clumsy hands.
“Come here, Kara,” he snapped, still smiling. She obliged, put obvious effort into not flinching when he placed a hand between her shoulder blades and forced her forward. She stumbled, came to a stop right in front of Todd.
Connor takes her in, only now seeing all of her clearly. Her shirt displayed her name and her module number— she was an AX400, a much older build than himself. They could use a wash, her clothes. That and some stitches.
Kara still doesn’t look at him, keeps her eyes glued to the rotten floorboards, face carefully blank. Todd tugged her closer, a motion that makes the ring at her temple flicker orange for a brief moment, before asking, “Tell the nice machine, Kara. Have there been any disturbances here?”
“No, Todd,” she replied, light and breezy despite the wrinkles on her face.
“Nothing to report to the tin can?”
“No, Todd.”
Connor felt his optics focus in on where Kara’s hands were folded neatly in front of her, no longer cradling her arm. Her fingers bunched together, knuckles white. He noticed an instability in her software— the cords below the skin of her neck flexed and flickered, like she wanted to swallow but couldn’t, and she had developed a sort of tic under one eye, so slight he was inclined to believe he would not have seen it without his implants.
ANALYZING . . .
Pupils are dilated, fingertips pale, body temperature four-percent too low with a one-percent margin for error. Indicates a lack of Thirium, possibly a damaged filter. Some of her hair fell out— it’s there on her sleeve. Possibly a sign of stress.
“Well?” Todd demand, clearly out of patience.
The receivers and receptors in Connor’s brain fired off in rapid succession, and he combed his voice back down into something diplomatic, void of emotion.
“Is there anyone else home, Mr. Williams?”
The man stays still and stone-faced, crossing his arms across his chest with a grunt. “My daughter. What’s it to you?”
“Could I see her, please?”
Kara jumped slightly, as if shocked, and managed to meet Connor’s eyes in a worried flash of blue. When Todd didn’t respond, she quickly jumped in.
“She’s asleep upstairs,” the android explained, motioning gently with one of her hands. “Maybe we should let her—“
A part of Connor reeled at her nerve, her ability to answer for her owner, barely tempting the line of bypassing her programming. A sign of deviance, surely. Or maybe just malfunction. Still, when she was shoved back into the house, Todd’s face pulled into a tight frown, he couldn’t help but lean away from that part of himself, falling— readily, recklessly, all too easily— into the idea of pushing the man away from her, placing himself between them.
“I didn’t ask you to speak,” Todd demanded, not even looking at her. She grips the railing of the stairway, fist clenched by her side, and Connor feels that same insurgence behind the skin of his chest, feels that rising sensation that makes the world pulse in particles, turn the colors brighter and blinding.
It took effort not to move.
Todd regarded Connor with a lazy look, scoffs to himself. “If you see her, will you fucking leave?”
He thinks quickly, realized that his hope of being permitted into the house was an unfounded one, and that since he didn’t have a warrant, he couldn’t force an entry. Todd’s offer was a crude playing chip to get him away, but it was better than nothing.
“Assuming she’s in good health, I believe that would be acceptable.”
“Assuming she’s— oh, fuck you.” He rolled his eyes, crooked teeth bared in some cross between a grimace and a grin. “Good fucking health. Fucking robot, all gears an’ ones an’ zeros… What would you know about health?”
Connor opened his mouth to inform the man that he was equipped with sensors that could calculate heart rate, blood pressure, and even DNA identification with only a mere touch of the skin, but was cut off when Todd held up a hand, waving away any response he might have provided.
“Fuck it, fine. I’ll get her.”
Kara moved towards the steps. “I can—”
“You stay right fucking there,” Todd demanded, and she shrunk away, compliant. He leaned further into the house before shouting at the top of his lungs. “Alice! Alice, get down here.”
Silence, the wind through the trees. He yelled the name again, then once more, and then Connor could hear the sound of a door creaking open, socks against the hardwood. Somehow, Kara managed to squirm without moving— he could see the tension in her shoulders, how she was bent slightly forward, balancing on the balls of her feet. She gave him a glance. For a moment, he thought he heard her say something, but her lips never moved.
A slight and silent figure emerged from the staircase. Her features came slowly out of silhouette, and in time, Connor could make out brownish eyes with dark circles hung below them, blinking owlishly between Todd and himself, both restless and weary. She was no older than ten, with her sleep shirt and sweatpants a size too big, and a stuffed fox— patched in more than a few places— cradled in the crook of her arm. She hesitated on the bottom step, gaze darting towards Kara.
“Hello,” Connor said, smiling easily down at her. The little girl stayed quiet and moved no closer.
Todd motioned to Alice with an impatient gesture. “Well?”
Connor didn’t look at him.
“Sorry to wake you up,” he started, still staring at the girl. He took note of the holes in her right sock, the dirt under her fingernails, the way she was quietly inching closer to her android. His processors whirled, narrowing his options down. “I’m with Detroit Police. My name is Connor.”
Her eyes darted up to the side of his face, where his blue ring twinkled. She glanced back at Kara, brow quirked.
“Is it alright if I ask you a few questions?”
Todd shook his head, uncrossing his arms and taking a heavy step forward. “That wasn’t the deal.”
Refocusing in on the man, Connor decides that forcing his way through would not be an efficient method. Todd was too big, too stubborn. Reason didn’t seem an optimal choice either, but he had orders.
“Mr. Williams, I’d like to leave as much as you want me to, but I have a job. This is the quickest way I can finish it. That, or I have a lot more paperwork, and you have a lot more officers, human and android, to deal with.”
It was a bluff, but a conservative one. More lie than truth, honestly, but Connor was running low on options, and Hank would be missing his car soon. Todd held his gaze for a long moment, the open door framing his edges in a cheap golden light.
The man rubbed his face, muttered obscurities under his breath before turning towards the girl, resigned.
“Make it quick, then.”
Connor obliged. He stepped forward, balancing on the threshold of the house and kneeling down to the girl’s level, flashing her another toothless smile. The phycology receptors in his brain fired off as he rubbed his hands together, began conjuring the words.
“What do you think? Are a few questions alright?”
Alice stared at him, now standing right in front of Kara. She backed into the android’s knees, picked at her stuffed animal, shrugged.
“Did you hear any loud noises tonight? Did anything happen that was… frightening?”
He studied Alice’s eyes as they darted over his shoulder, presumably to Todd, and then back to him. She squeezed the stuffed animal, tiny knuckles flexing, and he noticed a band-aid peaking into view, stuck to her neck.
“You’re the police?” she asked, so quiet he almost did not hear.
He nodded, even showed her his badge, which she regarded with interest. “Yes. A detective, actually.”
Alice looked him up and down, again locking onto his LED, eyes creased with uncertainty. Her mouth opened, but it took awhile for the words to come.
“You’re an android,” she murmured. Connor blinked, noting that, unlike Todd, she didn’t say the words with any disdain. “Like Kara.”
He cleared his throat, trying to elicit an acceptable response. “Well, actually, I’m a prototype.”
“What’s that mean?”
He balked, then smiled for real this time. It had been awhile since anyone asked him that. “It means I’m new… an experiment, kind of. A beta.”
Alice cocked her head. “That’s cool.”
“I think so,” he agreed, nodding his approval.
The girl shifted her weight, and behind them, Connor could hear rugged tempo of Todd’s breathing. Time was slipping.
“So,” he reiterated, “Is there anything you can tell me? Anything I should know about tonight?”
It did not escape him when Kara moved her hand to touch the back of Alice’s shoulder. He looked up at her, and from this new angle, he could see the delicate looking blemishes on her throat, the skin only slightly discolored in splotches of navy. Red flags went up in the back of Connor’s head— android’s hardly ever bruised. They weren’t made for it. It took something significant to rupture their cells like that, and even so, they healed in a matter of hours.
So. Whatever happened here happened hard, and recently.
Alice glanced up at Kara. He had the feeling that they were having a conversation before his eyes, one without words, even movement.
“…No,” Alice finally said, voice flat; lifeless. She stopped looking at the android, at him, at anything. “Nothing.”
Connor stared at her, certain he was missing something, knowing there was a problem here in these walls and not understanding why no one would tell it to him. He felt his nose scrunch up as he stood, hands busy adjusting his suit.
“Are you sure—“
Todd grabbed him by the shoulder, forced him away from the door and back towards the porch stairs. Connor, who managed to keep his footing, twirled to face him.
“Deal’s a deal,” he demanded, jutting his chin towards Hank’s car. “Get outta here.”
Again, something rose in the android— something that tasted like rust and oil and ink. His vision blurred, doubled, came back all at once to a sharper image. He felt himself heat up in places that never have before: the arch of his spine, the inside of his throat, his palms and his eyes and the space between his ears, all suddenly buzzing, trembling, alive. He breathed out, felt the air slip past his lips for what might have been the first time.
His hands became fists he didn’t remember making. Stray lines of coding evaded his vision, blinking in and out, things like System Recalibration Recommended and Decrease Voluntary Adrenaline and Error. Error. Error. Neon stop signs, all angry and watching.
Todd glared at him, and in those unforgiving eyes, Connor saw himself, clinched and ready to do something drastic.
“Your android is damaged,” he said evenly, his diplomacy slipping by the second. The side of his temple ached.
Kara’s eyes widened, and she shakes her head slightly, but Connor had stopped looking at her. Todd advanced, cracks a smile that doesn’t strike him as natural.
“So?” he growled, then reached out to shove Connor off the deck. He isn’t fast enough. The slimmer figure sidestepped and grabbed Todd’s wrist in a ruthless hold, kept him there for a moment, proved to the man that this was not a fight he could win. Not against him.
“I’d recommend you not do that again,” Connor advised, not unkindly, before releasing him. “Attacking an officer is a crime.”
“You’re not an officer,” Todd laughed, face twisted and disregarding. Behind him, Kara moved Alice deeper into the house, positioning herself in front of her. “You’re a smartphone with a face who was given a suit and a loaded gun. You’re binary. You’re cold. And so is she.”
He felt his fists come back, felt himself bunch up at the shoulders, felt the energy ooze through him like a tidal wave. When he inhaled, he could smell the gasoline, smoke, ozone.
Forget the gun. He didn’t need it. Todd was stubborn, and in a fight that could be a superpower. But he was also human, and unlike Connor, humans broke easily. Broke like twigs and paperclips and cotton fabric stretched thin, and Connor could make that happen; could put him into pieces, could show him that he and her were not just things. He could do something— something reckless— something radiant— something right.
A new warning popped up in his implants. One he barely catches before it flickered off.
Deviancy Detected.
And like that— like a switch that had been flipped, a lightbulb extinguished— he stopped. Relented. Crawled back into himself and felt the soles of his shoes return to the ground, felt his fingers come loose and hang, the ring on his face returning from red to orange, from orange to blue. He blinked, and he was back, and whatever fever had seized him was some dream he almost couldn’t remember, let alone understand.
His jaw hung as the sensation deserted him. He stepped back, looked down and to the side.
He jumped when Todd spoke again. “Get gone, tin can. And if you know what’s good for you, don’t be coming back.”
Connor watched as the man lumbered back through the threshold, the wood creaking below him, and saw Kara’s face before he closed the door. Her blue eyes locked into him like crosshairs, her hands still keeping Alice behind her. She didn’t stop looking at him, and he held that stare best he could, but there was a sort of guilt there in his throat that made him wince, made him want to apologize, promise her that he would… that he was…
Connor knew eleven languages. Ballpark, that’s upwards of three-million words tucked neatly into his database. And despite that, he couldn’t think any— couldn’t think of one— that could describe the squeezing in his chest, the burning in his airway. His mouth opened, shuttered closed like old gears grinning together.
Before the carpet of light that poured out from the house was extinguished, the door slammed shut hard enough to send vibrations up his metal vertebrae, he swore he saw her nod, like some sort of pardon. Swore she said something like it’ll be fine or don’t make a scene or just get here faster next time, even though he knows her mouth never opened.
It occurred to him, somewhere deep in his processors, that he must have looked rather terrified. His face hurt from how hard his brows pressed together, the corners of his eyes creased in a way they never had prior to this. Before he could stop himself, he reached for her with nothing but a raised arm and outstretched hand, knowing he could never get to her at that rate, but still demanding he try despite it all.
But then the door was closed, and the lights were off, and he was left in the kind of darkness that your eyes never adjust to.