Chapter Text
Androids.
The word slid off his tongue like coarse sand. Since their introduction twenty years ago by that fucking idiot Kamski, they’d been continuously shoved in his face and down his throat. What was that nutjob thinking?
Okay, sure. Maybe it wasn’t entirely the fault of some prodigy creating artificial life that threw Detroit into chaos. Maybe it was in part due to the way humans treated androids like slaves. But isn’t that—at the very core of it—what they were designed to do? Serve their human masters?
They weren’t human. They didn’t feel. No need to sleep, no pangs of hunger, no perceptions of pain or pleasure. Nothing. Androids weren't programmed that way.
The only thing they shared with humans was their likeness. The illusion that they were alive. But they weren’t. Robots are just that. Robots. No sentience, no individuality. Only the will to serve.
They AREN’T alive.
God forbid, if he heard or saw that damn slogan one more time he was going to find that damn android and do what he had intended to do back in the evidence room.
If he had pulled the trigger faster, Gavin wouldn’t have had to see that fake detective on the news with thousands of lifeless husks trailing after him in perfect lines. The android wouldn’t have become one of Jericho’s ringleaders.
That was one of his regrets. Failing to eliminate one of humanity's greatest threats.
Detroit’s population had dwindled to a fraction of what it once was. It reverted back into the desolate wasteland that it had been infamous for. Then Cyberlife returned it to its industrial golden age.
But Cyberlife was no longer the powerhouse it used to be after the revolution.
The exodus was enormous. Many humans fled for fear of retribution from androids. The looming threat of humanity’s greatest fear hung overhead. The city, overtaken by mankind's greatest creation. It was a tale straight out of mythology. Titans being dethroned by their sons and daughters.
And that's why he refused to leave Detroit.
No, he was not afraid of them.
He was Gavin motherfucking Reed, one of the most brilliant and hardworking detectives in the Detroit Police Department. He was going to make sure the androids weren’t going to win. They might have won the battle, but not the war.
This was his hometown. If they wanted to plant their dumbass flag down, they’d have to wrestle it out of his cold, dead hands first.
But to his astonishment and pride, many of his colleagues also chose to stay behind, though for varying reasons. Gavin was sure they were fighting for the same goal as him. Otherwise, why else wouldn't they stay behind?
Humans had to stick together. It was a dog-eat-dog world. You either live to fight another day or die trying. No other way about it.
Speaking of dogs, one of his colleagues (though he loathed to think of him that way), had a liking for them.
The feeble Lieutenant Hank Anderson.
Long past his glory days, that man was. He was a prime example of someone who couldn’t fight against the current and was swept under the crashing waves. A coward if he ever saw one.
Gavin had seen him with that thing.
No matter how much Anderson denied it, it was painfully obvious that he had fostered and grown an astute fondness towards that piece of plastic.
In Gavin’s opinion, the Lieutenant was better off without it. It’d save him the anguish and bitterness of eventually being replaced by the thing he loved so much. Maybe it wasn’t going to be today, but it was going to happen.
Just ask the thousands displaced by the machines.
The unemployment rate had sunken to 37.3%, a new low for the people of Detroit. Ironically, due to the mass evacuation, there were thousands of job openings practically begging for anyone to help maintain and repair Detroit’s crumbling infrastructure. So in an act of desperation, androids were permitted to work again.
Their pay was meager in comparison to humans. Well below minimum wage. There weren't any laws to regulate android employment anyway. Wages were nothing but virtue signaling by humans. For those who wanted to pretend they were on the machines' side but were also willing to exploit them if it meant they could get away with it. Grifters. Pathetic.
Following his suspension, it was no surprise to anyone that Hank returned to work with his plastic pet. The duo made a beeline straight to Fowler’s office. No one could hear what was being said, but they all knew what the conversation was about.
Gavin, along with many others, stopped his work to observe the heated argument.
Anderson was face-to-face with Fowler, both red with anger. Every so often he’d break eye contact to point at the tin can, which nodded along mutely. The conversation only lasted a few minutes until Fowler collapsed onto his chair and waved the Lieutenant out of the room. He wanted to speak with Connor alone.
Anderson returned to his desk looking pensive, but certainly not as agitated as before. His lips were drawn in a thin line. He twisted around to anxiously watch Connor and Fowler discuss matters in a more civil matter.
The glass walls didn't give them an ounce of privacy. Gavin bet Fowler was deeply regretting his office design.
Everyone watched as Fowler let out a hefty sigh. He took out a pen and paper and scribbled something down. A few words were exchanged. Conner stood up to shake hands. Then he was dismissed.
Gavin gave his best glare as Connor passed his desk.
The robotic detective didn’t meet his gaze. Instead, he went straight to Hank and quietly muttered something in his ear. Then he pulled back, a smile gracing his lips.
Gavin never wanted to punch something so much.
Hank was taken aback. His mouth opened and closed a few times. Gavin heard him mutter.
“Holy shit. Are you serious?”
Connor nodded. Hank sprang up and wrapped his arms around him in an uncharacteristically warm way. Connor, though surprised at the touch, leaned in and buried his face into the Lieutenant’s shoulder. He returned the gesture, patting Hank's back.
“I knew you could do it, kid. Welcome back to the team."
The whole office burst into applause, though some refused to participate, discomfort etched on their faces.
Like Gavin, for example. He scowled. How could Fowler allow a machine who turned the tide of a revolution in the androids' favor back into the force? What was he thinking?
He was a deviant hunter turned deviant. Deviants were a danger to humans, which was why he had been sent to the DPD. His position was forfeit the moment he went against his orders. Everyone in the force knew what deviants were capable of. Carlos Ortiz and Michael Graham were proof of that.
During lunch, a crowd congregated at Connor and Hank’s adjoining desks.
Gavin retreated to the break room to get away from all the fawning over the reinstated android detective. The celebrations made him feel sick to his stomach. He could feel a headache brewing.
Thankfully the crowd dispersed soon enough as officers either returned to work or left the building in search of a food stall that was still open.
The break room was quiet today. Many officers had left Detroit with their families. Gavin couldn’t hold it against them for wanting to protect their families, but their departure left a bitter taste in his mouth. With so few officers in the city, how could law and order be maintained?
A sandwich slid onto the table. Gavin glowered.
“Trying to bribe me, tin can?”
Connor cocked his head to the side.
“I thought you were hungry. There is a food shortage in the city because there are only a handful of roads that haven't been closed off by the government. The average human needs approximately 2,500 calories daily to function efficiently, so I brought you something to eat. It might not be much, but it’s better than working on an empty stomach.”
With a finger, Connor prodded the biodegradable container closer, motioning for Gavin to accept it.
For a millisecond Gavin was touched, but then he remembered exactly what Connor was: a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He wasn’t a human; he was a machine pretending to be one.
Gavin scoffed. He pressed a finger against Connor’s chest.
“Listen, Barbie. If I was hungry, I’d go get food myself. I don’t need a hunk of metal to do it for me. So get the fuck out of here with your brown-nosing bullshit and run back to your master!”
He shoved past a confused Connor, leaving the sandwich behind. He considered sweeping it into a nearby trashcan to spite him, but he didn’t want to waste it. As much as he hated androids, Connor was right about there being a shortage. It wouldn’t do any good to go around trashing resources.
Someone else would probably take it anyway. Someone who was weak enough to rely on androids to help them.
He wasn’t one of them.
Two weeks passed, and his initial loathing for Connor mellowed to an ever-present abhorrence. He was used to his presence, to say the least.
These days Gavin was swamped with paperwork, as was everyone else. Except for Connor.
As a machine that could process information at light speed who didn't require sleep or sustenance, Connor was able to raze through all his paperwork in a few hours. He was so fast and efficient at his job that he had nothing to do for most of the day except ask the other officers if they needed assistance. They always said yes, because they were relieved that at least someone wanted to do the boring work, that bejng filing and writing reports.
Naturally, this made Connor one of the most liked officers in the DPD.
Impressed by his coin tricks, many would come to his desk during lunch break so he could teach them. Consequently, the raucous sound of coins hitting the polished tile floor could be heard during all times of day. The noise drove Gavin to near insanity.
It seemed like every day there was someone who wanted to invite Connor to join them for lunch or to have a drink after work. But every time Connor would turn them down.
“I appreciate your friendly offer, but Lieutenant Anderson is currently trying to stay sober. To ensure he stays that way, I have appointed myself as the one responsible for keeping him in line. Hank is rather good at sneaking in a drink when I’m not around,” said Connor to Officer Miller for the third time in a week.
Hank groaned as he took a sip of water out of a styrofoam cup. “Connor, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine on my own. You should go out and make friends.”
“I would rather keep an eye on you, Lieutenant. It would be a problem if you relapsed again.” Connor paused, looking down at his shoes. “I would...feel…empty if you weren’t around, Hank.”
Hank leaned back in his chair for a moment, slack-jawed. The corners of his lips twitched upwards as he reached over to ruffle Connor’s hair.
“Fine. You can stay with me. But only for today. You’re going to hang out with someone else for a change Friday night.”
The android’s hands went up to shield his perfectly slicked hair. “But Hank—“
“Jesus Connor, just go. I’ll update you every hour to let you know I’m not boozing it up, how’s that?” Hank said exasperatedly. “I swear you’re naggier than my ex-wife.”
Gavin could almost feel the bile building up in his throat. The conversations between those two were so sappy. He could feel a piece of his soul wither every time.
Gavin hated the way Connor smiled, the way the corners of his eyes would crinkle to reach his smile like a real person. It was straight out of the uncanny valley. Connor was just using a program to imitate human emotions.
But he wouldn’t fall for it. It didn’t matter how much Connor would try to push food and drink onto him every day, or that he would offer to take on his load of paperwork if Gavin was overloaded, or that he would greet him every morning and night despite him never reciprocating.
Connor was an android. And androids weren't people. So why should he treat him like he was one?
So when Fowler called him to his office, he was more than surprised.
Gavin had been working overtime for what he believed was an eternity.
It was a never-ending slew of report filing ever since he was reprimanded by Fowler for trying to terminate the tin can in the evidence room. Okay, he didn't have permission, but his actions were well within reason! The android was trespassing, he was just preventing evidence from being tampered with.
“Am I going back on active duty?” Gavin asked as he shut the glass door. “Or am I finally going to be replaced by that plastic prick?”
“Neither, but you’ve got the right sort of idea. Tomorrow you’re going on the field. Murder case. I’ve assigned you a partner,” Fowler announced, crossing his arms. “And you better not mess up. I won’t hesitate to take your badge.”
Gavin froze. “Wha—Partner?! I don’t need a partner. I can do this on my own!”
Fowler sighed, massaging his temples with his fingers. “Jesus, not again. Listen, Gavin. You’re on thin ice here. You have no choice but to take this opportunity I’ve given you. If you don't take this, I’m giving it to someone else and you can go back on desk duty. That’s final.”
Clenching his teeth, Gavin weighed his options. Return to desk work or get back out on the streets? He just couldn’t do it. If he so much as looked at another report on property damage he would lose his mind.
There was no way he could get a promotion without doing actual detective work unless he wanted to be an unofficial secretary for the rest of his life.
“Fine. But don’t expect me to get all chummy with them,” he said.
After all, how bad could it be?
It was bad.
Worse than bad. It was horrible. Something straight out of his worst nightmares. Gavin didn’t know whether to cry or laugh.
“…
"—Model RK900, serial number 313 248 317 – 87.” The words faded back into reality as Gavin shook himself back from his shell shocked stupor.
How could there be another one? After the android revolution, for crying out loud! You'd think Cyberlife would cease production of these monsters.
Cyberlife had been and was still currently in a media blackout. But the first action they took three months later was to send another android to the DPD? With the public eye scrutinizing them so closely, Cyberlife couldn’t possibly believe that this was the right course of action.
Standing before him was Connor. Or at least it looked like him. It was Connor, but taller and with blue eyes instead of brown. His uniform also looked similar, with white sleeves and a ridiculously large collar. It made it look like he had a neck brace on.
“What the fuck is this? This is—this isn’t my partner, Fowler!” Gavin screamed, pointing an accusatory finger at the newcomer.
“Well, it is now Gavin. You better not say another word. I’ve been far too lenient with you and Hank. The Chief of Police has been putting pressure on me these days, telling me to go down harder on you lot. And he’s right. We're short on staff, so when Cyberlife offered to lend us this android, we were grateful.” Fowler slammed his palm against the table, a stapler jumping up in surprise. “Now get out before I regret ever hiring you.”
Fowler looked worn and weary. The veins on his forehead were strained and throbbing. Being Captain wasn’t just a title. It was an obligation to uphold peace. Fowler was doing his best to honor his title, and that was something Gavin respected.
“I’m personally assigning you this case, Gavin. Don’t make me regret it.”
Normally Gavin would have prodded and pushed as much as he could, but seeing Fowler look so out of it was enough to convince him otherwise. He’d known Fowler for years. Now was not the time to let old habits get the better of him. If anything, he could always catch Fowler in a better mood another day.
Not only was the DPD missing over half of its force, but with the constant flock of reporters keeping watch outside the station, the pressure was immense. A step out of line and the DPD would be on the front page of the Detroit Today.
His words were absolute. Gavin almost made one last move to protest, but Fowler fixed him with a firm stare. The phone on his desk rang and he picked up the call, waving Gavin and the RK900 out of his office.
The ride to the crime scene was filled with deafening silence. The radio had been broken for months. Gavin regretted not having it fixed sooner. Most auto shops were closed, though some androids opened up some makeshift shops. Those, of course, were out of the question. He’d rather suffer than turn to an android for help.
The car jumped as he navigated through streets filled with snow and ice. Freezing wind whipped past, shrieking against the foggy windows. At least the heat still worked.
“Hey.”
The RK900 turned to look at him.
“What’s your name? Because I’m not calling you RK900 all the fuckin’ time.”
“I have not officially been bestowed a name by Cyberlife."
His voice was creepily similar to Connor’s. The cadence and tone were reminiscent of its predecessor, save for the fact that it was a few pitches deeper. It was terrifying to know that there were probably thousands more of these killer machines skulking around somewhere.
Gavin scoffed. “Bullshit. The plastic pet of Anderson’s got a name. God knows he recites it to everyone he meets. Probably loves the sound of it, the prick.”
No response. The LED on his temple flickered yellow. Gavin could almost hear the mechanical whirring of his systems.
Gavin rolled his eyes. “Okay, you know what? I’ll just give you one since it’s too hard for you to come up with one yourself. Dumbass.” He paused, taking one hand off the wheel and drumming it on his leg. “Your name is…Conan.”
“Conan.” The android repeated slowly. He tested the way the name sounded, how it rolled down his artificial tongue. He said it a few more times before nodding, seemingly content. His LED returned to its usual blue hue.
“My name is Conan,” he said, a ghost of a smile gracing his features. Gavin couldn’t tell if it was real or fake.