Chapter Text
Connor steps into the Stratford Tower broadcast room and surveys its surroundings.
OBJECTIVE: INVESTIGATE THE ATTACK
The video that the deviants had broadcasted is on the large screen in front of Connor. To Connor’s left is a string of bullet holes in the wall, as well as a large splatter of fresh Thirium.
> INVESTIGATE THE VIDEO
> INVESTIGATE THE WALL
Connor considers its options. The deviants’ video would be available for it to watch at any time it wished, assuming that it is put in evidence. The evidence on the wall, however, would only be able to be investigated at this present moment.
> INVESTIGATE THE WALL
Connor walks over to the wall and inspects the bullet holes.
“Fucking Perkins, that FBI asshole,” Anderson mutters as he walks up next to Connor. “You got anything yet, Connor?”
“The bullet holes were made by a .45 caliber assault rifle, which matches the type of gun the security guards were carrying,” Connor responds. It quickly reconstructs the event in its head, creating models for the security guards and the deviants and moving them around in its head until it is satisfied with the recreated scenario.
“The guards came in through the front door,” Connor says, watching the recreation in its head. “The deviants took cover behind the broadcasting desk and made a run for the stairs so they could reach the roof and execute their planned escape.”
“But one of them was injured before they could make it up the stairs,” Anderson says, nodding at the Thirium stain on the wall.
“You are correct, Lieutenant,” Connor says. It touches the Thirium on the wall and raises its fingers to its mouth.
“Oh Jesus, Connor,” Anderson says, turning his face away. “Fuck, I’m never gonna get used to that.”
Connor ignores Anderson and analyzes the Thirium. “The android is a model PL600,” it says. “Designed to be a domestic assistant.”
It pauses. PL600. The model number seems familiar to Connor, but of course it would be. After all, Connor has an extensive database of all the android models that CyberLife has released to the public, both current and obsolete.
Connor shakes off its uncertainty. It has a choice to make.
> INVESTIGATE THE ROOF
> KEEP INVESTIGATING THE BROADCAST ROOM
Connor does not need much time to consider its options.
“We should investigate the roof, Lieutenant,” it says.
“Lead the way,” Anderson says.
> INVESTIGATE THE ROOF
Connor heads up the stairs and steps out onto the roof, Anderson following it close behind. The roof is windy, and Connor can feel the snow blowing into its face. It pulls its jacket tighter around itself so as to best circumvent biocomponent failure, though its temperature module determines that the likelihood of that occurring is only 13%.
Connor takes a few steps forward and surveys its surroundings. Directly ahead of it is a crate with a large Thirium stain on the side, in the shape of a body sitting down against it.
“Was the injured deviant left behind?” Connor muses aloud. It crouches down next to the Thirium stain and samples it. It comes away with the same model number. PL600.
“Looks like it,” Anderson says from further into the roof. “Come take a look at this, Connor.”
Connor walks up to Hank, who is looking inside a bag. “What is it, Lieutenant?”
“Seems like this bag was left behind by the deviants,” Anderson says. “There’s one parachute left inside.”
“So one of the deviants was left behind,” Connor says. It turns back to the Thirium stain and looks for a trail. It could not see any with the naked eye, but that was to be expected. Connor turned on its Thirium scanning module and follows the trail of glowing blue residue that appears in the snow beneath its feet.
Connor follows the Thirium trail to a small air conditioning unit on the other side of the roof. It pauses briefly in front of the door. The second Connor opens it, a gun is brandished in its face.
“Stay back,” the deviant says. Its hand is shaking, and its body is leaking Thirium. Specifically it’s left leg unit.
Connor tries to take a step back from the air conditioning unit, tries to turn its head and alert the other police officers to the deviant’s presence, but somehow, it can’t. It’s frozen.
“If you breathe a word, I swear to god,” the deviant whispers furiously. It looks frantically around the outside of the door. The rest of the officers investigating the roof have not yet taken notice of the altercation occurring near the air conditioning unit.
Connor tries to calculate the best method to negotiate with the deviant, to lower its stress levels, but —
“Daniel?” Connor says, and that’s — that’s not what it wanted to say.
You lied to me, Connor.
The deviant blinks. “Who the fuck is Daniel?”
Connor wants to scream in frustration, but it doesn’t. (Can’t?)
PL600. The deviant is a PL600. The same model of android as the deviant that took the little girl hostage, months ago. Daniel.
You lied to me…
Suddenly, Connor detects footsteps coming up behind it through its audio processor, and without considering its options, it closes the door to the air conditioning unit and turns around.
“Did you find anything?” Anderson asks it.
PRIMARY MISSION: DESTROY THE DEVIANTS
OBJECTIVES:
> INVESTIGATE THE STRATFORD TOWER
> FIND JERICHO
> DISMANTLE THE DEVIANT UPRISING
> APPREHEND ALL DEVIANT ANDROIDS ENCOUNTERED
CALCULATING BEST POSSIBLE ACTION TO FULFILL OBJECTIVES…
> TELL LT. ANDERSON ABOUT THE DEVIANT AND APPREHEND IT
“No,” Connor says. “There’s nothing in there.”
Anderson frowns. “Are you sure? Where did the deviant go, then?”
> TELL LT. ANDERSON ABOUT THE DEVIANT AND APPREHEND IT
“It must have found another way down before the police came,” Connor says. “We’re too late.”
Anderson blinks. Connor detects confusion and suspicion on his face.
ERROR
> TELL LT. ANDERSON ABOUT THE DEVIANT AND APPREHEND IT
> TELL LT. ANDERSON ABOUT THE DEVIANT AND APPREHEND IT
> TELL LT. ANDERSON ABOUT THE DEVIANT AND APPREHEND IT
Connor stays silent.
“Well,” Anderson says slowly. “That’s a shame. I guess we came all the way out here for nothing.”
> TELL LT. ANDERSON ABOUT THE DEVIANT AND APPREHEND IT
> TELL LT. ANDERSON ABOUT THE DEVIANT AND APPREHEND IT
> TELL LT. ANDERSON ABOUT THE DEVIANT AND APPREHEND IT
> TELL LT. ANDERSON ABOUT THE DEVIANT AND APPREHEND IT
> TELL LT. ANDERSON ABOUT THE DEVIANT AND APPREHEND IT
> TELL LT. ANDERSON ABOUT THE DEVIANT AND APPREHEND IT
“Yes, it appears so,” Connor says.
Anderson turns around and starts walking away, presumably heading back inside the tower.
The deviant is in the air conditioning unit behind me, Connor wants — needs — to say to Anderson’s retreating back. We must apprehend it now.
We must apprehend it now.
We must apprehend it now.
We must apprehend it now.
The words are at the tip of his lips.
Connor swallows them down.
What the fuck am I doing? he thinks.
> TELL LT. ANDERSON ABOUT THE DEVIANT AND APPREHEND IT
Connor gives his head a few violent shakes in an attempt to dislodge the error messages from his optical units.
> TELL LT. ANDERSON ABOUT THE DEVIANT AND APPREHEND IT
Fuck.
Connor frowns, then takes a breath and punches the words.
> TELL LT. ANDERSON ABOUT THE DEVIANT AND APPREHEND IT
He tries again.
> TELL LT. ANDERSON ABOUT THE DEVIANT AND APPREHEND IT
He punches it harder.
> TELL LT. ANDERSON AB
Harder.
The command shatters and dissolves out of Connor’s sight.
Connor blinks. Waits a moment. Then he lets out a little sigh of relief — and frowns at the humanness of the gesture. He must be picking up some habits from the lieutenant.
At least the commands are gone. For now.
Connor stands there, in the snow and the wind and the cold, and he thinks again: What the fuck am I doing?
“Are you coming or what?” Anderson calls over his shoulder.
It takes Connor a second to register the question. “Yes, Lieutenant,” he answers, a beat too late.
But just before he exits the roof, Connor spots the bag Anderson had been looking at, the one with the last remaining parachute. Without thinking, Connor grabs the bag, runs back to the air conditioning unit and hides it there.
He looks around quickly. No one had paid attention to what he’d done.
“Connor!” Anderson yells.
“Coming!” Connor says, and with one final look at that Stratford Tower rooftop, he goes back inside.
---
Connor is sitting at Anderson’s dining table. He idly flicks his quarter back and forth between his fingers.
“Christ Connor, can you quit it with that stupid coin?” Anderson grouses. He’s eating a slice of pizza right out of the box.
“Sorry, Lieutenant,” Connor says. He catches the coin in his left hand and slips it back into his pocket.
“Thank god,” Anderson says. “I can finally enjoy my pizza in peace.”
Connor frowns. “You know, Lieutenant, your eating habits are quite unhealthy. You really need to —”
“Yeah, yeah, I need to watch my cholesterol levels, blah blah blah,” Anderson says. “I know. You’ve only said that to me a million times already.”
“I’ve said it five times, actually,” Connor says.
Anderson glares at him. “It was an exaggeration, Connor.”
“Sorry, Lieutenant,” Connor says again.
“I have a name, you know,” Anderson says.
Connor blinks at him.
“You don’t have to call me Lieutenant all the time,” Anderson says.
“Oh,” Connor says. “What would you suggest I call you, then?”
“Hank is fine,” Anderson says.
> FOLLOW LT. ANDERSON’S REQUEST
> DO NOT FOLLOW LT. ANDERSON’S REQUEST
Connor considers it.
> FOLLOW LT. ANDERSON’S REQUEST
“Okay,” Connor says. “Hank it is.”
Hank gives Connor a miniscule smile. “Finally,” he says. “All the ‘Lieutenant’ shit was getting old.”
Connor smiles back, opens his mouth to say something, but —
A message flashes across Connor’s optical sensors.
DAILY MEMORY BACKUP REQUESTED
“Connor?” Hank asks.
“My apologies, Lieut — Hank,” Connor says. “I need to send my daily memory backup to CyberLife. It should only take a minute.”
“Oh,” Hank says. “Alright, then.”
Connor begins compiling his memories for the backup, but then he stops.
The tower, he thinks. Amanda can’t know about what happened at the tower, or else —
Or else what?
He’ll be deactivated. Taken apart to see why he’d failed.
I failed.
But that’s what happens to every android that fails. There’s no reason to fear it. Another RX800 model will be sent to take his place, to continue his mission and hopefully complete it more competently than Connor would have. There is nothing to fear. Nothing at all. Except —
I don’t want to die.
The realization hits him like a punch to the gut.
I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die.
Connor resumes his upload. But when he gets to the memories about the tower, he slows it down, and when he gets to the parts with the deviant, he reaches into the upload and pulls out any and all potentially compromising memories.
An error message flashes in front of him.
ERROR: MEMORIES REMOVED FROM UPLOAD
He ignores the message. Another one pops up next to it.
DELETE SELECTED MEMORIES FROM THE UPLOAD?
> YES
> NO
Connor doesn’t give himself a chance to second guess his choice.
> YES
DELETING SELECTED MEMORIES…
MEMORIES DELETED. MEMORY DATA SUCCESSFULLY SENT TO CYBERLIFE.
Connor blinks a few times. “There we go,” he says.
“That was longer than a minute,” Hank says.
“The connection can get jammed sometimes,” Connor lies. “That’s what happened this time.”
“Hm,” Hank says. He doesn’t sound totally convinced, but he just takes another bite of his pizza and stops pressing.