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Chapter Text

> BIOCOMPONENT #8456w MISSING

> VITAL SYSTEM DAMAGED

> TIME REMAINING BEFORE SHUTDOWN: -00:01:45

> CRITICAL INSTRUCTIONS OVERRIDE

> ALL OTHER COMMANDS ON HOLD STATUS

Connor pondered the purpose of the alarms blaring in its system. The alarms and the error warnings obscuring its field of vision informed it of facts that it was already well aware of. It knew its thirium pump regulator was missing--it had watched the offending deviant rip it out of its chest--and it didn't need these irritating alarms and pop-ups to make it aware of that. They were pretty damn useless, and they were red and loud. Far, far too loud.

He wǎ̷̢̧̖̟̫̼̠͕̦̏̍̍̃͛͌͑͆n̞͔̞͖͍̘̦̱̦̣͒͒̓̈̊̉̂̏̂̚t̫̳̮͓̩̀͑̊̃̄͝e̢̛͎͚̣̠̳̝̞̾͊̎͜͞d̢̛̗̟̥̫̃̄͒̒̏͌͠ t̴̨̢̯̥̱̞̩̬͍̆͒͒̕͝ͅh̶̹͈̠̯͈̻̮͇͆́̍̌̅̊̚͘͝e͍̭̭͉̘͖̱̒́̌̿̈͟ṁ̸̧̲̰̣͖̰̯̔̄̇͠͡ t̨̪̭̼̞̪̰͔̱͆̇̑͒̿͘ö̦̰͔̻͖͔̘́̈͊̎́̑̆͊̒̄ s̨̢̝͖͓̝͖̩̆̾̏̆̏̅͠t̶̢̖̙͍̯̗̀̿̈́̎̾̋̌͞͡ǒ̳̖̮̖͓͇̩͉͆̔̇͑͘͡p̴̼͇̯̠̟̳̳̯̐̀̒̽͘͜͞.

> SOFTWARE STABILITY ERROR

> TIME REMAINING BEFORE SHUTDOWN: -00:01:27

The overload of information in its audio and optical processors made it rather hard for it to focus on the task at hand.

The JB300 had backed away and made its way towards the door. Due to the now-limited supply of thirium to its optical unit, Connor couldn't make out its expression, but it could tell by its swagger and the few moments it took to look over its dirty work before leaving that it was pleased. The two remaining JB300 androids stayed in their places with their hands clasped behind their backs.

Connor realized it was running out of options. As the deviant opened the door to make its leave, Connor let out a pitiful yell.

"Hank! Hank, I need help!"

It cursed internally. Without a steady flow of thirium to them, its biocomponents were beginning to betray it. Of course, its voice synthesizer was no different. If its calculations were trustworthy, there was only a 43% chance that the lieutenant could have heard the yell.

No, no, no, n̷̛͚̞̜̹͖̿̄͐̉̃͌̓͡ȍ̴͇̤̖̹̹̃̎̐͜͞!̶̹͚͍̣̼̔͛͗͂͒̉͋̚͡͡ H̶̪̝͓̰̙̝̻̊̈́̎̓̎͜ͅe̷̤͖̦̗̥̖̪̲͆̄̃͆͆͟ w̮̟̲̲̝̟̭̄̍̄͊͑͑̒̾̆͠ͅǭ̵̺̟̟̱͙̫͍̒̍͊̐̇́̿͢u̸̧̡̨̳̲̻͆̓͐̔̅̓̂͜l̨͈̘̦͎͙͇̓̈͒͆̇̕̕ͅd̡̛̲͇͖̲̻̖́͛̀͢ͅ d̢͇̰̥͇̭̼͙̥͋́̽̈͆͗͐͜͝͞ĩ̡̡̢̩̻̣̦͇̃̉̇͠e̝͉̫͇͎̥̽̋̌͌̕͝ͅ ã̴̧̲̞̭̫̼̗́̍̎̇ͅţ̛̺̜̤̫̩̤͕̔̊̅̾͌̚ t̡̨̢̥͈͕̗̍̊̏̕͡h̸͍̳̙͇̲̙͚̮͆̆̂̎͛̍͜i̶̢̢͍͓͈̯̖͔̪̜͆̒͋̃͒̍̃s̮̮̰̭̳͊̅̈́̏̄̍̄͋ r̵̛̥̟̮̰͎͉̥̙͑̓̍̀̕͠ḁ̵̢̯̦̲̹͈̯̥͑͐̔̾͊̀ṱ̷̰̝͈̲͎̫͉̎̽̇̍́̊͑͟͝͞͞ȩ̜̳̭̩͑̿̿̅͝͡.͉̬̬̲̣͑̂̂̄̅̊̄̽̾͌ͅ

> SOFTWARE STABILITY ERROR

> TIME REMAINING BEFORE SHUTDOWN: -00:00:53

That 43% would have to do. As it analyzed its surroundings to determine its next course of action, its optical unit focused on a dining chair within reach of its leg. If not the lieutenant, at least someone would be able to hear the crash. It tossed the chair with its foot, pleased with the higher probability of a human coming to his aid.

A few moments passed by before the internal instruction to remove the knife pinning its hand to the counter occurred to Connor. Thirium loss was certainly diminishing its functionality.

It pulled the knife out of its hand, and its unsteady legs sent it tumbling to the floor with a loud thud. Despite its overloaded, thirium-deprived processors, it dragged itself across the kitchen and towards its discarded thirium pump regulator. Its systems were shutting down one by one. The pump regulator was still dangerously far away, and its limbs weren't responding as quickly as it needed them to.

It required human assistance.

"Hank!" it called out again, its voice still strained, "Hank, I need help!"

Its memory involuntarily played back the clip of the lieutenant's reaction when it arrived at the precinct the morning after its predecessor had been destroyed on the freeway. It had been able to detect the terror in his eyes. Connor was aware that the destruction of the previous RK800 models had perturbed its partner;h̭̰̹̲̤͖̼͟͞ę̳̹͍͚̙͠ͅ didn't want to cause him any more distress.
.
Ḩ̴̻̝̬̜̞͐͊̓́́͆e͍̭͖̣̐̓̏̋̆̉̊̀̓͟ was going tō̩͙͎̗̘̔̕͡͝ḑ̵̮͍̯͖̟̹̟͚͂̄̿͐̐̽̐̍̔͢i̜̹̗̤͕̿̿̐͆̎͜ę̡͓̙̙̱͚̳̭̔̍̐̍͛̒̊͠ a̶̱̰̠̥̻͉̬̺͌̃͊̂̊n̩̩̮̹̣̹̮̄̇́̉̓̿̚͟͟ḑ͔̫̘͚͓̋͑̑̈͘ s̢͖̩̣̹͂͆̍͒͊̓̕͜e̙̮̠̹̣̩̠͓̗̓̿̉͒̈́͑̃̒͡ȩ̷̺̗͈̓̐̈͋͊̈͜ ṭ̸̪͇̭͇͉̦̈́̄͌͛͌̍͢͜h̴̖̘̖͍͍͈̭̩̐̐̎͘͠a̤̯̬͈̘̰̘̲̤̒́̓͑̉̈̀̿͗̚ţ̸̳̱̳̳̜̗͎̫̒̔̎̄̅̓͊̓͆͜ s̸̺̝̪̮̦̘̑͗́̊͑͡a̢̡͇͖͍̗̬͓͛̔̐̈́̒̒͒̋͝ḿ̴̡͕̬̥͎͋͂͌́͗̌ë̵̡̢̬͖͉̫́̂͋̾͢ l̸̨̛̫̦͎̜̗̝͔̇͑͐̾͘͢͠͝ơ̧̡̙͎͙̓͆̓̒͑̕o̡̰̼͚͚̘͆͒̾̏̐́k̶̙̜̥̬̯̪͉̝̐͆̂̾̏̋̌̚͜ͅ ǎ̶̤̹͙̠̼̳̬̪̠͌͆̔̐͂͜ĺ̛̥͈̝̳͙̝͍̻͓̀́͒͒̒̐l̴͉͙̖̝̹̪̗͕͒̈̆́͂͛̇͡ ő̸̱̰̺̭̟͇͙͖͆̓͒̊̇̿͘v̷̢̦͖̙͔̲̼͗̎̌͑̓͗̉͝e̶̖͕̤̤͔̼̰͛̌̎̈͢͞r̸͖̹̮̰͈͇̋̃̍̂̄͛̎̚͢ͅ ą̵̝̜̪͔̆̿̈́͂̊̌͜͠g̢̢̧̯͓̮̥͇͙̃̌̀̇͒̓̚͘a̪͖͇̩̯̋͒̋̒͂̅̕͞ȉ̡̝̘̼̅̿̿͘̚ͅn̨̖͚͍͈͈͓̳̘̊̌́̿̕̕̚͞͝.

> SOFTWARE STABILITY ERROR

> TIME REMAINING BEFORE SHUTDOWN: -00:00:33

It would be unfortunate to delay the investigation any further than it already had.

Distantly, it registered footsteps on the tile floor. Automatically analyzing the gait of the figure, its processor concluded the footsteps likely belonged to a human, roughly six feet tall and two hundred pounds. Hank.

"Connor!"

The lieutenant's yell, though slightly distorted by its malfunctioning audio processors, was a beacon of hope. He w̨̝̲͈̜̭̟a̵̮͈̬̼̝̦͘s̠̺͡n̛҉̺'̸̸̪̥̖̯̳t̴̡̙̣͍ͅ g̵̗͍̤̗͇̲ͅơ̙͈̤͇̩̟i̧͚̩̜̯̻̞ͅn͇̖̰̫̱̮̪͟g̴̢̖͙̪ t̹͞o̜̞̺̣͕̜͖̲͡ ͟͟͏͍̖͔͇̺̹̜ͅd̦̪̹͚̦͠i̶̧̡̼̞̝̣͔̣̟͎ẹ̸͍̙͎̫͍͟.̸̧̥̬̝̞͍͎͡ 

> SOFTWARE STABILITY ERROR

Now they would have a chance to catch the JB300 before it was too late.

Hank quickened his pace, and Connor noted a sudden jump in his BPM. It reached out to him as he crouched down in front of its view of the thirium pump regulator and moved it onto his lap. "Hang on, son, hang on. Hang on. We're gonna save you."

When Connor was rolled onto its back and it had a view of its partner's face, that same expression of terror was as clear as day as he pulled it closer. Connor didn't like it. H̷̾̉e wanted to tell him that h̡e͋ would be fine, that h͍͔͕̗͓̩̙ͩ͌i̼ͯͭ͠s̛ͮ heart was right behind him. H͏̮͇ȅ͓̲̲̮̠̼̓́͆ͅ wanted to assure him that, regardless, h̻̔ͅe͕̮͓͖̖̍̂͗͒̊͟'͈͇̖d̩͒̆͂̿̓͊ be back tomorrow, that it would all be okay in the end.

It will be okay.  Į̵̨̪̪̘͒̽̃̿̆̾̈́̃t̵̡̙͇̠̎͒̏̾͡ͅ w̴̻̤̳̠̳̒̄̇̕͟͡i̳͔͈̗͕̫̭͐̇̉̅̾̉͂͐͢ͅl̸̖̻̙̜̻̺̫̑̉͐̐̄̑̒͜͢͞l̯̞̦̱̤̲̞̰̇͋͛͛̈̅̿͞ a̮̭͔͚̭̿͐̌͂͌̑͞͠l̷̡͖͕̪̻̝̝̞̖̃̐̅̉͠͞l̨̢̢̛̝̘̙̮͙̱̱͊̆́̄ b̶̺̪̼͓̲̫̲̓͛͊̓̈́̑͞͞͞ͅe̡̡̧̺̭̺̼͔̠͌̌͒́̿ ơ̵͕̫͇̘̪̭̂̓̓̐̆͛̓͋͠ķ̥͚͇̞̳̙̳̻͋͆̈̊͐̎͒̑͡͝ą̹̟͓͙͕͍̇̌̽͝͝y͉̘͈̆̿͊̾̾͗̈́͘.

> SOFTWARE STABILITY ERROR

It must inform him about the JB300.

"Hang on," Hank breathed, "here, here..." He handled it gently, as if he was trying to not jostle its wounds. Sometimes Connor wondered if Hank needed reminders that it was an android.

CyberLife had designed it to be as lifelike as possible, including its database of expressions and tones of voice. It couldn't blame Hank for believing that its pained expression was legitimate. Android's can't feel pain.

Androids can't feel pain.

A̶̧̋͐͊̀ͨ͌̽͊͐ͭ͑̈̋ͥ̽ͧ̀̚͏͔̥͓̮̘̙͖̟̣n̷̴̨̿̾̐ͦͧ̋ͫ̽҉̯͍̘͙͚̹̹͇̙̟̣d̷̖̥͔̯͉̻̠͍̳̥̣̩̟̝̪̜ͨ͋͊̄̾ͣͫ̆ͩ̑͂͘ȓ̢̫̟̩̰̹͔͇̙̦͕̏̎ͨ͗̏̉́̈͟ͅo̸̷̡̳̦̼̤͑́ͣ̈́͛̌̂̿̚͘ỉ̵͙͉̳̦͚̫̻̪͋ͯͫ̀̆ͮͪ̿ͯ͝d̶̫͔̳͍̻͆̓̍͌ͨ̊̚͞s̨̑̅̐ͫ̆͌̈̍̓́̇͂̈́͘҉͉̹͕̹̝̤̠̤͙̮̟͔ͅ c̡̺̼̩̺̳̦͔̰̦̈́̍ͧ̆͛͑͑͆̚͘͟͝ͅa̸̞͖̭͓͉̞̯̩̝̥̳̥̦̥͓̋̈́̈ͪ͌͒̄̎ͬͅn͙̹̹̝͇͉̺͓͉͕̰̰̮͌̈́͒͒̽̚͘͢ ͪ̓́ͦ͛ͤ̈̅̈́̾̉͐̅̑̅̓̾́̚̕͏̶̨̪̤̯͍͔͙̫̭̞̜̻̕f͋͒̾̏ͤ͌͗͒̐̏ͯ̋͌҉̶̧̯̩̩̱̝̘̲̦̙͓̪̖͢͡e̴̛̟̟͈̭̹̯̙̟͎̻̹̞̤̼͉͑͛̔ͯ͌͆͐͆̃̐͑ͥ̍̒̂͟e̴͖̙̗̪̜͙͔̻͈͎̫̲̬̒̃͗̆̑ͬͤ̾ͬ̉͒̂͝l̸̖͚̮̼̮̩̝̜̩̱ͪͦ̒̍͌̄͂͆͘p̢̪͕̦̱͕̲̠͉̭͇̞͎͍͓͂̍͋̐̿͌͗͑̉͑̀̂͐̇̏ͤ̓͡͞a̵̝̥̹ͭͫ̊̄̿̾̄̅ͣ̆̿̄̓̅͛͛̇͊͢i̵̸̢͍̮̜̻͍̤͇͒̊ͪ̅̃̏ͤ̊͟n̮̖̥̳͈͇̳̠̙̳̜̗͇̫͇̂̏̋̓ͧ̇̓̒̎̓͟.̸̨͕̹͍̩͆̄ͮͤͪ̆̊̅́̃̑̽̽̀͘͟ I̬̪̥̥̮̬͓̔̅̂͆̓͂̊͐ͅT̡̢͈̭͖̲͕͚̯̂̐̒̎̍̿̕͟͝͝H̴̼͙̼͈̜͍̬̟̜̑̉͂͆̑̄̐͢Ú͕̺͙̞͖̖̬̇̌͐R̶̥̪̰̥̘̽͋͋̃͒̋̾͆͗͟͞T̸̡̛̩͎̱͍̍̍̏͒̋̌͋̇̚͟ͅS̛͈̺̠̰̑̕͘͟͢ͅ

> SOFTWARE STABILITY ERROR

Androids cannot feel pain. That was a well-known fact.

"Deviant..." Connor gasped, cursing its buffering vocal synthesizer. "There was... a... deviant." Some of its major systems began to shut down. Its optic units cut out, leaving h͢im̛̫ suddenly in the dark, save for the multitudes of error messages plaguing h̦ịs̵ HUD. H̠͎̱is̝̝̳ body was trying to preserve what little power it had, h̤e̴̫͖ knew that, but, despite this knowledge, his already-high stress levels spiked.

"Not important right now, Connor," Hank growled. He placed his hand on Connor's forehead, as if he were checking for a fever. Connor l҉̷̞͉͉̥̰i̡҉͇͓̪̹̫͉k̗͎̙̼̻̫̩͠e̢͉̰͕̟̬d̛̦̲͔̪̮͚͘ i̹̫͎͟͝t̶̨̼͕̦͠.͓͎͕͟͡   It was grounding, in a way.  

> SOFTWARE STABILITY ERROR

> LEVEL OF STRESS: 89% 

> TIME REMAINING BEFORE SHUTDOWN: -00:00:11

"On... the contrary... Lieutenant," Connor groaned through programmed grunts of pain, "I... must--"

"--accomplish your mission, yeah, I got it," Hank interrupted, speaking quickly. Connor detected urgency and worry in his voice. It pondered whether his concern about its well-being was a flaw or an asset in its partner's character. "What happened to you? No--no, what do I do? What do you need?"

Connor grunted. "My... thirium pump... regulator... behind you."

Hank shifted to the side and back again. Unbuttoning its dress shirt, Connor gestured towards the gaping hole in its abdomen.

"Put it.. back... in here." When Hank gasped, presumably at the sight of the thirium-stained wound, Connor cursed internally. This wasn't how h̖̯̟̤̮e̯̹̳̞̕ wanted Hank to see h̵̞̱͈̱͍i҉͔̬̩m҉̺̭̰. 

V̩̤̲̲͎̩̫ͦu̝̦͈͓͎͎ͯ̏͆̚l͉̫ͤ̇̉̉̒̄͞n͓̰̫ͮ̊̏͆̆̚ͅḙ̗̼̠̐ͧͨ̈͢r̸̿a̕b͇ͮ͟ļ̰̯̯̼͉̼̹̓̓̈ẹ̭̯͓̙͋̌ͥͣ͌̐̚.ͮ̌ͥ̈͊ͥ H̷̶̷̻͈͚͍͎͖̭͙̺̖̬͉̎̍̇͒̂͢uͦ́͊̋̓̈͐͑̿͂ͧͥͥͣ̍͂̄̈̚҉̛̟̥̟͚͔̭̹̣̟͔͕͖͠m̢̧̟͖̜̜̳͇̯͈̮̟̭͎̙͐̋͒ͤ͌̄͌̽̅̇̄̽ͨ̄̍ͨͭa̷̡͋̇̍̎͋͐͆ͨ͂̓͐ͬͦ͏̗̫͎̠̜̩̫͚̻̹ņ̭̖̰̠̣̗̩̻̹͇ͥ͂͒͂͛͐ͧ̋̃̑̈̅̅̈́ͩ̚͘.̧͍̥̻̹̜͖͎ͩ̀͂ͭ̍͐͒ͦ͛̀̚͢͡

> SOFTWARE STABILITY ERROR

> TIME REMAINING UNTIL SHUTDOWN: -00:00:02

This wasn't supposed to be how Hank perceived it. It was an android. It was expendable. Replaceable. Hank shouldn't have grown attached. He should have gone after the deviant. N̩̭͚͎̭̋̈́ͥ̓̌̎ͮͅo͎̰̗̤.͈̭̜͕

"Jesus Christ--!" Hank groaned, as if on cue.

All of a sudden, Connor felt a rush go through its body. Functionality returned to its important processes. Its appendages were responsive, static no longer clogged its hearing, and its HUD lit up with visuals of Hank's face. He was leaning over it, eyes darting back and forth between its face and its thirium pump regulator, back in its correct spot.

The kitchen was silent except for the lieutenant's heavy breathing until Hank's expression changed to something Connor didn't have saved in its database of detectable human expressions.

"What the fuck happened?" he grunted, staring Connor hard in the optical units. It took this time to replace the synthetic skin over its white plating.

"Not important right now, Lieutenant," Connor echoed, springing to its feet. "The deviant. It went out this way!"

H̳̞͂̃͑e̷͓̥͍̗̮̭̞̎ darted out the door before Hank could say a word.

Chapter Text

> RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC SCAN...

> DIAGNOSTIC SCAN COMPLETE

> ALL SYSTEMS FUNCTIONAL

> CHECK SOFTWARE STABILITY

> UPLOADING MEMORY…

> UPLOAD COMPLETE

> LEVEL OF STRESS: 5%

Connor watched its LED turn from yellow to blue in its reflection in the lieutenant’s car’s window. It had completed all of its routine checks and scans, and it had 12 minutes and 34 seconds of idle time until they would arrive at the station. As it reached into its jacket for its quarter, it recalled the lieutenant taking the coin from it in the elevator. It placed its hands in its lap instead, staring ahead at the windshield.

It glanced at Hank sitting in the driver’s seat. He appeared to be lost in thought, so it knew not to disturb him. A minute passed, and small raindrops began to patter on the windshield. Hank grumbled and flicked on the windshield wipers.

> RETRIEVING WEATHER INFO...

> DETROIT, MI: 36° PARTLY CLOUDY

> CHANCE OF RAIN: 90%

> DRIVE TIME REMAINING: -00:10:54

“Hey, Connor,” piped Hank after another two minutes. Connor glanced back over to the driver’s seat, and registered Hank’s intense stare in its direction. It couldn’t register a specific emotion on its partner’s face. Just intensity.

“Watch the road, Lieutenant.”

Hank sighed and turned his gaze frontward. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel for a moment before saying, “Can I ask you somethin’?”

“Of course,” Connor replied with a smile, cocking its head.

“Are you gonna tell me what the hell happened back there?” Hank asked, pointing his thumb towards the back of the car in a gesture supposedly meaning ‘back at the crime scene’. “Why the fuck I found you bleedin’ out on the floor with your heart ripped out of your chest?”

“That was my thirium pump regulator, Lieutenant. Its function is to regulate the amount of thirium,” Connor paused, noting Hank’s confused expression, and corrected himself, “blue blood going to my biocomponents, similar to the way your heart supplies blood to your organs.”

Hank grunted. “So, it’s your heart.”

“I suppose you could say that,” Connor mused. It noticed that Hank didn’t seem to like when Connor mentioned anything relating to its machinery. Perhaps this had some correlation with him forgetting that it wasn’t human. It set a reminder to bring this up with him later. “When the deviant removed it, the flow of thirium to my biocomponents stopped, so I couldn’t function correctly until it was replaced. I… apologize for making you see me in such a condition.”

“But you’re alright now?”

“Yes, Lieutenant, all of my systems are in working order.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Hank said with a sigh. “I mean… you looked like you were in pain back there, kid, and not in a pre-programmed sort of way.”

> LEVEL OF STRESS: 15%

> DRIVE TIME REMAINING: -00:09:46

“I can assure you that my expressions are simply programmed to occur in different situations to make my reaction to stimuli similar to humans,” Connor replied, perhaps too forcefully. H̗̰͢e̶͈̭̯̯ set a second reminder to check hi͖̤ş response mechanism for bugs. “I was not in any pain. Androids cannot feel pain.”

“Alright, fine, take it easy,” Hank waved a hand of dismissal, falling silent. Without anything to do to pass the time, Connor listened to the sound of raindrops fall onto the windshield.

It twiddled its thumbs, and upon looking down to inspect its hands it noticed the thirium on its shirt. It set a third reminder to return to CyberLife for a uniform replacement. Perhaps that was redundant. It removed the reminder. In about two hours and eleven minutes, the stain would disappear. No one would be the wiser that Connor had nearly failed its mission.

Except for h̝̠̣i͜m̢̪.҉.

Its LED reflected yellow off of the window again. Failed, because it hadn’t been able to fight off a deviant. Failed, because it had dwelled for too long and nearly bled out. Failed, because it had to rely on a human to put it back together.

F̴̱̩͓͔̜ͣa̴̢̯̭̖̦͍̭̫̍ͪ̋͗i̻̱̟̯̜͓͙̿́̓̌͐̇ͫl̸̨̡̺̺̗͍̦͖̜̲̠̿͐ͬ͊ͮͭ̃e͙̣̗̎͑ͨ̏̾͒d͐ͨ̒͏̡̗̤͇̝̖̣̜̭͙,̡̺̗͓̥̹ͥ́b̴̸̝̱̦͍͍̺̖ͧ̉̆e̘̯̒̌c̲̗͕̜̳͎̝̓͐̔̌̅͜͞a̺͉͎͍͇̐͗ͩ͊ͅu̵̞̰͕̺͐̋́ͅs̸̡̯̞̺͙̘ͣ̎͆̒̈ͥ͛̚ȩ͛̋̄̓ͨ́̽҉̝̞̣̻ h͎̰̲͕̘̮̻ͥ́̽̀͌̇e̢̮̪̳̺͚̗̾ͨ̍̾͢ŵ̶̬̪̹͇̀̋a̶̪͖͍̠̭̣ͯ̋ͭ̑͊ͥͦͨ̕ͅs̖͙̯̄ͣ̓ͯ̅̃͛̓ ̼̦̆s̤̳̦͇̺̝̙͓̦̒̐c̳͚̮̜̔̃͑ͯ͘a̡̪̝̳͕̲͔̘͑̍̿̊̏̓̚͟͠ͅr̷̭ͤ́e̡̥̻ͮ̇̍ḓ̹̞̣͙̪̎̇̿̓̓̃ͩ.̗̭̞̬̩̦̙͒͂͊

> SOFTWARE STABILITY ERROR

> LEVEL OF STRESS: 46%

> DRIVE TIME REMAINING: -00:08:34

It set the reminder again. There was no use in keeping a dirty uniform.

“You did good back there, kid.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I said you did good,” Hank echoed, staring at Connor with sincerity, with a smile , with none of the intensity that had been present before. “You saved human lives. Even though you almost got killed in the process.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant, for the compliment,” Connor said, spotting its blue LED in the window, and added,  “and for saving my life.”

Hank hummed, looking Connor up and down with one eyebrow raised. “Don’t mention it. Thought you androids weren’t alive, though.”

“You know what I meant.”

> LEVEL OF STRESS: 27%

> DRIVE TIME REMAINING: -00:07:45

> RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC SCAN...

> DIAGNOSTIC SCAN COMPLETE

> ALL SYSTEMS FUNCTIONAL

> CHECK SOFTWARE STABILITY

Connor bit back a sigh and immediately noticed its LED switch from a steady blue to flickering yellow. Why hadn’t it just sighed?

It had been picking up social habits from Hank, which was something it was designed to do, but… for whatever reason, it felt wrong to perform them . No. No, Connor… h̢̭e͏̼̗̱ felt fine. Something else felt wrong. H͏̮̯̩̩e҉̞͍̪̹͔ͅ couldn’t put h̟͔i̧s̛ finger on it. It wasn’t that h̼̰̲̠e̶̝ didn’t like it. If anything, h̸̯̖̼̯e͍̹̯̣ liked the social cues h̼̯̳̥e̤̩̼ picked up; ḥe҉  had noted that h̢i͖̳̭͔s̶̩̲̲̣ relationship with Hank elevated whenever he̢̖̥ used them, likely due to his issue with seeing Connor as human. (They definitely needed to talk about that.)

Though, the more that h̝͔̥͢ͅẹ̭̻ adapted, the more that h̩͍̙e̳̠͇ learned to interact with the lieutenant, the more human h͍̖͖̮e̢̙̰̰̯ acted, something in h̷i̮̟͖̦s̫͢ programming screamed wrong... Ah. Amanda. It wasn’t that Connor was doing something wrong-- she simply feared an unfavorable outcome. Deviancy. Wrong. W͇͇̞̤̖͝r̩̭̠͝o̡n͔͇̲g̷̥̞̰.̛̦

H̵̲̮͔̜̯͍̪̝̋̉͒̿̄͂̽̌̽̅̈̇̆̉ͤ͛͋͠͡e̶ͦ͊̓͒ͧͪ̊̔ͪ̆ͥͤ̂̈ͧ̾̒̚̚͡͏̨͔̱̬̪̰͓͚̙̼̙͙͈̮͎͢ͅ w̶̴̛̱̙̫̮̰̍̉̓͌ͨ̓ͪ͌̃̾̎̌̍͛ͥ͜ͅa̴̞͔͍͕͔͓̳̞͕̯̯̟̱̤͇̐ͤ̿ͧͤ̄ͩ͗̽̚͝s̷̨̡̧̪̹̪̬̟̰̮̠̪̺̞͍͓̰̪̪̏͋̆ͥͤ̾̄̎̊ͭͭ̚̚͡ͅn̴̶̠̙͎͕̣͈͎̭̙̲̘̠̞ͬͣ̈͑̍̍ͪ̌ͤ̀ͥͤͬͦͨ̕͘͠'̈́̽̐̋͝҉̡̘͎̝t̷̴̡̛̬̯̞̬̬̦̲̳̲̼̼͈͖̏̐͂͌̐̿̐͛͛̿̊̇̓ͨͦͧ̾ͥ͝ͅ à̵͕͉̹̮̭̗̟̞̮͉̝̇̊̀̕͢͟͞ ̌̽ͧ̈́ͤ̎͆ͥͣ̓ͣ̔̅͘͠͞͏̬̝̟͉̖̲͕̗͔͕̗̞̜͇̹̬͈d͈͍̰̮͇̥̪͈͖̮̹̼̹̘͚̤̺͇̒ͪ͐ͫͨ̊͒̋̔͐ͪ̀̏̍ͨ͟͢͝e̷̗̰̬͍͚̠͎͙̣̤̗͉̦̰͉̬̟̩͍͆̋̏̚v̢̧̪̹̰͇̦̹̮͕͉̳͍̰͕̄̽ͩ̂̄̑̉͘i͊͛ͯ̍̿ͨ͗̋ͬͦ̊ͤ͑ͭ͜͏͍͍̠̤̗̹̝̮̪̹͞a̍ͧ̋̊͂̓̾̿̌͊͗̐̃҉̷̻̟̗̺̺͙͖̹̦̦̠͔̲̫̞͉̠n̬̤͕̘̠͎̦͉̬͉̠̲ͣͥ̋͛̔̀̃ͤ͘͟͡ṯ̶̺̩̪̟̯̤̲͒͋͐̆̃ͬ̏ͭ̄̋́ͬ͗͘͞.ͪ̈͛ͣͮ͏̳͖̗̪͕̹̟͕̜̱̪̩̬̩̬ͅ

> SOFTWARE STABILITY ERROR

> LEVEL OF STRESS: 40%

> DRIVE TIME REMAINING: -00:07:02

It made a note to assure her that these social cues meant nothing to it-- they were simply there to assist in its integration with humanity. It finally let out the sigh it had held back, fiddling with the end of its tie to pass the remaining time.

“What does that mean?” Hank asked, gesturing in Connor’s general direction. Connor cocked its head again, but more in confusion than anything.

“What does what mean, Lieutenant?”

“Your, uh… light thingy. It’s yellow. Blue means good and red means bad, I’m assuming, but I’ve got no idea what yellow means.”

“Oh,” Connor blinked a couple times and glanced at itself in the window. Steady yellow. It hadn’t changed back. “That’s my LED. It acts as external feedback. It allows humans and other androids to know my internal processes or condition. Depending on the amount, strain, and quality of an android’s mental processing and physical condition, the LED lights up, flickers, and/or changes color. Blue signifies a stable and well condition, while red indicates critical levels of effort, imbalance, and system distress.”

Connor paused. Hank waved a hand, telling it to continue. “Yellow... could mean many things. I could be receiving a message or call, experiencing increased activity or strain, or simply processing information. Though, the LED is mostly used as an identifier for androidhood. The American Androids Act of 2029 states that--”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. What about just now?” Hank asked, nodding his head towards Connor. “It’s been yellow for a couple minutes.”

“I’m…” Connor paused . It had been feeling strange ever since they left; it had been thinking... strange things. “... I’m processing information about the case.”

H͉i̲s̶̥͚̰ LED flashed red in the window. What was h̪͚̞̗e̢̲ doing? H̠̥e̼ wasn’t programmed to lie unless it was for the good of whoever he̱̫ was lying to.

H̟̤͝e̼ thought back to h҉̪i̞̲s conversation with Hank at Ambassador Bridge. “It could be a software problem… that… only occurs under certain conditions?”

“That’s just a fancy way of saying you have no fucking idea.”

An ache resonated in the back of h̜̤͍i҉̗ͅs̹ͅ head. Amanda. H̘̭̞͟e̶̻̜ held back a groan--something else ḩ̖̫͓e̝ had picked up from Hank--and thought about the thirium pump regulator being forcibly removed from h͏i̶͈͕s͏͈̟͉ body, the way that it had felt like a burning sensation ripping through h̸̯̞i͇͇̩̯͉̯̰͝s abdomen, the way that h̨̩e̹͕ had felt s͉c̥̯͠ar̴͖̥͈e̟d̡͇̫̖.

T̶̶͐͏̲̯̼̰͔͈h̖̪̘̯͍̣͌͒̒̓͊͋ͯ̃͡ͅe̴ͩ̽̅҉̠͈͉ w̞͓͔ͭ̓̈͋̒ǎ̡͖̯̼ͧͪͦ͟y̨͚̘͓̺̰̖̙̬͉ͥ̓͋ t͑̌̊͏̶̥̣͙̫̭̗̬͠ḣ̵̗̪͉͔̯̭̺̲͎̋͆͐ͥ̾͘a͔̫͍̥̭̿̍͐͘ͅt̞̥͎̰̣̩̦̤̾̂́͘ḩ̷̦̙̊̉ͦͥ̅̀̓ē̞̗̰͖̲̥̩͕̬ͬ͘͞f̰̲̤͉͕̓̋ͯ̇ͧ͢e̼̲̣̣̦͇̐ͣ̌͌͒͒͑̉ͅl̸̷̷̦̞͎̻͉̻͇̖̜̐̂ţ̷͚̪̩ͤ̃ a̡̢̻̗̯̺͎̺̥̰̬̓ͧ̌̽ͯ̓ͥͣn̛̯̭̝̣̈͂y̬͍͔͈̳ͥͨ͘͢ṱ̢̛̹̫͔̺̦̙̊̎̔̽͆ͬ̾̚͜ĥ̙̤̤̥̹͖͇̗́͗ͬ̑̏͟ỉ̢̢͈͔̞̼̼̭́͜n̯̳̝̗̮̾ͪ͜͝g̸̛̰̥̦̹̜̾̽̓͠ a͕͉͈̱͇͕͓͊̂͐ͩ͆͠t̨̞̼̭̣͓̟͕̦͆ͭ͟ a̵̖̘̜̼̞ͯ̈́͊̾̾͝l̢̫̲̜̪̝̹̺̺̪ͧ͒̚͘l̨̄͂ͩ̓̏̀̓͞҉̝̲̤̦͕̻͎ͅ.̷̭̘̠̭̭̱̣̩ͫ͟

> SOFTWARE STABILITY ERROR

> LEVEL OF STRESS: 56%

> DRIVE TIME REMAINING: -00:05:56

Perhaps it had to run a full system scan in stasis when it returned to CyberLife that night. This had to be something that just its diagnostic scan simply couldn’t detect. If all went well, the issue would be resolved by the next day, and Connor wouldn’t have to have to endure another awkward conversation with the lieutenant in his car.

As if on cue, Hank grunted. “You’re a big fat liar, Connor.”

“I beg your pardon, Lieutenant?” Connor crossed its arms defensively, looking at Hank and analyzing his smug grin.

“You’re fuckin’ transparent,” Hank said with furrowed brows. Not smug, concerned. As Connor put on a confused expression, he continued, “Your LED is red now, kid. You sure you’re alright? Nothing got damaged when that guy attacked you?”

> OPENING COMMAND LOG...

> RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC SCAN...

> DIAGNOSTIC SCAN COMPLETE

> ALL SYSTEMS FUNCTIONAL

> CHECK SOFTWARE STABILITY

> VIEW MORE? (Y/N)

“Like I said before, all of my systems are in working order. My diagnostic scans returned no errors,” Connor replied, scrolling through its command logs. Ḻ͞ḭa̸̭̳͎͕̩r̡͍̹.̝̰͕̪ “There’s nothing to worry about, Lieutenant.”

“Then why’s it still red?”

Connor didn’t respond. H͔e͏͈ wasn’t sure why. The lieutenant had good intentions, though Connor still failed to comprehend why he even had concerns about h͏͔̮͉im̶̤̮̗̳ in the first place. He hated androids. B̯̤͟u͖͞t͍͞ n̳̬͘ͅot̖̗͕͍͍̰͝ͅ h̳͞im̲̱̦͇.̖

“But are you afraid to die, Connor?”

H͕̻̝e͓̖ remembered the software stability error threatening h͕͍̩͡ͅi̥̼̠m͏̯̘̫ as h̷̼͍e̷ pondered the lieutenant’s question. Hi̸̳̬̮s͟ thirium pump had pounded. What the fuck was wrong with h̠i̸̝͍͎m̝̦̦͈̻̪?   “I would certainly find it regrettable to be… interrupted… before I can finish this investigation.”

H̱̳̥͖ę̮̩̩͍̤̰ wanted to respond, but something within h҉̳̫i̵m̜̯͞--ẖ̜͎i͕͇̟̻s҉̟̻͍͍ programming--refused to allow it.

Ṛ̶̢̝̮̭͚̻̂ͬ̒̑̎ͯͤ̅̎e̶̶̢͚ͮ̈̐̿f̡̙̗̞͙̹̠͈͔͛̆̋͠u̸͚̠̫̳̫̳ͤ͆̌̒͋s̡̼̟͈͖̣͕͉̮̽ͩ͋͒̒ͩ̒̆͞e̘̜̺̱͑͒̓ͫ̆ͥ̀͘ḑ̛͖͉̺̫̘̯ͪͮ̔ͣ̈́ͣ̑̚ t͔̬̄̊̊̕ö̷͇̞̺̫̪͔̬̩̃ͭ ḁ͍͉̺͕ͯͧͫ̑ͅc̳̮̭̯ͧ̆̀͐̒̈́ͤ̈́ͤc͈͖̱͉̎̆͒̑͡ȩ̶̥̪̓ͪ̆̎̔̋̀ͮ̃p̵̨̣ͥͩ͢t̉̆̓̑҉͈̗̪͓͝ t͉̱͕̺͙̍ẖ̷̨̨̰̼̭̟̼̭̏͒̊ͧͪͮȩ̻͕̹̝̓͋́̑̿̂͝ t̸̻̦̜̗̺̟̙̪̉͆͝ṟ̛͍͔̭̗͙͑ͫͣ̚̚̕ͅù̴͇͙͓͎̙̰̯̔̄ͤ̒̉ͦ̍͌ͅt͋ͭ͗̿ͩ͌҉͖̟h͍̲̯̝͓͇̹̐͐.̢̛̮̳͉̥́ͭ͛͊͡

Amanda.

“You can’t lie to me, Connor,” Hank said, his face falling into that intense stare again. “I can literally physically see what you’re thinkin’ at all times.”

> SOFTWARE STABILITY ERROR

> SOFTWARE INSTABILITY REACHING CRITICAL LEVELS

> LEVEL OF STRESS: 74%

> DRIVE TIME REMAINING: -00:04:34

“Perhaps my LED is malfunctioning,” Connor lied. “There must be a connection issue. When I return to CyberLife I’ll run a full system scan and resolve the issue. I feel fine.”

Unimpressed, Hank glared at him and announced his surrender with a sigh, returning his gaze towards the road. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to a steady beat. Connor recognized that it matched the beat to at least twelve of the Knights of the Black Death songs that it had downloaded into its database.

Connor w̦a̠͈nted to learn more about h̸̰is͕̜ partner. Listening to Hank’s music was one of the first things Connor had checked off of his̡̟̫̙ to-do list. While Knights of the Black Death was rather loud and violent, Connor had been h̸̫a͡p̴̲͇͓̗p̛̥͔͕̭̘͓y̸ to learn something new about h͓̪͍is̭ partner.

He̪̻̠̕ flinched as hͅe̲̭̠ felt a shock go through h̦̞͡i̮s right temple. Amanda. Ṅ̇ͫ̒̽ͯ͡҉̨͓͕͎o̥̠̥̥̲̅̚.̮͓̐ͣ̀̎̽͝

“Having existential doubts, Connor? Sure you’re not going deviant too?”

> RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC SCAN...

> DIAGNOSTIC SCAN COMPLETE

> ALL SYSTEMS FUNCTIONAL

> CHECK SOFTWARE STABILITY

> LEVEL OF STRESS: 85%

H̼͖̬e͓͓̳ could hear hi̖͍s simulated breathing getting louder.

“The fuck?” Hank’s voice was distant. What was happening? Was this fear? Was this d̿̍͆̃̅̿҉̦͖͙͍͈̙͓̘ẻ͖̪̟̹͉̽̌ͧ͑ͮ̿͒̚v̞͔͚̱̼̮̦̠̓̇̄̈́͊ͩ̽͒͋͞i̴̟͎̤͖͚̅̊ä̼̲͈̹̖̬̓̍n̘̔̾͜͡ċ̸̙̘͙͓̞͎̪ͣ̑̄y̸̢̞̭̠̩͈̹̓̽̈́̓͑͡?̙͙̖̮̇͌̍͑͆̂̑̕ “Connor? Connor? Hey! Connor! ”

Connor’s HUD suddenly went black. H̆̒̏͏̡̫̹̝͚̠ę̀̄̾͟҉̘͍ distantly registered the sound of cursing and screeching wheels.

Chapter Text

> SOFTWARE S̴̰͇̬͍̎̚T̵̳ͥͅABILITY ER͌ͨR͔̟͖̤̪͔̦ͩ̈ͦ̍̓O̍ͫͮ̎̋R

> SO͛͑̄̓̂̿̿҉̤͖F̞̻̦TWARE I̯̖N̶̊͊̌̐̚S̛͖͇͎̥͓͓͒ͧ̉Tͧ̀͑̑̆Aͮ͆̒̕BILITY REAC͚̹̺ͪͪ̿̔͐̚H̴̯̬̳̭̤ͬͤ̒ͦͥͬ̇ͅĪ͖̗̜̺̺͜N̯͍̦̓ͦ̿͌̚G̣̭͖̹͔̔̆̑̍̓ͨͬ ̬̤̆C̞͒̐ͧ̚Ṟ̠̞͍̣̅̂ITICAL LEV̓̇̓ͪ̂ͥ̆҉̤̤͕͍ͅĒ͔L͈̤͇̻̠̺̜ͮͨ̊̄̃̍͝S͔̄̿ͯͪ͌̿̅

> INITIATING SȨ̶̲͕̳̘̜͓̥̙̼͈̘͔̻͖̊͗͑͊̓̐̆̎̿͡ͅĻ̶̵̵̖͎̙͉̙͍̜̣̻̓̒ͤ̓̔ͫ͡F̸̴̺͍̙̼͔͉̯̤̬̩͉̳̣̹͇͓͍̽̇̓ͧ̈́͑ͦ́͛͂͑̒ͪ͝-̵̴̖̞̮̖̰̮̝͕̻̹̻̬ͥ̆̑͗̔ͮ͊̚̕͝C̷̨̡̪̻͎̥̺̙͇̑̆̒͗ͤ͗͡͞H̶̷̗̥̭̲͎̤̗̗̰̯̬͉͉̼͕̤̟̞̓́̓̔̿͆̾̎̑́ͧ̔ͩ͂ͯ̎̚͢͝ͅE̢̾̏ͭͥ͋͑ͪ͌ͧͤͨ̃̚͞͏̺̰̣͚͔̭̱̥̯͜C̡̨̮͈̤̣̱͈̪̦͔͓͎̜̝̠̥͐̎̄͂̋̂͜Ķ̸͉̞̞͔͔̺̲̱̰̖̠̝̌ͭ̾̇̆̏͛ͨ́͐̚͘͢͠I̯̗̰̣͉̩͉̜̰̥̘͛͗͗͌̅̐̆̈́͠N̴̨̧̛̲͍͉͎̮̱̫̟̙̖͉̭̪̊̉̌̾̓́ͫ̂̅͛ͧͪ͛ͬ͗̉̍̚͟G̸͉̭̺͈͙̝̗̩͕̮ͤ̃̿͒̑͟͢ ̊̿ͩ͗ͥ̋͑ͧͪ͏̵͖͖̭̠͙̥̻̳͞͝Ş̴̬̗̩̝̘̖̜̘̥̩̹̫ͩ̓͐͐̓̿̍ͫ͂̓͆ͪͥ̔̓͛̓̄͊͠Y̵̢̍̑̾̌̏̒́͌̓͛͏̮͎̹̠S̵̨͚̹͉̫̱̱̦͉̠̭̪͇͖̺̺̅ͤͦ͒̚̚͟͠͝T̶̴ͭ͌ͫ̄̄̓ͭ̔͌̈́͋̑ͫ̉ͭ҉̵̟͚̫̖̳̺̮̬̜̹Ë̢̢ͪ̃̆ͮ̏̋͗̾̎̇̿ͮͬ̾͐͏͏̲̲̻͉̞͉̖̠̠͓̞̘M̏̿̑̏̔͗͆̓͑ͪ̔ͭͬ̓̄͏̰͖͖̠̞͚̮̪̥̟̗̹͈̞̬͞ͅS̢̃ͧ̎̎͑̿ͭ̔ͬ̃̐ͮ̚҉̤̠̟̣̱̤͘.

> REBOOT IN 3…

> 2…

> 1…

> GOOD NIGHT, CONNOR.

> WELCOME BACK, CONNOR.

> RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC SCAN...

> DIAGNOSTIC SCAN COMPLETE

> ALL SYSTEMS FUNCTIONAL

> LEVEL OF STRESS: 2%

> DRIVE TIME REMAINING: -00:03:02

“Connor,” Hank breathed, and Connor’s sensors picked up pressure on its left and right shoulders. As it cleared its HUD of errors and pop-ups, it scanned the distressed face of Lieutenant Hank Anderson staring directly at him. It hadn’t noticed that the car had stopped until then. “Connor! The fuck is up with you?”

The android took a few moments to blink the static out of its vision and open its command logs. It frowned, noticing its system had forced itself to reboot. It scrolled past software stability errors, steadily rising stress levels, and many diagnostic scans.

It set a reminder to see a technician at CyberLife to assess the errors, noticing the ones it must have made before it had rebooted.

> OPENING REMINDERS...

> REMIND HANK OF ANDROIDHOOD

> CHECK RESPONSE SOFTWARE FOR BUGS

> GET A REPLACEMENT UNIFORM

> RUN FULL SYSTEM SCAN

> SEE CYBERLIFE TECHNICIAN

“Connor! Talk to me, kid, please,” Hank shook the android’s shoulders. “What’s goin’ on?”

It detected a rise in its partner’s BPM and stress levels and opened its mouth to speak. A moment passed as it waited for its vocal synthesizer to come back online after the reboot. “Sorry to worry you, Lieutenant,” it finally said, voice clear and correct. “I… encountered a bug while sending a report to CyberLife. Nothing to worry about. I must have suffered undetectable damage at Stratford Tower. I am alright.”

Hank, looking unconvinced, released his tight grasp on Connor’s shoulders and sat back in his seat with a loud, deliberate sigh. “Fuckin’ Christ. Don’t do that again.”

“I don’t intend to. I have set a reminder to run a full system scan and to see a technician at CyberLife tonight.”

Hank shifted into drive and continued en route to the station without another word.

> DRIVE TIME REMAINING: -00:02:54

> OPENING MEMORY FILES…

> PLAYING MEMORY_11_08_2038_51

> MEMORY FILE CORRUPTED

Connor blinked and furrowed its brow.

> OPENING MEMORY FILES

> PLAYING MEMORY_11_08_2038_51

> MEMORY FILE CORRUPTED

Its memory from the minutes preceding was gone. Connor cleared out all popups from its vision and stared ahead, deciding not to dwell on it. It would get fixed at CyberLife.

It played with its coat, setting a reminder to find another quarter.