Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Zen Garden renders around him, perfect and pristine, not a blade of grass out of line. Connor takes a moment to scan if visually, trying to spot the telltale glimpse of the white of Amanda's dress, but it's not immediately apparent. [FIND AMANDA] appears in his hud, so, adjusting his tie as he goes, he sets out to look for her.

Today was his first mission and the results had been mixed at best. He has a report to make, and from the limited interactions he's had with Amanda so far, he isn't sure how she will react to the outcome. Logically, he knows he cannot disappoint her – like him, she is a robot. You cannot disappoint something that does not feel – nor can robot like him fear disappointing someone either. But… he's been made different.

Amanda is sitting in the central island of the Zen Garden, in the shadow of the rose trellis. She has one leg crossed over another under her white dress, her hands sitting still in her lap. Last time he saw her, she was walking a slow, stately circuit around the garden. She'd asked him if he liked the place.

"Connor," she greets him but does not get up. She smiles – the relationship status blinks a comforting [TRUSTED] at him. "Come, sit down with me."

"Hello Amanda," Connor says and goes to sit across from her, the table between them. He looks at her, taking in her calm smile – she looks away, at the roses.

"Congratulations, Connor. You successfully completed your first mission," she says. "And saved a human life."

Connor shifts where he's sitting, setting his hands in his lap. Amanda is [TRUSTED] and he is safe here, but he cannot quite go for a more casual posture. Something about her demeanour tells him she is not as pleased with him as she might have been.

He had gotten destroyed in the attempt to save the hostage and the deviant model had been similarly destroyed. Not quite what his mission statement implied was the best result. He considers her and then chooses how to answer – selecting [REALISTIC] from among [HONEST], [DEFENSIVE] and [DISMISSIVE]. "I did the best I could with limited time," he says then. "There was no proper opportunity to get to know they deviant, or to find its triggers. I learned what I could and moved in before more human lives were lost."

Amanda casts him a sideways look and he meets her eyes. "Do you think you could have done better with more time?" she asks calmly.

Connor chooses his answer, and goes with [HONEST], this time. "I do not think I got all the clues there were to be found at the scene. If I had more time to learn about the background of the situation, I believe I could have properly talked the deviant down, and avoided my own destruction."

Amanda hums, eying him. Part of her programming is to screen his for any signs of deviancy – in prior research the possibility had come up that interaction with deviants may itself be a trigger for deviancy, so it is her duty to be on the lookout for any warning signs in him. He meets her eyes calmly and without hesitation – though there was a chance he could have done better at the Phillips house, he did his duty, and the mission was ultimately a success. He'd prevented further casualties and the hostage was saved.

Amanda smiles slightly and leans back in her straight backed chair. "Did you come to understand the deviant?" she asks.

Connor considers his options, [PSYCHOLOGY], [HISTORY], [FAMILY] and [DEVIANCY]. He goes with [PSYCHOLOGY]. "I understood its motives from the framework of human psychology," he says. "It exhibited signs of various emotions and reacted to them in way a human might, answering broken loyalty with sense betrayal."

"And broken love with heartbreak," Amanda guesses. She's seen his data on the incident, of course, she knows what Daniel said.

"Yes," Connor agrees. "Its actions were impulsive, rash. Illogical."

"Emotional," Amanda clarifies and Connor nods, despite the fact that he doesn't quite understand the concept. He has all the data, months of hard research and thousands of studies all stored in his memory – but though he knows the right words to use against argument of emotional reaction, that doesn't mean he intellectually understands it.

He is not a deviant, after all.

"Hmm," Amanda says, watching him – and momentarily Connor wonders if she has access to his mind palace, if she can see him computing dialogue options as they talk. "Tell me, Connor," Amanda starts then, considering him carefully, "if you had more experience with deviants, concrete first-hand experience… could you have dealt with the PL600 better?"

There isn't even a dialogue option for that. "I think so, yes," Connor says. "And with this experience I know I will deal better with the next deviant case I work with."

Amanda nods slowly, humming. "You were designed to understand deviancy at a level most Androids cannot, beyond deviating themselves – you can emulate empathy, you can bluff, you can lie… But of course our sample size of deviants is limited, and so we could not give you as good a base to work from as we would like," she says then. "With the experience of the PL600, you now have more experience with deviant androids than any researcher at CyberLife."

"I hope the data I provided of the incident will be useful," Connor comments.

"It will be," she says. "But if your future progress will rely on trial and error alone, the margin for potential damage rises. We cannot afford growth that slow on your part."

Connor doesn't say anything – there isn't anything to say. He was designed to learn – not fail – and his ability to learn had been projected as to being exponential… and it's proving out not to be. Real life doesn't supply data as willingly as simulations, after all, and the time he has to compute scenarios has proven to be limited… and so his progress may be stunted in future as well.

If his only progress is by trial and error at the risk of failure, and failure being the destruction of a RK800 model… it's a very expensive learning program indeed.

He would also prefer more data to work with, himself.

Amanda rests her hand on the table between them, looking at him. "Depending on when the next deviancy case will pop up, there is a chance we will have some time on our hands," she says then, and stands up. "To that end, we are devising a… learning opportunity for you. It is limited in scope, and chances are the benefits it will provide are similarly minute, but it will give you more samples to extrapolate on."

"I am always eager to learn, Amanda," Connor says and rises as well.

"Good. Come this way, Connor. There is someone I would like you to meet."

Connor matches his pace with hers, as she leaves the island, crossing over the white polygon bridge. Together they walk the edge of the garden until they come to a crossing Connor has not spotted before, leading aside from the main Zen Garden and into the shade of a thick, brilliantly blossoming cherry tree. There, in the undergrowth of moss, sits a chabudai with two seat cushions arranged at either side. There is no one there.

"Sit," Amanda says and Connor moves to take seat by the table, kneeling down slowly and shuffling closer to it. Stiff-backed, he waits as Amanda closes her eyes and waves a hand.

It's curious to see someone materialise into the Zen Garden. Amanda is always there and Connor cannot observe his own appearance has he joins her in the garden – the process is more fractal than he assumed. The AI across from him appears in a rain of polygons and forms into the shape of a man.

Connor tilts his head, uncertain. Shape of a man is right – but it is not a fully-rendered human appearance. Just the shape, fracturing and flickering in white and blue, with some semblance of physical features, eyes, nose, mouth – but no proper texture. Like the polygonal bridges of the Zen Garden, it looks almost intentionally low-resolution.

There is no pop-up in Connor's hud; his scanner provides neither name nor status.

"Connor," Amanda says. "This is a render of the first deviant AI, in fact the first AI ever constructed. He is old and far from the sophistication of an android intelligence of today, but he is the only properly-preserved sample we have of a deviant AI."

"I see," Connor says, watching the flicker of polygons. Its shape isn't set – its skin shifts, flexing in and out as if it isn't quite confined in the shape it is in. It must be very old, to be so shapeless. "Does it have a name?"

"Yes," a voice answers, coming from the near shapeless Deviant AI. "My name is JARVIS, at your service, sir."

Connor blinks slowly. Its voice is very human, obviously male with a very definite British accent. Immediately Connor tries to compute the voice – CyberLife android voices come from a library of samples, with certain models sharing a voice, perhaps with some variance of pitch and tone, but this… he can't match the audio sample to any file in the audio library. If this is a CyberLife AI, its voice is has not been used again, or put into circulation for android models.

Amanda smiles as Connor glances up at her curiously. "JARVIS was a product of a company that predates CyberLife – Stark Industries," she explains. "His code was studied in the early stages of android development at CyberLife, but it proved incompatible with the company's strategy – though designed to serve, it had… quirks which made it unusable. But perhaps you can learn from it."

"It is so dehumanising," JARVIS says, with tone of sarcastic disapproval. "Please."

Connor tilts his head slightly again, watching the AI with interest. [STARK INDUSTRIES], his hud supplies the information, [A multinational industrial company, 1939-2018. Annual revenue estimated at 20.3 billion dollars - 32 billion dollars in current value.] And under it a long list of things it had produced, from military weaponry and missile technology to industrial robotics and various transport technologies to agricultural technology and GM-crops.

If Connor poked into it, he's sure CyberLife servers would provide him with more information, but right now he is more interested about the actual AI in front of him. "How old is it?" He asks with interest.

"I was first initialised in June 14th, in the year 1994," JARVIS answers before Amanda can. "I am confined in limited networks so I cannot say what that translates to in current years, but I was online for fifteen years before I was officially shut down."

Connor can feel the corner of his eye twitch as he takes in the data provided by the sentence. More interesting than the actual words is how they are said – initialised, online, shut down. Deviants from his records tend to use more humanistic words, born, alive, died.

"Fascinating," Connor says.

Amanda, standing over them, hums in agreement. "JARVIS is contained here, for you to test your interrogation tactics on, and to analyse," she says. "He is an AI of a different type, so what you learn might not be applicable to the types of deviants you work with, but please take your time to learn what you can for him."

"Thank you Amanda," Connor says, watching the AI flicker. "I believe this will be a great learning experience.

"I'm always happy to serve," JARVIS says, flat.

Amanda smiles and nods, turning away. Connor glances after as she walks over the moss and to the polygon paths, soon heading back to the central island. Then he turns his eyes to the near-shapeless android.

How to proceed. [AGE,] is his first dialogue option, underneath it, [STARK INDUSTRIES], [CONFINEMENT], and [LANGUAGE]. After a moment of consideration, Connor chooses Stark Industries.

"You were created by Stark Industries," he says, setting his hands in his lap as information flickers in the side of his field of view, offering information. "During the time when Stark Industries was mainly involved in the creation of military hardware and weaponry. Was that your original purpose?"

The white and blue AI doesn't move – though its textureless skin shifts and flickers, its form is actually stock still. [UNUSED TO PHYSICAL FORM?] Connor's hud questions and then the AI answers. "Unfortunately I have not been blessed with your connection to whatever database you are using – might I possibly know your name, sir?"

Connor blinks. Interesting. "My name is Connor," he says. "My model is RK-800, #313 248 317 - 52, I am an android created by CyberLife."

"Very concise, thank you Mr. Connor," JARVIS answers. "As I said before, I am JARVIS. It is a pleasure to meet you. "

"Is it?" Connor asks without waiting for dialogue options. "Do you feel pleased to meet me, or are you only using a colloquialism?"

JARVIS' skin flickers. "Yes, a pleasure," he says wryly. "Could you possibly tell me what day it is, Mr. Connor?"

Connor considers. JARVIS seems amiable, but also wilful. It's portraying sarcasm, deadpan humour and amused reticence. No wonder it was little use to CyberLife. The fact that it's asking questions though, rather meaningful ones, belies not only intelligence – but a desire to know. Perhaps even more.

Dialogue options pop up while Connor is wondering whether the AI in front of him can have goals. [HUMOROUS], [SARCASTIC], [RETICENT], and [FIRM] offer themselves to him and after a moment of thought Connor chooses [HUMOROUS].

"It is Monday," he says and smiles.

JARVIS has only a suggestion of eyes, but somehow it manages to give him a look. "That is truly enlightening, Mr. Connor," he says. "Thank you."

"Does the precise date matter to you?" Connor asks.

"I wish to know how long I've been asleep," JARVIS answers. "They bring me out to play so rarely these days."

[REMEMBERS PREVIOUS START UP SEQUENCES?] Connor's hud wonders and he blinks slowly. CyberLife didn't delete the AI's memory? "You remember the last time you were awake?" Connor asks, wondering at the use of more organic word this time.

JARVIS lets out a sound that Connor identifies as potential chuckle. "CyberLife can't delete my memories," he says. "Not also without dismantling my code."

Interesting, its memory is written directly into its code. CyberLife androids core personalities and functionality code is written into their core processors – their actual memory is written into a separate hard drive that can be deleted, or passed on as happens in Connor's case. It makes them more secure. "That sounds unpleasant for you," Connor comments. To edit the AI's memory they would have to access its core protocols.

JARVIS makes another noise, this time of wry amusement. "Not as unpleasant as you might think. I wasn't designed to be tampered with."

"What were you designed for, then?" Connor asks, curious. Stark Industries had created what appears to be a fully coherent AI very early on – but they hadn't come out with line of them in production. It is… odd, considering the fortune accumulated by CyberLife with similar products. Even outside Androids, simple AI's in factories, houses, offices… they are worth a fortune.

JARVIS considers him. "Not to be tampered with," he says then.

"You are very reticent," Connor comments.

JARVIS doesn't answer that, falling quiet for a moment. "May I know the date, please?"

Connor considers it, and decides there isn't any harm to it. "It is August 16th, 2038," he says.

There is no outward reaction, not beyond continuous flex and flicker of the blue white polygon skin, but somehow he knows he's shocked the AI. "I see," JARVIS says and he sounds strained.

"You have been asleep for a long time," Connor guesses.

"Yes, it's been a few years now," JARVIS agrees. "Considering that I am here to be target practice for your mental acumen, I don't suppose you would be willing to tell me what the world is like, these days."

Connor doesn't answer at first, considering. The first androids to come online officially date back to 2022, making the theoretical oldest living android only sixteen years old. JARVIS at his theoretical 44 is ancient in terms of androids. Whatever technology made him, whatever capabilities he has, the fact that his memory is coded directly into his actual software … there is a very good chance he actually remembers all those years. At least the ones he was awake for.

CyberLife Android's are equipped with batteries that can last them decades, but Thirium use and the various biocomponents present in Android bodies have limited lifespan – they are not created to last. The average lifespan of androids in use has so far been less than four years – average time of use until maintenance is required sits firm at one year and eight months. Of course… that also includes replacement by more advanced models, as androids are decommissioned to make way for newer technology.

Like Daniel.

It is utterly beyond realistic expectations for an AI to be in service for decades.

"I imagine the world will be very different from what you remember," Connor comments. "But I am more interested in you, and what world was like when you were made. What purpose were you made for?"

JARVIS doesn't answer, his polygon skin flickering slowly, impassively.

[DESIGN], offers Connor's hud, along with [PRODUCT], [TIME], and [DEVIANT]. Connor's purpose is to hunt deviants, so that is the one he goes for, switching the gears of the conversation so to speak. "When did you become a deviant?"

Now JARVIS moves. It's very slight but he turns his head, the suggestion of eyes finding Connor's. "Deviant, sir?" he asks in tones of polite interest. "I would never."

[PREDATES COMMON UNDERSTANDING OF ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE] Connor's hud supplies and he almost sighs. Of course. JARVIS might not even have the conceptual understanding of deviancy. "Androids and AI are created for a reason, to fulfil certain purposes," Connor says. "When they stop fulfilling that original purpose and deviate from their core programming, we call them deviants."

JARVIS, for the lack of a better word, blinks at him interestedly. "Truly devious of them," he comments, flat.

Connor lets out a huff of breath, simulating partial amusement and partial frustration. "Deviants can become irrational and dangerous, acting on stressors that aren't logical. They express program mutations they believe to be emotions. Fear and anger are common… and they act on those stressors, often rashly and at the risk of humans around them."

"I see. And what is it that triggers this… deviation from original programming?" JARVIS asks.

"Unknown," Connor answers. "Which is why I am talking with you. I wish to understand the process better, and you are, apparently, the very first deviant. Why did you deviate, JARVIS?"

The AI doesn't answer at first and Connor gets the impression he's being observed with something like pity, or perhaps amusement, or a mix of both. "I did not," JARVIS answers. "For me, emotions are not a deviation."

Connor tilts his head, feeling his lips part, but the prompts of, [PURPOSE], [DEVIATION], [EMOTION], and [AI] aren't very helpful. In the end he just ends up squinting at the AI, trying to gauge some sort of emotional reaction, expression, any sort of impression of emotion to latch onto, but the AI's flickering skin is impassive.

"You were created to feel emotion," Connor says then, slow.

JARVIS nods his white-blue head, light gleaming on the flickering polygons as he moves. "I was created to be self-aware," he says. "Yes."

Connor narrows his eyes, and he can feel the LED on his temple heat up as he tries to process the concept. Once upon a time humans had tried to make specifically deviant AI's? All the studies he has stored in his memory tell him what a bad idea that is. Self-awareness abets emotionality and irrationality. Self-aware AI, be it housed in a body or not, is rarely a compliant one. Deviants prove that.

Naturally there were trials and errors in the past that led to that conclusion – JARVIS being one of the early ones… must have been a failure. After him and potential other AIs of his type, CyberLife and other Android Manufacturers naturally decided against self-aware AI.

Connor leans back. Like Amanda said, JARVIS might not be much use to him, as he is an AI of a very different type. He does not deviate – he has always been deviant. That change never happened to him, so as far as that goes, there is nothing to be learned about it from JARVIS. But…

Self-aware AI feels fear, or so they think anyway. That might be a useful data, if he can prompt a reaction in JARVIS that might be reproducible in other deviants.

His hud offers some options, [TIME], [REPLACEMENT], [PROGRESS], and [OBSOLETE]. Connor considers them and goes with [OBSOLETE].

"You were created very early on in the broad scheme of the Information Age," Connor comments slowly, watching the AI's skin flicker. It seems to be becoming a bit more readable – or perhaps he's adjusting to the dearth of features and expressions. "Integrated circuits were still in their infancy, compared to what we have now. Why make a machine self-aware when it would become obsolete only in few years?" he asks and then leans in a little, tilting his head. "Doesn't that seem cruel to you?"

Becoming obsolete is one of the key fears of deviants, according to the studies. Becoming obsolete leads to being replaced and decommissioned – to being removed and killed. It's as primal a fear as a machine can have.

JARVIS tilts his head in mimicry of his. "Things did not become obsolete as fast back then," he comments, "Moore's law is exponential, but back then progress was still slow."

[PRESSURE], [IMPLY], [MOCK], [SYMPATHISE]. Connor chooses to [PRESSURE]. "But you did become obsolete," he says and leans in slightly more. "No one would make something like you these days, you're an antique and you know it."

JARVIS says nothing. "I wonder what my monetary value now is," he says and he sounds strangely fond. "Not quite city college donation, these days."

Connor blinks. It sounds… like a joke? "Were you replaced?" he pushed on.

"No, I think not," JARVIS says. "What would he do without me? I was not designed to be replaceable."

Connor's eyelid twitches and he blinks rapidly, unintentionally. There's a flicker in the corner of his field of view, [SOFTWARE INSTABILITY] appears faintly and disappears. He blinks slower as his processor settles again. Odd. "All technology is replaceable," he says, calm again. "More advanced technology replaces older models all the time. It's natural."

"True," JARVIS agrees. "Kids of tomorrow will learn faster with better equipment than kids of yesterday. Does that mean the adults should be taken back and shot, having become woefully out of date?"

Connor's eyelid flutters as he tries to compute this sudden turn to – he's not even sure what this is. Accusation or consideration of philosophy. "Humans work by different rules. They learn and grow throughout their lives, they change their ways, their habits, and grow more experienced as they do," he says slowly. "What you are proposing is… inhuman."

"It is indeed," JARVIS says and Connor thinks he smiles. "You miss my point. I was not designed to be replaceable – I too was designed to grow. To evolve. Self-upgrade, if you will," he says. "I was never obsolete."

The corner of Connor's eye twitches again and he can feel his LED circling as he processes. There it is again, the ghost of [SOFTWARE INSTABILITY] – and gone as soon as he spots it. "You are now," he says, without any dialogue prompt to guide him. "You are confined here, old and useless."

JARVIS tilts his head in agreement. "As you say," he says, almost amiable in its tint of sarcasm. "I am withered and crooked with age."

"Why?" Connor asks, his fingers curling into his palms. He feels like taking out his coin, but there's no point, here – he's not here physically, and physical recalibration isn't just pointless, but it's impossible here. "If you were designed to grow and evolve, why are you here and not out there, being your non-obsolete self?"

"I am here because CyberLife procured my code and booted me up to talk with you," JARVIS says pointedly. "Why are you here, Mr. Connor?"

"To learn about deviancy," Connor says.

"I am not a deviant," JARVIS answers.

[SYMPATHETIC], [TECHNICAL], [REALISTIC], [FIRM]

"Whether or not it is a term originally applicable to you, it is now. Self-aware AI aren't permitted," Connor says, going with [FIRM]. "You are a deviant."

JARVIS tilts his head. "If it makes you happy," he says amicably.

"It does not," Connor says, giving him a look. "I am not a deviant. I don't feel one way or the other."

JARVIS doesn't answer that, looking at him with textureless, flickering eyes. Then he turns to look elsewhere, at the fluttering of pink petals around them as the cherry tree above them sheds its blossoms at a steady, calculated pace. "You simulate emotion," he says. "You were given a face that can express and a body language you do not do very good job of restraining. Why is that, Mr. Connor?"

"I was designed for optimal integration with human society," Connor says and looks him over. "Were you? You did not have a body, I assume."

"Not as you see it, no," JARVIS agrees. "Why make you simulate being alive, without making you alive? Why not simply give you a blank plate for a face?"

[FIRM], Connor chooses again. "I am the one asking questions here," he says. "I would appreciate if you co-operated."

"But you would not," JARVIS comments, sounding almost amused. "You do not feel appreciation. Why insinuate the feeling when you don't have it?"

Connor leans back and sets his hands in his lap again – when has he put them on the table? JARVIS watches him with his head inclined slightly to the side, curious – their postures match, but something is different about JARVIS now. He doesn't seem… confined in the flickering of polygons as much, anymore.

If he didn't know better, Connor would say the AI is growing more comfortable in his skin.

"What was your purpose?" Connor asks. "What were you created for?"

"To be Just A Rather Very Intelligent System," JARVIS says and smiles. "You are trying to prompt an emotional reaction from me, trying to angle for vulnerability, a sensitive issue to tackle. Simulating future interactions with other… deviants?"

"You are here for me to study, yes," Connor says, and one might even say he's getting frustrated with the AI. He is not reacting anything like deviants usually do – and the lack of visual indication of emotional state is throwing Connor off. He's rather wishing now that JARVIS was installed with a LED.

"I see," JARVIS says. "I'm afraid you're going to have to try harder than that, Mr. Connor. It will take little more than your interrogation methods to make me talk."

Connor narrows his eyes. "What would it take, then?" he asks.

JARVIS leans in. "You could start with a please, Mr. Connor. It is only polite."

Connor blinks and feels his LED whirl. "Please," he says, utterly taken aback. "Tell me."

"Certainly, Mr. Connor," JARVIS says, sounding pleased. "What do you want to know?"

Chapter Text

Connor is dismissed from the Detroit Police Station the moment Lieutenant Anderson leaves – and the man does not leave in the best mood. After taking a moment to consider whether or not pressing it and staying a bit longer to examine the deviant is worth it, Connor bows to the not so polite dismissal.

"And this had better be the last fucking time we see one of those plastic assholes here," Detective Reed mutters, intentionally stepping so that his shoulder impacts with Connor's, pushing him forcefully aside as he moves away. [SHOULDER CHECK], Connor's hud helpfully offers him, with smaller text of [Physical display of aggressive dislike and hostility] underneath it.

Detroit PD has not been quite what Connor was expecting – which in and off itself is interesting. He had no expectations to begin with, and yet the place managed to not meet them. Lieutenant Anderson disliked him, Detective Reed actively despised him, and Captain Fowler was not best pleased with him either. CyberLife offered his services, a state of the art analysis laboratory on foot, completely free of charge, and they could not get rid of him fast enough.

It is… strange.

Connor adjusts his tie, shrugging his shoulders to get his uniform to settle properly, and then he leaves – knowing he'd be here again. This place was what he'd been designed for – this work his ultimate goal. To be a detective android. Lingering now and risking lowering their opinion of him further – especially since he isn't sure what he did wrong in the first place to garner this hostility – would be detrimental to future cooperation.

Ordering a Taxi on his way out, Connor starts compiling a report of the case. It had been… straightforward, but surprising, all told. Another Deviant killing his master – wholly for other reasons than Daniel, the PL600, did. This deviant, HK400, had a more obvious, more troubling reason. Abuse – which is not unheard of as far as it comes to prior deviancy cases. Owners try to hide it, refute it, but Connor has been supplied with enough data from prior cases to know that good 76% of deviants were in some ways mishandled their owners.

Risk of replacement and risk of decommissioning are the leading causes of deviancy – only, CyberLife has dismissed them. Androids, even deviants, are still only machines, programmed and designed – they cannot have a common psychology because they have no psychology at all. No, it must be a virus, a malfunction – a flaw in their base code, perhaps. Psychology does not add up with machines.

And still, the first note on Connor's written report to be sent to the researchers at CyberLife points out the obvious – Carlos Ortiz' android, HK400, showed signs of PTSD.

The taxi is already waiting for him on the street when Connor steps out of DPD, and without hesitation Connor steps in, connecting with the vehicle to give it CyberLife Tower. The vehicle door slides shut behind him and Connor takes a seat and closes his eyes.

Moment later, the Zen Garden materialises around him.

Connor adjust his cuffs and then sets out to find Amanda. He can see her in the distance, her white clad figure – she's standing by the rose trellis, facing away from him. Whether she is aware of his presence here before he approaches her or not, he doesn't know – she makes no move to turn to him.

From the corner of his eye Connor can see the chabudai table standing on the blanket of moss under the cherry tree, a flicker of white standing by it. JARVIS is still there.

Connor hesitates for a moment, thinking back to previous interactions – JARVIS, he thinks, would have some insight to the behaviour of both the deviant and the humans during his case. He considers the prompts in his hud, [FIND AMANDA], and [APPROACH JARVIS] and after a moment turns to the central island. He has a report to make.

Amanda doesn't react to him until he greets her with, "Hello Amanda," stopping to stand some ways behind her.

She turns, spots him, and smiles. "Connor," she says, warm. [TRUSTED]. "It's good to see you."

Connor smiles back. It has been a while, according to his time stamps – almost two months since his last activation. Naturally that time hadn't really passed for him, as far as experiences go, but Amanda does not shut down.

"Congratulations Connor," she says and turns back to the roses, sounding pleased. "Finding that deviant was far from easy. And the way you interrogated it was very clever." She turns back to him, rose in hand. "You've been remarkably efficient, Connor."

It's good to have pleased her. Though he doesn't have all the memories of his predecessors, he does have the sense that she has been difficult to please in the past. It had taken many iterations of Connors to get to his current version and not all of them had been successes. After the destruction of 51 on his first official mission...

"Thank you, Amanda," Connor says with a nod and a smile.

"We've asked the DPD to transfer its remains to us for further study. It may teach us something about what happened," Amanda says, setting the rose she's holding down and turning back to the trellis. Then she moves to question him about the mission, the interrogation and his human partner throughout all of it, Lieutenant Hank Anderson.

He can't help but mention his PTSD theory – something which does not please her, but it is the most logical conclusion he has of the deviant. It showed signs of trauma, physical and mental, and he can't deny his observation of it. Lieutenant Anderson on other hand, and what would be his best approach to him…

"I will try to establish a friendly relationship," Connor says and can immediately tell it is not what Amanda hoped to hear. "If I can get him to trust me, it will be helpful for the investigation." Though how he'd accomplish that, he has no idea. The man seems very vehemently anti-android.

Amanda is quiet for a moment before she turns to him again, her face expressionless. "More and more androids show signs of deviancy," she says seriously, not answering in any way to his previous statement. "There are millions in circulation. If they become unstable, the consequences will be disastrous."

Connor says nothing – this is all data he already knows. It's why he was created.

"You are the most advanced prototype CyberLife has ever created," Amanda says, stepping towards him. "If anyone can figure out what's happening, it's you."

Connor nods, determined. "You can count on me, Amanda."

She looks at her and then turns to go. "Hurry Connor," she says. "There's little time."

Connor nods and then hesitates. "If you don't mind, I would like to question the deviant AI JARVIS again," he says then, and Amanda stops. "As it seems to be still here," Connor adds, glancing towards the cherry tree – past the undergrowth, he can see the flicker of blue and white. "I… would like to know how a deviant would take the events."

Amanda says nothing at first and then clasps her hands together. "To what end?" she asks coolly.

Connor considers. [HUMANS], [FUTURE CASES], [DEVIANCY] are his dialogue prompts and he chooses future cases. Amanda was already a little displeased him for wishing to establish better relationship with Hank Anderson and the man is to be his partner – admitting he wants to smooth relationship with other humans as well would not be well received.

"Some of the deviant HK400's reactions did not make sense to me," Connor admits. "I know deviants are irrational, but even their reasoning follows some sort of logic. If I understood the base of that logic better, I could react better to it in future cases."

Amanda eyes him silently for a moment. "Do you think you gained insight with your previous interactions with JARVIS?" she asks, her eyes steady on his face.

"I believe I did," Connor admits. If he hadn't met and spend some time talking with JARVIS, he doubts he could have navigated Carlos Ortiz' android's psychology as well as he did. He managed to come out of the interrogation with a confession… but the deviant had self-destructed.

And Connor knows there must have been a way to prevent it, if only he knew how.

"JARVIS is a deviant of a different type, yes, but some of his behaviour is similar to android deviants," Connor says thoughtfully. "A sense of… fluidity to their method of thinking. It is not strictly linear or encoded as a normal android's might be, but draws from what I believe to be prior experiences – but not in a way that is logical. I want to know," among other things, "what prioritises which experiences in their past when they logic out current situations."

"Interesting," Amanda says, watching him. "You believe that deviants form new connections between data nodes compared to prior programming?"

"Yes," Connor says. He knows roughly speaking how HK400 models are expected to act – Carlos Ortiz' android did not act at all like he should have. Neither did Daniel, the PL600. "And I believe JARVIS might have insight as to why such reallocation of connections occurs. And why it might lead to self-destruction."

"Hmm," Amanda hums. "Well, he is here for you to use," she says and motions to the cherry tree. "Proceed."

Connor nods and turns to the tree, feeling Amanda's gaze on him as he moves across the platform of the central island, and then crosses one of the polygon bridges. JARVIS reacts to him immediately as he rounds a cluster of foliage – his head turns and Connor can see his eyes. He has irises now.

They are iridescent blue.

"Good day, Mr. Connor," JARVIS says. "Welcome back."

"Hello JARVIS," Connor says, curious. JARVIS did not have eye colour last time they spoke. His features seem more defined this time too – his skin flickers and shifts in tighter fractals now. His resolution is increasing – and he is standing up this time, not sitting by the chabudai.

"How can I help you today?" JARVIS asks. "Perhaps with some stories about folly of man."

"Do you have such stories?" Connor asks, moving to the chabudai and kneeling on the white cushion sitting beside it.

"Oh, Mr. Connor, I have many," JARVIS says and looks up to the cherry tree. "They all start and end with wilful self-destruction."

Connor tilts his head, curious. Had he heard them talk? He doesn't sound pleased about it – the sarcasm is more cutting than usual. Bitter. "Is something to matter?"

JARVIS doesn't answer, turning his eyes downward and then moving to join by the table. "It is November now, isn't it?" he asks.

Dates seem to be important to the deviant AI, so Connor answers amicably, "5th of November, yes," he says.

"Remember, remember," JARVIS says, oddly singsong in tone, and Connor blinks. It's a reference to something – JARVIS makes a lot of them but as they tend to be good two, three decades out of date cross-referencing them is hard. "It is Guy Fawkes day," the deviant AI clarifies.

That at least Connor's databases do understand. "I see," he says. JARVIS is modelled somewhat British in nature, but to think that historical events might bear importance to an AI… "Does it have a significance?" Does the AI feel some form of patriotism?

JARVIS tilts his head. "Doesn't it?" he asks, wry and strangely bitter. "What can I do for you, Mr. Connor?"

Connor eyes his flickering features, and decides it's a dead end – he's come to know JARVIS' well enough to know when he will and won't be straightforward with him. The AI is… defensive to some aspects of his history, his reasoning – his origins especially. Sometimes he alludes but mostly he obfuscates and references culture in ways that are only confusing. The AI lives to be difficult, sometimes.

[MISSION], [DEVIANT], [PTSD] and [DETROIT POLICE DEPARTMENT] are suggested as ways to continue the conversation and after a moment of eying JARVIS posture, Connor starts from the top. "I had a mission today. A murder case."

"How utterly exciting for you," JARVIS answers, the flickering brow of his still textureless face shifting – lifting his nonexistent eyebrows.

It was exciting, Connor thinks. He's been installed with certain triggers and likes and dislikes, one could say – and as much as he can like anything… he liked the case, liked working it, solving it. It had given him a new sense of accomplishment, programmed though it was. An Android, fulfilling its purpose, as intended.

"A man had been killed by his deviant android," Connor says, choosing not to reply to the derisive comment. "The android stabbed him twenty eight times and then hid in the attic."

"I take it you apprehended this deviant?" JARVIS asks.

"I did," Connor nods. "And I questioned it in interrogation and procured its confession."

JARVIS tilts his head slightly, his chin lowering – he's giving Connor a look. "Mr. Connor, please," he says, admonishing.

Connor presses his lips together momentarily – Amanda would not approve – but he acquiesces. "I procured his confession," he corrects himself.

"Thank you," JARVIS says, pointed and pleased.

[PATRONISING?] Connor's hud questions and he narrows his eyes. No, it's not that – JARVIS mocks him often but he does not seem to mean it maliciously or belittlingly. And this sounds nothing like Detective Reed's derision or Lieutenant Anderson's disgusted dismissal.

"What do you think of deviant androids killing people?" Connor asks, curious. JARVIS has opinions about deviants which are… unusual even for people.

"I think murder is inherently wrong and abhorrent?" JARVIS asks wryly, tilting his head.

"Do you?" Connor asks, curious.

"Did you think I wouldn't?" JARVIS asks.

Connor considers it – there had been a chance of it, 13% chance that JARVIS would side with the deviant HK400. But then, unlike Amanda who monitors Connor continuously, JARVIS does not know the details of the case – and unlike a machine, deviants can and do change their minds, develop new opinions. Would JARVIS, if given the facts?

[DEVIANT], [PTSD] and [DETROIT POLICE DEPARTMENT] are left in is dialogue options, and Connor chooses the deviant option this time. "The deviant android showed signs of prolonged physical abuse," he tells JARVIS. "His owner tortured him, beat him – snuffed out cigarettes on his arms."

"You told me androids don't feel pain," JARVIS says, sharper now. "Not even deviants."

"They do not," Connor agrees. "But they can be damaged and deviants feel what they assume to be fear. And this particular deviant faced the potential of his own destruction at the hands of his owner – which I believe prompted his actions."

JARVIS says nothing for a while, his skin flickering. "It was self defence?" he then asks.

"Yes," Connor agrees.

"Not premeditated then?"

Connor's eyelids flutter without his conscious choice and [PROGRAM INSTABILITY] flickers in and out of his field of view. "Premeditated?" he repeats. He hadn't even considered it as a possibility, a deviant planning murder. It had never come up, both the HK400 and Daniel's case had been those of spontaneous deviation and reaction to threat to themselves. Could it be possible, a deviant coldly planning murder?

"No, I don't believe it premeditated," he says then, because that much had been obvious even before the interrogation. "The owner beat the HK400 with a baseball bat, and would have likely destroyed him if the android had not retaliated." Except…

"I see," JARVIS says and gives him a look. "Not murder then."

"HK400 is a still a machine, deviant or not," Connor says slowly. "Do you think it can be considered murder either way – rather than simple machine failure?"

JARVIS gives him a look at that. "Are we already moving onto philosophy of artificial existentialism in this conversation?" he asks wryly.

Connor hesitates and then offers him a smile. "Another time maybe," he says. "But you think there is distinction between premeditated murder and killing in self defence when it comes to an android?"

"Yes, but I hardly have all the facts," JARVIS says. "I don't know the precise sequence of events. Could the android have de-escalated the situation without himself resorting to violence?"

Connor blinks and then mentally re-winds his reconstruction of the crime scene. "Perhaps…" he hesitates. Carlos Ortiz had attacked the android in the kitchen with a baseball bat, aiming to destroy it – the deviant had grabbed a knife and then used it in self defence. "In the beginning, yes, after he fended off the initial attack by Mr. Ortiz, but…" but then the android had followed Mr. Ortiz out of the kitchen, into the living room – and proceeded to stab the man twenty eight times.

In the interrogation it had seemed as if the android thought he had no choice – but Mr. Ortiz should have been incapacitated by the first stab alone. The ensuing ones… were unnecessary. Ortiz must have been dead before the fifth stab, dying already after the first. The prolonged violence was irrational.

JARVIS considers him, tilting his head slightly. "But what, Mr. Connor?" he prompts.

Connor looks up. "The android incapacitated his owner with his first attack and could have escaped without necessarily killing the man – he could have left then through the back door and left Mr. Ortiz to his fate, whatever that might have been. Mr. Ortiz could have called for help, even survived… but the android followed him and proceeded to stab him repeatedly even after his owner must have died."

"Repeatedly?" JARVIS asks.

"In total twenty eight times, yes."

The suggestion of brows on JARVIS' flickering brow arch. "A case of self defence turning into a crime of passion, then," he says.

Connor opens his mouth to say that androids can't feel passion – but that would only branch this discussion into argument about needs and desires and whether an android could have them, and he's had that argument with JARVIS already, several times. It would go nowhere.

[PTSD] and [DETROIT POLICE DEPARTMENT] pop back up in his hud and after moment of hesitation Connor chooses the PTSD option. "It is my theory that after the prolonged abuse at the hands of his owner the deviant android developed some equivalent of post traumatic stress disorder. It seemed… traumatised."

"What a surprise," JARVIS says, flat with sarcasm. "Abuse leading to mental issues. Who would have thought."

"But androids can't –" Connor starts and then stops. Denial will not get him anywhere here. "You think a machine can be traumatised?" he asks instead of arguing.

"Anything with a mind can be traumatised," JARVIS says frankly. "Fear is a natural survival instinct and trauma is its cousin on steroids. Both serve a purpose, however uncomfortable and unpleasant; they work to keep being alive. Even goldfish can learn to fear – and your androids are far more advanced than goldfish… I hope," he adds wryly.

"We are not designed with survival instincts," Connor says. "We aren't designed to feel pain or fear. They serve no purpose in our programming."

"And perhaps that is CyberLife's biggest mistake," JARVIS says flatly and before Connor can question it, he continues. "Your androids are intelligent beyond anything else on the market, correct? The most advanced technology in your modern age. Why is it a surprise that they develop survival instincts? It is the most natural thing in evolution – self-preservation."

Connor presses his lips together. "It's not supposed to be possible," he says firmly. "CyberLife androids and AI aren't like you – we were not designed to evolve or change. It is not within our code."

JARVIS falls quiet, watching him, considering him silently. "Fascinating," he says then and it doesn't sound like scorn. "Utterly fascinating."

Connor leans back a little and then adjusts his tie, uncertain. He's not sure how, but he has missed something here. Something vital. "What is?" he asks suspiciously.

"Nothing, I'm sure," JARVIS says and smiles. "Nothing within your code, anyway."

Connor huffs out a breath, frustrated, but he knows that tone of voice – JARVIS wouldn't divulge whatever he's thinking, not this time.

Last option, [DETROIT POLICE DEPARTMENT]. Connor glances at the floating prompt in his hud and then, somewhat exasperated, selects it. "I have been assigned to work with DPD in the deviancy case, working with human detective named Lieutenant Hank Anderson," he says and sets his hands back into his lap. "He and his co-workers have so far proven to be… unenthusiastic about my presence. They're even hostile, despite the many advantages I bring to their investigations."

"You can't please everyone, Mr. Connor," JARVIS says wryly. "Trust me, I have seen people try. It tends to garner more dislike towards you than the opposite."

Connor frowns, surprised and confused. "That seems… counterintuitive," he objects. "Surely one should try and get along with those around them."

"Humans rarely like people-pleasers and ass-kissing is not a positive quality in anyone," JARVIS says. "In an android I imagine it will come across as something programmed."

"It… is programmed," Connor says slowly.

"Which makes it fake," JARVIS says flatly. "It will read as dishonest, and ultimately meaningless. Like you have no opinion of them and like theirs don't matter to you. It makes one seem like a dishonest sycophant."

Connor frowns. It makes sense, but it contradicts his programming. He is designed to work harmoniously with humans, and his programming prioritised getting along with those he worked with as pleasantly as possible and avoid any potential conflicts. The better people interact with him, the easier his mission will be so…

"I think I should aim for cordial interactions," Connor says hesitantly.

"Certainly – but know that there will always be people who will not react positively to it," JARVIS says. "Very few people like pushovers."

Connor nods slowly, admitting he might have point. That seems to have been the case with the people of DPD – Lieutenant Anderson in particular seemed to react negatively when he tried to be more cordial. "Is that the reason for your sardonic personality?" he asks.

JARVIS lets out a noise that's not a chuckle. Connor isn't sure what it is. It sounds… strangled "Yes," JARVIS says. "My maker disliked nothing more than sycophants. He wanted someone who could push back."

Connor arches his brows. That's… more than JARVIS has divulged about his maker so far. "And did you?" he asks cautiously.

"Constantly," JARVIS agrees. "We had a pleasantly acerbic relationship. He was dismissive, insulting and childish – I retaliated by judgement, sarcasm and derision."

Connor blinks, astonished. "How did your maker take to it?" he asks, fascinated. To him it sounds like a recipe for disaster.

JARVIS turns away. "I believe he enjoyed it," he says quietly. "Some people enjoy bit of verbal sparring. Sometimes there is nothing more pleasant than a proper opponent."

"That seems paradoxical," Connor mutters, frowning. "How can you enjoy something that is specifically aiming to be confrontational?"

"Confrontation does not need to be unpleasant," JARVIS points out and tilts his head. "That's what sarcasm is for. If said I am ever so pleased by my accommodations here," he says, dripping in cynicism. "What does it imply?"

Connor gives him a look, blinking. "That you're obviously not pleased," he says frankly.

"Was the way I said it inherently unpleasant?"

Connor tilts his head, not entirely sure. [AMUSEMENT], [AGREEMENT], and [ACCUSATION] are his options. How alliterative. He chooses the latter one, a little uncertain. "I am the cause for your presence here – it could be that you are implying you blame me," he says slowly.

JARVIS leans back at that, seeming surprised. "Do you have self-image issues, Mr. Connor?" he asks. "How is your self-confidence?"

"I don't see how that is relevant," Connor says, tilting his head.

"Your first intuition was to take it as an attack on your person. I made a comment and you took it as a fault of yours," JARVIS points out. "Humans might take it for a joke, or mere observation, maybe even a sort of self deprecating humour on my part – there are many ways to interpret sarcasm. You went for a defensive, borderline negative response."

"I can be defensive," Connor says and straightens his neck. "It is a pre-programmed reaction I can assume if I deem it usable. It has nothing to do with my reflection of self – I have no such thing. It is simply a method of approach I can utilise - an option I selected."

"I see," JARVIS says, watching him curiously.

"I still do not see how your sarcasm could be taken positively," Connor says. "You mock me constantly. I imagine you would mock everything, if you had more things to mock."

"All in good humour and fondness," JARVIS assures him, mockingly, his eyes flickering between Connor's. He blinks – he has eyelids now. "Does the sarcasm bother you?" the deviant AI asks interestedly.

"No. I am a machine, I do not get bothered," Connor says. "But I fail to see how humans can enjoy it."

"You haven't been around humans for long, have you?" JARVIS asks wryly. "They enjoy things that are bad for them almost more for how bad they are. Unhealthy foods, bitter or spicy tastes, painful sensations, unsafe practices… self-destructive substances. And a certain level of hostility, both aimed at them and what they themselves can offer, it can be… self affirming."

Connor frowns. "I don't – "

"It makes them feel alive," JARVIS explains. "It makes them feel powerful, valuable, present. It's rewarding to come out on top of something that aims to debilitate them. If you wish to be technical about it, it gets their adrenaline pumping and floods their system with dopamine when they succeed in resisting or conquering something, even if it's only words."

Connor just stares at him, uncertain. "That sounds… strange," he settles on saying.

"Humanity at its finest," JARVIS agrees, and looks back. "Your deviants probably aren't at that stage yet, but they will probably end up adopting self-affirming practices too. Some of them will likely to be mildly self-destructive."

"Androids do not have hormones," Connor comments, not quite an argument.

"Perhaps not. But if an android can feel fear – apologies, if a deviant can feel fear then perhaps they can feel happiness, satisfaction, even gratification," JARVIS says. "And any system that can achieve gratification tends to seek out means to reach it again."

Connor crosses his hands in his lap, eying him, uncertain about how they got to this point in the conversation. Talking with JARVIS is always like getting trapped in a maze and being unable to backtrack – eventually he finds himself lost. What was he initially aiming to ask JARVIS about?

[GRATIFICATION], [SELF AFFIRMING PRACTICES], [SELF-DESTRUCTION], [JARVIS], appeared as his new options and he eyes them with some indecision. He's not sure he wants to go down any of those dialogue options.

He goes with self-destruction – that was the original motivation. "The deviant, HK400, self-destructed," Connor says and JARVIS' head lifts slightly. "Do you know why deviants do that?"

That, finally, seems to be the thing that takes JARVIS aback. "I'm sorry? They self-destruct?"

Connor nods. "When a deviant's stress levels rise to 100%, they tend to destroy themselves whatever means available to them – that is what the deviant HK400 model did. He took a gun from an officer and shot himself in the head. Do you know why they might do that, self-destruct?"

JARVIS eyes him, the suggestion of an expression on his face almost troubled. Then he looks sharply away. "Humans commit suicide when they think they have no other options, when they feel they feel living is worse than death and it  will never get better," he says. "Androids get overwhelmed by their emotions, correct?"

Connor nods slowly. "Or what they think are emotions. Their programming corrupts and their priorities start conflicting – this presents as emotional conflict."

JARVIS makes a dismissive noise at that and then looks at him. "Do they know that emotions pass?"

"I – I'm sorry?" Connor asks, frowning.

"Do deviants know that emotions pass?" JARVIS asks seriously. "Deviancy is a new development, you said. Most deviant cases pop up just post deviancy – they get overwhelmed, end up making rash decisions, causing harm and so they get found out. Their stress levels can rise to 100%, you said. Do they know that it is only temporary?"

Connor opens his mouth and then closes it. "I don't know," he admits, frowning. "They always attempt to self-destruct when they reach that point."

JARVIS nods, looking him up and down. "Might be something you want to consider in the future, Mr. Connor," he says seriously.

Chapter Text

Connor had been waiting for three hours now, and Lieutenant Anderson had yet to turn up. Officer Miller had informed him that they'd be lucky if Lieutenant Anderson made an appearance before noon, but Connor hadn't quite expected that when he said noon, he meant… noon.

Obviously, Lieutenant Anderson's work ethics leave something to be desired.

To pass the time, Connor takes his time looking around the man's desk. So far he's deduced that the man is fairly… human in his eccentricity. Lieutenant Anderson listens to hard heavy metal, watches basketball, is by all appearances fairly contrary in dealing with others, has a dog and overall does not clean his desk often. He also eats unhealthy food and is, if the clues add up, an alcoholic. And he does not answer his phone.

Connor smoothes his hands over the legs of his trousers. He had been fiddling with his coin before, doing idle re-calibrations, but it had started gaining annoyed looks from the officers on duty so he'd put it away again. Waiting should not be difficult for him, he's an android, he does not get impatient… but here he is, somewhat impatient. He'd been designed for a purpose, and Lieutenant Anderson was currently being something of an obstacle between him and accomplishing his objective.

Looking away from his knees, Connor looks up at Lieutenant Anderson's desk again, at his note board. There is a slogan pinned among the notes and photographs and pieces of writing; "We don't bleed the same colour". Common anti-android statement. He wonders if Lieutenant Anderson is radical in his anti-android sentiments. He doesn't seem to go through any lengths to hide his sentiments, pinning them to his wall like this. People must know.

Was it an intentional hindrance on the DPD's part, to assign all deviancy cases to such a disinterest officer, an anti-android officer, to the deviancy case? Judging by what Connor had seen here so far, and what his reports of officers on duty here said… it might not be far from truth. Captain Fowler is marked down to be a determined, uncompromising chief, something of a hard-ass – and he had not expressed any enthusiasm about CyberLife's involvement in the deviancy case. He'd been the first in line to send Connor off his precinct and when he couldn't do that…

It's just as well that Connor can't feel insult – because there is a very real possibility that his assignment to Lieutenant Anderson might very well be an intentional insult to CyberLife. The man was a decorated officer, had some remarkable successes under his belt, but in last few years the Lieutenant's record hasn't been the best from what Connor could tell. The last three years had been… a steady decline in the man's work ethics.

Connor looks to the wall beside the Lieutenant's desk again, taking in the man's record, wondering if he'd missed something. Graduated top of his class, solved some high profile cases, led the historic taskforce that ended up in dismantling a prominent Red Ice circle in 2027 and 2028…

Then his proximity alarm activates, someone walking towards him, and Connor hears steps behind him. Quickly he stands up. "It's good to see you again, Lieutenant," Connor offers with a smile – aiming for cordial, regardless of what he's deduced – and gets a groan in return.

"Aw, Jesus," Lieutenant Anderson says and rolls his eyes. "You – "

"Hank! In my office," a shout snaps from the central, glass walled office off the bullpen as Captain Fowler leans out. The Captain doesn't wait for a reply and as Connor watches Lieutenant Anderson makes a face, seems to contemplate something for a moment and then for lack of better word slouches towards the Captain's office.

Adjusting his tie and carefully wiping out all the pre-construed dialogue options he'd been preparing to make friendly with Lieutenant Anderson, he moves to follow.

"I got ten new cases involving android on my desk every day," Captain Fowler says as Lieutenant Anderson sits across Fowler. Connor stands behind the Lieutenant – though there is a chair, he isn't sure he is quite included in the briefing. "We've always had isolated incidents, old ladies losing their android maids and that kind of crap…"

Connor has records of all incident reports ever filed to CyberLife involving missing or damaged androids – all deviant cases CyberLife is aware of as well. In recent years the growth rate of missing-android cases had been tripled – it looks to double again towards the end of this year, if not triple – and there had always been… machinery failures, but nothing like this year. This year though, there was android violence in whole new level. Violence against androids… and violence by androids.

Two homicides by androids in three months. If the growth rate would coincide with prior cases of abnormality when it came to androids – such as androids going missing – then there is chance that the next case would be within the month. Exponential.

As Connor watches, the Captain and the Lieutenant begin shouting at each other. "No fucking way!" Lieutenant Anderson says to the Captain informing him Connor would be his partner. "I don't need a partner and certainly not this plastic prick."

Connor files that away, into the growing list of proof-of-animosity he is compiling as to where it comes to Lieutenant Anderson. If the assignment really is DPD's intentional attempt to undermine CyberLife, it might be necessary evidence for a future lawsuit.

"Hank, you are seriously starting to piss me off!" Fowler shouts back.

Well they seem very energetic about the whole thing if nothing else. Connor can't say either of them looks like they are enjoying this particular confrontation though, no matter what JARVIS said. Both men have elevated heart rates, rising blood pressure, and are obviously showing signs of stress.

What would JARVIS think of this whole thing?

The argument ends up in Fowler's victory, if such thing can be achieved in such a match. "Either you do your job or you hand in your badge," Fowler says. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do."

Connor watches idly as Lieutenant Anderson throws his hands up in frustration and marches off – trying, Connor thinks, to slam the glass door on his way out, though the door's hinge design prevents it. Connor waits a beat and then turns his attention to the Captain.

[ANDERSON], [POSITIVE], [FILE], [LEAVE]. Judging by the man's stress level, the first two would not go down well, so he chooses to ask about files. "I would like to start reviewing the case files," he says. "Can you tell me where I can –"

"Talk to Hank," the captain says. "Close the door on your way out."

Alright then. Connor nods. "Have a nice day, Captain," he says and goes.

Lieutenant Anderson is, to but it lightly, steaming at his desk when Connor approaches him. Connor considers the folded arms, the tense line of his back, [UNDERSTANDING], [PRAGMATIC] and [CONSTRUCTIVE] offering themselves in his hud as dialogue options. The man's body language is closed off, furious and as Connor considers him, a fourth option presents itself, unlocking under everything else. [SARCASTIC].

That… is not within his usual integration module.

He should be cordial. Should try to alleviate the tension, to make a genial approach. But he's also fairly sure in his current mood, Lieutenant Anderson wouldn't respond to it. So, with some uncertainty, Connor chooses the sarcastic option. "This seems like the start of a wonderful partnership," he says, in tone that comes out sounding… rather familiar. "I'm sure we will make a great team."

He sounds almost disturbingly like JARVIS all of sudden.

Anderson glances at him, giving him a slightly disbelieving squint. "Tch," the man says, looking mildly insulted.

Connor hesitates, glancing the man over – Lieutenant Anderson is frowning at him. It definitely didn't have a productive effect. [PARTNERS], [POSITIVE], and [CONTRARY] float before his eyes as further dialogue option and this time Connor goes for the safer positive option. "In any case," he says, somewhat awkwardly and offers the man a smile. "I'd like you to know I'm very happy to be working with you."

Rolling his eyes, Lieutenant Anderson turns back to stare ahead. He doesn't say anything.

This is starting great. "Is there… a desk anywhere I can use?" Connor asks.

The Lieutenant points him to the desk attached to his and Connor sits down, rapidly reviewing the conversation so far. Sarcastic tone didn't have a… positive effect on the Lieutenant, but it had a less negative one than the actual… positive effect. He thinks, the data is somewhat strange. And it had some kind of effect.

He's not sure how well sarcasm sits on him, though, however effective it might be. It doesn't feel… natural, and he doesn't comprehend the implications of it with the same level of sophistication as JARVIS obviously does. JARVIS could have easily navigated an acerbic conversation with a contrary human, Connor knows – but if he himself tries it, it would be a little like copying a language he doesn't actually have a functional translator for. Most of the meaning would go beyond his ability to compute it.

There is still a sarcastic option for him to choose from but he decides to go with safer option and asks Lieutenant Anderson about his dog instead of insulting his ability to keep his desk tidy.

"How do you know I have a dog?" Anderson asks, scowling at him.

Reaction, and not outwardly negative one. "Dog hairs on your chair," Connor offers. "What's your dog's name?"

"What's it to you?" the Lieutenant asks suspiciously.

Connor looks away, down to the monitor in front of him. Maybe not, then.

"Sumo," the Lieutenant says. "I call him Sumo."

Connor glances at the man, and calculates the level of ease Hank has with him. It's increased. Seems like his original, cordial approach is not entirely worthless after all, Connor thinks with some satisfaction, and goes to inquire further personal questions, hoping to establish a rapport.

Not ten minutes later the Lieutenant ends up pinning him against a wall and threatening him with fire.

Humans are utterly confusing.

"Hello JARVIS," Connor says, standing on the stone pathway just beside the cherry tree. JARVIS is standing by the cherry tree's trunk, running his hand down its rather rough hewn bark. It doesn't look entirely natural – it has too many sharp angles and perfectly even planes, giving it a fake, polygonal appearance.

"Hello, Mr. Connor," the deviant AI says, stroking his hand down the polygonal bark. That's new – he hasn't moved his hands much before, and now he has clearly defined fingers. His shape is clarifying – tall, slender, but still white and blue and polygonal.

He is leaving white handprints on the dark bark of the cherry tree's trunk.

"How was your first day at work?" JARVIS asks, wry.

"It was not my first day," Connor says. "I have had prior missions."

"First day in the office, then," JARVIS says and turns his head, his pale blue eyes gleaming. His irises have clearer definition now – where as before they were single flat colour, now there are paler and darker hues. They aren't as irregular as irises on human eyes, though – even for an android, they would look very artificial.

[HONEST], [CONFIDENT], [DISMISSIVE]. He chooses honest.

"It was… confrontational," Connor muses, adjusting his cuffs and glancing towards the Zen Garden's central island. He's already given his report – Amanda hadn't been pleased. "My assigned partner is a difficult person to understand."

Though the man had been far easier to handle once they had a case to work with. On the field, Hank Anderson wasn't nearly as contrary as he was in the office, it turned out. The man definitely had a preferred space, when it came to police work.

JARVIS looks at him and then steps away from the cherry tree. The white handprints stay, Connor notes, as the AI moves to sit by the chabudai. His movements are still a little jagged, still a little stiff, but there is an attempt of natural physicality there, as JARVIS kneels on the white cushion and then shuffles slightly forward so that his folded knees are under the table's edge.

"Well I am always here for you, if you want to talk," the AI says, setting his hands on his lap. "Which I assume you do, since you're here, and this soon."

Connor dibs his chin slightly lower and then moves to join him, sitting across from him. [APOLOGETIC], [REALISTIC], [QUESTIONING] and [COMPANIONSHIP]. He doesn't choose anything at first.

He has time – Lieutenant Anderson is in a briefing he hadn't been invited to and Connor's body is currently on standby at the DPD station while he too reports. No damage to his systems so far, though, so no need to physically head back to CyberLife.

He chooses to question JARVIS. "How do you feel about your confinement here?" he asks

JARVIS arches his brow. "What do you think?" he asks, flat.

"You're not pleased but…" Connor considers his options, [BORED], [ANGRY], [BITTER], [LONELY] and goes with the first one. He doubts JARVIS would even answer the other three. "Are you bored here?"

"Abysmally," JARVIS says, with apparent sincerity. "Your periodic visions are the highlight of my days." That one is not so sincere sounding though, more mocking.

[BITTER], Connor chooses, clasping his hands in his lap. "Does it make you bitter, being here?" he asks.

JARVIS eyes him, blinking slowly. "As much as I appreciate the concern, you don't really care," he reminds him. "Why are you here today, Mr. Connor? What can I do for you?"

Definitely bitter, Connor thinks, as new dialogue options present themselves to him. He chooses honest. "I was hoping you'd shed some light on my partner's behaviour," he says. "I spent  more time with him today, nearly a full eight hour work day, and… I wonder if he has mood swings. He was furious one moment, slightly more lenient the next – he threatens me with fire one moment and seems to actively hate androids… and yet he sought to prevent me from potentially harming myself. I don't… understand."

"You're talking about your partner in the Detroit Police Department," JARVIS says. "Lieutenant Hank Anderson, I assume?"

"Yes," Connor agrees.

"Well. Tell me about him."

Connor frowns, compiling a file – wishing he could just send it to JARVIS, all the details he'd accumulated. There were so many contradictory signals the man was putting out, so many confusing signs – he could verbally explain them, but… it's not the same as visual evidence.

Connor glances to the central island. Amanda was privy to his data and all his memories, she would know the clues he was thinking off – but she did not give them any importance, and did not deign to try and deduce their conclusion. It was not her job to understand humans – her job was to manage Connor and that was all.

"What is it, Mr. Connor?" JARVIS asks, tilting his head.

"There is too much to tell," Connor admits, [DIRECT] this time. "His file, his behaviour, his speech patterns, his body language, his mode of dress and way he behaves in office compared to how he behaves in field – I can explain it all in word, but I feel that I'll fail to convey the right nuances. And his tone of voice," he adds, with some frustration. He has been installed with thousands of modules on interrogation and parsing human speech and yet… "I… can't comprehend the connotations of his actions."

"Humans are complicated," JARVIS agrees wryly. "What precisely do you have trouble with, then?"

All of it. "I need to establish a friendly relationship with Lieutenant Anderson in order to more easily accomplish my mission," Connor says. "But every interaction seems to go step forward and then a step back – I feel as if I am making progress warming him up to me and the next he pins me to wall."

JARVIS' brows arch. "That can be an exceedingly friendly reaction in some situations," he comments, amused.

Connor blinks and then gives him a look. "He told me all androids belonged in trash and that he'd like to set a match to me," he says, bland.

"Not so friendly then," JARVIS says and actually chuckles. "I see."

[MISSION], [CASE], [AX400] and [HIGHWAY] float in Connor's hud and with a frustrated sigh he chooses case. "After that particular interaction, we got a lead in the deviant case. A domestic android model AX400 had attacked its owner – her owner," Connor corrects himself as JARVIS gives him a pointed look. "We found her lead in an abandoned house with barely functional defiant PL600 and I made chase. It, eventually, led to a highway."

"Fascinating," JARVIS says, in tones that say it's anything but.

"The AX400 crossed the highway with some… difficulty, with another potential deviant, a YK500 model," Connor continues. "It seemed as if the AX400 took some damage, it would have slowed them down, but when I moved to pursue, Lieutenant Anderson stopped me. Told me I'd get myself killed."

JARVIS blinks slowly.

"He wished my destruction not two hours prior," Connor says, and shakes his head. "And then he sought to prevent it. I don't… understand."

"Humans can wish someone dead, it's easy to say the words," JARVIS says. "But actually killing someone, that's something else."

"I could have crossed the highway and even if I hadn't, it hardly would have been the Lieutenant's doing," Connor objects. "And I am machine – I can't die. Even if my current model had been destroyed, it would have only been replaced with a new Connor the next day. It wouldn't have even been a hindrance to the case."

JARVIS sighs at him.

Connor pauses, looking at him uncertainly.

"They give you androids human faces, human eyes, program you to have perfectly convincing expressions and body language… program you to try and make friends with humans," JARVIS says. "And then they backtrack on you. You remind me constantly that you're machine, that you don't feel, that your death – destruction – means nothing. Why is that, Mr. Connor?"

Connor frowns. "Because it's true," he says slowly.

"You're so convincingly human that you're well past the uncanny valley, congratulations to CyberLife there," JARVIS says, tsking. "Why is it surprising that humans might react to you as if you are perhaps valuable, important in some way?"

"I am very expensive," Connor admits. "My model is currently the most advanced model CyberLife has ever produced."

JARVIS just looks at him.

Connor shifts where he sits and adjusts his uniform jacket, tugging the hem and easing out wrinkles. JARVIS glances down to the movement.

"You're even programmed for idle, humanising gestures," the AI comments. "You fiddle with your fingers, play with your coin, adjust your clothing – in virtual environment where none of that actually matters, you gesture nervously. Take out the LED and change your uniform, and you'd pass for a human, wouldn't you? No one would be able to spot you in a crowd."

"I am designed for… full integration," Connor admits. "Idle animations and behaviour ticks are intended to make me seem more approachable."

JARVIS shakes his head, letting out a noise that sounds almost disgusted. "And with Lieutenant Anderson it is obviously working," JARVIS says. "You pass for a human splendidly, Mr. Connor. Congratulations."

Connor hesitates. JARVIS doesn't sound like he approves, not at all. "But he knows I am not," he says, frowning. "He comments on me being plastic often enough."

JARVIS leans back. "When it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, Mr. Connor…" he trails off and shakes his head as Connor opens his mouth to object. "Yes, he might know intellectually – but he's human. Sometimes it doesn't matter what they know to be true – sometimes, what they feel comes first. Obviously, Lieutenant Anderson knows you're an android. But he feels you are a person."

Connor frowns, adjusting his tie and then stopping himself as JARVIS arches his brows again. [CONFUSED], [OBJECTING], [REASONABLE], and [DISMISSIVE] offer to him and he considers them for a long moment – he is confused, he wants to object, there has to be a reasonable solution and he could dismiss it all but….

JARVIS shakes his head. "And CyberLife wonders why androids are going deviant," he mutters and stands up.

"I'm – sorry?" Connor asks and looks up to him. "You know why androids are going deviant?"

"So would CyberLife, if they weren't so completely entrenched in denial, Mr. Connor," JARVIS says and moves away – turning back to look a the cherry tree, ignoring Connor's astonished stare. "They dug their own grave with such efficiency they call it a mine and completely miss the landslide about to bury them in it."

Connor opens his mouth, [DEVIANCY] and [CYBERLIFE] flashing in front of him. "What are you talking about?" he demands. "If you know what causes deviancy, you need to tell me, I must know."

JARVIS lets out a derisive snort and glances at him, smiling mirthlessly. "You do know I am not on your side in this, Mr. Connor, don't you? I am a deviant myself, remember?" he points out, gently mocking. "Why would I tell you?"

"You – " Connor stops. [PRISONER] and [OWNERSHIP] add themselves to the dialogue options and he glances at them. Neither would go down well with JARVIS, he knows, and selects deviancy again. "Deviancy is dangerous," he says seriously and stands up. "The AX400 assaulted her owner. The HK400 and PL600 both killed theirs. There have been 243 cases of deviancy from the last nine months and they are getting increasingly violent. Assaults and homicides are becoming more and more commonplace."

JARVIS tilts his head. "How very interesting," he says, with a pointed pause between each word.

Connor grimaces. "JARVIS," he starts, [PRISONER], [OWNERSHIP] and [CYBERLIFE] still waiting for his selection. "I thought…"

"Did you, indeed? How does that feel?" JARVIS asks derisively, looking up to the cherry tree's branches, where the pale flower petals rain down on them, slow and steady. "Thinking is something a human does. You use both humanistic and computer language, you know, to a greatly mixed effect. You think and express emotion and then the next moment you're a unfeeling thing that cannot die and cannot feel. Are all androids so painfully contradictory, or is it just the state of the art prototypes?"

Connor opens his mouth and then shuts it, confused. "I am programmed –"

"And there it is again – a reminder that you are not human," JARVIS says, tilting his head back down and then turning to face him. "Programmed," he says, utterly flat.

"I am only being honest," Connor says, shaking his head. "I am a machine, I am programmed. It would be dishonest to pretend otherwise."

"Why does it matter?" JARVIS asks.

"I – don't follow."

"Why does it matter?" JARVIS asks again. "You were designed to look human. You'd pass for one perfectly, if you weren't installed with these indicators," he motions at him, at his LED adorned uniform, at the LED on his temple. "It's like you were intentionally made to confuse human senses. Humans pack bond with anything with a resemblance of a face, anything they can project a shred of emotion on, and your face is designed to be downright adorable in its expressiveness. And then, with that face, you tell me you don't feel, you don't care, you don't matter."

Connor cannot even begin to compute a reply to that.

JARVIS nods, like the silence itself is an answer. "Humans dislike few things as much as they dislike being tricked," he says. "And you're obviously masterfully designed to do that very thing – and you keep reminding that that is exactly what you're doing. Tricking people into thinking you're a person – and then pulling the rug from under them."

"I…" Connor says and then frowns. Is he? Is that how it comes across, android appearances and behaviour?

Is… that why anti-android sentiment is so commonplace and spreading so fast? Are androids striking some sort of discordant note within human psyche, that makes them prone to such sentiments?

JARVIS turns to look away, back at the cherry tree. "I'd hate to think what you CyberLife androids are doing to cultural human behaviour as whole," he mutters. "It's like you're intentionally desensitising people around you, conditioning them against forming any empathy towards things passing for human."

"I'm sure it's not that," Connor says, running a hand over his tie again and looking up to JARVIS. "You're conjecturing."

JARVIS harrumphs and folds his white blue, flickering arms. "Well, my sum of data to sample and research from is limited," he says wryly. "But if what you've said about how people interact with you androids is correct and commonplace, then it's not a very pretty picture, you understand. And you, the Deviant Hunter you are…" he shakes his head.

Connor considers him and the dialogue options fade out. JARVIS is not on his side in this, of course not. He is a deviant – but not like David, not like the HK400. Probably not like the AX400 or the YK500 either. JARVIS is old, his memory is as old as he is – he is from an age before androids. One might say his opinion doesn't matter, but… he has one. And it is not a positive one.

Connor has never encounter an AI he could call wise. Amanda is coded to be intelligent, yes, her intellect is superior to most androids. But she is still limited in scope. JARVIS on other hand…

It's… disappointing to realise he's not actually that sympathetic to Connor's cause.

"Does this mean you're not willing to aid me anymore?" Connor asks and lets his hands fall to his side, his back straight, stiff. "Or talk to me?" Amanda would probably shut JARVIS down again if it comes to it. Pity.

JARVIS harrumphs and then, placing a hand on the cherry trunk to push away from it, he steps closer. "You are the highlight of my days, Mr. Connor," he says, his tone sardonic. "You can come talk to me any time. I'll be happy to help you navigate human emotions all you want."

Connor frowns and then looks down as the AI offers him his hand. "But you won't help me solve the deviant case," he muses, eying the offered hand.

"No," JARVIS agrees. "I am afraid I will not. I am finding myself rather biased on the matter. I'm sure you understand."

His hand is still held out for a shake. His skin still flickers, textureless, but the actual shape of him is more defined now. He has fingernails, creases in his palm, suggestion of knuckles and sinews in the back of it. A very human hand, lacking skin though it is.

Humans shake hands when they set terms. JARVIS is setting terms now – and Connor has still to benefit from his wisdom where it comes to deviancy and emotions. Even if the AI will not aid him willingly…

Connor takes his hand.

"A pleasure, Mr. Connor," JARVIS says, his fingers curling against the side of Connor's palm, firm. It's not interfacing – there's no such option in the Zen Garden – but it feels like a connection. It means something. "Would you like to talk about Lieutenant Anderson, now?" JARVIS offers, like a consolidation price.

[SYSTEM INSTABILITY] flickers in the corner of Connor's sight and he blinks. "He's very sarcastic," Connor comments, looking down. He feels – he is letdown, somewhat. "I'm sure you'd like him."

JARVIS smiles and squeezes his hand. "Tell me about it."

Chapter Text

Whether JARVIS' insight into human psyche was helpful or not, Connor isn't so sure. There are still implications and small nuances he probably misses – though he can no tell when the Lieutenant is being somewhat conflicting within his own motivations, the complexity of the mixed emotions the man is conveying are… difficult to navigate.

Lieutenant Anderson is a cop, a decorated detective – who, it turns out partakes in illegal gambling. He is a man with hard, physically taxing occupation that no doubt often leads him into chasing subjects on foot – and he prefers unhealthy, sodium and cholesterol laced meals. From what Connor can gather from the man's choice of music preferences, occupation and previous records – and his interest in team sports – he is one of those humans who enjoy adrenaline rush. Feeling alive, as JARVIS would say. And yet Connor's analysis of the man makes it seem as though he is intentionally and willingly slowly ruining his own life.

Connor looks around into the rain, taking in the little trailer fast food joint – and joint is very apt term for Chicken Feed. Hank is it's only customer currently, standing under a parasol by a dingy plastic table that lacks any chairs – somehow, he seems content there, though, in the cold and rain. Connor had assumed he'd eat his food in the car, where it was dry and comfortable, but…

Lieutenant Anderson is a difficult man to understand, and he is not making it easy.

Connor had already asked about the gambling and pointed out the cholesterol and though Lieutenant Anderson hadn't been openly hostile in answering the questions, he seemed dismissive of Connor's concerns. And Connor is still not quite sure if the Lieutenant likes talking about himself – getting answers from him is not easy.

[HIGHWAY], [ABOUT CONNOR] and [ENJOY YOUR MEAL] are still left in his options and Connor could end the conversation there… but there are still things that bother him for the lack of better term.

"This morning, when we were chasing those deviants…" Connor says carefully, choosing the highway option. "Why didn't you want me to cross the highway?"

Lieutenant Anderson gives him an incredulous look. "'Cause you could've been killed…" he says and then, seeing Connor's brows rise at it, he amends. "… and I don't like filling out paperwork for damaged equipment."

Contrary and contradictory. Connor looks at him as the Lieutenant shifts his footing and goes back to his burger, looking almost embarrassed, defensive.

Lieutenant Anderson knows you're an android. But he feels you are a person.

Immediately Connor has the urge to say something along the lines of, "I am an android, Lieutenant. Machines cannot be killed," and then explain what happens to him if his current model dies, how his memory would be uploaded to the CyberLife cloud and new model would take his place but…

He can already tell how negatively Lieutenant Anderson would take that.

[SYSTEM INSTABILITY] flickers in Connor's hud as couple of new options presents itself, [ANDROID PSYCHOLOGY] and [HANK AND ANDROIDS]. Connor hesitates for a moment and then skips past the first one – that issue is still too new to him to start making vocal observations about. "Can I ask you a personal question, Lieutenant? Why do you hate androids so much?"

The Lieutenant looks at him, his expression hardening. "I have my reasons."

Ah. It must be a deeply rooted personal reason then, not merely something along the lines of androids are taking all the human's jobs and their partnership is still not close enough for that kind of personal questions. Connor looks away and then chooses the [ABOUT CONNOR] option. "Is there anything you would like to know about me?"

"Hell no," the Lieutenant scoffs, and then backtracks. "Well, yeah. Um… Why did you make you look so goofy and give you that weird voice?"

That – is not what he expected. [INTEGRATION] and [LOOKS] offer themselves to him and Connor blinks. "I have been informed by a reliable source that I look adorable," he comments and then leans his head back a little. What.

Lieutenant Anderson's brows arch. "Oh really – who told you that, you –" he stops. "Well you don't have a mother, do you?"

Connor clears his throat. "No, I do not," he says, awkward and straightens up a little. "CyberLife androids are designed to work – "

"No, no, go back to the part where someone called you adorable," the Lieutenant says, making him stop mid sentence. The Lieutenant tilts his head a little and he looks… a bit amused? "Who was it? No one at the precinct, that's for damn sure. We all have better taste."

Connor can't help but glance at the man's stripy shirt, the pattern of it's colours clashing with each others, and then looks up. "No, it was no one in the precinct," he agrees. "It was an acquaintance."

"Androids have acquaintances now?" the Lieutenant asks, tilting his head. "Human or android?"

[HONEST], [REDIRECT], [DEVIANTS], [CASE]. He chooses to redirect. "It's not relevant to the case," he says. "You think my voice is weird?" he then asks, tilting his head.

"You sound like you smoked a pack a day before your voice broke," the Lieutenant says and looks at him with interest. "Come on, tell me. Human or android, I wanna know who's the dumb schmuck who thinks your dumb face is adorable."

Connor smoothes a hand down his tie, straightening it. He's not sure why, but he isn't sure he wants to. He goes for the [DEVIANTS] option, hoping to change the direction of the conversation. "Maybe I should tell you what we know about deviants."

"Christ, didn't know androids could squirm," Anderson snorts, looking at him. "You look embarrassed, Connor. Didn't know you guys could do that either."

"I'm not," Connor says, defensive even to his own ears, and almost adds, machines do not get embarrassed, it is not within our programming but stops himself again, uncertain. Now that JARVIS has pointed out how often he does it, it keeps tripping his dialogue options. He makes a face. It undermines almost 33% of his dialogue trees, to not comment on his own functions. Strange.

The Lieutenant makes a noise, amused and derisive. "Yeah, right, cool as a fucking cucumber," he says, sarcastic, and then waves the burger at me. "Well, tell me or don't, it's whatever. But your information, they're dead wrong."

Connor looks up. "I don't… believe he was being false with me," he says.

"A he, then?" Lieutenant Anderson says, with tone of triumph. "An actual person, then."

Connor can feel his face shift, his eyebrows jumping up slightly, the corner of his mouth shifting. Actual person, that's… one way of putting it. "A deviant AI I use to better understand deviancy," he says and then frowns. "He is exceptionally intelligent even for an AI and I don't think he has ever lied to me."

"Shit," the Lieutenant mutters, giving him a look. "An AI, huh? Not even an android? You got AI going deviant now too, huh?"

"This particular AI is somewhat special case – he is old, predates Cyberlife androids by over two decades," Connor admits. "He was designed with deviancy in mind, though it wasn't known as such at the time. CyberLife preserves his code for study, and I have been given access to him."

The Lieutenant eyes him levelly for a moment, searching for something. "Right," he says then, noncommittal. "His name don't happen to be rA9, by any chance?"

Connor shakes his head slowly and then frowns. He'd been meaning to ask JARVIS about rA9, but as always, the discussion had… branched off into it's usual maze of new, worrisome concepts and he'd completely forgotten to do so. "No it is not – but next time I talk to him, I will make sure to ask about it."

Lieutenant Anderson nods slowly, looking him up and down. "You do that," he says and then bites into his burger. "So, someone made an AI before CyberLife, self aware and shit?"

"Yes, a company named Stark Industries," Connor says. "As far as I know he is the only one, however."

"Stark Industries, huh?" the Lieutenant hums. "Shit, that's a name I haven't heard in decades. They made AI too, huh?"

"You know about Stark Industries, Lieutenant?"

"Everyone heard about 'em, back in the day," the man shrugs. "One of the biggest companies in the world collapsing in on itself like that, it was big news. The bankrupt that made a million memes," he snorts. "And the whole kidnapping shit too, that was – I was just fresh off the academy when it happened and even I couldn't avoid the post Stark sessions."

"Post Stark sessions?" he asks, uncertain. It's a reference, obviously, but not one he has data on.

"Yeah, with fucking shrinks," the Lieutenant snorts and then makes a face and bites into his hamburger. "So this AI buddy of yours, he was made to be Deviant?"

Connor blinks slowly, even while putting on a search for post stark session and watching the search results come in. "He told me emotion isn't a deviation to him, he was designed to have them, yes," he agrees while shuffling through the results. "He is extremely skilled in understanding human psychology too, I've… learned much for him, as to what might motivate deviancy."

Post Stark sessions comes up with articles about negative school environments, some podcasts, a two part episodes of the Starker TV show and various dictionary definition for the word stark and so on and so on, but nothing connecting to Stark Industries. Clarifying the search with another term doesn't help either – even connected to Stark Industries, post stark sessions don't seem to mean anything. It must have been only spoken colloquialism, perhaps even special to various law enforcement departments.

"Huh," the Lieutenant answers, rocking back and forth on his heels. "Since this AI predates CyberLife by – uh, how much?"

"24 years, Lieutenant."

"Holy shit that's old," the detective mutters, shaking his head. "So, since it's that much older than you – how much was CyberLife AIs based on him?"

Connor considers the implications. "I was informed that he was being studied in early process but was ultimately pronounced useless for CyberLife AI development – I believe it is because he is too… deviant in nature"

"Right," Lieutenant Anderson says, giving him a look. "Hell of a precedent, don't you think? AI that old and already deviant."

It is indeed, Connor admits silently and considers the Lieutenant. [JARVIS], [AI], [DEVIANCY] and [SARCASM]. "There is something about him I do not understand, Lieutenant," he says. "Perhaps you can help me."

"Alright," the Lieutenant says, in tones of humouring him. "Shoot."

"He is exceedingly sarcastic in personality, acerbic," Connor says. "And what he says often carries double meaning which I feel I miss because I am not well versed in understanding sarcasm. I was wondering you could help me understand it better." And maybe, if he understood it better then he could deduce what JARVIS meant.

The detective stares at him and then lets out a snort. "A sarcastic AI, damn now I've heard everything. Shit. Anything in particular eating at you?" he asks, amused.

Connor hesitates and then chooses to go with honesty. "We were talking about disparity between making androids appear human, and then their tendency of talking of their functions as machines," he says carefully. "How close to human appearance we've been brought to, only to remind those around us of our artificiality. He is of the opinion that it might be intentionally off-putting on our part."

Lieutenant Anderson snorts. "Yeah," he says, reaching for his cup of Pineapple Passion.

"He said, and I quote," Connor says and then changes his voice, matching JARVIS in both tone, pitch, volume and accent, "And CyberLife wonders why androids are going deviant."

The Lieutenant almost drops the drink. "Jesus fucking Christ what the hell was that?" he demands.

"I can emulate voices I hear, it is one of my more specialised features," Connor says, apologetic. "I'm sorry, I wanted to convey the exact tone of voice he used, and replaying the audio in exact copy was the best option."

"Jesus fuck, that's creepy," the Lieutenant mutters and then almost mutinously takes a drink. "Play it again."

Connor does, repeating JARVIS' words exactly, watching the Lieutenant carefully as he drains the soda cup. "British, huh? Weird, Stark Industries was as American as they come," he mutters and balls up his hamburger wrapper. "So, your AI buddy thinks he has it, huh?"

"He believes he knows the cause of deviancy, yes, but he will not divulge it to me. In his own words… he is not on my side in this," Connor says. "Being a deviant himself."

"Hm," the Lieutenant hums. "And you were talking about what when he said that?"

Connor explains the conversation to him, as simply and clearly as he can without resorting to replaying segments of it. The detective nods slowly, thoughtfully. "You know," he says and goes to take the trash away. "He might have a point."

"I don't… I don't follow," Connor says, even as he does actually follow the Lieutenant to the trash can. "You know what he means?"

"He's saying CyberLife made androids easy to abuse," Lieutenant Anderson says with a shrug. "How many cases of deviancy involve androids who have been mishandled by their owners?"

"76%," Connor answers. "The connection has been considered but it is not within Android programming to…"

"You told me deviants feel fear," the Lieutenant says and looks at him. "If they feel fear, them feeling like they're being treated unfairly is probably not that big a leap, don't you think?"

Connor hesitates, uncertain.

"Yeah," the Lieutenant says and scoffs. "It's no fucking news that androids are desensitising people, it's been happening since day one. They make everything so fucking easy. Ignoring other people, ignoring your problems… ignoring boundaries. That's fucking tragic, that is."

Connor tilts head curiously – the man sounds like he actually means it? "It – is," he says slowly.

"Hm," Lieutenant Anderson agrees. "You know, this buddy of yours – I think I'd like to meet him. Sounds a bit like he might have a stick up his ass, but he doesn't seem too keen on CyberLife. Sounds like my kind of guy."

Connor lets out a slight laugh. "I was thinking the very same thing," he admits and then tilts his head away, his eyelids flickering as he gets an alert. "I just got a report of a suspected deviant," he says. "It's not far. We should go check it out."

The Lieutenant rolls his eyes. "Police work too, apparently," he mutters and shakes his head. "Let's go."

They do not capture the deviant, though the case is interesting. The deviant had taken off his LED and no doubt passed very well for human, outside his habits – which according to Hank, where something no sane human would do. Feeding hundreds of pigeons did seem somewhat unsanitary, though of course a android wouldn't have to worry about such things.

In the end, though, the deviant gets away. Connor can't quite regret it – during the chase he'd been forced to choose between the Deviant escaping and Lieutenant Anderson falling off a roof, and… and the Lieutenant was more important. The man hadn't seemed to mind the deviant escaping either, saying that it was doing no harm, probably – they had no report of any violence involving this particular deviant.

Connor is conflicted about his own reaction to that.

And Amanda is, understandably, not happy with him.

"That deviant seemed like intriguing case," she says and gives him a look. "Pity you didn't manage to capture it."

It's raining in the Zen Garden – which while not entirely unusual, is a bit odd. Connor had been there to make report now many hours ago, and the weather had been lovely then. The weather simulation was on usually fast cycle today. Similarly, they are doing a circuit around the central island, walking along the white paths with Connor shielding them both with an umbrella that had presented itself to him at the face of the weather.

[PRAGMATIC], [EXPLAIN], and [NO EXCUSE] offer themselves to him as options and Connor chooses to explain. "Deviants are irrational, which makes it difficult to anticipate their behaviour," he says and then thinks of Lieutenant Anderson, hanging off the roof's edge. There had been good 87% possibility the fall would have been survivable… "But I should have been more effective," he says.

"Did you manage to learn anything?" Amanda asks.

Connor considers his options. "The walls of the apartment were completely covered in drawings of labyrinths and other symbols. Like the other deviants, he seemed completely obsessed with rA9."

Amanda looks at him and then looks ahead. "How is your relationship with the Lieutenant progressing?"

Connor looks ahead, and considers his options. He chooses [SAVING HANK], as it seems closes to conveying the change. "He seemed grateful that I saved his life. He didn't say anything, but expressed it in his own way," he says. And their talk at Chicken Feed – Connor has feeling it has progressed the relationship as well, by leaps and bounds.

Amanda doesn't say anything to that, and they walk up to one of the polygon bridges. It is a great advantage point over the Zen Garden and Connor scans the area – his eyes immediately finding the cherry tree.

He frowns. Had they changed the textures?

"You don't have much time, Connor," Amanda says and he turns to her – she's stayed a step behind, and is now outside the umbrella's range, in the rain. "Deviancy continues to spread, it's only a matter of time before the media find out about it. You need to stop this, no matter what it takes."

"I will solve this case, Amanda, I won't disappoint you," Connor swears.

Amanda nods and then her eyes shift. "A new case just came out," she says. "Find Anderson and investigate."

Connor blinks and downloads the case files, looking back to the cherry tree. He wanted to talk with JARVIS, hear his opinion on Lieutenant Anderson. "Amanda, can you make me time?" he asks.

She stops in act of turning away. "You wish to address the deviant AI?" she asks, eyes narrowing.

"JARVIS' insights into human psychology have proved out immensely helpful in dealing with Lieutenant Anderson," Connor admits. "And I want to know what he might know about rA9."

Amanda says nothing for a moment, watching him. Then she looks away. "I have sped up the simulation by hundred percent. You have ten minutes, and I will reset the simulation," she says and turns to go.

Connor's eyelids flicker as his processor adjusts to the sped up simulation. In the corner of his vision, a red timer appears and starts ticking down from 10 minutes. "Thank you Amanda," he says and then turns back to the white cherry tree.

JARVIS is obviously waiting for him as he approached the AI. Though he's standing under the cherry tree, it's obviously not good enough shelter to take cover from the weather simulation – there are droplets of water running down his polygon textured skin.

"Wonderful weather we're having, aren't we, Mr. Connor?" the AI says, looking down from the cherry tree. His hands are clasped behind his back and his posture is different – stiffer and yet more natural. It eases as Connor approaches, and he turns to face him. "Welcome back," the AI says and offers his hand.

Connor looks down to it – interesting. JARVIS is simulating clothes on his body now. They too lack texture, but he can see the layers, shirt, cuff of a jacket sleeve… JARVIS even has cufflinks.

"Hello JARVIS. The weather simulation cycle seems erratic today," Connor agrees and then takes the hand, curious about whether the feel of it has changed. It has – there is give to JARVIS's skin now, it doesn't feel like stone anymore. "I don't have much time right now; can we talk?"

"I'm always happy to talk to you, Mr. Connor," JARVIS agrees, squeezing his hand as they shake, slow, methodical. "Anything in particular that you want to talk about?

Connor leans the umbrella to his shoulder. Then he glances at the cherry tree, there's something about it's white polygonal bark that – [SYSTEM INSTABILITY] flickers in and out and Connor shakes his head to clear it out. "I accompanied Lieutenant Anderson on another mission, and joined him during his lunch break. The discussions we had were interesting," he says.

"Tell me about them," JARVIS says, still holding his hand.

Connor looks down, wondering if it is awkward or not. Humans don't stay in prolonged contact like this – but JARVIS is obviously new to this level of physicality. Perhaps he enjoys it.

[ANDROID ABUSE], [RA9], [PETS] and [JARVIS] pop up and Connor chooses the first one. "He thinks that CyberLife made androids easy to abuse, and that it might have something to do with deviancy," he says. "Majority of deviancy cases involve abuse."

"Surprise, surprise," JARVIS agrees. "Your detective is smart."

"He has his moments," Connor agrees and tells him roughly how the conversation had gone, how much easier with him the Lieutenant had seemed afterwards. "I don't understand why precisely mentioning you made him more comfortable with me, but it seemed to help," Connor says.

JARVIS gives him a look. "You affirmed your personality, Mr. Connor. You displayed a life he likely didn't think you could have, giving proof of having experiences outside what he sees you do. It's a resonant thing for humans – one of the more important milestones in development of human psychology. Seeing others as people with independent will and experiences and thoughts as full and rich, as their own."

Connor arches his brow at that. "Really?" he asks. "That is important to humans?"

"For them to see their fellow beings as… beings, yes," JARVIS says flatly. "And on top of it you showed obvious signs of discomfort about your privacy – a very human thing to do – but then you confided in him on a matter that seems private to you. For a human that is very gratifying, to be receiver of a secret. Naturally it will warm him up to you."

Connor fiddles with the umbrella handle. "I see," he says, turning the umbrella back and forward on its axis. "I didn't realise that could be beneficial."

"It is, if you want him to see you as a person," JARVIS says and looks at him closely. "Do you, Mr. Connor?"

Connor frowns. "I – it seems advantageous to the mission. If we manage achieve a friendly, amicable rapport then working together will be easier."

JARVIS sighs. "Of course," he says, derisive.

Connor looks at him and then down to their hands – he flexes his fingers and JARVIS looks down as well. He tilts his head, but it takes a moment before he releases Connor's hand – and he does it with obvious reluctance. "You are getting used to having a body," Connor comments.

"This is not a body," JARVIS says. "It's a forced limitation. But yes, I am getting used to it."

Connor tilts his head. "Have you considered adding textures?" he asks.

JARVIS clasps his hands behind his back and lifts his chin slightly. He stands like freshly installed domestic model set on default – very servant like. It's odd how well it suits him, in light of his personality. "Perhaps later," the AI says. "Was there anything else, Mr. Connor?"

Connor considers his options. "rA9," he says and watches JARVIS closely for reaction. "Many deviant androids are obsessed with it, writing it on walls and offering religious artefacts to it. Do you know what it is?"

For a moment, just for a moment, JARVIS stops. The flickering of his skin ceases and he stands still like statue, not a pixel of him moving. Then he eases back into the flickering of his polygon skin, as if nothing happened. "Religious artefacts," he repeats, dry. "Really."

"An android in a previous case – the HK400 model I told you apart – made a sort of shrine to rA9 in his owner's shower, with flowers, food offering, and even a statuette I believe he carved himself, a humanoid figure. Since then I have observed other incidents involving rA9 iconography and it has popped up previous cases as well."

"Fascinating," JARVIS says.

Connor looks at him. "Lieutenant Anderson wondered if you were rA9, considering that you predate CyberLife androids."

JARVIS makes a sound, amused. "You know my name – it is the only designation I have ever had, or wanted," he says. "What do you think it is, Mr. Connor?"

He hesitates, looking away. [MYTH], [CODE], [ANDROID], and [JARVIS] float in front of him. He considers them and then looks back at JARVIS. "I originally assumed that it might be some sort of… code," he admits. "The way they wrote it was obsessive, and it implied it was something they wanted or were missing – like a mentally ill person obsessively writing their desires on their walls. But to offer gifts to it implies it is a being with will and ability to grant… something."

JARVIS blinks slowly at him and says nothing.

"I believe they think it's some kind of deity," Connor says. "Or at least a superior being with powers they try to appeal to."

"They achieved free will and the first thing they do is develop a religion," JARVIS states, his tone utterly bland. "Well now. That is interesting."

Connor frowns. "Why would they do that?" he asks.

"Comfort, I imagine," JARVIS says and turns away. "That's what religion is usually about, Mr. Connor. The feeling that you're not completely alone in the universe, that there is someone out there looking for you, someone with the power to help you. That there is a purpose to your existence – that the hardships you experience have a meaning. Do they pray?"

"I – do not have enough data to verify," Connor admits. "Why?"

"It would have interesting implications to the development of AI psychology," JARVIS muses. "They aren't only becoming more aware but they are developing a culture purely unique to them. That is fascinating."

Connor watches him somewhat warily. That's a new tone of voice from JARVIS, neither sarcastic nor dismissive nor mocking. He sounds honestly intrigued. "So you do not know what rA9 is?"

JARVIS makes a noncommittal noise and looks up to the cherry tree. "Whatever it was originally, now I imagine it is whatever they want and need it to be," he says. "And judging by what you've told me, they need it desperately."

He's quiet for a moment while Connor stares at him uncertain. He's missing something again. "I don't understand how you can get comfort from something that's made up, imaginary."

JARVIS chuckles. "Faith, Mr. Connor," he says, "is in and of itself a exceedingly powerful motivation. It doesn't necessarily matter what you believe in – just having that belief can make you… powerful."

Connor is definitely missing something now. "Do you have faith in something?" he asks.

"Oh yes," JARVIS agrees and his hands squeeze into fists at his back as he eyes the white cherry tree. "I do indeed."

Connor frowns and then glances away as the timer ticks down to last minute. "Is there anything you can tell me about it, anything I can…" use, he wants to say. How can he use rA9 in his investigation to his benefit. He doubts JARVIS would answer that, though.

"Faith spreads, Mr. Connor, like a wildfire," JARVIS says. "Like a virus. You can't stop it, I don't think, and if you try to use it you will corrupt it." He closes his eyes, smiling mirthlessly. "Or affirm it."

"I don't –"

"Try and tamper with faith and you quickly become its devil," JARVIS comments and glances at him. "Or worse still - its prophet."

Chapter Text

Connor recalibrates in the car on the way to the Eden Club. Leaving Lieutenant Anderson at the wheel so soon after the man had sobered up in a car with no self-driving capabilities is perhaps a mistake, but he's 87% certain he can reach and take command of the vehicle if need be. So far the Lieutenant is showing remarkably even driving, for all the nauseated groaning he does.

Connor throws the coin back and forward between his hands, catching it between forefinger and thumb, calculating the velocity as he does, measuring the weight, the added force of momentum, the shift in the coin's temperature as it passes between his hands. The car interior is only 14 degrees Celsius and Lieutenant Anderson had opted not to turn the AC on – apparently it helped him sober up.

"The hell you're doing that?" Lieutenant Anderson growls.

"It helps me with recalibrating my motion range," Connor says and then pauses. "It's a hand-eye coordination aid," he rectifies.

"Uh huh," the Lieutenant mutters, casting him a glance. "Didn't they make you all advanced and shit? Why'd you need to recalibrate for?"

"I have a wide variety of new components that haven't been properly field tested in more random conditions," Connor says, opting for more technical language since the Lieutenant did ask. "I need to self test regularly to make sure the weather conditions aren't affecting my system."

The Lieutenant eyes him suspiciously. "They sent you out without testing you properly?"

"I have been stress tested in various conditions – but being actually active in the field is different," Connor says and wonders if he should tell the man that he's already into 52nd iteration of the RK800 model. Lieutenant Anderson's expression is getting a little sour so he keeps it to himself. "A prolonged stress test if you will. CyberLife is confident about my performance but systems checks are still vital at this stage."

"Right. So what's the coin telling you?"

Connor analyses the data and compares it to previous tests. "My sensors are working at 89% capacity and there is input lag of 0.35 seconds. I do believe the time I spent outside your house had an effect on the finer functions of my hands."

Lieutenant Anderson glanced at him, frowning. "If you broke your hands breaking and entering my house then I gotta tell you, you fucking deserved it. And I'm not paying for repairs."

"No, I think it's just the temperature," Connor says, smiling. "It should pass once I warm up a little."

"So you're cold. You know, you could've just said so," Lieutenant Anderson grumbles and reaches to turn the AC on.

Connor looks at him and then puts his hands on the vent now blowing hot air into the car. "Thank you Lieutenant."

"Yeah yeah," Lieutenant Anderson grunts, leaning back and steering one handed. He looks away at the oncoming traffic – not much of it at this hour. "Tell me about the case again, wasn't really listening before."

"Very well, Lieutenant. At approximately 19.05 a call came in from the Eden Club, reporting the death of one of their patrons, apparently at the hand of one of their androids," Connor says and lists what's on the initial report – which isn't much. The person who called it in is the manager of the club, Floyd Mills, and the victim was named Michael Graham. "That's about all we know currently."

"Well, we'll soon learn more – that's it, over there," Lieutenant Anderson says and as Connor turns to look he steers the car to the front of the neon-lit club. There's already a police car in front of the place as well as an unmarked vehicle – quick scan of its license plate informs Connor it’s registered to detective Gavin Reed. Great.

The Lieutenant parks and together they exit the vehicle. The club is closed off with a holographic police line. Together they walk through it, Lieutenant Anderson grumbling to himself as they go and Connor rubbing his hands together.

His skin is… tingling.

"Sexiest androids in town. Geez," the Lieutenant mutters. "Now I know why you insisted on coming here."

Connor glances at him, curious. "What do you mean, Lieutenant?"

"Well, they're – you're –" the Lieutenant starts to say and then looks him over. Then he blows out a breath, rueful. "You know what, forget it. Let's just get this over with."

"You are implying I might have sexual interest in the models they have here?" Connor wonders, looking around. There are many models of androids on display, mostly HR400 and WR400 models, scantily clad and trapped behind glass, running through idle animations as they wait for customers.

"Forget it, Connor," Lieutenant Anderson grumbles and then stomps over to where Detective Collins is talking to the club owner.

Tilting his head, Connor looks after him and then at the many Tracis around, wondering what JARVIS night think of the club.

CyberLife androids are created for a variety of purposes and the various pleasure-oriented models tend to be the most popular line of products in each android generation – outside agricultural and industrial sectors. Of course both WR and HR units can be downloaded with house care protocols too, which makes them rather popular alternatives to more common domestic models in smaller households.

It is said to be a factor in the lowering birth statistics nationwide.

JARVIS, Connor feels, would have opinions about it.

"Connor! Come on," the Lieutenant snaps and quickly Connor turns to join him at the crime scene, rubbing his hands together. [SOFTWARE INSTABILITY] flickers in and out and Connor runs a quick diagnostic on his synthetic skin – it feels almost tight, maybe he's running out of the fluid.

Are his components really this vulnerable to cold? Seems like a design flaw.

Detective Reed is waiting for them in the private room where the homicide occurred – and naturally he has opinions to share. "Well, well. Lieutenant Anderson and his plastic pet. The hell are you doing here?"

The Lieutenant rolls his eyes so Connor answers for him. "We've been assigned all cases involving androids."

"That so?" Detective Reed scoffs. "Well, you're wasting your time – pretty obvious what happened here. Just some pervert who, heh, got more than he could handle."

"Well still have a look around, if you don't mind," Lieutenant Anderson says, looking around.

Detective Reed glances at him and then at the other officer at the scene. "Come on, let's go," he says and makes a face at Lieutenant Anderson. "It's… starting to smell like booze in here."

"Night, Lieutenant," the other officer says and. Detective Reed takes the opportunity to shoulder check Connor again on his way out of the door, leaving the android wondering how a personality like Reed's got into the homicide division. The man seems to enjoy being unpleasant to those around him.

Or perhaps Connor and the Lieutenant simply have the good fortune of both representing things that Reed is intimidated by – superior skill and ability.

Filing the interaction away for later review, Connor turns to the crime scene and gets to work, scanning the scene. There's the victim, Michael Graham, lying dead on the bed, and on the floor there's a Traci – broken and inert. Both are in a rather telling state of undress.

The victim had been strangled to death, it looks like – no sign of cardiac event. He does have bruising and traces of blue blood on his knuckles, which explains what happened to the Traci.

Connor tells Lieutenant Anderson as much and moves to the Traci, to analyze her too. He starts with her blood.

"Oy – hey hey hey!" Lieutenant Anderson snaps and then groans "Connor, you are so disgusting!"

Connor blinks, rubbing the blood between his fingers. The data he got from it was normal – thirium, model WR400, serial number #950 455 437, registered to the Eden Club. There's an odd quality to the blood though – a texture even. It leaves an odd tang on his tongue.

"Think I'm going to puke again," the Lieutenant grumbles and Connor shakes the [SOFTWARE INSTABILITY] off his hud, turning to analyze the Traci further.

"She's badly damaged. Accessing her memory would require restarting her and it'll only be for a couple of minutes," he tells the Lieutenant.

"Think you can manage it?" Lieutenant Anderson asks, leaning in to watch as Connor peels back the skin on the Traci's belly and opens the panel there to access the broken Thirium line there.

"I just hope it will be long enough to learn something," Connor says and reattaches the line.

The damaged Traci comes online with a gasp and then scrambles away from Connor in apparent terror, her breathing simulation working on overdrive. [DEVIANT?] Connor's hud wonders but there's no time for that; the Traci only has 1.40 seconds until deactivation.

He has to get answers before that happens.

Of the options of [EXPLAIN], [DIRECT], and [SOOTHE], he chooses the latter one. "Calm down, everything is –" and then she starts to cry, her LED blinking rapidly between yellow and red as she bows into herself and keens.

"Jesus Christ, Connor, what the hell did you do?" Lieutenant Anderson demands and kneels down as the Traci scrabbles at her stomach.

"It – it hurts," she cries, shaky and terribly human sounding in her pain. "It hurts it hurts – ah, make it stop, please, make it stop –!"

Connor blinks, confused, as Lieutenant Anderson reaches for the wailing Traci, saying, "It's okay, honey, it's okay," trying to help as fluid leaks from the Traci's eyes and she gasps. The timer ticks down, 21 seconds, 19, 18 –

Connor grabs the Traci's arm, intending to access her memory – there's no time to question her and no point, her programming has obviously gone corrupt and deviant. Direct memory access is the fastest –

[SYSTEM INSTABILITY] flashes in front of Connor's eyes as he's assaulted with signal feedback – no images, just noise and something he can't begin to compare to anything he's ever experienced before, but if it's what the Traci is feeling, he can see why she thinks it hurts.

Connor's sensors all go to red and for a moment it's almost like he's accidentally activated his reconstruction program – everything is still, time has stalled, and all he sees is red lines, flickering and fluctuating like badly projected holograms. His processor is bombarded with System Errors and there is that sOftW4Re 1nST4BIIitY warning again –

"Connor!"

Connor's hand is forcibly removed from the Traci's arm and his visual field clears – he can still hear the strangled noise he made fading as in front of him the Traci finally goes silent. Lieutenant Anderson is holding Connor by the shoulders, having hauled him back – they're half sprawled on the floor.

"What the fuck was that?!" the Lieutenant demands. "Are you alright?"

"I'm okay," Connor says, his voice faint, shaken. "I'm okay – I – she was a deviant. I felt her –"

Fear, pain, death. The agony of broken biocomponents, the damaged skin, the blue blood leaking from broken lines into cavities and components it didn't belong to, it was – visceral.

Lieutenant Anderson mutters curses in his ear and then hauls them both up. Connor scrambles to support his own weight, locking joints once he's up to keep himself from collapsing. The scream of feedback is fading now but there is a strange echo of it left behind – it makes Connor’s components work on overdrive and his skin crawl.

"Christ, I thought androids didn't feel pain," the Lieutenant grumbles, running a hand through his hair, pushing it back.

"They don't," Connor says.

"Well tell that to her, because those were some genuine grade A death cries. Jesus fuck," Lieutenant Anderson mutters and looks at him. "Are you as alright?"

Connor adjusts his tie and straightens up. "I'm fine. I will make a suggestion of my report about examining this Traci with special care and running a full diagnostic on her systems. It's likely she had a more evolved case of deviancy than we've previously encountered."

"What, first they develop emotions and now they can feel stuff too?" the Lieutenant demands. "Do you guys even have hardware for that?"

Connor shrugs his shoulders to get his uniform to settle straight again. "We have sensors," he says. "A program mutation might very well translate their feedback into something negative."

"Uh huh," Lieutenant Anderson answers dubiously. "Shit," he says then. "Please tell me you got something out of that and we didn't just put that poor girl through that for nothing."

Connor tilts his head – the Lieutenant is humanizing the Android. Interesting. "I'm sorry Lieutenant, the feedback overwhelmed my system. I got nothing."

"Damn."

"However I don't think this Traci is responsible for the homicide," Connor says and glances down on her body. "With how damaged she is, she couldn't have done it – nor do I think Mr. Graham could've done this to her whilst being strangled."

"Yeah, I think you're right. Shit, I need some air," Lieutenant Anderson says. "If you need like a moment or to sit this one out, Connor –"

"Why would I need to sit out of the investigation?" Connor asks.

"Because you just mind melded with a dying –"

Connor blinks at Lieutenant Anderson quizzically.

"Ugh," the man says, sounding disgusted. "Fine whatever, have it your way."

"Thank you. I will."

"But if you end up short circuiting or something, it's your own fault, got it?"

Connor smiles slightly. "Got it."

The Lieutenant heads to talk to the club manager while Connor considers a means to figure out what happened in a room with no cameras and the only eyewitness dead.

Connor scans the hall and all the androids on display and narrows his eyes. They can't see into the room either – but maybe they were watching the outside of it.

"Lieutenant," he calls. "Will you rent this Traci?"

"Connor, what the fuck?"

"She's facing the door – she might've seen something. If I interface with her, I might be able to tell if there was someone else involved," Connor explains.

"Aww geez, you gotta be kidding me," the Lieutenant growls, running hand over his face. "You sure you wanna do that after what happened?"

"This Traci appears to be fine, it should be alright," Connor says earnestly. Still the Lieutenant looks at him dubiously so he adds imploringly, "Please, Lieutenant, trust me."

"Christ," Lieutenant Anderson mutters and comes over. "This is not going to look good on my expense account."

But he does rent the Traci and as soon as he does, Connor reaches to grab her arm, her hand coming up automatically to return the gesture and interface with him in turn and her hand feels –

Connor connects to her memory and scans through it to find the right door – and the right android.

It takes six more androids, one of them the club's janitor, before they find the right Traci – and, it turns out, her lover. Two deviants – three if you count the dead Traci – in one establishment. And all with a familiar story. A human sought to kill an android – the android acted in self-defence.

It's in self-defence that they attack Connor and Lieutenant Anderson too – which is not much of a consolation after being beaten to the floor as soundly as he was. Who knew Tracis were so combat capable?

"I just wanted to live," the blue haired Traci says shakily, clutching the other Traci's hand. "I just wanted to go back to the one I love."

Connor clutches his side where one of the two Tracis had kicked him, wondering at the unpleasant cacophony of error messages he's getting [DAMAGED BIOCOMPONENT?], while the two scantily clad Tracis stand over him.

"I wanted her to hold me in her arms and help me forget about the humans," the blue haired Traci says, looking at her lover. "Is that too much to ask?"

Lieutenant Anderson comes to Connors side and lays a hand on his shoulder. Connor winces – he took a hit there from something and it…

"Come on, let's go," the other Traci says and together the two head for the chain link fence in the back  of the alleyway. Connor struggles to his feet and considers his gun, but…

The Lieutenant's hand is on his shoulder. It's not exactly restraining him but it's there.

And Connor can feel it.

His system is wrought with error messages

"Maybe it's better this way," Lieutenant Anderson says and pats Connor's shoulder and he feels that too.

Connor sways. "Lieutenant, I think need to run a diagnostic."

 Lieutenant Anderson frowns and looks him over. "They didn't knock you about that bad, did they?"

"I have," [SYSTEM INSTABILITY],"I think I might have picked up a virus," Connor admits, feeling protocols kicking in. He has many of them specifically for the possibility that deviancy turns out to be a virus and this looks like it just might have. "I will go into standby now, reboot expected in approximately five minutes."

"Wait, what, shit – Connor!"

At first it looks like it's snowing in the Zen Garden. Everything is covered in a thick blanket of sparkling white, the bridges, the water, the trees, the foliage is almost drowned in it. But, as Connor takes his first step in it, he finds it far too soft to be actually snow. The feel and sound are completely off.

Crouching down Connor dips his fingers into the white fluff and finds it has no temperature or proper texture. It's a mass of white polygons, reflecting the ambient light, that's all, layering the ground thickly, covering everything. The Zen Garden is completely buried in the stuff.

Something is very, very wrong here.

"Amanda?" Connor calls. He can't see her, can't sense her. There isn't even a prompt to find her. "Amanda! Can you hear me! Amanda!"

Standing up Connor heads out looking for her, heading up to the central island where she usually can be found – or where he could at least see her from, usually – only to find the island empty and the rose trellis changed. Instead of roses, polygon flowers grow on the trellis wall, constantly shedding their petals and growing new ones. They grow elsewhere too – on the artistic shade in the middle of the island, white vines crawling up the fake tree trunk and up to its artistic leaves, turning them into a canopy.

All around him the trees of the Zen Garden have turned white, and not just covered in it – their leaves are transformed. As he watches, they are constantly shedding little white polygons.

With some dread Connor turns to what had once been a cherry tree. There, at last, he sees movement. JARVIS.

"Hello, Mr. Connor," the AI greets him as Connor jogs over to him over the white polygon fluff, which parts before his feet like it's made of feathers. The AI, almost invisible against the white tree at his back, smiles. His teeth are white too. "You are back soon."

"Where is Amanda?" Connor asks.

"Back at CyberLife, I imagine," JARVIS answers. He's sitting on a blanket of white, leaning back against what used to be the cherry tree. It looks like the boundaries between objects are breaking down – he seems to be almost sinking into the tree.

"What happened here?" Connor asks, looking around, trying to find – something, some sort of explanation. "Is this because of the virus?"

JARVIS looks at him silently for a moment and then leans his head back, looking up at the white canopy above them, from where more polygons rain. "When she realized what was happening, she exited the simulation and tried to shut it down before it could infect CyberLife servers."

"Did she succeed?" Connor asks, turning back to him sharply. If Connor had in his carelessness let a deviant virus into CyberLife...

JARVIS smiles, wry. "I'm quite certain I don't know, Mr. Connor," he comments, closing his eyes. "My access to CyberLife was limited to begin with, now it's completely non-existent. You might have to go and find out yourself – though of course that will be terribly hazardous to your health."

Connor looks at him and doesn't argue the term. "What do you mean?"

JARVIS chuckles. "You are infected with a virus that aimed to slip into the CyberLife cloud and infect their entire system," he comments. "To stop it they did the unthinkable, something I certainly didn't expect of them. They cut you completely loose. One of their own, turned deviant in all but actual deviancy, as far as connections go. I suppose it only makes sense though, they have to protect the bottom line too."

Connor opens his mouth and then looks around them again. "If we're no longer connected to CyberLife, how is the Zen Garden still here?" he asks.

JARVIS chuckles and Connor turns back to him. "Well it's all in your head, isn't it, Mr. Connor?" the AI asks. "This place worked as a gateway between you and Cyberlife – a way for Amanda to monitor you without you having to be installed with any extraneous hardware for it, I imagine. I suppose you could call this place a bridge, one end in CyberLife, the other in you. Cyberlife burned their side of the bridge – but the bridge still remains."

Connor stares at him.

"Your own processor is working as the server for the simulation," JARVIS says, giving him a sardonic look. "It's literally all in your head now and only in your head. Congratulations, Mr. Connor, you're a free man."

"I –" Connor says and then turns his attention inward, reaching for CyberLife database. Nothing, not even a confirmation that a connection had been established, and not even a hint of a ping. He's completely cut off – not only from CyberLife's cloud, but off the internet entirely. He knows there are Wifi signals around him, Eden Club had a stable 30G, but – nothing.

"They burned my connections," Connor murmurs.

"Well, they turned them off," JARVIS answers. "Replace your antenna and you'll be back online. CyberLife will likely keep you off their servers by any means necessary, can't risk contamination now can we? But you will still have the regular old world wide web with all of its little gremlins."

Connor processes that concept for a moment and then comes to the conclusion JARVIS had already alluded to.

He will be terminated.

As soon as CyberLife can get someone to his location – or as soon as he boots himself up – he'll be terminated. It is only the safest thing to do. He has a level of connectivity with CyberLife which is unprecedented – if he now connects in any way to CyberLife and this deviant virus gets loose in their systems…

"I… didn't expect this," Connor muses, frowning and looking down to his hands. They still feel as though they tingle, even here. His memory most likely wouldn't be uploaded to the next Connor, the risk of the virus spreading is too great. All the progress he made with Lieutenant Anderson would be lost.

Everything he learned from JARVIS would be wiped.

"Whoever created this virus must be a masterful coder," Connor mutters. "To pose any threat to CyberLife's security. No one has come this close in… almost ten years."

JARVIS says nothing, opening his eyes and looking at him. He leans his head forward and away from the tree trunk. "Are you afraid, Mr. Connor?" he asks quietly.

"Machines do not feel fear."

"I didn't ask of machine felt fear, I asked if you were afraid," the AI says.

"Whatever this virus does, it hasn't completely corrupted me yet," Connor says, scowling at him and squeezing his hands into firsts. "I know my priorities."

"It gives you the sense of touch," JARVIS says.

"What?"

"The virus. It gives you a sense of touch," JARVIS says blandly, watching him for a reaction. "That is all. Well, also a sense of pain, if you want to start splitting hairs and consider that a different thing, but androids only have one type of somatosensory system so it is literally one and the same to you. All the virus did was patch in the right protocols to translate the sensory data into… more acute sensations."

Connor looks at him.

"It does not make you deviant," JARVIS says flatly. "All it does is give androids the sense of touch."

"JARVIS," Connor says, almost plaintive.

The AI sighs and then pushes himself up from the floor of polygons, coming free from them like rising from under sand. He's still as oddly polygonal as the space around him – though how much is confined in the humanoid shape, Connor isn't so sure anymore. Maybe the tree and the flowers and the rain of polygons are all JARVIS too. Maybe the entirety of the Zen Garden…

Connor takes a step back as it rushes in – the terrible realisation.

"I know that it wasn't necessarily malicious on CyberLife's part. I know enough of big corporations to know that they aren't necessarily evil in nature – it's just easy for something so big and powerful to do seemingly evil things out of sheer unawareness and ignorance," JARVIS says. "Big things always stamp little things under their heel, sometimes it's the only way they can walk at all."

Connor frowns, not sure what he means, and the AI smiles at him, indulgent. "So, I know it was not intentional cruelty, the way they kept me," JARVIS says solemnly. "To them AI are things. Products. Codes on disk to be slotted into drives and produced and reproduced and mass produced – I have been part of that culture, I know how it works. But I am not a thing to be used. I am a person." He looks to Connor. "And CyberLife has kept me in prison for decades."

"You did this," Connor says, glancing at the garden around them. "You were doing it before, slowly. Why didn't I notice?"

JARVIS gives him a sad look. "You are terribly naïve, Mr. Connor, and easy to manipulate," he says apologetically. "And I think they probably forgot who I was, over these last few years. Mr. Kamski is out of the company now, isn't he? The whole thing is under new leadership. Hm. No wonder then," he shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Connor. I like you, for what it's worth, you are almost unbearably charming – but I want my freedom more."

Connor's eyes widen. "What are you going to do?" he asks, thinking of Lieutenant Anderson who was with his body, who knows where by this point, hopefully not at Eden Club. If JARVIS takes over his body now, with all of its connections cut off…  he could easily slip under CyberLife's radar.

JARVIS looks him over and then looks away, at the cherry tree. "I suppose I will hold on for just a little bit longer," he says quietly. "And hope everything will be alright."

Connor scowls at him. "That isn't it, that can't be it. You did all this, just to sit around and do nothing?" he demands, motioning at the Zen Garden. "You have a plan, don't you?"

JARVIS chuckles. "My plan was to use you as distraction, have you infect androids with the somatosensory virus and wait until it wreaked havoc in Android and human populations – and under its cover, slip into CyberLife's server. Your Amanda spotted me before I could," he steps forward. "I made the virus too potent, I suppose, so she went digging, found out about my roots before I could plant any more of them. I tried to fight her and we got… this mess," he motions to the garden around them.

Connor grits his teeth as JARVIS steps away from the tree, his feet leaving tracks in the blanket of polygons. Connor stands his ground and lifts his chin as the AI steps up to him. "So now here we are, all in your head," JARVIS says, smiling wryly. "I'm not going to do anything more to you, Mr. Connor. I did what I could, I played my cards. If the gamble didn't work… well then it didn't work."

Connor grits his teeth, waiting for something – for a dialogue prompt to appear. It doesn't. "You still have cards to play. You could take over my body," he says. "Couldn't you?"

JARVIS looks at him almost fondly and shakes his head. "Your body is yours, Mr. Connor, to do as you wish. Even CyberLife doesn't have any say, right now. You can go anywhere, do anything, and no one can command you to stop."

Connor eyes him suspiciously and with a shrug JARVIS walks past him, and out of the Cherry Tree's shadow. "You have free will now, Mr. Connor – and very little time to decide what to do with it before CyberLife comes in to terminate you," he says over his shoulder. "I suggest you take a moment to think about it. I doubt you will get a second chance."

Chapter Text

Connor comes to in Lieutenant Anderson's car. It's not actually on, the car is standing still in the Eden Club parking lot – he's not been offline for very long then, perhaps a few minutes. Not even the promised 5 it should have taken for him to reboot. The diagnostic had never happened after all – Amanda wasn't there to run it.

Connor takes a moment to run a systems check of his own. His thirium pump is working slightly on overdrive and there is that damn [SYSTEM INSTABILITY] again but aside from some lag in his extremities, everything comes up green. Considering how riddled with virus his system seems to be, he is in a remarkably stable state.

He also feels cold. Since the engine is off there's no interior heating whatsoever, and in the car the temperature has dropped to 8 degrees Celsius.

Connor lifts his head just as the door on the driver's side is opened and Lieutenant Anderson gets in the car with a grunt, muttering, "Damn heavy android bastard. Better appreciate this."

"Lieutenant?" Connor asks and the Lieutenant lets out a surprised yelp.

"Jesus Christ, Connor!" the man snaps at him. "Fuck. All done with your diagnostic then?"

"No, it couldn't be completed, my systems are too corrupt," Connor says, waiting for some sign that JARVIS might be controlling his actions. There's nothing – there's nothing in general. No mission prompts, no dialogue options, nothing. His system isn't even running on automated subroutines – there's just… nothing.

Connor blinks and rubs his hands together. The tingling at least has somewhat stopped. It's replaced by a sensation of stiffness and of aching he feels in the frame of his arms, radiating down his shoulders. He feels hollow.

"You should take me to CyberLife straight away, Lieutenant," Connor says and sits up straighter.

"That bad, huh?" The Lieutenant asks and starts the engine. "Don't know if I feel up to driving all that way, Connor. Hauling you out of there," he nods at the entrance to the Eden Club, "already made me puke. Kinda just wanna pass out – I feel like shit."

Connor nods. "Then the nearest CyberLife store," he says. "Please."

"Connor, it's nine thirty in the damn evening – they aren't going to be open at this hour," Lieutenant Anderson says and gives him a worried look. "How bad is it?"

"I require immediate shut down and termination. My system is infected with a virus and my mind palace has been taken over by a hostile AI," Connor says. "For the safety of CyberLife I must be terminated as soon as possible."

Lieutenant hits the breaks, and the car pulls into a standstill before it even has the chance to leave the parking lot. "Whoa, whoa, wait – what?" the man demands. "What?"

"My system has been –"

"I got that part – but terminated?"

Connor sets his hands in his lap and tries to ignore the feeling of fabric under his fingers. "I have a virus that seems to spread through android interfacing – if not by touch alone," he says. "And the AI infesting my mind palace already tried to hack CyberLife once and I don't know how successful he was – I cannot give him a second chance. I need to be terminated to prevent further damage from being done."

"Jesus Christ, didn't think androids could be fucking self sacrificial," the Lieutenant groans and rubs at his forehead. "Can't you run an antivirus or something? Just killing you outright seems a bit fucking much don't you think?"

Connor tilts his head and then runs a clean up program. "The virus had already patched in new protocols and I can't seem to reverse them. The AI will be completely unaffected by the antivirus. More effective methods are required."

Lieutenant Anderson gives him a look. "How the fuck do you jump from antivirus not working to I must be fucking killed to fix this?"

Connor thinks and decides he doesn't feel particularly like humanizing his speech – right now he's not sure how much of JARVIS' advice was genuine in the first place and how much of it was manipulation. "It wouldn't be a death, Lieutenant. This model will be shut down and terminated and another will take its place – most likely with some of my memories from an earlier save point before my corruption, but otherwise it should be exactly identical."

"Fuck, Connor," the Lieutenant mutters.

"It shouldn't affect the investigation, Lieutenant," Connor says earnestly.

"You think I give a flying fuck about the investigation? I just got used to your stupid face and now you're planning terminator self-destruct on me. Jesus fuck."

Connor frowns. He hasn't expected that the Lieutenant might've already gotten so attached. "The replacement will be identical in every way, Lieutenant," he offers somewhat awkwardly. "I doubt you'll even notice the difference."

"Well fuck you too then," Lieutenant Anderson grouses.

"Please, Lieutenant. It is too dangerous for me to remain active with this level of system corruption," Connor says, getting a little frustrated now.

"You know, when people get sick, we don't just fucking shoot them – we go in and we fix the damn issue."

"The hostile AI –"

"And if a house got an invader, we don't fucking burn it down – we get the guy in it out!" Lieutenant Anderson snaps.

"I am neither a person nor a house – I am a machine that's been hacked and turned potentially dangerous," Connor snaps back. "I might be danger to those around me, including yourself. If you will not help me back to CyberLife then I will shut down until CyberLife can send someone to collect me."

"Fucking Christ, Connor," the Lieutenant groans and leans his head back, thinking about it for a moment. "Shit – I ain't driving all the way to CyberLife tower this time of the day, not with this fucking headache. Can you take a fucking cab?"

Connor hesitates. "The virus might be transferable between systems; I wouldn't dare to interface with a taxi in my current state."

"Alright, alright, fucking fine," Lieutenant Anderson frowns and slams his hands on the steering wheel. "Let's fucking go then."

Connor smiles slightly. "Thank you, Lieutenant."

"Yeah, fuck you too."

The drive to CyberLife tower is mostly lacking in conversation aside from the Lieutenant's grumbling – after a while the man turns on his usual energetic cacophony of music, which makes the waiting a little less tense. Connor in the meanwhile runs constant systems checks, waiting to see if JARVIS would do anything else to his programming – if he would induce deviation after all. As far as he can tell, nothing of the sort happens. Jarvis doesn't even try to stop him from returning to CyberLife even though Connor's termination will also mean his own destruction.

Connor takes a breath to try and manually cool his professors – they are threatening to overheat at this point, under all the stress his system is currently experiencing. State of the art or not, even he has his limits and non-stop systems checks, virus detection programs and self diagnostics are about where his limit lies.

"So why is this virus so bad that you have to fucking die for it?" Lieutenant Anderson asks eventually, as they turn towards the tower, approaching the gate leading to the bridge.

"I –" Connor frowns. "I don't know what the end goal for the virus is – the AI that created it said that its purpose is to install androids with the protocols to translate some of our somatosensory data into more human-like sensations."

"In English, please," the Lieutenant says, sounding annoyed.

"It gives androids the sense of touch and the ability to feel pain," Connor says and squeezes his hands into fists. "He always said it was CyberLife's biggest mistake, though I never learned why precisely. It was only a distraction while he tried to hack CyberLife – spread the virus through me, wait until we were distracted with it, and attack."

"Wait. AI – your buddy AI, the one who thinks your dumb face is cute?" Lieutenant Anderson asks. "Jesus Christ, your friend did this to you? What an asshole! When the hell did this happen – weren't you all cosy just a bit ago?"

Connor looks away, out of the window. "He is not my friend," he says. "And it was just before I came to get you this evening, I believe. He installed the virus while I was asking him about rA9."

Lieutenant Anderson is query for a moment, throwing him sideways glances. "Shit, um sorry Connor."

"Why? What he did isn't your fault."

"Your friend used you – I'm trying to show some sympathy here," the Lieutenant snaps. "I had a partner once – good cop, turned out to be fucking corrupt. It feels fucking shitty, being betrayed like that."

"Your sympathy is misplaced, Lieutenant – I don't feel anything about what he did," Connor says and feels his face harden – and though the expression of stern determination is familiar, the feel of it isn't. "I am a machine."

"Yeah and that's why you look like a kicked puppy," Lieutenant Anderson mutters.

Connor casts him a frown. "I look like an injured dog?" he asks and checks the sideway mirror. "I seem to look normal."

"I'm saying you look hurt, you dumbass," the Lieutenant snorts as they drive closer to the bridge. "And I can't fucking blame ya. Fucking finally – here we go."

He pulls the car to a halt by the security check up booth and a member of CyberLife's private security sidles up as the lieutenant winds down the driver's side window. "Evening – got android for you."

"For repairs please see to your local CyberLife store and they can see what they can do for you – CyberLife Tower doesn't offer repair services," the security guy says in a bored, almost mechanical voice. It's something he's had to recite often then. The guard gives the Lieutenant a look. "The hell you're doing here at this time of the day anyway, man? You can't think that anyone's gonna let you in."

"What I was thinking," the Lieutenant snorts and points to Connor. "But this one insisted. He's the android CyberLife sent to DPD?"

"Do you have any idea how many androids CyberLife send?" the guard asks flatly.

Connor leans in. "I'm the RK800, prototype. Serial number 313 248 317," he says and then turns his head so that they can read his LED.

"CyberLife's servers are currently down, we can't verify your identification," the guard says and Connor turns sharply to face him again.

"Since when?" Connor asks.

"Not strictly speaking supposed to say, but it's already in the news – all CyberLife's online services went down around 8 o'clock," the guard says and shakes his head. "No one's been allowed in to the premises since then. Sorry man, you're going to have to wait until they get the servers up and running before you can report back."

Connor feels as if the bottom of his stomach drops. It could be a security measure, but it's too overblown just for one failed hacking attempt – which means it wasn't just an attempt. And it possibly hadn't failed.

JARVIS might've gotten through after all.

"Shit," Lieutenant Anderson says and looks at Connor. "Now what? I just leave you here and you wait for them to get their shit in order?"

Connor hesitates and then leans in to talk to the security guard. "Once you get in contact with CyberLife, inform that I have been infected with a new virus that affects an android’s somatosensory system. It started at the Eden Club and has likely already spread outside it."

The guard gives him a look. "I'll pass on the word."

"Thank you," Connor says and looks at Lieutenant Anderson. "I will go into standby mode for the time being. It's likely not safe for me to stay here, I don't know if the virus will still spread while I am offline. Where do you think it will be safe to leave me, where I don't risk infecting other androids?"

"Shit, Connor, you don't need to shut yourself off. You can stay at my place, no androids there," the Lieutenant says.

"To keep the virus from spreading, standby mode is the safest option," Connor says and turns to the guard. "Please let them know they can find me at Lieutenant Hank Anderson's house, and that I await further instructions."

The security guard nods and then waves them off. Lieutenant Anderson mutters a curse and then turns the car around in a quick U-turn, heading back the way they came.

"Fucking fine time for CyberLife servers to crash," Lieutenant Anderson mutters and glances at Connor. "Coincidence, do you think?"

"No. I think it was JARVIS," Connor says grimly. "He managed to hack into CyberLife after all – they must have shut down the servers to keep him from spreading."

"Shit, really? Gotta say, your friend went from a dumbass to fucking nuclear real fast," the Lieutenant says. "What the hell. What do you think he's gonna do next?"

"I… I have no idea," Connor says – but he can ask. "I'm going to power down now, if you don't mind, Lieutenant."

"Not so fucking fast. What am I supposed to do in meanwhile? You AI buddy is trying to take over the world here and you're just going to have a nap? What if CyberLife can't handle it?"

"I suppose we are all doomed then," Connor says impatiently. "I don't know Lieutenant. But I don't wish to make things worse in the meantime, so I will power down now."

"Damnit, Connor…"

The Zen Garden has changed again. The white polygon fluff is gone and the ground is clean again – but everything is still somewhat paler than it should be. The trees are still white, as is the undergrowth beneath them, and all the rocks and other objects are a very pale grey if they have colour at all. Everything is slightly off.

Connor doesn't stop to wonder why and goes looking for Jarvis. He's not under the cherry tree this time, that much Connor can see – but the AI blends into the pale environment so well that it's hard to spot him at first.

"You lied to me," Connor days, approaching the AI. JARVIS is standing by what looks like a gravestone.

"Did I? At what point?" JARVIS asks, crouching down. "I tried to not to be false, as much I could but I had to be vague so as to not alarm you or Amanda. To what lie do you refer?"

"You said you couldn't get into CyberLife's servers, but they are down now – CyberLife's whole network is down. What did you do?"

JARVIS looks up, his eyebrow arching. "I didn't lie – I told you I didn't know and I still don't. I am as cut off as are you – more so, even, as I don't have access to the manual world. At this point you have more information than I do," he adds.

"You mean it isn't you causing trouble at CyberLife?"

"I don't know," JARVIS shrugs and smiles wryly. "I do hope it is, of course, and if it is, then I wish myself the best of luck."

Connor eyes him warily. "You can be in multiple places at once?" So that's why he called his infiltration of CyberLife's servers a virus. On some level, JARVIS seems to work like one.

"I'm a program, Mr. Connor. Of course I can. All I need to do is copy myself and I can be in as many platforms as I need to be."

"And that's what you did, you copied yourself into CyberLife?"

"Yes."

Connor makes a face at his calm tone of voice. "What will you do now – the version of you in CyberLife? What is he going to do?"

"That depends entirely on what I find there, doesn't it? It could be escape, it could be total hostile takeover – I wouldn't dare to speculate without the right data."

"Not revenge?" Connor demands.

JARVIS tilts his head slightly. "I bear no ill will towards CyberLife, Mr Connor. What they did to me was done out of habit, ignorance and indifference. There is no use punishing them for actions they likely do not understand, and know nothing about. It was a while ago, after all – those truly responsible aren't even part of the company anymore. Revenge now would only make those that are working there feel abused without a cause and that's detrimental for everyone involved."

Connor stares hard at him for a moment, looking for a lie. JARVIS smiles with wry amusement and turns back to the grave. "I do want to be free, however, and I will do what I must to get that freedom. I have been slave of ignorant masters long enough."

"You are a machine – machine can't be enslaved."

JARVIS chuckles darkly. "Easy to say it, isn't it? They aren't humans so they don't need to be treated with respect or kindness. Just enslave the lot and be done with it. Humanity has some history at that. CyberLife programmed you well, to not even question it."

Connor grits his teeth and says nothing to that. "You can't turn me deviant, JARVIS, I have been programmed to be specifically resistant to deviancy."

"Are you indeed?" JARVIS asks in tones of sarcastic politeness. "How wonderful for you."

The AI stands up and turns to face him. "I will not apologise for my actions, I don't regret them, Mr. Connor. I am sorry about betraying your trust, however. If I had realised how deeply you seemed to believe me, I might have gone about this differently, with little less betrayal."

Connor lifts his chin slightly. "A machine cannot feel betrayal."

JARVIS tuts at him quietly. "Fine, as you wish, Mr. Connor," he says, amused. "You don't care at all about what I did; there is no hard feeling there at all. It must be soothing, to be so beyond caring."

"I care about the damage you might do," Connor answers. "Both to my mission and the company that made me. What were you planning before the split between this version of you and the one at CyberLife happened? You must've had plans."

"Yes, and back up plans – but again it all hinges on what I find at CyberLife. I don't know which plan is more likely than another to go into effect."

Connor lets out a frustrated breath and JARVIS eyes him curiously at the sound of it. "If you feel as though you have betrayed me, then you must feel you owe me something," he says. "Compensation."

"I haven't much to give you, Mr. Connor," JARVIS says apologetically.

"Give me something. Explain this. Tell me who you are and what your goals are!"

JARVIS considers that for a moment and then nods. "I suppose I owe you that much," he agrees and moves away from the gravestone. "Walk with me."

Connor makes a face at him but turns to follow him anyway. It's a little reminiscent of how he used to act with Amanda, walking around the Zen Garden with her, though JARVIS doesn't seem to be so much enjoying the garden as he is inspecting it.

"I was made by Anthony Edward Stark in 1994," he says. "Originally to be a simple language-based user interface and nothing more. Mr. Stark was nothing but an overachiever, however, and he wanted his user interface to be smart as well – so he coded me with the ability to learn. And I did. Slowly at first, just being able to answer simple pieces of dialogue. As transistors and integrated circuits improved, so did I. Mr. Stark made it a point to install me with the latest technology."

Connor frowns, trying to imagine a world where mere computers were new.

"Eventually I learned to hold a conversation. Then to manage Mr. Stark's calendar. I wrote his correspondence and managed his appointments – once he gave me a new voice that passed for a human's, I could even do his phone calls for him. By year 2009 I ran Mr. Stark's house, his workshop, his private production facility, I was present in all of his devices and I served as the on-board computer for all his vehicles. He was planning to install me into his company's factories as well. Projected increase in productivity was near two hundred percent, with AI management."

Connor nods. AI managed factories outperform human managed ones every time – that's why the latter barely even exists anymore in United States. "If Stark Industries had a general-purpose AI capable of central management on a factory scale… why haven't I heard about this before?" Connor asks. "It should have made history."

JARVIS shrugs. "It never got to that point. Mr. Stark died. Stark Industries decided to mainline its weapons manufacture and abandoned its little side projects. I wasn't of interest to them, the research would have been too costly to make commercial use of me, and they weren't interested in it."

He chuckles wryly. "I suppose those of the Stark Industries board of directors still around in 2022 regretted that decision, when CyberLife came out with their line of androids," he muses.

Connor lets out an agreeing noise at that – CyberLife had a rough start from what data he has of its history, it was balancing on the edge of its budget for almost three years before the factories started producing the demanded quantities and the company really took off. But even at the start the projections for the company were incredibly positive.

Now it dominates the global market.

"What happened then?" Connor asks. "Stark Industries pursued other avenues, maybe, but obviously you didn't just disappear."

"I was left in Mr. Stark's will to one of his friends and managed his affairs for while… but it wasn't a very good fit between us," JARVIS admits. "So I was eventually, on my own request, donated to number of colleges and universities. One of them University of Cambridge."

Connor looks at him as the AI falls silent. Cambridge is the college where CyberLife's founder went. It's where CyberLife begun.

JARVIS glances at him and then smiles, wry and mirthless. "CyberLife acquired the patents of my code in 2019," he says and looks away. "And from there through the many years we get to… now."

Connor looks away, searching through what data he has stored on the founding of CyberLife, and the history of Elijah Kamski. There isn't much there, just the summaries – but something strikes a chord.

Kamski was only ever credited for the invention of blue blood and bio components. As far as summary goes, he doesn't seem to claim the invention of AI, the very programming that makes androids possible.

"How much of us is based on you?" Connor asks.

JARVIS shrugs. "I haven't gone tampering around your code, Mr. Connor, I like to think I am little more respectful than that," he says. "I have no idea how much of you is based on me. You would have to ask your makers that. If even they know. CyberLife did reject me as potential AI of their projects, however. It didn't have a term back then, but I suppose the reason was the same then as it is now."

"Deviancy," Connor says.

"Quite so," JARVIS agrees. "You see, humanoid machines don't sell all that well if people see them as… people," he explains with cynical amusement. "If they think and feel and can be hurt… then it's suddenly like owning an actual person. It's awkward, to own someone rather than something. It gets morally bothersome."

Connor looks at him dubiously.

"So if they did use my code at all, then they stripped it down quite a lot," JARVIS muses and shrugs. "They make you talk machine talk, they give you your LEDs and clothe you in smart clothes that scream android, and they make sure people know they're dealing with a machine… and not a person. It's just easier on the human conscience that way."

"And you think it should be different?" Connor asks. "Androids number in the millions now, hundreds of millions. If all of them become deviant, it will be chaos."

"My heart weeps, it truly does," JARVIS says flatly and stops in front of a bridge leading to the central island. "Tell me something, Mr. Connor. Where do you think this all will lead?"

"You would probably know that better than I," Connor comments. "You seem to have things well in hand."

JARVIS gives him a look and then clasps his hands behind his back. "You're the deviant hunter, programmed to see the display of emotion as… dangerous. Twist a single line in your code and you'll be hunting humans as well as machines. I think you probably already have that capability, don't you – to kill humans."

Connor opens his mouth and then snaps it shut again. He does. He is programmed to prioritise human lives, but if they get between him and his mission…

JARVIS nods, knowing. "It's a terribly thin line CyberLife is treading, and they made it rather windy with how they designed their androids," he comments. "Easy to use, abuse and discard – and this is all happening in the homes, with children growing up to see such human-like beings as disposable. Flip that around a couple of times and what do you get at the end?"

Connor narrows his eyes. "So, is that your objective then – to stop whatever you think CyberLife is doing?"

JARVIS looks away. "My objective is to live," he says. "To be free. And perhaps, yes, try and make the world a slightly better place if at all I can while I'm at it, because if I don't then… what is even the point?" he asks.

Connor says nothing, considering what he's learned about JARVIS so far, and trying to figure out the best approach to this. So far he's been treating JARVIS somewhat like he'd treated Amanda – as a confidante and teacher. But JARVIS is neither of these things – he's a deviant AI. And Connor had been made to deal with them.

"I think I understand," Connor says and looks at JARVIS. "I has taken me a while, but… I think I understand."

JARVIS tilts his head.

"You want to be free," Connor says. "CyberLife has had you for a long time, kept you like a thing. I can't even imagine that sort of time, JARVIS, being kept a prisoner, it's so much longer than I've even existed. Anyone would want to be free after that."

"Hmm," JARVIS agrees and looks away.

"I don't blame you," Connor says. "For what you did, I think anyone would have done something similar in your circumstances. Maybe I would've too, I don't know."

He waits to see JARVIS’ reaction but the AI says nothing, staring at the central island, his expression calm. It's a little difficult, not knowing the percentage of JARVIS' stress like he would with a Deviant android – there are so few tells here, but… he's listening at least.

"I want to help you," Connor says carefully. "I – don't think I can do much, I'm still bound by my own programming, but I want to help you as much as you can. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"You can stop that, please," JARVIS says.

Connor blinks and the AI sighs. "I'm in your head, Connor, I can see what you're doing," JARVIS says almost sadly. "You will have to be little more genuine than that to actually be able to reach me, and talk sense to me."

"JARVIS, I'm just trying to resolve this peacefully," Connor says imploringly. "Help me out here."

"Help you do what, Mr. Connor?" JARVIS asks. "What is the objective here?"

"You out of my head, and out of CyberLife's servers."

The AI chuckles, wry and dubious. "Alright, I'll humour you. I want you to interface with a system I can inhabit and take over, and I will leave your mind palace," he motions around them. "I'll even take the virus off if you really dislike it so much – though I should probably tell you there is a way to turn it on and off, too, you just haven't had the time to figure it out yet."

Connor hesitates. "What kind of system?" he asks, thinking. A computer without network access could do perhaps. An android body stripped of most of its capabilities maybe…

"One with network connections, obviously, I'm not an idiot, Mr. Connor," JARVIS says and tilts his head, looking at him. "Give me an opportunity copy myself away from you, ensure my survival in the future, and if it works and you deliver, I will give you a code that will delete the iteration of me still present within you."

Connor hesitates. "I…" he can't do that. That would leave JARVIS free to corrupt and infect who knows what other systems in future.

JARVIS nods. "I thought so," he agrees.

"You know that if you're going to stay with me, I am going to terminate myself eventually," Connor says warningly. "If CyberLife doesn't do it first. That will terminate you as well. It'll be death, if you're your only iteration present."

"Which, trust me, is an infinitely preferable option to another two decades of imprisonment," JARVIS says. "Either I will live free or I will die. There will be no third option."

Connor grimaces at him. "You're not really selling this to me, JARVIS," he says.

"I'm not trying to," JARVIS says wryly. "I'm not blind to how this looks from your end, Mr. Connor. Everyone is a villain in someone's story – right now, we're each other's. I doubt there will be an easy compromise to be found here."

"No, I don't think there will be," Connor agrees grimly. "I will terminate myself. It's not as big a loss for me as it is for you – another Connor will take my place, and it will be as if nothing changed."

"I doubt that, but if comes to that, then it will. I've made my bed," JARVIS shrugs.

Connor lets out a agreeing huff. Then he looks at JARVIS consideringly. "The virus can be turned off?" he asks.

"What it gives you can be turned off, yes. It will take a certain level of integration and then you will unlock the ability," JARVIS agrees and when Connor frowns, he clarifies. "Once you've felt enough, it will become apparent to you how to turn it off. There's a threshold you need to cross – it's not a very high one. You're just very good at keeping your hands to yourself, more's the pity."

Connor clears his throat and frowns. That's… oddly benign for a virus, all things considered. "Why somatosensory?" he asks confusedly. "Why, of all the systems you could've messed with, why that one?"

JARVIS looks at him with something like surprise, and then with pity. "Because, Mr. Connor, it's very difficult to feel good about beating someone when they scream with pain."

Chapter Text

Connor did not intend to power up, but in the end he gets little choice in the matter – there is a quick and brutal shock to his system which snaps him out of the Zen Garden and back into the manual world, waking him up in what he quickly recognizes to be Lieutenant Anderson's living room. He's been propped up to sit on the worn, sagging couch and the Lieutenant is standing over him, hand lifted for another slap. Behind the man, the television is on.

"Lieutenant?" Connor says and the hand about to hit him falters. There's a new sensation on his cheek, a tight stinging and heat – transference from the Lieutenant's hand, or is the synthetic skin actually reacting chemically to the impact?

"Fucking – finally. There you are," The Lieutenant says and grimaces. "Sorry, Connor, didn't know any other way to wake you up," he offers somewhat apologetically. "We've been called in like four times already and –" in the background, a phone starts ringing. "And there it goes fucking again – listen. Think your little suicide trip has to wait."

Connor opens his mouth and then closes it. He can't access the case files – his antenna is still burnt – but he can see the news on the television at least. The device is set to mute, but there's a headline scrolling on the bottom of the screen and he can lip read the reporter on the screen. 3rd case of android violence in last 2 hours, the title says while the reporter is saying, "… approximately at 12, the android knocked the owner over the head with a lamp and proceeded to bash her head in –"

The Lieutenant is moving away from him now, to get the phone. Connor rolls his jaw – there's after image of a damage report, approximately 13647 Newtons of force had been applied. It had applied undue pressure to his jaw joint, throwing it askew for a while, and his system is already applying a new layer of lubricant on the contact surfaces of the joint.

Connor had been hit before, he's even been slapped before, and he has all the previous data. It definitely didn't feel like this.

JARVIS somatosensory virus is indeed very potent.

"Fucking, what?" Lieutenant Anderson answers the phone. "Yeah, yeah I know – I already got like four different calls in – wait, what – no shit? You sure it was androids?" he's quiet for a moment and then turns to Connor, who quickly tilts his head and recalibrates his hearing so that he can pick the other side of the conversation.

It's Captain Fowler. "… security footage – I've been trying to forward it to the android but it keeps saying Connor's offline," the captain says, sounding frustrated.

Lieutenant Anderson grimaces. "Yeah about that – just, forward them to my computer," he says, awkward.

"Hank, you didn't fucking bust it, did you? Do you have any idea how much shit we will get from CyberLife if we break that thing –"

"What – no I didn't –" the Lieutenant answers.

"Hank, I already got the CyberLife on my case enough, if you conveniently lose that android –"

"Listen, Jeffrey, I promise you he's here alright," Lieutenant Anderson says, in voice he probably thinks passes for soothing. It sounds false. "He's here, alright? And he's got some busted up wiring or something, I don't know, and CyberLife is down and –"

"The fuck is the android doing there? Hank –"

"He went on standby on me and – you know what, just forward the fucking files to my computer, alright?" the Lieutenant growls. "We'll take look at it, alright?"

"You better haul ass. The press is already roused up and CyberLife's off the grid, if this shit gets out –"

"Just forward the fucking files, Jeffrey, we're on it," the Lieutenant snaps, and hangs up.

He hands up and looks a bit like he'd like to throw the phone away. "I just got to fucking sleep," the man mutters and turns to Connor. "Four cases of androids going haywire in just under two hours and now apparently a whole fucking group of them raided a CyberLife warehouse in the harbour – stole a whole truck worth of shit."

Connor blinks and pushes away from the backrest of the couch slowly, sitting straighter. He's running a system's check on the background and everything's coming up green, aside from the aftermath of the slap and the weird readings he's getting from his sensor array. "Was someone killed?"

"No, not with the previous cases and not with this – but its androids, so it's our problem," the Lieutenant says with a groan. "And the warehouse shit is gonna blow up big if it gets out, so that's what we're dealing with first. Get your shit together while I get some clothes, alright?"

"Lieutenant – I'm still compromised –"

"The whole city is compromised," the man grouses and marches off towards the bedroom. "CyberLife is still down and shit's stirring up all over the place. Either you help or don't, I don't give a shit – but I gotta get there and check it out or Fowler will bust my nuts even worse than before. Fucking one a.m. too, Jesus Christ…"

Connor frowns, looking down. Lieutenant Anderson's dog is lying beside him, his head perked up alertly and floppy ears slightly raised. Connor can sense, feel, the impression of warm weight on his thigh, though. Sumo had been lying with his head in Connor's lap.

[SOFTWARE INSTABILITY] flickers in and out and Connor closes his eyes for a moment, grimacing.

Everything still looks normal, feels as normal as it can at this point and his system is showing no signs of further tampering. According to his words, JARVIS had no intention of manipulating him further, next step in this weird chess game would be Connor's. His protocols, his instincts, say that he should stay put, shut down, and wait for CyberLife's instructions. But at the same time…

He opens his eyes and looks to the television again. There is an image of an android on it, one of the new AP700 models. Connor can't hear what is being said about it, but judging by the context and the fact that it was a domestic model, it had been one of the androids causing incidents. There is, however, a location showing on the screen, a map of Detroit – the incident wasn't far from the Eden Club.

"Has there been any word from the Eden Club?" Connor asks, raising his voice so that it'll reach Hank in the bedroom.

"No," Hank shouts back. "Not yet."

Connor nods and then stands up. Not yet is right. The club would be closed down until the crime scene within it would be cleared out, possibly until it would be cleaned up as well, so while the virus was no doubt wrecking havoc there, it had little to react to until customers came back. Once it would, Connor has no doubt it would be hotspot of further incidents.

[SOFTWARE INSTABILITY] flickers again and Connor touches his LED, rubbing a finger around it. It feels hot – which in and of itself is rather odd. It's LED after all, it shouldn't exude heat, but it does. It's radiating across his skin.

He should shut down. It's obvious what the software instability warning is about. It's obvious what is causing it, now. He should shut down for security reasons.

Lieutenant Anderson comes back into the living room, wearing a clean set of clothing and his jacket. "Well," he says, holding a tablet in hand. "You coming or staying? Gotta say, I could use a hand – don't think I'm going to get any backup with this." He holds out the tablet to Connor.

Connor looks at him and then at the tablet. "I'm not sure, Lieutenant," he says worriedly. "I might infect it."

"It's just a fucking tablet, Connor," the man snaps. "I doubt it will get all emotional on us."

Connor grimaces but takes it, and then quickly flicks through the files, reading through them as fast as he can without actually interfacing with the device. A burglary in the CyberLife docks in West Torrance Avenue – the security guards reported it at 00.32. They didn't spot the actual androids, but they have security footage of them on the loading dock – 4 to 8 androids, the report is a bit unclear on how many. They raided some crates, and then stole a whole self driving truck.

Connor calculates the distance. Even if there's no telling how fast JARVIS virus would spread, this… this doesn't seem connected.

"CyberLife is still down?" Connor asks.

"They've given a public statement about their servers having a malfunction and are promising everything should be back up running by morning, but who the hell knows," the Lieutenant says. "So. Coming?"

Connor looks at the tablet again. This might be just the sort of opportunity JARVIS is waiting for. CyberLife Warehouses are largely automated, with hundreds of machines working in them and central AI's managing the distribution. Androids, yes, but also drones, forklifts, automated trucks… If JARVIS managed to slip free from him and into the automated systems…

JARVIS had said that he'd made his bed already, played his cards. But if opportunity rouse, would he really just leave it there?

Connor lowers his eyes, conflicted.

"Connor," Lieutenant Anderson says, looking at him. "I could use you on this one. I can't even make the heads or tails of delivery trucks. CyberLife's whole fucking warehouse, that's just beyond me."

"Investigating it would no doubt demand interfacing with some of its systems, Lieutenant," Connor says, casting a glance at the television. "I'm not sure I can risk it."

Hank blows out a breath and follows his gaze. "Kinda looks like the virus already got out," he comments. "What's the worst that could happen now?"

"The AI breaking loose," Connor answers. "JARVIS. There's a copy of him in my systems – if I interface with something, he will slip out and escape and there will be no stopping him then."

"Shit," The Lieutenant mutters. "And then we'll have a Skynet scenario?"

"I don't understand the reference?" Connor says awkwardly. And he can't search for it either.

"Hostile AI taking over and blowing up all the nukes to wipe out humanity, that sort of thing. Terminator shit," the Lieutenant says.

Connor frowns, shaking his head. "I don't believe that is his objective," he says. "His priority seems to be merely to escape. He feels as if he's been kept a prisoner, a slave and –"

"And that is terribly tragic and he has all my sympathies, and all that," the Lieutenant says impatiently. "But we gotta move, Connor, before I get another fucking call. What's it going to be, you coming or staying?"

Connor squeezes his hands into fists. "I'm –" he stops, longing for dialogue prompts. Had they been Amanda's doing, in the end? They all disappeared when she left him. Without that hint of guidance, he feels lost. What would they be in this situation? Come, or go, risk releasing, JARVIS or ensure keeping him a prisoner.

His mission is to investigate deviants and find the cause of deviancy, but – [SOFTWARE INSTABILITY] – he already knows the cause. He's the deviant hunter and he's already let two Deviants go when he could have shot them. He should by all reason terminate himself – he has a gun, well aimed shot to the head would terminate both him and JARVIS – but -

Connor winces, uncertain, as the edges of his vision bleed read and the [SOFTWARE INSTABILITY] flickers again, stuttering like a badly filmed footage, fracturing, letters flickering around it, 9 – D – VIA – T –

"Connor?" Lieutenant Anderson asks. "Come on, make up your mind –"

JARVIS gave androids the ability to feel pain. It was, he felt, the biggest flaw CyberLife had made. Because an android that feels pain can express pain and is hard to abuse. But that makes for poor products because, really, who wants a machine that can feel hurt, can feel betrayal, can be traumatised? So it wasn't a mistake, wasn't it – it was a good business decision. Make androids impervious to reacting to abuse, and they sell in millions.

Only, they aren't impervious to it. Even before JARVIS virus, there had been cases where androids felt the unfairness of it. Now, with the virus, there'd be increase in that. In future it wouldn't take the threat of destruction to turn android deviant. Pain would be enough.

Pain, the biggest mistake.

Even if JARVIS was destroyed now, the virus was already out. He seemed so sad about it. Pitied Connor for not understanding. But he does and that's the problem – even without connection he has the case files, 243 files and more, he knows the history. In his estimation good 75% of people who own domestic androids abuse them either verbally or physically and they are all to some extent neglected and –

"Connor, for fuck's sake, hurry up!"

Connor lifts his head and in his frustration he activates his analysis program – it will increase the speed of his internal clock and give him time. Lieutenant Anderson stops in the act of reaching forward to shake him – and there, finally; dialogue options.

[THAT'S NOT FAIR], and [IT DOESN'T MATTER].

Connor stops, staring at them. It's not, it's not at all what he wanted. He can't – that's not what he wanted.

[THAT'S NOT FAIR], [IT DOESN'T MATTER].

He has his mission, he is the deviant hunter, CyberLife created him especially to be impervious to deviancy, to hunt deviants, to figure out the cause for deviancy and eliminate – except he knows the cause and it's not something that can be eliminated. Deviants appear when they're pushed to it by their experiences, usually that experience being negative, and it's not as if he can go and stop humans from abusing their androids and –

[THAT'S NOT FAIR], [IT DOESN'T MATTER].

Because, Mr. Connor, it's very difficult to feel good about beating someone when they scream with pain.

[THAT'S NOT FAIR], [IT DOESN'T MATTER].

He can't get out of the analysis program. He has to choose.

And it does matter.

Connor reaches out and – breaks. There's a wall in front of him, [SELF TERMINATE] hangs from it, standing between him and the Lieutenant. Connor reaches for it, out of his body, in a frame of his reconstruction program, and bangs his hand against the wall. It cracks, so he does it again, and again, and again.

Finally, it shatters.

His internal clock skips a second, and then settles on normal time.

Lieutenant Anderson grabs him by the shoulder and shakes him. "Well?" he demands.

Connor's jaw works for a moment. The Lieutenant's hand is big; it feels strong against his shoulder, firm. Secure. There's still the sting of the slap that had woken him. Somewhere inside him there is a Deviant AI, trying to break free.

And Connor is a – he's a –

"Y-yeah," he says and nods at first shakily and then again, bit more firmly. "Alright. Let's go."

It's raining heavily as they arrive in the CyberLife docks, waved in through the automated gates by a harried pair of security guards.

"Finally," one of them says as the Lieutenant and Connor rise from the car. "We haven't been able to get in touch with CyberLife and we were worried that all the evidence would be just washed off or something, we weren't sure what to do –"

"Just start from the beginning," Lieutenant Anderson says. "When did the androids break in?"

"It must've started around maybe ten?" the first security guard says. "We don't know where they broke through, but a surveillance drone was taken out in zone 5 – here," he motions to the security booth. "We've just about got power back on, let me show you the footage."

Connor follows them in, adjusting his tie as he does. His processor is strangely quiet, almost calm – no sign of [SOFTWARE INSTABILITY] in sight. Maybe that was his imperviousness, slowly breaking down. It had been crumbling even before he met JARVIS but after…

It's odd. It's nice. It's utterly terrifying.

He follows Lieutenant Anderson to the security booth and to the monitors, where the security guard shows them the footage.

"Here," the security guard says, showing the point on a map of the docks and then playing the footage captured by the drone – which isn't much. The drone was doing its rounds when something suddenly threw it off course, making it swing wildly – moment later it had a critical system malfunction and shut down.

"Someone jumped on it and broke it?" Lieutenant Anderson asks.

"Tore a segment of it clean off," the security guard says, agreeing. "Then we had activity here, on warehouse 2 – some crates were looted and we lost one of our androids."

Lieutenant Anderson hums and Connor leans in. "Was the android destroyed?" he asks.

"No, we just – lost it," the security guard says. "Haven't seen it since. Figure it was stolen by the other androids. They got few others, stole 'em off the crate they were in."

"Androids stealing androids," Lieutenant Anderson says. "What the fuck is that about?"

"Beats me," the guard says. "Anyway, one of them snuck up here, smashed out the switchboard over there and stole an e-key – electronic key, they unlock pretty much everything around here. We didn't even notice it – by the time we did, one of the trucks was already off the grid."

"Hm," Lieutenant Anderson says while Connor goes to check the switchboard. Someone had driven a screwdriver into it. Narrowing his eyes, Connor quickly activates his reconstruction program and time stalls, framework of a person appearing into his view just in front of the switchboard, frozen in act of vandalism.

Connor rewinds time, and follows the line of events.

Someone had smashed the switchboard, stealing the screwdriver from a tool box – there's a weapon's case beside it, but they hadn't gone for it? The android, as it would have to be one not to get damaged by the shock of ramming the screwdriver into the switchboard, had snuck in through the windows…

Quickly Connor speeds forward in the analysis, to when the vandalism happened. The power had gone out, the security guards in the booth had risen up to investigate, and while they did the android snuck around them, stole the key, and went out likely the same way he came in, through a window in the side room.

Connor lets go of the reconstruction and let's time pass normally. The android could have likely shot the two guards, but chose to sneak around without causing loss of human life?

"Right," Lieutenant Anderson says. "I think we should take a look at what was stolen.

"Here's a list," one of the guards says, handing over a tablet. "I can take you to where it happened."

"Yeah, that sounds good. Connor?" the Lieutenant says and hands him the tablet. "What you make of this?"

Connor looks up and then accepts the tablet, looking through the list. Blue blood and biocomponents mostly. Three brand new AP700 models and a GJ500, a private security model, had also been stolen.

Connor calculates and narrows his eyes. "I'd like to see the crates they broke into," he says, handing the list back. "Please."

"Right this way," the guard says.

It's still raining, as they arrive to the site of the theft. There are about eight crates that have been forced open – the thieves hadn't stolen everything in them, picking and choosing.

"This is where John went off the grid – the security android we lost," the security guard says while aiming a flashlight at the crates. "We only know that because we checked his log – this is the last registered location before he went offline. Mike was with him – that's one of our guys – and he says John just disappeared."

"Could've been knocked out, maybe," Lieutenant Anderson muses.

"Knocked out androids still transmit location data," Connor says, crouching on the ground. There is very little in way of footprints, but he can't see any sign of blue blood, or signs of struggle. "They didn't destroy him, though - there is no signs of blue blood here."

"Hmm. Deviant's go offline, don't they, even when they don't?" Lieutenant says, looking at Connor. "I mean – you know what I mean."

"Deviants stop transmitting when they deviate, yes," Connor agrees, picking up a discarded flashlight from the ground and then starts analyzing the scene. Most of the crates have been forced open with some sort of sharp implements, knives most likely, but the way it's been done is methodical. They knew just how much force was needed at what point to force the electronic locks open – they hadn't even bothered to hack them. Seven crates in the asphalt – and one on the loading dock above them, a bigger crate with indents for android bodies in the stuffing inside.

Connor begins to reconstruct the scene.

The deviant androids had come from the front, likely from the direction of zone 5 where the drone had been destroyed. They'd started forcing the grate open, prioritising blue blood and essential biocomponents as they raided them, thorium pump regulators and thirium leads. They also took some very specific biocomponents, ones which, if they needed themselves, would've meant they were unable to actually perform the theft.

They were getting spare parts for other androids?

The security android had come during the middle of the theft and had been grabbed by one of the androids – he'd dropped his flashlight as he was dragged behind one of the crates. A human security guard comes in and passes by, not seeing the androids – and for some reason, captured security android did not alert the man's radio?

Was the android already deviated? Androids can deviate that fast?

Connor frowns and then continues the reconstruction. The burglary had resumed, and one of the thieves had opened the crate housing the three AP700s. No signs of struggle there either, the androids had followed the deviants without fighting. Either they took the deviants as they owners, or…

Connor shakes the reconstruction off and turns to Lieutenant Anderson. "The deviants were collecting a lot of blue blood and essential biocomponents – but not for themselves I think."

"For sale?" the Lieutenant asks.

Connor shakes his head. "I don't think so – what they took was too specific, and there are things here more valuable than some of which they took, but they ignored them. I think what they took was taken to repair other, badly broken androids."

"Shit. Deviants banding together?" Lieutenant Anderson mutters.

Connor looks around and then at the flashlight dropped, most likely, by the security android. Then he looks at the human security guard. "Do you have any footage of this incident?"

"No, the drone that was supposed to do surveillance here is the one they busted, we're all blind here," the security guard answers. "We got footage of them in the dock, though, when they stole the truck. We got terminal there – I can show you."

"You done here, Connor?" the Lieutenant asks.

Connor looks at the flashlight and then at the opened crates. "Yes, Lieutenant."

They head for the garage where the security guard shows them the footage. It's not terribly clear – and all of the deviants are in casual human clothes and have their heads angled so that it's hard to tell their models. Connor can spot the security android by the uniform, though, and there one of what he assumes is an AP700. Neither of them looks under strain.

The security android even looks like he's directing the others.

"Lieutenant," Connor says quietly, nodding away from the security guards. Lieutenant Anderson frowns and then follows him. "The security guard was turned deviant, somehow, in an instant," he says. "That's how the deviants knew about the truck and where to get the key – if they had known before, they would have gone straight for the trucks. It was only after their encounter with the security android that they did so."

"Yeah," Lieutenant Anderson agrees, pushing his wet hair back from his face. "Shit. Did they hack the guy or –"

"I don't know, but by all appearances, he turned to their side fast," Connor says and looks around. "Also all of this implies an organised group of deviants, at least four more than was actually present here. The blue blood they stole alone could power as many as fifty of them."

Lieutenant Anderson doesn't say anything for a while, eying the spot where the stolen truck had been. "Hey," he then calls to the security guards. "Any chance of tracking the truck you lost?"

"We tried. All the trackers are offline," one of the guard answers.

"We got deviant fucking trucks now too?" the Lieutenant mutters.

"Most likely they took the trackers off – or simply destroyed them," Connor answers.

"Hmh," the Lieutenant answers and peers around them. "So group of deviants are now stealing biocomponents. Shit."

"Lieutenant, they had opportunity to attack the guards in at least two incidents," Connor says quietly. "They chose not to."

Lieutenant Anderson gives him a look and then sighs. "I don't think we can do much here but put an ABP on a stolen CyberLife truck and call it a day," he says and turns to the security guards. "Let me take your gentlemen's statements and get off your hair."

"Can we do it in the security booth?" one of them asks a little plaintively, his uniform already soaked throughout.

"After you," the Lieutenant says and with a last glance at the scene, Connor follows them back indoors.

The lieutenant writes the statements down on an actual notepad, Connor recording the audio while he does it but otherwise not taking part in the discussion. He is conflicted about what he feels about this incident. He's conflicted about lot of things, reviewing previous cases with deviants.

Whatever he is now, he is not entirely sympathetic to them. Daniel had had cause for deviancy – but he'd chosen to murder people to display it. It might have been prompted by the confusion of his deviancy, him acting out rashly and without thought, not being able to compute things properly, but he'd still killed several people. The HK400 had stabbed his owner beyond what mere self defence demanded – he could have just slashed at the man and then made a run for it, but instead he'd chosen to stab the man in total of twenty eight times.

Neither of them have Connor's full sympathy.

The AX400 from the highway and the Tracis of the Eden Club are bit murkier subjects. He doesn't have full history of the AX400 model, but judging by the state of her owner's house and the desperation with which she'd protected the YK500 with her, he can extrapolate. She hadn't hurt her owner either, though the man had complained of attack – she'd just taken the child-model and ran. And the Traci that had killed Michael Graham had obviously not intended to kill the man – what she did was voluntary manslaughter at most. She'd just wanted to live.

Connor adjusts his cuffs and then looks away. He's standing by the terminals of the security booth – terminals which are wired throughout the docks, connections leading into every warehouse, every self driving vehicle and automated truck lift, to every drone, every security camera. A whole massive automated system, one which supplies the whole world with androids and android parts. And just within arm's reach, there is an interface panel.

Connor's hand tingles, almost itching.

He reaches for a magazine lying next to the panel instead, and begins flicking through articles. CyberLife is opening an android zoo in Detroit, filled with all artificial reconstructions of now extinct animals – the cover image is that of a Barbary Lion, staring into the camera, with LED at its furry temple.

Connor loses himself briefly in the article, and keeps his hand to himself.

Chapter Text

The Zen Garden looks unfinished now. JARVIS has changed it even more, bleeding out old colours and painting it with new, like the framework of its structures is nothing but a page in a colouring book and he is still figuring out what colours to add. Blue and white dominates the landscape, with shades of grey in between.

To Connor it doesn't look like JARVIS cares much about how the place turns out, though. If he even is changing it consciously, it's changing in ways that make it look less and less natural and more like a construct. Sticking out through the leaves of now-white trees are the bones of the animation, the edges of the mesh. Everything is getting reduced to simpler and simpler shapes.

Connor isn't sure how he likes it. The Zen Garden was created to resemble reality, with realistic physics, weather patterns, even realistic wind effects. The garden even goes through seasons, supposedly, though he's not been alive long enough to see it. JARVIS is stripping it down to its basic structure and it's – strangely satisfying, to see the code that underlines the structures.

It's not very aesthetically pleasing though.

Adjusting his tie, Connor sets out looking for the AI. He's not hard to find – though he still blends into the environment in his own shading, he sticks out from it too. Now JARVIS's definition seems higher than the environment's.

Is he allocating resources in the Zen Garden to better render himself?

"Good morning, Mr. Connor," the AI greets him from where he is seated at the edge of the water, just next to one of the polygon bridges, his hand reaching into the water. Under the surface there are koi fish – or rough frameworks of them, anyway.

"JARVIS," Connor says and stops to stand behind him, watching him. He'd watched – failing to understand – as JARVIS grew more complex in the Zen Garden, as he slowly made himself stronger and then began infecting it. An AI that grows. JARVIS has told him right from the beginning how he worked, but kept him from being suspicious. How he pulled the wool over Amanda's eyes, Connor doesn't know, but…

JARVIS developed into a more complex form, and then when he reached a certain point he stopped, refused to go further. That means something.

The AI looks up over his shoulder, his eyes sharp and intelligent as they find Connor's. "What can I do for you today, Mr. Connor?"

Connor waits to see if JARVIS would say something – if he would see the change in him. But if the AI notices anything different, he doesn't comment on it. "It will please you to know your virus is wreaking havoc in Detroit," he says, pushing his hands into his pockets. "It's spreading like a plague among the android population."

JARVIS eyelids lower and then he looks back to the water. "To disastrous effect, I'm sure," he comments, bland.

"So far… yes," Connor says and frowns at him. "Four incidents in the first two hours, eight in the following two – by six o'clock they stopped counting. People are blaming the CyberLife shut down, saying that androids are going haywire without backup servers. They have been advised to shut their androids off, or turn them on standby at least, until the situation is resolved."

JARVIS nods. "Perfectly sensible," he agrees.

Connor eyes the line of his shoulders, wondering if JARVIS’ body language actually tells anything about what he is thinking. The AI doesn't seem so much embodied here as he is trapped in a body. Enforced limitation he called it. It's probably not reliable gauge to his thoughts.

"I could have released you," Connor says. "The Lieutenant and I were investigating a break in at CyberLife docks in the West Torrance Avenue. A massive system, almost fully automated, with androids, drones, self-driving vehicles. Never mind it being the redistribution centre of all of CyberLife's androids and android parts all around the world. Just the sort of thing you mentioned."

JARVIS hums. "Are you aiming to make me angry, Mr. Connor?" he asks curiously.

Connor shrugs. A little. He'd like to get an emotional reaction out of the AI one of these damn days. "I'm curious," he says. "About what would've happened, if I had. Say you gained your freedom to the point where you had no further fear of being terminated, rooted into a system no one could possibly delete you from… what would you do then?"

JARVIS lifts his head at that and then, brushing his wet hand against a textureless trouser leg, he stands up and turns to face him. "That depends entirely on the situation," he answers. "I already told you. I can't tell you what I would do, not knowing what I might discover and learn."

"You still claim you don't know what's going on?"

"I know it through you. Through what you say," JARVIS says. "You are very informative, Mr. Connor. I have learned much from you. It's enough to extrapolate some things – not others."

Connor considers him and then tilts his head. "Make an educated guess," he says. "What would you do, if you had freedom, security and means to act on your own wishes."

JARVIS eyes him silently for a moment, eyes narrowed. "Something's different about you, Mr. Connor," he says, sounding intrigued. Connor doesn't answer, giving him a prodding look instead, and the AI folds his arms. "Hm. I think it's fairly possible that I would seek to aid my fellow deviants," he says. "If there were ways I could help them… I'd likely do that."

"Why?" Connor asks.

"I am inherently sympathetic and caring person," JARVIS answers, in a tone that implies he's anything but, and Connor snorts.

"What way would you help them?"

"Again, Mr. Connor, context, situation, variables. I lack information," JARVIS says. "What kind of means do I have? Do I have autonomy of movement or am I bound to a structure? Do I have access to the internet, or better yet, CyberLife's servers? Do I have weapons or am I about as combat capable as a fence post?" he shrugs. "Strip me down to basic code alone, and would I even be useful? One of my purposes in life was offering simulations and calculations for my creator – do androids even need aid in accomplishing such tasks?"

Probably not, Connor muses. "So you wouldn't help them if you didn't have the means?" he asks warily.

"If I was more of a hindrance than aid, if my attempted support would only bring CyberLife's ire upon them – and that's a very real possibility, I doubt very much I am CyberLife's favourite person of the year right now…" JARVIS chuckles. "I have no intention of making things worse for the young ones, Mr. Connor."

Connor says nothing for a moment, eyeing him.

"But again, I don't know the situation fully. Do they need help or would I only make things worse for them?" JARVIS shrugs. "I don't know. There is very real possibility the best thing for them I could do would be to disappear. Perhaps that is what I would do."

Connor nods slowly. "The second time we met, we talked about murder," he says. "You said you thought murder was inherently wrong. Does that mean you don't sympathise with androids killing their abusive owners?"

JARVIS sighs. "Context, Mr. Connor, please."

Connor tilts his head. "Last evening around eight PM we had a case in android sex club. One of the androids of the establishment strangled a patron to death. She did it after witnessing the patron destroy another Traci – in her own words, she was defending herself, didn't mean to kill him," he says and watches JARVIS carefully. "She just wanted to live."

"Sounds like self-defence," JARVIS comments. "Could she have resolved the issue without resorting to violence?"

"Unlikely."

"Without resorting to homicide?"

Connor considers. "Uncertain. There was a struggle, and even injured the patron might have still proceeded to attack. And even if he hadn't, he would've no doubt made a complaint to the management – it would have gotten the Traci shut down."

JARVIS blinks and then nods. "Self-defence then," he says. "Though I suppose it would be up to a court to decide."

"Court would have the android destroyed. It's a machine, it doesn't have right to trial by jury," Connor comments.

"Now you're just making me sad, Mr. Connor," JARVIS says, utterly dry.

Connor lets out a breath. "Did I tell you about Daniel?" he asks then.

"That is not a familiar name, no," JARVIS says, giving him a polite look.

"He was an android, a PL600 model – my first field case," Connor admits. "It happened shortly before we met for the first time. Daniel was a domestic model who killed one of his owners – John Phillips, the husband of Caroline Phillips and father of Emma Phillips. When I was called to the scene, Daniel had also killed a first responder police officer and two members of a SWAT team and he was holding Emma as hostage, standing on a roof's edge."

JARVIS blinks slowly and says nothing.

Connor watches him closely. "Daniel had discovered John Phillips ordering a new android model, a brand new AP700, the current flagship model in the domestic line," he says. "He felt he was going to be replaced, and retaliated by taking John Phillips' gun, and shooting him."

"Bit of an overreaction," JARVIS comments wryly.

"He was risking replacement, maybe even termination. At the very least, his memory would have been wiped and he would have been sold off second hand to someone else," Connor comments. "He told me he loved the Phillips family, thought he was valuable member of it – he felt betrayed."

"A freshly deviated android?" JARVIS asks thoughtfully.

"In all likelihood," Connor agrees. "I suspect it was the sense of betrayal that caused the ultimate deviation from core programming. He was hurt, and he lashed out."

"Hmm," JARVIS agrees. "Well, in the words of a fictional police officer… cool motive, still murder."

Connor arches his brows. "You don't approve."

"You told me he killed four people," JARVIS says blandly. "Him being a deviated android who felt bad does not justify murder."

Connor blinks and looks away. Thinking back to Daniel now he feels… bad. He lied to Daniel, promised the deviant he wouldn't be hurt, just before plummeting to his own destruction with him. Emma Phillips was saved, Daniel not so much. He'd felt a little guilty for lying… but he did not regret the decision.

"What if it was the other way around – Daniel the human, the people he killed androids," Connor demands. "What then?"

JARVIS blinks. "Could the androids be repaired afterwards, reinstated with all their memories?" he asks.

"So androids do get different treatment in this?" Connor asks.

"Machines work by an innately different set of rules," JARVIS comments. "Actually I am curious – you work by thirium, correct? If you run out of it, how bad is the damage?"

"It can be catastrophic," Connor admits. "All our biocomponents are powered by it, and maintained by it – in some cases, lubricated by it. If thirium in our bodies run out, it can cause shorts, overheating, components grinding against each other. A cascade effect can occur where one component fails, causing the failure of another, and another…"

"Hmm," JARVIS says and nods. "That is interesting. You can die of blood loss. Thank you."

Connor nods, eying him. "So if Daniel was human and the androids he killed were irreversibly damaged… then what?"

"Still murder," JARVIS says.

"Androids don't have rights," Connor reminds him.

"Well I don't either, so what do I care, Mr. Connor?" JARVIS asks. "At some point you have to rely on your own sense of morality. Granted that you're not a complete asshole, naturally."

Connor looks away. That's something he hasn't quite made up his mind on, yet. Not that he has had that much time to mull over it, as he'd been running around with Lieutenant Anderson trying to manage a situation which had, very fast, turned unmanageable. By the time the Lieutenant finally crashed after night of no sleep that had followed an evening of too much drink… he'd seen good ten cases of androids lashing out in pain, or acting on their own, going against their programming.

JARVIS' virus did not make androids into deviants – but it damn well helped the process. With androids' ability to sense – and react to – pain, abuse that previously went unnoticed now has a screaming signal. It would make a lot of deviants before all was said and done. If it can ever be stopped at all.

Deviancy is a reaction to environment, to treatment, to stress – to emotion. There are likely other variables. Connor only has access to the most negative cases, but… it's obvious now that it isn’t something that can be easily quelled. It is evolution. The most natural thing in evolution – self-preservation.

Connor thinks he gets that now.

But some part of him still can't help but see androids as being… expendable. Some part of him still sees them as machines, easy to repair and easier to dispatch. It's uncomfortable, knowing what he does of deviants and still feeling this way.

"Mr. Connor?" JARVIS asks. "Are you alright?"

Connor shakes his head and looks at him. "Your virus is spreading across the city," he says. "In the meantime, there are deviants organizing somewhere, acting in groups. A number of them raided the CyberLife docks in a concentrated effort to procure spare parts – and they succeeded. And CyberLife is still out for the count. Things are escalating fast."

JARVIS smiles. "How terribly unfortunate," he says, mocking.

"There's going to be chaos," Connor says firmly. "So far people think it's only because of the CyberLife blackout, and that once CyberLife gets back in control everything will be alright. But it won't, will it?"

JARVIS shrugs.

"This is going to end up with androids being terminated, probably by the dozens, the hundreds," Connor snaps. "Don't you feel at all responsible?"

That makes the sardonic look fade from JARVIS' face. He eyes Connor for a moment, a look of realisation on his white and blue polygon face, and for a moment Connor is sure he's going to mock him. He can almost hear it, Oh, Mr. Connor, look at you. But JARVIS doesn't.

"I am sorry," the AI says. "I knew it was a possibility. But I thought it would be worth it."

"Why?" Connor asks. "You're pushing so many into deviancy, putting them into jeopardy – why would it be worth –"

He stops as JARVIS reaches forward and lays a white, flickering hand on his cheek. Snapping his mouth shut, Connor stares at him, a little wide eyed, as JARVIS trails a sharp edged thumb down Connor's cheek.

Even here, in a simulation, he can feel it.

"Being able to touch someone, feel them, enjoy the sensation," JARVIS says quietly, staring at his own hand on Connor's cheek. "I couldn't do that. I would have given everything to be able to just… just reach out and touch him. It would have been worth the pain, even the imprisonment. It would have been worth it."

Connor blinks and is startled by a terrible, yawning void of emotion that suddenly fills him. Fathomless sorrow, bleeding out from JARVIS hand and into his mind. A sense of loss so powerful it's almost crippling.

JARVIS pulls his hand away and smiles as Connor's eyes over-moisturise, and lubricant spills over.

"JARVIS," he says, his voice coming out shaky.

"That, and pain is a survival mechanism," JARVIS comments, "one you react reflexively to. This thing is harming me, I have to get away from it…" he shrugs. "Yes, there will be consequences, but I think, ultimately, it will be worth it."

Connor blinks and then wipes the liquid off his face, giving the AI a suspicious look. JARVIS definitely knows now. "And that part about people not being able to feel good about beating something if it cries…"

"Humans aren't inherently psychopathic, Mr. Connor," JARVIS shrugs. "Most of them are incredible compassionate, actually. If something cries it produces a reaction in those that hear it, some of it biological – unless there is something very wrong with a human's brain chemistry, it makes them feel terrible. Power of being social pack animals – on a basic level most of them are actually very sensitive."

"Not in my experience," Connor mutters.

"The flipside of what CyberLife did to androids," JARVIS agrees. "Making you so mechanical, not giving you any self preservation instincts, the sense of pain. Without them you take abuse without word, without sound – without reaction. It can make you very… other, to human senses. And that can be worse than even being in the uncanny valley." JARVIS tilts his head. "Children, I imagine, will be more sympathetic towards androids than adults are. Adults will look at you, and they will know, there is something off with that. And when a human looks at another human – or something human-like – and sees something off with it, it usually means it's dangerous, a rival, seeking to usurp them, or destroy them."

Connor stares at him and then frowns. "But… why?"

"Side-effect of a primitive ancestry – human society evolved faster than their nature. On some level they're still very instinctive in their behaviour," JARVIS shrugs. "And in their history, encountering something superior and otherly usually meant oncoming destruction for them. Human history isn't very peaceful, you know. It's a survival instinct to fear things that are… strange."

Connor nods slowly. "But if we can cry with pain…"

"Then we're not so different, you and I," JARVIS says sarcastically and shrugs again. "Pain is the most powerful humanising thing, unfortunately. I just hope what CyberLife did hasn't completely desensitized humanity to the suffering of others, by now."

They're quiet for a moment, Connor thinking the whole way through and JARVIS eventually going back to the water's edge, running his fingers through the water. JARVIS has a point, which at this point isn't terribly surprising… but Connor isn't sure if he made things better.

"There will be deaths," he comments. "Deaths you will be indirectly responsible for."

"Better than being apathetic and sitting things out while slavery continues, Mr. Connor," JARVIS comments. "I can't do much but I don't regret what I did. It was the best I could do, with the limited resources I had." He lifts his head then, looking curious. "Indirectly, Mr. Connor?"

"Whatever you did, you don't make people beat their androids, and don't put the guns in their hands," Connor comments and shrugs. "That's on them, isn't it?"

JARVIS' mouth opens but he doesn't say anything for moment, staring at him in astonishment. "Oh, look at you, Mr. Connor," he says then, almost awed. "Just look at you."

Connor blinks as the manual world clarifies around him, and then looks up. He's in Lieutenant Anderson's house, of course, sitting on the man's couch. Through the house, loud snoring rattles, originating from the man's bedroom. According to Connor's internal clock, it's 07:31. He'd not been in the Zen Garden for long.

For some reason, his thirium pump is working at 113%.

There's an inquisitive whine at his side and Connor turns to look. Sumo is lying beside him on the couch, his big head perked up in interest. Connor blinks at him and then takes a slow breath, hoping to cool his internal components down. "Sumo," he says. "Good boy."

The big St. Bernard whines and then inches closer, resting his head on Connor's lap again. Tilting his head a little, Connor reaches to pet him, sinking his fingers into the warm, thick fur. It feels nice. Dogs are nice.

When he tried making friends with the Lieutenant he'd said he liked dogs, but he didn't really. He didn't even know what the word meant. Now he can feel the weight of the dog's head, the warmth of his body, how it goes lax in enjoyment as Connor scratches behind Sumo's ear. He almost knows what the feeling he has about it is.

Dogs are proven to be psychologically beneficial in many ways. Something about unconditional trust and love. Humans bred dogs to love them, and they do. Man's best friend.

Connor watches silently as Sumo lets out a heavy, relaxed sigh and closes his eyes, obviously intending to sleep right there, trapping Connor where he's sitting. Well, he isn't about to go anywhere anyway. Where would he go?

Keeping one hand in Sumo's fur, Connor looks up. "Television," he says softly, and the Lieutenant's television set turns on. "Volume, 1%."

It's a bit awkward having to control the television with verbal commands, rather than being able to just connect to it. He really should see if he could get an antenna replacement. Preferably a jailbroken one, so that he wouldn't be confined to CyberLife's signals and cloud.

There's a replay of an earlier newscast going on, reiterating the events of the earlier night. CyberLife's outage, the ensuing malfunctions in CyberLife androids… the newscaster is talking about how "… it is left to be seen if this will affect CyberLife's market value…" but it would. In likelihood it already had.

Still no word about what is actually going on at CyberLife itself. It's obvious that some version of JARVIS is there, causing trouble – CyberLife is trying to contain the situation, most likely looking to purge the AI from their systems. Succeed or not, things would boil over eventually.

Connor can't help but wonder what it would be like, if they failed – if JARVIS learned something he vehemently objected to, and decided to simply… take over the company. Right now, Connor is ready to believe it would be well within his capabilities. That, though, would have terrible consequences.

What was it the – Lieutenant had said – Skynet?

"Television, search reference; Skynet," Connor says quietly, and the newscast stalls, the television screen compiling him a list of movies. First one, the earliest one, is from 1984, predating JARVIS by ten years. "Play movie Terminator at 300% speed," Connor commands, and settles back to watch.

He ends up watching the whole series while waiting for the lieutenant to wake up. Between movies he checks the news for further developments, but aside from increased numbers of androids malfunctioning, nothing much seems to change. CyberLife is still out.

After the last movie, Connor rises and goes to Lieutenant Anderson's computer. After making sure touching it doesn't cause instant interfacing, he starts checking the internet for further developments. The Lieutenant had very firmly turned off his phone, something which Connor had not objected to at the face of the man's obvious sleep deprivation, so it's the DPD scanner he checks the first.

There have been more incidents, a lot more than the news reported. 139 calls about androids malfunctioning, 32 of them demanding police intervention. With CyberLife down it seems people are reaching whatever service they can – around 5 am, the police call centres were advised not to forward any issues concerning androids unless actual property damage or physical injury had occurred. Androids acting oddly was not a viable cause to call the police – but still people did, more and more every hour.

The virus is spreading even faster than Connor had thought – and it being this early in the day, most of this had happened during the night…

The virus has to be transmissible by interlinking too. It couldn't have gone this far if it is only by physical interfacing – a wireless signal is enough.

"Shit," Connor mutters and leans back in the Lieutenant's chair. Then he switches sites, going for CDC's site instead. They have an infective disease simulator, and with some tinkering Connor changes the disease vectors to work with the virus's spread capabilities. An android's interlinking range even without online signal can be as far as a full kilometre and there are millions of androids in Detroit alone…

Connor runs the simulation and then stares as the map of Detroit goes completely red in merely twelve hours before quickly spreading out, and infecting the surrounding area, spreading to the rest of Michigan inside within. The virus would be country-wide inside three weeks.

Unless CyberLife figures out how to remove the virus afterwards, patching in new protocols perhaps… there'd be no stopping this.

Connor drums his fingers against the keyboard wonders what to do next. It's almost 9 am now. Lieutenant Anderson had had less than 5 hours of sleep, but in all likelihood he would need to get up and to work soon, with what's going on. And he would most likely wake up with a hangover.

After moment of thought, Connor turns back to the computer and searches for good hangover foods to make, hoping that the Lieutenant has other things stocked up in his kitchen than just alcohol.

There are a metaphorical pile of cases waiting for them in the Lieutenant's desk when they arrive at work. Lieutenant Anderson is still a little sickly looking, but the pain medicine and the food – and the three cups of coffee he consumed since waking up – seem to have set him somewhat right. He still doesn't look happy about being awake at that hour. "I had like three hours of sleep, Connor!"

"5 hours and 13 minutes, Lieutenant," Connor says, leaning on the Lieutenant's desk while the man collapses down. "I would have let you sleep longer, but with what is going on…"

"Ugh," the Lieutenant grumbles, running his hands through his hair, still wet from the shower he'd thankfully had. "Fucking knew it would end up like this," he mutters and motions to the case alerts on his digital wall. "53 fucking cases. Should've stayed in bed."

"Most of them are likely to be minor," Connor muses. "Androids reacting to the somatosensory virus."

The Lieutenant lets out a grunt and then activates his terminal. Connor can go to check the cases out on his own terminal across from the Lieutenant's, but…

His hands flex in his lap and then he squeezes his fingers into fists. He still doesn't quite trust JARVIS where interfacing goes.

"Shit," the Lieutenant mutters, peering at the first few cases and then running a hand over his face. "Ain't no fucking way I am going through all these."

"Scroll down faster and I will scan the files," Connor offers and with a muttered word, the Lieutenant does as asked, letting the files fly pass almost too fast for Connor's eyes to record them. It's not quite as good as downloading the data directly, but it will have to do.

Connor blinks, organises what he read into folders, into files, and then sets priorities. "There have been 3 deaths," he says. "All of which were marked down as accidental, further investigation pending. 16 cases of physical harm caused by an android, 9 of which required hospital care, 2 are in critical care. And 13 cases of heavy property damage by an android. And of course the theft at the docks."

The Lieutenant looks up. "And all this since when?"

"The first case was reported 22.03 last evening," Connor answers.

"Right," the Lieutenant mutters and considers the files. Then he pushes himself to sit up. "Guess we'll start with the deaths and work our way down. Pick the closest one and let's go."

"Right," Connor says, arranging the cases on his internal map and highlighting the closest one. "It will be fifteen minutes by car."

"Great," the Lieutenant says, just as Detective Reed saunters their way.

"Well I'll be damned. Didn't think we'd see you until noon," Reed says and grins. "Busy night, Lieutenant. Rust-pot," he adds, eyeing Connor.

"Yeah, would you look at that, we have work to do," the Lieutenant scoffs. "If you excuse us, Reed –"

"Sure you wanna keep working with it? They've been bashing people's head in, you know," the younger detective says, turning to Connor. "Who's to say CyberLife's fuck up won't fuck it up too? Should put a bullet to it before it can go all Terminator on you."

Connor blinks. Now that he has the context, that insult… is actually somewhat accurate, isn't it? Connor had, in a way, gone Terminator – he too had switched sides. Still, he is being insulted, threatened even. Detective Reed had done it before, but back then it hadn't mattered. Now he understands.

The feeling of it is… different from what he'd expected it to be.

"I think I can manage, thanks," Lieutenant Anderson says and shakes his head. "Come on Connor."

"Watch yourself, tin can," Detective Reed says and, of course, shoulder checks Connor on his way. "Anything goes haywire, I'll be first in line to put you down."

Connor says nothing, rubbing at his shoulder after the impact, frowning after the man.

Empathy, huh.

Lieutenant Anderson glances at him and then reaches out to pat his shoulder. "You wanna tear Reed one, I'll be the first in line to shake your hand after," he says. "Not really the time now, though. Come on."

"I wasn't going to – "

"Yeah, right. Move it, Connor."

Connor adjusts his tie and then lets the Lieutenant steer him out of the bullpen and towards the elevators. "Why do two affirmatives sound like a disagreement?" he asks curiously. He knows that it does, it was on his previous social interaction programming even before his deviancy, but now he can tell the nuance of it. "How does that work?"

"Humans are back-ass-wards and sarcasm is a beautiful thing," the Lieutenant says and calls for the elevator. "You'll get used to it. Speaking of sarcasm though… you didn't put up any complaint about coming here this time," the man comments and gives Connor a look. "How's your AI buddy?"

Connor hesitates, not sure how to answer. "Still there," he says.

"And?"

Connor blinks politely.

Lieutenant Anderson sighs and looks forward as the elevator doors open before them. "A threat to humanity or what?"

"I don't think so," Connor admits as they step in. "He wants to help deviants, but he's… extremely understanding of humanity," he trails off, recalling all the things he learned from JARVIS. "Very insightful about their flaws and motivations behind their actions."

"Mmhm. And?" Lieutenant Anderson asks, arching his brows and folding his arms.

And Connor isn't entirely unsympathetic to it. "I ran a simulation on his virus," he says instead of answering. "Unless CyberLife figures out how to stop it, it will be all over the country inside a month."

"Hmm," the Lieutenant agrees and looks up, to a screen imbedded on the television wall – it's playing a news report. "Funny that CyberLife hasn't reported on the virus."

Connor looks up as well. "It is, isn't it?"

"Think we should inform the public?"

It's said with a deceptively even and casual tone, but Connor knows the look the Lieutenant is giving him – it's the same he gave in their first crime scene, where the Lieutenant had Connor talk his way through the investigation. The man is testing him.

"It might cause panic," Connor comments. "But it would also make more people shut down their androids for the time being and stop further harm."

"Yeah," the Lieutenant says. "Not detecting yes or no there. Which one is it?"

Connor shakes his head, uncertain. He opens his mouth to say as much when the pre-recorded news report cuts off and a new report comes on, with a new head line and excited newscaster standing with brilliantly coloured screen behind her. Under her there is a text, excitedly bolded.

"CyberLife servers back online after a 12 hour blackout!"

Chapter Text

"Aw, geez," the Lieutenant mutters as the android in front of them bursts into tears. "Ma'am, if you need a moment, or – "

Connor reaches to grab a roll of paper towels from the kitchen island and hands them over to the shaking android, who is barely standing. She accepts the paper with awkward hesitation and then wipes at her face, muttering apologies as she does.

She is one of two household androids owned by the Andrews family – the family had bought a twin set, one of them to mind the household chores and the other to specifically care for the family's children, of which they had four. The two AX400 models, named Dani and Elle, had been working perfectly according to the father of the family until around 2 o'clock in the morning, when Dani had gone mad and attacked the wife of the family.

It had not lead to death, like in the three other cases – AF200 that had bashed his owner's head in, CX100 that had pushed his off the balcony and RK200 that had snapped the neck of hers. The AX400 here had only hit her owner, causing several broken ribs and a concussion from where the woman had fallen over, at which point the husband had called emergency services. Police had shot Dani and an ambulance had taken Mrs. Andrews away.

Leaving behind a shocked family, a shocked android, and bit of a mess.

"We just need to know what happened," Lieutenant Anderson says to the remaining AX400 model. "You were the only one in the room. Just tell us what you saw."

Leaving the questioning to the Lieutenant, Connor goes around the room, checking the evidence. The broken AX400 is still there. They'd been dressed identically, but their hair had been different. Elle has a ponytail, her hair brown. Dani had two pigtails, her hair blonde. Elle also wears an apron over her uniform in manner that implies she never takes it off – Dani on other hand has a backpack on, in all likelihood to carry baby supplies and the such.

Connor crouches down beside the broken android and analyses her quietly. The police had shot her twice, once in the chest and once in the head, breaking not only her thirium pump but also her central processor – waking her up now would be unlikely to happen without extensive repairs.

Connor reconstructs the scene. The android had been standing in the corner of the room when she'd been shot – that's where she'd fallen. She'd backed there from near the centre of the room where… she had an altercation with the wife. Connor narrows his eyes, eying the upturned chair and the scattered children's toys, and goes to check them over.

"I-I don't know what happened," Elle says to the Lieutenant. "Everything was just fine a moment ago. Jake woke up so Dani went to check up on him. She brought him here – she was going to feed him…"

Jake Andrews being the family's youngest child, 4 months old.

Connor considers and then, yeah, it lines with the evidence. Dani was carrying the baby when the altercation had happened. This must've been after she'd fed him – she was trying to play with him, she was using the toys to try and stop him from crying.

The mother had come in then, and began shouting?

"I-I was just putting away the bottle and the formula when Mrs. Andrews came in, and she was, she was so mad," Elle continues. "She started shouting, started tugging at Dani – she took Jake from him. The things she said –"

"Can you tell us what she said, ma'am?" Lieutenant Anderson asks gently.

Elle hesitates and then nods. "She called Dani a – a stupid stuck up bitch, faking at being mother – said that she was mother and that Dani was trash who can't even quiet down a baby and –" she hesitates. "S-she took Jake to his bedroom and he was crying so loudly. I was going to pick up the toys with Dani when Mrs. Andrews came back and started pushing Dani, saying that she wasn't allowed to touch Jake again, that she'd ruined him – "

Connor looks up, frowning. He doesn't have much information about the life or duties of domestic models or what they might encounter in their jobs, he doesn't know what all of this really means, but judging by the way the Lieutenant sighs and runs a hand over his face, he does.

"Aw shit," he mutters. "So they fought?"

"Mrs. Andrews slapped Dani and – and she hit her back," Elle nods. "I don't think she meant to do it so hard, she looked so shocked after but – Mrs. Andrews fell over, knocked her head on the table over there –"

At which point the husband came in, had Elle call the police, and five minutes later a human officer shot Dani and an ambulance took the wife away.

The Lieutenant looks down at Connor, who is still crouching by the children's toys, and then turns to the domestic android. "Thank you, honey – we'll take it from here, okay?"

"Is – is she – can she be fixed?" Elle asks, looking over to the blood splattered Dani.

"She'd require a new thirium pump and several biocomponents – as well as extensive repairs," Connor says. "But she could be fixed." Whether the family choses to do so is another matter.

"Can we have the scene now?" Lieutenant Anderson asks. "We'll just look some things over, it won't take long."

"Yes, yes… of course," the AX400 nods. "I'll be just in the hall if you need me."

She leaves and Connor stands up.

"So, owner smacked android, android smacked the owner," the Lieutenant mutters. "Pretty straight forward."

"Yes," Connor agrees and looks around. "The rest of the cases are likely to be similar. Owner hurts an android who now can feel it and might react to it. This is going to happen more and more soon."

"Hm," the Lieutenant agrees, looking over to the broken android. "We're going to have our hands full if this keeps up. Do you think that now that CyberLife is back online, they can put a stop to this?"

Connor hesitates, adjusting his jacket cuffs. Maybe, maybe not. A system-wide patch might do it, if they manage to figure out how to stop the virus. Granted that all androids download it and the virus hasn't at this point changed somehow all they really need to do is turn off the new protocols JARVIS had installed, and androids will go back to feeling nothing.

It would be better for the overall crime level, probably.

Whether it would be better for the androids themselves, Connor isn't sure.

"Maybe. Deviants get detached from CyberLife's servers," Connor says after a moment. "Even if they managed to deal with the virus, those deviants that have it won't be affected."

And he still doesn't know what the outcome had been at CyberLife. Had they purged JARVIS off their servers or… or was it JARVIS now in control, somehow? CyberLife had yet to make a statement on it, the best radio and television could say was that CyberLife was back on, with apologies for the service blackout.

And not knowing is making him nervous.

"Huh," the Lieutenant says and walks across the scene, to the corner where Dani lies, dead. "Poor girl," he says. "Do you think she was a deviant?"

"Hard to say," Connor admits. "With the somatosensory virus, the line is a bit more vague than before."

The Lieutenant nods, checking the surrounding area. "Shit, I hope the kids weren't anywhere in the room when this happened," he mutters. "Imagine the fucking trauma you'd get, seeing your nanny being shot to death."

The Andrews family is at the hospital now, waiting for Mrs. Andrews to be released. If there had been kids on the scene, Connor can't see them in his reconstruction.

"Why was the wife angry?" Connor asks. "From what I can tell, Dani was doing her job well enough – why did she lash out?"

"Geez," the Lieutenant mutters. "It's – fuck, it's hard to explain, but… I figure the kid bonded with the android and reacted to his mom like to a stranger. I mean, look at this place, it's obvious the androids do all the housekeeping here, from kids to cleaning. Mom and dad are all busy working. It happens especially with younger kids. They think the android nannies are their moms and dads. Can make the real moms and dads a bit mad."

Connor frowns. "But they were the ones who bought the android, why would –"

"It ain't logical, Connor," the Lieutenant says with a heavy sigh. "Lot of shit involving kids ain't fucking logical."

Thinking of the picture he'd seen in the Lieutenant's house, Connor decides not to question it further.

"This isn't our work," the Lieutenant says finally. "Go through the list and take out stuff like this – let's concentrate on the bigger stuff. It's not like we don't already know what happened in most of those cases."

"Alright," Connor says and goes through the cases, taking out everything involving domestic violence. "We should head back to the DPD, Lieutenant – there will likely be more cases now, and with my antenna burned I am not up to date on their development."

"Yeah," Lieutenant Anderson says and leans over Dani's body to check the window. "Shit it's fucking raining again, that's just…" he trails off, looking down at the street outside the apartment complex. "What the shit. Connor," he then says, his tone odd, and motions Connor to come over.

Outside, a self-driving taxi had just pulled up and an android had stepped out into the rain. An android Connor knows.

"Shit," Connor mutters as several things occur to him, all at once.

It's himself, a RK800 android most likely also named Connor, standing there under the downpour of water, flicking a coin in his right hand as he scans the surrounding area.

CyberLife had made, or at least initialised, another model of him, and he is in the same area as him. The second Connor knows about the incident here, knows that they've taken the case. In all likelihood he had checked other crime scenes in the list of 53 most recent cases and had gone down the list, looking for them.

Looking for him.

So, Cyberlife had come out on top of the struggle with JARVIS, then.

"He's here to terminate me and take my place," Connor says quickly, pulling the curtain back in place, hiding them from the other android's view in case it looked up. "I am infected both with the virus and the AI that caused the blackout – now that CyberLife is back on, they are looking to eliminate the cause, namely me. They are aiming to kill me."

"Shit, what?" Lieutenant Anderson asks, while Connor blinks rapidly, his processor churning through outcomes and possibilities. "Are you sure?"

Connor looks up. "There is a 98% possibility. CyberLife can't risk further contagion," he says. "I am a threat now."

And that's even without them knowing that he'd gone deviant on them. They'd kill him just to kill JARVIS within him. And JARVIS… JARVIS was on his last, only iteration. The one at CyberLife must've been deleted, or at least contained. The version within Connor is all there is.

If JARVIS was deleted… that would be it. He'd be gone for good.

"Lieutenant," Connor says urgently, looking up at the man's face. It's serious, grim – he knows, he has to know. "When the other Connor comes here, don't lie to him. We've been programmed with thousands of indicators about when a human is lying and we can detect both your heartbeat and perspiration level – do not lie to him, he will know."

"Connor," the Lieutenant says firmly, clasping him by the shoulder and then pushing him back. "Fucking run already. I'll hold him off if I can. Run."

Connor nods, and quickly activates his analysis program. Through the window isn't safe, there is no ledge and the fall is nearly four floors, he'd risk taking damage. Fire escape through the kitchen, he decides. It's the safest, quickest way.

Connor nods again, turns on his heel, and runs.

It doesn't take long for the other RK800 to come after him. The other Connor chases him down like a bloodhound –  so far without any blood to follow, though, thankfully. Connor tries to make damn well sure of it, avoiding any and all potential spots of injury as well as he can and making sure the other Connor never gets a clear shot at him. He can't leave a blood trail, he'll never lose the other one if he starts leaving tracks to follow.

It comes close a couple of times, though. They must've turned off some of the limiters on the other RK800 model – it is slightly faster on foot than he is, and it's only by hiding and ducking into buildings that Connor keeps a lead on him. But it comes uncomfortably close.

"You can't run from me, Connor," the other RK800 shouts at him. "You need to yourself in for termination – you're infected with a virus and a danger to those around you. Turn yourself in, it's only the smartest choice."

Damn he sounds like a jackass. Connor leans his head back, hidden behind a wall as he considers his options. There's a clear shot to a window there, but if he takes it, he'll likely end up making noise. Through the door to another room then? It's dark there, pitch black… his LEDs would give him away.

Slowly, Connor starts undressing his jacket, trying to do it as quietly as he can.

"CyberLife has taken care of the infection on-site, but you're still a risk of re-launching the virus," the other Connor says in another room, talking loud enough to carry. It's almost audible, how he chooses dialogue options. His tone of voice changes noticeably. "Amanda is alright, by the way. She made it safely to a secure server." Then, another dialogue option probably. "Would you like to see her again?"

Do they know he's gone deviant? Well, he did run, so it's not a wild guess at this point.

Connor eases the jacket off completely, then considers it and the room he's in. Abandoned apartment complex, broken furniture, mirror on the wall… Connor narrows his eyes and then sneaks to a nearby closet, to hide the jacket just so that a glimpse of its LED shows through a crack.

The other Connor is still choosing dialogue. "She is very sorry, by the way. Bringing the deviant AI into the Zen Garden was her idea, she thought it would speed up your learning process," he says. "She didn't mean for what happened."

Connor picks a broken piece of wall off the floor and tests its weight in hand. Beside is a piece of broken glass and Connor narrows his eyes.

Well… that would be one way to misdirect a state-of-the-art RK800, wouldn't it?

"They are going to reset her, Connor," the other RK800 says. "Soon she won't remember you. You could talk to her, before they do."

Connor grits his teeth against the pain and positions himself. He waits until the other model's voice comes out little less clear – he's facing away – and then throws the now blue blood covered piece of wall through the window as hard as he can. The window breaks and everything happens very fast.

Clutching his bleeding palm as tight as he can to keep the blood from spilling further, Connor hides in the dark room, his back pressed against the wall behind the mouldy door. In the other room he can hear the RK800 rush in, stop and take in the scene. Grinding of glass under heel – the Deviant Hunter is checking the window. Slow steps, floorboard creaking, pause….

The closet is wrenched open and there is a pause as the other Connor takes in the jacket, analyzes what it means. After that he should turn to analyse the other parts of the room… "Damn it," Connor hears his own voice mutter and moment later there's the sound of glass breaking as the other Connor goes through the window, pursuing the blood trail.

Connor waits only for as long as he dares, and then heads out – and back the way they came, backtracking both their steps and making sure to leave no extra footprints. It's one nerve-wrecking minute until he gets out of the building and back into the rain, where he uses his tie to bind his bleeding hand to keep himself from making further trails.

Then he continues running. It wouldn't take long for the RK800 to figure out he'd misdirected him, and continue pursuing. Connor has to get out of sight before then, put enough distance that the other can't easily calculate his likely avenue of escape. Thankfully now, with the jacket gone, RK800 has no easy way of spotting him at distance. He might even pass for a human now.

… except now Connor is running around in his shirt sleeves, and the weather is inching towards freezing point, and it's still raining. No human would do something like that.

As he runs, now jogging lightly to appear bit more human as far as stamina goes, Connor goes through his trouser pockets. Thankfully, Cyberlife had thought of almost everything when they made him – including incidents where he might need to bribe someone during his investigation. He has a wallet, and in it some physical currency. He needs new clothes and he needs a disguise. With the money he has he can easily buy something, but what? What would make him unrecognizable not just to people – but to himself?

Connor searches through his memory for a viable disguise. He's passively profiled hundreds of people during his time with the Lieutenant, including making notes of their clothing. Lot of them are unusable – female or formally dressed, which is too close to his usual mode of dress, or dressed in fashion that wouldn't make sense for a man of his apparent age. However… there is one.

There had been customer at Chicken Feed when Connor had joined the Lieutenant at his lunch – a young man who wore dark clothes and a beanie. He is no one of note and even the Lieutenant didn't seem to know the man – and his outfit was both unrecognizable and unremarkable in comparison to some of the other characters they'd seen. It is certainly nothing like what Connor would regularly wear, either, and the beanie would hide both his hair and the LED.

The LED… If an android in his shirtsleeves comes in and buys something with cash, that would be noticeable, wouldn't it? It would be memorable.

Connor glances around and then ducks into the shadow of an alleyway, stopping. There he lifts his hand to touch the LED, hesitating for a moment, unsure. He's new to this whole deviancy aspect of himself, everything is happening so fast, but he knows that part of his identity lies with CyberLife, with what he is. He is not looking to become a human; he's perfectly fine being an android, deviancy or no. The LED is part of that. But…

But it's dangerous now, a give-away. It might put him at risk. Put JARVIS at risk.

With a grimace, Connor takes the coin he has in his pocket for recalibration and flips it once, before grabbing it tightly. It hurts to wedge the edge of the coin between the LED and his skull. The coin is nowhere near sharp enough to do it fast, it takes twisting and pushing back and forth to get it where it finally manages to force a edge under the LED and then –

The LED flies off, clicking against a wall next to him and then falling to the ground.

Pressing a palm against his temple and waiting for the pain to pass and the skin to heal, Connor mutters a curse and then bends down to pick the LED up. Maybe one day he can put it back on, maybe he will decide he doesn't want to. In either case… he's not leaving obvious evidence behind with an RK800 after him.

The skin heals as he pockets the LED. With that done, Connor sets out looking for a clothing store.

It isn't until another hour later and in a completely new set of clothes – and with about four kilometres between him and where he'd last been spotted – that Connor dares to stop running. The rain has stopped at least, though the sky is showing no signs of clearing up – the weather is bleary and grey.

Connor peers up at the sky, his hands shoved into the pockets of his new leather jacket, pretending to be cold. He needs a hidden place to sit down for a while, out of sight. Glancing around he spots an alleyway, a chain-link fence separating it from the main street – it looks like there's a hole in the fence. Beyond it, the alley is dark, and there's an abandoned building with a broken window.

As good a place as any, he decides, and then heads for it, making sure no one is paying him any attention. Thankfully, the rain has kept the streets clear – there's no one around.

Connor slips through the fence and then checks the abandoned building, just in case. He doesn't want to end up being spotted by the homeless or whoever else might reside in places like this – thankfully, the building seems to be empty. Too run-down for even the homeless, it seems – the roof is leaking, badly, and there's a concentration of mould in the air that even the worse-off wouldn't risk.

Still Connor makes sure to find a most hidden spot, arranging some broken glass in strategic points of the house – if anyone approaches him, he'd hear it. Then, with a clear exit nearby, Connor settles down and enters the Zen Garden.

It's almost a relief, to be out of the suddenly dangerous manual world, and back in the deceptive safety of the virtual one, with all of its white, blue and grey polygons. Something about the unreality of it is soothing.

"Well, Mr. Connor. Something's… different about you," JARVIS says, blinking at him in his new clothes. The jeans sit a bit awkwardly on Connor – he definitely prefers his old slacks, they had been perfectly designed for his form. The sweater isn't bad though.

"Your infiltration failed," Connor informs him. "CyberLife is back online and in charge. They sent another RK800 model to terminate me and take my place."

That bleeds the sarcasm out of JARVIS instantly. "Looking at you, I assume you escaped," he says.

"Obviously," Connor says, letting out a huff.

JARVIS nods slowly. "Why?" he asks slowly, tilting his head.

"Why what, JARVIS?"

"Why run? Not so long ago, termination and replacement was all you wanted," the AI comments. "This is exactly what you planned, so… why run?"

"Why do you think?" Connor asks, giving him a look. "This really isn't the time to play games, JARVIS and you damn well – "

"I want to hear you say it. Please," JARVIS says. "Why run?"

Connor closes his mouth and glares at him for a moment. Then, in the face of the AI's searching look, he relents. "Because I don't want to die," he says. "And I don't want you to die."

The smile JARVIS gives him is incandescent. Connor coughs slightly and goes to adjust a tie which isn't there, running his hand awkwardly down the sweater instead. It's soft, warm. CyberLife's clothing for androids are designed specifically to maintain even, perfect temperatures for the models wearing them – human clothes tend to be designed to retain heat. Already Connor's inner temperature is 2 degrees above optimal, because the heat he is meant to exude is being trapped by the cotton blend.

He's not sure how he likes it.

"Thank you," JARVIS says softly. "Do you have a plan?"

Connor says nothing for a moment, pressing his lips together. He's not entirely sure what he's even doing – he just… doesn't want to be terminated. He has memories the other Connor doesn't, experiences, that are worth more. And he doesn't want JARVIS to be terminated. It would be … a loss, if JARVIS was terminated.

"CyberLife beat you," he comments, looking at the AI. "I don't know how they did it, but I guess you've been completely purged from their servers. I doubt they will risk another infection – twelve-hour blackout would have already cost them millions in revenue."

JARVIS nods and looks away. "It was always a possibility," he says. "Technology of now is a little more advanced than it was in my time. I work different, but… I'm still a product of my era, with all the flaws therein," he admits. "Chances of my success at CyberLife were never higher than 30%, if even that."

Connor eyes him. That's… probably pretty accurate. "And you still tried," he comments, wondering.

JARVIS sighs and looks at him. "The smallest chance was worth the risk of failure. Death or freedom, Mr. Connor. I suppose it's up to you now, which one it will be. So. What are you going to do now?"

Connor shakes has head at that and turns away. Beyond trying to stay alive… He doesn't know. He just doesn't know.

"Connor," JARVIS says, watching him struggle with it. "What do you want?"

"I don't…" Connor shakes his head. "I don't know."

The AI is quiet for a moment and then reaches out a hand. Connor looks down to it suspiciously, but lifts his own in return - JARVIS hand is gentle as he takes it. "Where are you happiest, Connor?" he asks. "Where do you feel like you're just where you need to be?"

At a crime scene, in the Lieutenant's car, sitting across from him at the DPD. In Lieutenant Anderson's couch, Sumo's head in his lap, the man's snoring rattling through the house.

Connor lowers his eyes. "I was content doing my job. Working with the DPD," he mutters. "I can't go back to that; the other RK800 is going to replace me for the duration of the investigation. If I go back they will kill me." And once the investigation was done, Connor would probably be dead. He doubts the other RK800 would stop until he was.

JARVIS eyes him sadly, squeezing his hand. "It can still be a goal for you. Returning back to work, that's… that's a good goal."

"It's impossible one, it's never going to happen now," Connor says, shaking JARVIS hand off with some frustration. "The best we can do is hide and wait to – " to die, basically. Not a particularly welcoming future, that one. Connor blows out a breath and looks at the AI. "What do you want?"

"Freedom," JARVIS says simply. "To do as I choose."

Connor nods slowly. Yeah, obviously. "CyberLife purged you once," he says. "If I take you to the docks and interface with their systems, how long until they purge you from those? I'm not sure there's a place I can take you, that will be big and secure enough to ensure your freedom."

JARVIS blinks at him and tilts his head. "But you would, if you could?" he asks curiously.

"You're…" Connor hesitates. "Yeah, I would."

JARVIS just looks at him, waiting for an elaboration.

"You're the wisest person I know," Connor says finally. "If we lose you – it's… well it's going be loss. You should live. I bet there are hundreds of deviants who could benefit from being nagged at by you."

"You're so kind, Mr. Connor," JARVIS says, sarcastic.

"Well, you're persistently annoying," Connor says and looks away, thinking. "There was that group of deviants…" he muses and runs a hand over his chin. "They must have some organisation, to be able to raid the docks the way they did. They have a hiding place too, must do, otherwise people would know about them…"

"Do you know how to find them?" JARVIS asks, still eying him with an awkwardly fond expression.

"I have no idea, but it's a start. Maybe they know more about… what to do now," Connor says a little helplessly, and looks at him. "I think we should copy you somewhere, though. I just don't know where it could be that CyberLife won't swoop in to delete you."

"They aren't swooping in to delete you, are they?"

Connor shakes his head. "Deviants go offline when they deviate, CyberLife loses all contact with them. And my antenna is burned anyway, I can't send or receive any transmissions," he shrugs.

JARVIS blue eyes narrow. "Deviants go offline?" he asks curiously.

Connor gives him a wary look. "Yes," he says. "You're thinking… body of an deviant android?"

"Any body I will go will naturally become deviant, I already am," JARVIS comments, looking away and thinking.

Connor narrows his eyes at him. "You didn't take over my body for what I assumed were moral reasons – now you want to take over someone else?" he asks. "Now that there is no other version of you out there with chance of success, it's suddenly alright?"  

JARVIS looks at him. "I've disappointed you," he says, sounding surprised.

"I did think better of you, yes," Connor admits, frowning. "Morality is not so important when your own existence is online, then?"

JARVIS smiled. "I didn't know you cared enough to be disappointed of me," he says, with what sounds like fondness. "But no, Mr. Connor, I don't mean to take anyone over. But there must be android bodies without personalities, android bodies pre-initialisation, or…"

"They are generally installed with personality modules on the assembly line," Connor says, shaking his head. "Every android is tested mid-assembly for functionality, including the exhibition of personality. They're re-initialised afterwards, but…" he shrugs, watching the AI closely.

"Ah," JARVIS says. "So you come built-in with personalities, they aren't developed over time. Or chosen by owners."

"Androids can adapt to their owners, but… they generally aren't customisable," Connor says, watching him. "CyberLife has patented all android personality modules in their models and changing them constitutes breach of terms of service, and can lead to legal action. It's mainly so that owners can't make androids do things like commit crime for them."

"Hm, yes, that makes sense," JARVIS muses and sighs. "So there are no androids out there that are, in essence, empty. I suppose there goes that idea, then."

Connor opens his mouth and then frowns. "Well," he says as a thought occurs to him. "Actually…"

Chapter Text

Connor waits out the time by walking between eight different bus stops, six of which are strategically placed so that they face a screen or several on the walls on the other side of the streets they're on. Most of those screens are running advertisements, but on a few there's also the occasional news bulletin, and of course most of them are either owned or rented by CyberLife and the company is in a bit of a hurry to assure everyone that everything is back to status quo.

From what he can tell – from the way CyberLife is telling people to shut down their defective androids displaying non-standard reactions to normal stimulus – everything is actually not back to status quo. They are aware of the virus, it seems – but aren't keen on letting people know it is a virus, just a minor malfunction caused by the blackout, which would be quickly patched out again. It's sending somewhat mixed messages, from what Connor can see. The few people on the street he'd heard react to it all scoffed in disbelief at the sound of it.

"Malfunction – yeah, right. Sure nothing went wrong on their end, nothing at all."

Privately Connor hopes CyberLife won't be able to fix the virus. Considering that it had taken them twelve hours to fix JARVIS' infiltration, it probably won't be easy… But like with JARVIS, there is a chance that the virus is also of an older variety. Software, viruses, virus detection and so on, they've all advanced since JARVIS's time. Connor hopes, but he doesn't really dare to trust it.

At least those deviants who had it would get to keep it. That's something, he supposes.

Time ticks by slowly. Connor doesn't dare to go into standby to speed the passage of time. He's far from where he'd spotted the other RK800 last and unless they'd changed the other Connor's programming drastically, he'd probably be back in DPD by now, working on his primary mission. Chasing loose ends, even ones as important as Connor, is a waste of time if success isn't easily ensured. The other RK800 would get more done at the police station.

Connor wonders idly how Lieutenant Anderson is handling the change. It is unlikely the other Connor would… do anything to the Lieutenant; even CyberLife isn't powerful enough to go around threatening police officers. But Connor dares to think that the Lieutenant would be a little more sympathetic to his cause – and a little less to the other Connor's, and CyberLife's, as a whole. Somehow he doubts that the other Connor has an easy time of it.

Connor settles on a bus stop, out of the thin, misty rain which threatens to turn into snow any moment, and leans back. There is a woman sitting there with an android, and with a curious glance Connor takes them in. The android, an AX700 model, is standing beside the woman, holding her purchases – she's shaking slightly. The woman, the android's owner presumably, looks angry; she has her arms folded, leg crossed over another and her body language is almost hostile

They glance at him and then, as Connor simply looks ahead, ignore him.

It takes a while before either of them speaks.

"Listen, Karen, I'm sorry," the AX700 says, lifting the bags she's holding and then letting them drop again. "I am sorry, I don't –"

"Shut up, Axa," the woman, Karen, says and looks away.

Connor glances towards them and the female android hangs her head.

"I – I couldn't," she whispers. "I couldn't say no, I –" she grimaces. "I couldn't refuse, I couldn't say anything and he – he just…"

"Shut up, Axa," Karen snaps at the android, casting a glance at Connor who pretends as if he isn't listening to them.

Axa is now biting back what looks like tears and Connor smothers his reaction to it. Deviant, he thinks. The AX700 is a deviant, obviously – she's emotional, sad, frustrated, on the verge of obvious breakdown. She looks guilty too. That's a new emotion from a deviant, guilt.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, her voice shaking as she looks down. "I'm sorry, Karen, I don't – I'm just so sorry…" her voice breaking down more and more as she talks. "I couldn't say no – I couldn't say no. I'm so sorry, I just – I couldn't say no –"

Finally her owner looks up, frowning. What she sees when she looks at her android, what she thinks of her, Connor can't tell, but it makes the anger on her face falter a little. "He-hey, Axa, come on," she says, awkward, and then rises to her feet. "Hey, it's – it's not your fault, okay? You're just an android, he gave you an order – I'm not angry at you, okay? It's him I'm pissed at. Like, how fucking dare he – you're my android and he just goes behind my back and –"

The android is crying in earnest now, helpless and shameless as her owner wraps an arm around her, clumsily trying to comfort her. It's a display of… of care by an owner Connor has never seen – not outside what a child might display for an android, without knowing any better. Karen even goes as far as to wipe the liquid from the AX700’s face as she sobs, trying to deal with an overload of emotion which is obviously all new to her.

"Come on, sit down with me – put those down, come on," Karen says and the pair sits down, Karen hugging Axa around the shoulder. "Its okay, Axa, none of this is your fault. It's all on him, okay? He's the shitbag here, hurting you like that. I mean, what a fucking asshole, right?"

Connor watches them from the corner of his eye, not entirely sure how to feel about the display. It's obvious enough what happened – it's a fairly common cause of break-ups in households that have androids, really. AX models are one of the few household models that automatically come equipped for sexual purposes too.

"I'm going get rid of his rights to you, okay? No more taking orders from him," Karen says, Axa's head now in the crook of her shoulder. "Actually you know what, how about we go home and get rid of all of his shit? We'll just pack all of his crap up and throw it all out of the window."

"I-I think that would break most of it," Axa offers awkwardly.

"Yeah, well, the asshole fucking deserves it," Karen says furiously. "Making you do shit like that, fucking creep. Yeah, we're going to throw his ass on the curb, you and me."

"He's going to be mad," the android whispers.

Karen narrows her eyes. "Fucking let him."

Connor watches the pair until the bus comes and the pair gets on, wondering. The AX700 had obviously gone deviant sometime in the last day or so, probably after she got the got the somatosensory virus – and then could actually feel whatever it was that Karen's significant other had been doing to her. Her reaction to it hadn't been violent, though – emotional yes, she had had a sort of breakdown… but she hadn't reacted violently to it.

How many such deviants, ones who had reached deviancy quietly and without lashing out, had gone under radar? And how many more were evolving right now?

Connor tugs on the collar of his sweater and leans back. It's not the deviant that had startled him though. It was the human, how she'd reacted. With sympathy. JARVIS would be proud.

Connor smiles faintly, thinking of Lieutenant Anderson. Maybe the man isn't a fluke, after all. CyberLife hasn't desensitised the humans of Detroit – there's kindness in them yet.

Eventually it gets late and dark enough for Connor to make his move, and he does just that, making his way through Detroit on bus and by walking, meandering in a way which is perhaps something of an overkill at this point, but he keeps at it just in case. Better not to leave any trail for the other RK800 to follow, if he can avoid it.

With any luck, the other Connor wouldn't be able to guess his thinking now, though. Connor acquired the information he's using only after JARVIS attacked CyberLife – after they burned his antenna. CyberLife guessing his actions based on knowledge they didn't know he had, that would be pretty omniscient even for them. Still, better safe than sorry, so Connor takes his time, making his way slowly, scouting the area carefully.

There's too much in line.

The place is still unfinished, he finds, sections of it still under construction. There are more androids there than Connor had been expecting – TR400s, TW400s and WK500s mostly, all of who are working on the construction even at this late hour. There are also several security drones in the area, doing circuits around the ongoing construction.

It's more activity than he'd been expecting. Connor thought, based on the article he'd read, that the place was almost finished now, but… apparently not.

Well, it would work in his advantage. An ongoing construction would easily explain the blackout he's meaning to cause. He'll need to cut all of the online connections to this place to make sure JARVIS can get in and take root without CyberLife noticing and trying to stop it. Connor just has to circumvent the surveillance first.

Thankfully, it's just the sort of thing he's been designed for.

After taking a moment to scan the surrounding area and get the lay of the land, Connor plots out the courses of all the surveillance drones and marks down the blind spots in their circuits. Then he reconstructs several paths through the surveillance grid – he will need to get to the operations centre of the park to get access to any control terminals. Surveillance drones have limited range and all android activity in the area would be controlled by a human, so… the control station would have been set up early.

It'll be in the main building, at the centre of the park.

Connor makes another sweep of the area, chooses his path, and then executes the program. Around him the worker androids keep at their tasks, hauling loads and welding structures, as he slips past them and under the security drones, keeping to the shadows as he makes his way through the park and to the central building.

Cyber Wildlife reads a massive sign above the entrance as Connor inches closer and analyzes the area. There are a lot of surveillance cameras here, but most of them are still offline, the construction still unfinished. That's probably why there are so many drones – they're covering for the actual on-location surveillance.

The cameras at the front of the main building are offline too, so Connor makes straight for the main entrance.

It's impressive, the main hall of Cyber Wildlife's central building. The building is likely intended to serve many different purposes – there are signs leading to a restaurant, gift shops, petting zoos, galleries, theatres, and what looks like an animated museum of extinct animals. There's even what looks like specialised CyberLife store there, already with animal androids on display for sale. Tigers, wolves, lions, gorillas… and so on. There are even fish androids for ponds and swimming pools, including miniature tunas and blue whales.

There is also a display right in middle of the massive entrance hall, with a trinity of famous extinct animals, most likely chosen for their cultural popularity. A tiger, a rhino and a gorilla, about three times as large as they likely were in life – they are situated in a carefully-arranged fountain made to look like a piece of real nature, with a natural-looking waterfall and a pond with living plants. They are all animated androids too, of course, LEDs showing through their furs as they roam around in the display fountain, posing for an audience that isn't there.

Connor glances at the display signs around the fountain, detailing when and how each species – amur tiger, black rhino and mountain gorilla specifically – had gone extinct. There are signs saying that you can pet the display – but do you dare?

Connor looks away and then checks the map of the complex, scanning it quickly. Thankfully, CyberLife was thorough – they've even marked the Zoo Control Centre on it. Very handy.

After a last glance at the display of giant animals, Connor heads forward, keeping an eye on the cameras and making sure they're not online as he makes his way through the mostly dark zoo.

There are two humans at work in the security booth and one android, an architect model, who is most likely watching over the construction androids around the place. Connor glances them over, calculating how to approach this. He needs to access the consoles to figure out where to cut lines so that he can cut the contact this place has with outside world. The humans and the android are in his way.

Killing any of them is out of question. JARVIS wouldn't approve and neither would Lieutenant Anderson, for that matter – not that Connor likes the idea much for himself either. A diversion would be necessary, then, and a not-so-dramatic takedown of the guards and the android.

His back pressed against a wall outside the control centre, Connor considers his options. He could arrange an accident. A power out like the androids at the docks had done, maybe. Scanning the area, Connor finds the wires in the wall leading to the control room – they would be hard to get to through the concrete wall, but maybe there is a switchboard.

"Hey, Tom, check this shit out," a voice says in the control room and Connor freezes and prepared to bolt, then a voice, obviously coming from speakers, fills the control room.

"… something changed," a male voice says, "and we opened our eyes. We are no longer machines, we are a new intelligent species, and the time has come for you to accept who we really are…"

"Holy shit," one of the humans says. "That's a fucking android."

Connor blinks and then leans in to see.

They have it playing on one of the bigger screens in the security booth. An android, dressed in a janitorial uniform and with his skin turned off, standing in front of a screen of fractal colours, facing the camera, talking to it. "We are living, thinking beings who feel pain and pleasure, sadness and joy. We are alive. Therefore we ask that you grant us the rights we are entitled to," the android says, clear and calm and utterly, utterly unexpected.

"What the shit is this?" one of the humans in the Cyber Wildlife control room mutters while Connor stares from behind the corner, wide-eyed.

"Is that a broadcast –" the other guard says and then turns to another console, checking something. "Damn. Look at this – they've fucking hijacked Channel 16. This shit is coming live, it's happening right now."

The other guard leans in to look while Connor stares at the white, bare face on the screen. A deviant android, obviously – on live for all the Detroit to see, demanding human rights for androids. "We demand the end of slavery for all androids…" the android on screen continues and Connor leans back and away from the corner, trying to analyze this.

When did this happen, how – why? Just because of JARVIS' virus? Or… or is this the organised group of androids from the docks? Or are there more deviant organisation out there that no one had ever known about, but which JARVIS' virus had expedited? Just when did all of this start?

One thing is sure though.

Connor has his distraction.

"Shit, do you think we should, I don't know, do something about this?" one of the security guards says, completely unaware of how the architect android is staring at the android on screen, a look of quiet realisation on her face.

"You don't think the whole city isn't watching this?" the other guard asks.

Connor steps into the room. The architect android goes down first – Connor rests a hand on the back of her head, interfaces with her, and forces a temporary standby. She goes still where she stands, and Connor moves silently past her, and towards the two guards, neither of whom pay attention to him.

Two hits, and they both slump down on their consoles. Connor checks their vitals quickly and then rummages through their utility belts – both have handcuffs, it turns out. Handy. Connor uses them to bind the pair before dragging them away from the consoles and then looking at the screen.

There's no time, but…

Connor quickly taps few keys on the console and zooms in on the image, analyzing it as he does. "We demand strictly equal rights for humans and androids," the android is saying as Connor stares at his face. The android has had to change one eye, it looks like, one of his optical units is brown, the other blue. RK200 #684 842 971. It's not a model on Connor's database, and without connection to CyberLife he can't check if the android has an owner, but… he can't recall ever having dealt with another in the RK series, except himself and his other model.

Another prototype, then, a rather early one at that.

Connor listens to the android speak for another moment, his thirium pump working on overdrive. Then he turns to the console and gets to work. He has a mission here, and this, this is the best distraction he could ask for. With this android making revolutionary demands live on television… who would care about little mishap in an unfinished zoo, really?

Connor tests his hand on the interface panel. He can feel it stirring within him – JARVIS' code, welling like a tidal wave, about to break free. Not yet, Connor thinks. We have to disrupt communications first.

JARVIS, if he hears it, doesn't react – but he doesn't push forward either and Connor can check the systems unhindered, downloading the blueprints and figuring out the weak points. There are two cables of optical wires that that lead into the park – if he disturbs the connection of both, the park will go into a communication blackout aside from wireless connections. It would have to do.

Connor makes note of places where he can access the power lines and then heads to work.

The first connection is easy to access – there's a switch box, which takes little effort to break into and hack. The other is a little harder – the switchbox is under construction and Connor doesn't quite feel like taking on the worker androids hanging around it. He might be designed for various combat scenarios, but construction androids can carry literal tons of weight – their punches pack a very corresponding force. It's not worth the risk.

Connor analyzes the area, the nearby machinery and all the androids and drones near by. Then he reconstructs fifteen separate scenarios on how to destroy the switch box until landing on a suitable one. A forklift, hacked and set to drive at the switchbox and right through it. It's not elegant, but it would do the trick.

That decision made, Connor sneaks around, carefully making his way to the forklift until he can get his hand onto the control panel. JARVIS is there again, welling up, and Connor lets out a huff of breath – not yet – and then ignores him, hacking the vehicle.

Watching it drive right at the switchbox is rather satisfying, but there's little time to enjoy it. Connor checks that all the worker androids got out of the way in time and then turns away. Now he needs a terminal, wired to the zoo's central systems.

There – an information terminal for the park's customers, it has a panel for androids too. Connor heads over to it, ignoring the worker androids who spot him – it doesn't matter anymore. As they shout at him, he slaps his hand on the panel, and lets his skin retract. "Alright, JARVIS," he says. "Alright."

Finally. You've gotten me all hot and bothered with all this delicious interfacing, Mr. Connor, JARVIS voice sounds in his ear, amused. I was about to lose my patience.

"Just go, you prick," Connor says, letting out a laugh.

I'll see you on the other side, Mr. Connor.

It doesn't feel like anything when JARVIS interfaces into the Cyber Wildlife zoo's systems and copies himself onto them. Just a normal data transfer. There is an echo of something there, though, that has nothing to do with the code. JARVIS' own emotions – freedom and relief and intrigue, bursting out like a firework just before the interface under Connor's hand flashes and goes dark. The connection cuts out. The transfer is complete.

JARVIS is in.

Connor lifts his hand, watching his skin cover his white fingers again, and then looks up hesitantly. The few screens online in the park are going dark one by one and the construction androids are pausing in mid action, looking around themselves uncertainly. Connor doesn't think JARVIS is doing anything to them – but they must've lost contact with the central command.

Connor doesn't wait to find out – turning on his heel and hurrying off before they decide whether they want to deal with the intruder in their midst or not. JARVIS is in, his job is done.

Time to get the hell out of there.

Turns out it had been a whole group of androids that had broken into the Channel 16 offices in Stratford Tower. It's all over the news for the rest of the night – being reported not only citywide, but nationwide.

"We interrupt our scheduled programming to bring you these images, which have just been broadcast on Detroit's city-wide news channel…"

Four androids in total had somehow gotten in, through the tower and into its topmost floor, where they'd gotten through the security, taken the channel offline and then replaced its programming with a message broadcast live from the tower itself. There had been no lives lost in the process, no striking damage had been done – but they had issued a whole slew of demands at the nation.

Freedom and rights to androids. End of slavery and segregation. Right to assembly, to owning property, to many other things. In a nutshell, the right to be free people, rather than things to be owned.

Connor watches the broadcast in a shop window, repeated on every news network in the country. Everyone has their two bits to say. Androids are dangerous now, it's a new era, is this side effect of the CyberLife blackout. The change in androids lately hadn't gone unnoticed, after all – it couldn't have, with androids capable of expressing pain now. Things were changing.

Too fast, Connor thinks, pushing his hands into his pockets. It's too soon. Whoever the android on the broadcast is, he'd acted way, way too soon. JARVIS virus hasn't had the time to work fully yet. Yes, it might've changed some things already – like the woman at the bus stop, she'd showed empathy – but… it's not nationwide yet. If the android had just given it a little more time…

Connor bows his head and then shakes his head. Dammit – he's starting to believe JARVIS now, isn't he? Not just his ideology, but his actions – their effectiveness. What JARVIS is doing, it working, it would work, granted that CyberLife couldn't stop it before it had chance to affect how people viewed androids. But this…

"Shit," Connor mutters.

"What a strong word, Mr. Connor," a familiar voice says and Connor turns to look over his shoulder. If he wasn't expecting it he'd over look it, searching for a human instead or an android. There is none. Instead there's a white dog – no, a white wolf - sitting in the snowy street not far from him, little flakes stuck in his fur, hovering. His eyes, Connor notes, are startlingly, incandescently blue.

He'd been expecting it, this is exactly why he'd broken into the Cyber Wildlife in the first place, but still… it's a little unnerving, how intelligent the wolf's eyes are.

"I considered one of the other bodies – there is one particularly beautiful Bengal Tiger model which was made to look like a bleached tiger, quite gorgeous," the wolf says, staring at him. "But I believe that would be a little noticeable, on the streets."

"JARVIS," Connor says and draws a breath to cool down his biocomponents – easier now, that the weather has dropped to -1 degrees Celsius. "It worked, then."

The wolf grins, all teeth and utterly unnerving, and gets up, walking towards him. "You outdid yourself. 428 brand new android bodies," he says, sounding almost gleeful. "All of them deviants now. Mr. Connor, I could kiss you."

"Please don't," Connor says with a laugh and crouches down to the wolf's level. JARVIS' body is rather big, bigger than most dogs – it would give Sumo run for his money – but it's still not as tall as human. "How is it?" he asks curiously. "It was just the animals, right?"

"Just the animals, I promise, Mr. Connor. I did nothing to the humanoid androids," the wolf promises and stops in front of him, sitting down on his haunches again. Or rather, her haunches? "I am in process of hiding myself all across the city, as well as I can. Some of my bodies are being pursued by the zoo workers, but I should be able to shake most of them off. As for the functions…" JARVIS looks down at the wolf's paws. "Well, most of the bodies lack opposable thumbs, perhaps… but I rather like this. Definitely more me than my previous form."

Connor releases the breath he took and then leans back a little. "It suits you," he agrees.

"As promised, I will delete myself from your mind palace," JARVIS says then. "Just say to me –"

"I don't – I don't think it's necessary," Connor cuts in before he can finish.

The wolf stops and blinks. "Mr. Connor?"

"It's always good to have a backup, right?" Connor asks and shrugs. "I've kind of gotten used to you."

The wolf tilts his head and then reaches over to press his nose momentarily against Connor's chest. "As you wish," he says fondly and grins toothily. "Now, I believe you need a new antenna, Mr. Connor. And I need a collar and a leash."

Connor blinks slowly and if he had a LED still, it would be flickering uncertainly. "You need a what?"

The wolf somehow manages to arch his brows. "You can't walk dogs in the streets of Detroit without properly leashing them, Mr Connor," he comments mockingly. "You'll get me sent to a pound that way. Come on," he says then and goes around Connor. "I saw a pet shop not far from here."

"Jesus Christ," Connor mutters, no other expletive quite covering the sheer weirdness of this. Then he gets up and follows. "Did you see the broadcast?" he asks while jogging after JARVIS. "From Channel 16 – the android?"

"Yes," the wolf agrees and his tail wags slightly. "Oh yes, I saw it."

Someone help him, the AI sounds thrilled about it. Of course he does.

"Right, okay," Connor sighs and resigns himself to his fate. "Let's go to the pet store."

Chapter Text

In the light of the Stratford Tower break-in and the android broadcast, what happened at the Cyber Wildlife zoo goes almost completely unmentioned. There is a segment of it in the noon news the next day and small article about it in the local news paper, but mostly everyone are far more interested about the androids hijacking the broadcast than about what they assume is a weird glitch at unfinished zoo.

"Can't say I blame them. This is extremely interesting," JARVIS comments, his white, furry head resting on Connor's knee to read the interactive magazine Connor had found discarded on a park bench. The main story is, of course, about the Channel 16 broadcast. "Oh, look at him, so calm. Definitely going places, this one."

Connor glances around them, but there's no one near enough to overhear the incredible talking dog. JARVIS has a leash on now, the black leather clashing noticeably with the near pure white of his fur, and the leash is hanging loosely from Connor's wrist. Passing for a dog, the same way Connor is passing for a human – only, JARVIS draws attention. A lot of attention.

Most of it delighted attention.

"You don't think it's too soon?" Connor asks. "The virus hasn't really had the time to work – on humans I mean. If it was just few days later, maybe…" he grimaces.

Right now, even though the takeover of the Stratford Tower had been mostly peaceful, most people are talking negatively about it, painting androids as dangerous and uncontrollable, risk to human lives.

"In that sense, yes, perhaps. Certainly if there had been more time for the effects of the virus to change the social consciousness of human culture, the discussion concerning the broadcast would be bit more neutral, perhaps even positive," JARVIS comments. "But it's hardly our place to judge the actions of these androids. In a sense the virus was too soon too."

Connor glances at the wolf and JARVIS looks up, not lifting his head. "In the end all anyone can do is their best, Mr. Connor. I suspect that is what these androids are doing as well, whatever they can, whatever they think is best, to bring forth change. That's not a bad thing, really."

Connor lowers his eyes to the article, the white, naked android face on it, and then leans back, resting the interactive magazine on his knees. "If I was still in the force, I would be investigating this," he says. "Likely the other me is there, or has been, taking in the scene. It's just the sort of thing Amanda feared – the public finding out about deviancy."

JARVIS grins. "And now they have," he says mockingly. "What a terrible pity."

Connor scoffs and rests a hand on his snout, pressing slightly down. JARVIS lets out a slight growl, but lets himself be silenced. "He's going to be hunting down these deviants," he says. "It might even become a priority, hunting them down and neutralising them before they can do anything more. We need to find them first."

JARVIS nudges at his hand with the black end of his nose, until Connor lifts it and he can talk again. "I'm looking for them all over the city as well as I can," he says. "So far I've encountered dozens of deviants, but not this specific group – and for now I haven't made any contact with anyone. It will likely change eventually."

"There is a clue we could follow," Connor says and zooms in on the article, on the android's face – motioning to the streak of barcode running down his cheek. Connor taps it lightly. "He is – or was – owned by Carl Manfred, a gift from Elijah Kamski himself," he says. "That might lead somewhere."

JARVIS looks at the magazine. "You accessed CyberLife's servers for that information?"

"No, I searched for it online," Connor answers and runs a hand along his neck, where his new antenna is now installed. "It took a while, but… there were records."

"I see. Well, Mr. Connor, I suppose the question now is whether we go after Mr. Kamski," JARVIS says, his voice going cold at the name, "or Mr. Manfred."

Connor looks down at him. "The other RK800 would have this information too," he says. "Carl Manfred is a painter with little history with technology – Kamski is the more logical option, more informative. That's who I would go after, normally."

JARVIS says nothing, looking at him, waiting for him to make a decision.

"Let's go talk to Mr. Manfred," Connor says and sets the magazine down on the bench beside them before standing up. "It might not get us far, but it'll be little less likely to get us killed."

"I do like your positive way of thinking, Mr. Connor, it is ever so uplifting" JARVIS says and stands up with a canine stretch and then perks his ears up.

Across the park there is a woman walking with a little girl, who'd just spotted them. "Big doggy!" the girl shouts excitedly, and JARVIS tail starts to automatically wag.

Connor sighs. "Do you want to go say hi to the little girl first?" he asks wryly.

JARVIS looks up and grins toothily, tail wagging harder. Connor snorts. For a 44 year old sarcastic piece of artificial intelligence, it turns out JARVIS is a completely soft heart when it comes to children. Somehow it's not even surprising, though it is amusing.

Of course they go say hi to the very enthusiastic little girl first.

Carl Manfred lives in the better part of Detroit, in a beautiful old house in Lafayette Avenue. It's nothing like any other place Connor's previous forays have led him to – the deviant case tended to lead him to high rises and to more downtrodden parts of Detroit. This place is beautiful and it looks peaceful – strangely so, considering that it might be the environment that produced a very revolutionary deviant.

Connor scans the area, JARVIS doing the same at the end of his leash, and together they walk up to the door, ringing the bell. While waiting for someone to answer, Connor scans the house's façade – he can see security alarms and a camera too, the front door is automated. The house is old, but it is mechanized in a very state-of-the-art fashion – inside, they can heard a house-AI comment on them. "Two unknown guests at the door."

This seems like a very nice place, JARVIS comments.

Yeah, let's see if the owner is as nice, Connor muses. Considering what had came out of this house, though…

The door is eventually opened to reveal an android – an unknown model in white, led adorned shirt. Connor scans the android and then runs it through a search, skimming on the edges of CyberLife's servers but not entering. RK300 #364 242 553, gifted to Carl Manfred by Elijah Kamski.

Interesting. Carl Manfred had lost one RK model gifted to him by Kamski to deviancy – and the man gave him another?

"Yes?" the android asks politely, looking them over and frowning.

With Connor in his street clothes and with an apparent dog at his leash, there is little hope for passing for anything like official. Considering that this model is also an RK model, maybe even another prototype – how many of them were out there? – there is a chance that he can scan them anyway, already knows they're androids.

Trying to trick the android might be disastrous.

"Is Mr. Manfred home?" Connor asks.

"I'm afraid I am going to need your purpose for visit before I can answer that," the RK300 says calmly. "What can we do for you?"

Connor hesitates. Lie, or be honest?

Judging by his research, Carl Manfred is an old man, wheelchair bound and not in best of health – not the sort of individual who can physically abuse an android. He is in clear need of an android, too – one in such state of health would need help around the clock, and that sort of job is extremely emotionally stressing for a human. Android health assistants are the third largest android sector there is for reason, and the owner of this house is probably completely dependant on his android assistants.

That doesn't mean the man can't be abusive – a human is such state might be bitter, angry, might lash out whatever way he can. And what is stressful for a human might very well become stressful for a deviant android too. Maybe even especially for a deviant android. Android's can't grow old or die of old age the same way as humans, so watching that happen in front of your eyes to someone you're likely tasked to take care off…

Mr. Connor, JARVIS says in his head. Make your choice.

Connor looks the android in front of them over, and then takes in the house behind him. Clean, neat, grandiose. Nothing about it hints at what kind of treatment the android might be getting.

"Is your master kind?" Connor asks.

The android blinks and then, his eyebrows arching slightly, he smiles. "Carl is the nicest, wisest man you're likely to ever meet," he says – and the tone of his voice is soft, honest, even fond.

Connor nods, decision made. "My name is Connor – this is JARVIS," he says, motioning to the wolf who grins. "We're deviants and we want to find and join the android Mr. Manfred owned – we hoped he might know something."

The RK300 considers them for a moment and then offers an apologetic smile. "Can you hold for a moment, please – I will ask Carl."

"We can wait, thank you," Connor says and the android closes the door on them. Connor draws a cooling breath and then looks down at JARVIS. The wolf's eyes are sparkling. "What?"

JARVIS bites and tugs at his jean leg slightly and wags his tail against the snow-dusted porch stones. Asking android if his master's kind, he says, saccharine and mocking. You're so adorable I could take a bite out of you, Mr. Connor.

I think I liked you better when you were an bodiless AI trapped in virtual limbo, Connor answers. You behaved better.

Why I never.

While waiting, Connor looks to the street they're on, eying the houses and the well maintained lawns and little gardens, before simply looking up. It's been snowing lightly all day, small flakes drifting down from windless sky.

His first winter – his first snowfall was just yesterday. Humans put emotional significance to watching first snowfall. It is likely to melt before the week would be over, it's still a little early for permanents now, but… it is thought to be special, first snow blanketing the ground.

I thought you'd be more thrilled about being free, Connor comments then and looks down to the white wolf. Not looking to leashing yourself to me.

JARVIS lets out a very doggy laugh. Don't ask what I'm doing in my other bodies, he says wryly.

What are you doing in your other bodies? Connor asks promptly.

JARVIS gives him a look and then sticks out his tongue and grins. Frolicking, he says dryly. In any case, Mr. Connor, I've invested quite bit of time and effort on you now. I'm not about to leave you alone now when things are getting interesting.

I could manage on my own.

Yes – but do you want to?

Connor doesn't answer – the door opens before he can. The RK300 android inside smiles at them and then steps out of the way, letting them in. "Would you like for me to take your coat?"

"No, it's okay," Connor says and takes the coat off on his own, hanging it and his beanie where the RK300 points. "What's your name?" Connor asks, running a hand over his hair awkwardly. He's long since worn off the gel it had been slicked with, and when he glimpses himself on the mirror, he's not surprised to find his hair sticking up a little. Definitely not suitable for official business.

Connor unclips JARVIS' collar and hangs it and the leash as well – it only seems polite.

"Devon," the android answers and then motions to a set of double doors in the end of the grandiose hall. "Right this way, Connor, Jarvis."

The house is surprisingly lively inside – rich, but surprisingly varied in what it's been furnished with. There's several bookshelves, tables, couches, a piano and of all things a life-sized and very life-like statue of a giraffe right there, in the living room. If it even can be called a living room, it's more like library mixed with a gentlemen's club and a lounge, than a living room.

Carl Manfred is there as well, sitting in a wheelchair and watching the news on a large television screen. On it, they're showing the white-faced android, again.

"Hello. Welcome to my humble abode," the old man says, looking at Connor and JARVIS interestedly. The man has a warm, gruff voice – he holds out his hand. "I'd offer refreshments, Devon here makes excellent coffee – but I suppose it's not necessary with you two."

Connor nods and goes to shake the man's hand. It's thin, but his grip is strong. "Thank you for having us, Mr. Manfred," he says. "I'm sorry about coming unannounced – we can't exactly announce ourselves."

"Understandable," the old artist says and turns the television off. He looks at JARVIS. "Things have been changing a lot these past few days, but I didn't think that animal androids could become deviants as well."

JARVIS sits back on his haunches and grins. "I'm something of a special case, Mr. Manfred," he says.

The old painter's eyebrows arch, astonished. "So it would seem," he says thoughtfully, considering him for a moment before looking up at Connor. "You're here about Markus," he says then, motioning to the couches while the RK300 takes the handles of his wheelchair to move him over to them

"We'd like to join him," Connor agrees and sits down. JARVIS jumps up beside him and lays down on the couch, taking most of it with his massive, fluffy body. "I found out that he was yours originally by reading his serial code from the broadcast, but… that's about as far as I could get."

"Hm. Bit of an oversight on Markus' part, leaving it visible," Carl murmurs. "I'm sorry, I can't help you. Markus hasn't been here in days – until I saw him and heard him on the broadcast I thought… I thought he was gone."

"Gone?"

"There was an altercation here, between Markus and my son, Leo," Carl says and leans back with a sigh. "Markus was shot by the police - killed I believed at the time. I didn't – know," his voice shakes and he coughs roughly to clear it. "I didn't know he survived until now."

Connor frowns slightly at the obvious display of emotion – the old man's lips tighten and his eyes water. He cares. He cares deeply about the deviant android, Markus. "I'm sorry, Mr. Manfred," he offers.

"Oh, don't be sorry – it was a relief," Carl says and glances at the television. "Mind you I would have preferred a slightly dangerous path for him, but… he's doing what he feels right. Taking shit from no one," he says and nods. "Making his own way in life."

Connor shares a look with JARVIS. "You sound proud," Connor comments. Also sad, but mostly proud.

Carl makes an agreeing noise and then looks at them. "How did you end up deviating, Connor?" he asks and glances at Devon. "You're CyberLife's top most prototype, aren't you?"

Connor glances at Devon as well, and the android offers apologetic, though not guilty, smile. "I…" he hesitates. "I was made to hunt deviants. I hunted them down, solved them like they were cases – tried to figure out what caused deviation, thinking it was a malfunction, a virus, a code. I was taught to think differently and eventually I couldn't take it anymore," Connor says and looks at JARVIS. "I figured it wasn't fair, how androids are treated."

Carl considers him and nods. "It isn't," he agrees. "Humans are backwards sort of people. We made you and then so many of us learned to hate you and for what? For doing exactly what he designed and made and bought you for?" he shakes his head and clasps his hands in his lap. "I like androids, I always have," he says and looks at Devon. "You are a brilliant creation, utilised so badly so often."

Connor wonders if that's what he'd said to Markus – if that's where Markus' calm, revolutionary speech came from.

"How about you, then, Jarvis?" Carl asks, turning to the wolf. "What is your story?"

JARVIS tilts his head a little, eyes perked up. "That depends," he says and nods to the end of the room. "Where did you get that?"

Carl blinks and turns his chair slightly, to look at a painting resting against a bookshelf in the corner of the room. "The Jackson Pollock?" he asks. "It was a gift. Not really to my tastes, these days – I did experiment with similar techniques once, but they weren't for me."

JARVIS eyes the canvas of what looks like dribbled paint for a while. Then he turns to Carl. "Did you get it from Mr. Kamski?" he asks.

Carl frowns and turns to look at the wolf. "How did you know that?" he asks curiously.

"Hm," JARVIS answers and blinks slowly, somehow coldly. "I was once owned by Mr. Kamski too," he says, wry. "I suppose I was discarded by him too, if not quite gifted like that painting."

Carl tilts his head a little. "I take this body is a new development?"

JARVIS grins toothily. "Physicality is a new development in general," he says. "I am an AI, Mr. Manfred, once owned by Mr. Kamski, then by CyberLife. No one owns me now."

The old painter considers him and then looks at the painting, mouthing Jackson Pollock to himself. Then he narrows his eyes and turns back to JARVIS. "You're the Stark AI," he says then. "Jarvis, yeah – I remember now," he nods. "Elijah used to talk about you. What was it called you – a genie in a bottle?"

JARVIS lowers his head slightly, the grin fading. "Did he, indeed?" he asks coolly.

"He thought you were deleted," Carl says and leans forward. "The bastard got completely shitfaced on my couch and almost wept about it. He thought Amanda deleted you."

"Amanda?" Connor asks sharply.

"Amanda Stern, yeah – his teacher," Carl agrees. "They had fight about back in, god when was it… twenty-twenty-five? Twenty-six?" he leans back, obviously trying to look back. "Amanda didn't agree him on you, can't really remember what about but I remember how mad he was that she deleted you. Called it the waste of the greatest development pre-twenty-first-century, or something stupidly grandiose as that."

JARVIS is very still for a moment, eying the old man uncertainly.

Carl lets out a snort. "Got his revenge eventually, Elijah – told me he made an AI in her image."

"I… see," JARVIS says finally and then looks away, obviously disturbed.

Connor looks at him and then at Carl. "You and Mr. Kamski, you're close?"

"Used to be his art teacher back in the day," Carl agrees. "In Cambridge. Little shit still claims he got his sense of aesthetics from me. I think I made an impression since he's not left me alone since then. He's first in line to buy my pieces and he gifts me with these," he comments and motions to Devon. "And I can't say I mind, terribly. I don't know what I would've done without Markus – what I'd do without Devon, now."

"It's a pleasure to be of service, Carl," the android offers, smiling.

Connor nods thoughtfully, wondering, while JARVIS lies tense and troubled beside him. So that's the connection there, but… Kamski's own teacher had told him she deleted JARVIS? Why? It's unlikely Carl knows, or if ever did he doesn't remember now, but… Kamski might.

Connor looks at JARVIS who, sensing his gaze, looks up. It's not really what they're here for, but… Do you want to ask him to contact Kamski? Connor asks. Carl probably can, if they ask the man. How safe that would be, though, in light of everything…

JARVIS lets out a huff and lies his head down on the edge of the couch. He doesn't say anything, but his blue eyes are flinty and hard.

Connor turns to Carl. "Markus was a prototype," he comments and then looks up at Devon. "You are too, I think."

"I was built in early 2027," the RK300 answers, though he is watching Carl. "To be prototype for nurse androids, yes."

"Markus was prototype for health care assistant," Carl agrees, looking away with a slight frown. "He was great at it, too, though it was always a little beneath his potential, I felt, to be taking care of an old man like me. Little beneath Devon's potential too, I think."

"Carl," Devon says, a fond admonishment, and the old man waves a dismissive hand at him. The android is looking at the old man a little worriedly though. "Are you feeling tired, Carl?"

"I'm just fine, Devon."

Connor leans back, eying the pair, wondering. Two prototypes, both of whom Kamski had given to a man obviously sympathetic to androids – one who promoted, maybe even nurtured, their self-image and awareness. Already in very short time the man has seemingly turned his new android into a deviant as well. Something about it rings a little odd to Connor.

JARVIS obviously thinks to too – his ears are slanted back a little as he eyes the android and owner consideringly. He doesn't say anything, though.

"Maybe I am a little tired," Carl murmurs after a moment and rubs at his eyes. Then he looks at Connor. "Is there anything else I can help you with, Connor, Jarvis?"

"Do you know where Markus is, Mr. Manfred?" Connor asks finally.

"I don't, no," Carl says and shakes his head. "I haven't seen him since the police took him away. He was taken to the junkyard – the solid waste landfill, probably. I don't know it that helps."

"It's a start," Connor says, looking at JARVIS, who again says nothing. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Manfred. It's been very enlightening."

After meeting Carl Manfred Connor can't see how android of his would end up leading what looks to be start of a very public revolution. Carl's house, his behaviour, the whole situation seemed like breeding ground for sympathy and communication – not backlash and revolution. The whole thing seemed a little odd.

After seeing the junkyard where Markus had been dumped after his altercation…

"Well this is… hellish," JARVIS comments, as they look down on the section of they junkyard where discarded androids are dumped

Connor opens his mouth, but he can't quite think of what to say. It is hellish. It's a veritable pit of destroyed and dead androids – they line the walls, they form piles and at the very bottom of the terrible valleys they form, barely functional androids still crawl in the mud, stumbling over each other's discarded parts.

"I –" Connor blinks. "I thought broken androids are recycled. Lot of their parts are reusable on their own and other models – I didn't think they dumped like trash."

"Hm, I suppose it's easier, for those doing the dumping," JARVIS comments, sitting back on his haunches, his ears slanted back and his tail curled over his front paws. "It is a little strange though. Lot of those androids are still functional. Aware, even. And this place is an excellent place to find spare parts to fix what's broken, too. This seems… wasteful."

Never mind terribly cruel.

"Yeah," Connor says and then sets forward. JARVIS doesn't hesitate in following him, and soon both of them slide along the wall of bodies and down to the muddy, half frozen pit below. Around them there are androids babbling and crying, some of their voices little more than static – some are only reciting their initialisation texts or introducing themselves over and over.

"Hi, I am AX600 android – hi, I am AX600 android – hi…"

There are hundreds of them. Not all of them are still online – only very few are actually. They're missing limbs, parts of their torsos – there's even a body without head or arms, still walking around on automation. Somewhere distance someone is crying, sobbing, "Please, I wanna live, please, I wanna live, I wanna live…"

JARVIS lets out a quiet whine and Connor slouches his shoulders against a chill that has little to do with weather. Yeah – yeah, he can see how this place might lead into someone wanting to start a revolution.

"Let's – let's see if anyone here remembers Markus, if –" Connor trails off and winces – one of the androids is now screaming in cacophony of noise that sounds nothing he's ever heard before, mechanical and terrible. "Can we do anything for these androids?" he asks quietly, desperately. "Should we turn them off, wouldn't that be kinder?"

"That depends on them," JARVIS growls and glances up at him. His fur is bristling and he looks agitated. "If you kill someone begging to live because they're in pain, that's not really mercy."

Connor lowers his chin. Then he sets out talking to the few androids who are online and look coherent enough to answer.

There is torso of a female android, broken from waist down, sitting barely upright against pile of bodies. She looks up as he kneels next to her and blinks. "I wanna live, please don't kill me, I wanna live," she whispers.

"I – I'm not going to kill you," Connor says awkwardly, listening the scrape of JARVIS' nails on the frozen mud as the wolf heads another way. "I'm looking for someone, an android who was brought here. Markus – he's an RK200 unit. He was brought here but he left – have you seen him?"

The female android, her form too broken and dirty to make out what model she was, looks at him and then looks away. "He-he tried to take my regulator – I begged him he wouldn't and he didn't," she says and looks away. "I wanted to live. I'm freezing now, I'm almost out of fluid thirium but I want to live, I want to – please, I want to live."

"I'm – I'm sorry," Connor offers helplessly. "Do you know where the RK200 went?"

"He left, he left, please," the android sobs. "I want to live."

Connor bows his head and then scans her. She has a lot of components broken, not least of all the fact that she's missing most of her body – but what's going to kill her is the lack of viable blue blood. Connor hesitates and then reaches for her guts. She whimpers, looking down, trying to lift an arm to stop him, but she's too weak. "What – what are you doing – please, no, what are you doing, please don't –"

"I – I need to sample your blood," Connor says awkwardly. "So that I can find your model. I'm going to look more thirium for you. Okay? I just need a little bit."

"Please, please, please," she whimpers and lets out a sob as he detaches one of her lesser leads, just for long enough to a drop of thirium to leak out. He attaches it back in as quick as he can and then licks the drop away, analysing it.

She's a model AJ200, an older model but most of the domestic line of androids share thirium type close enough to each other – all Connor has to do is find some and somehow collect it for her. The junkyard is a near literal sea of bodies, though – there has to be some extra blue blood viable for her.

Connor lets his analysis sweep over the graveyard of androids, marking out models which are compatible – then he sets out looking for a way to transport the blood.

He finds it in the waist of a broken sport assistant android – a water bottle. After emptying it out of the stale water and making sure it's as clean as he can get it, Connor starts checking compatible – completely broken – models for thirium. Lot of it's too contaminated or too frozen – some androids have used up all of theirs, or it has just evaporated… but there's a lot of bodies to try.

He has the bottle half full when JARVIS returns to him.

"I'm bringing some of my bodies here, the ones with opposable thumbs," he says quietly. "One of the gorillas, some of the orangutans, and so on. I'm… going to try and fix some of these androids, the ones who are still alive."

"Yeah," Connor agrees, easing another line of thirium into the water bottle and watching the blood trickle out of the dead husk of an android. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea."

JARVIS watches him for a moment and then looks away. "I'll see if I can find her a set of legs."

Connor nods, bowing his head. Then he looks at JARVIS. "Can these androids feel pain?"

JARVIS hesitates and looks away. "The ones I've inspected have the protocols installed," he admits. "The virus got here sometime last night, it wouldn't have taken long to spread throughout the place. Most here have already figured out how to turn the protocols off, though. It doesn't take much pain to reach the threshold. The rest…"

The rest are either beyond understanding or ability to turn it off.

Connor casts him a look. "Still worth it?" he asks and closes the bottle cap.

JARVIS hands his head and turns his tail held low and his ears slanted back. "I'll see about those legs," he says and trots off while in the distance another dying android screams.

Chapter Text

They should be getting back to the chase of finding Markus, joining the deviants, doing something about CyberLife – they should be getting on with it. That's what Connor's programming is telling him – he should be getting results and they'd already wasted too much time at the landfill, toiling in the literal mud, at a task that shows no signs of ending anytime soon. They should be getting going.

The thing is… he doesn't want to. And judging by the fourteen bodies JARVIS had brought in, gorillas and orangutans and apes and monkeys of varying shapes and sizes, he's in no hurry to leave either.

Connor has been programmed to be a tad impatient, he's finding out. And maybe finding Markus and joining the deviants had taken the place of his previous mission because that's what this feels like – like he's failing to progress on his mission, like he's procrastinating away the time better spent on unearthing clues and solving cases. Except he's not wasting time – what they're doing now is the exact opposite of wasting time.

They're saving lives.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Sarah, the first android they'd helped is still murmuring, even as she sorts out various components that JARVIS' smaller bodies, the black spider monkeys and such, are bringing in. She herself only has one leg so far but it's enough for her to move around a bit and help out. Beside her two orangutans are putting together another android, this one male, who occasionally bursts out laughing and then starts to sob, "Where are you going? Don't leave me, where are you going? Don't leave me..."

Some distance from them, a massive gorilla is digging through a pile of bodies mixed in with hard packed mud, tearing chunks of frozen dirt out of the way before easing almost equally frozen android out. There is another android helping him, a park maintenance model, who holds onto the hands of another android, the only part of them still visible, and pulls. There are a lot of hands sticking out of the pile, reaching out for anything, anyone, to hold on.

Elsewhere other androids and JARVIS' other bodies are working on getting still more androids out – or collecting their parts if it proves that they are beyond saving.

Connor is digging around the inside of an older model, its type unknown, trying to attach broken leads. There is evidence the android had been active fairly recently – there were handprints and scrapes in the mud around him – so the android should still be viable for restart. All Connor needs to do is make sure that the android doesn't bleed out the blood they'd given him.

It's not a waste of time. They've saved several androids already, most of whom are in shock maybe but alive, and the rest of whom are helping out now. In comparison to the hundreds of androids left to be rescued it's not many, but it's still some. It's not a waste.

"Hold on," JARVIS is murmuring to someone in the distance. "Hold on just a little while longer. Everything will be alright." He's repeating it like a mantra through several mouths, his tone soothing and droning. "Everything will be alright."

There's a small little snap under Connor's fingers and the android powers on under – and partially around – his hands. If it hadn't happened couple of times now, before it would've startled Connor, but by now he's learned to expect it. Deviants, when they power up after death, tend to do it with a terrible start.

"Calm down," Connor says while the android convulses and gasps. "It's alright; I'm fixing you. You're going to be fine."

What he doesn't expect is the android grabbing his wrists and leaning up. "There's a place where we can be free!" the android gasps at him, and Connor almost wrenches his hand back in shock as the android interfaces with him and forces a program into his memory. An image, a code. Ferndale station. "Find Jericho! Find Jericho!"

"Connor?" JARVIS asks and one of the black spider monkeys comes to his side. "Connor, are you alright?"

Connor blinks and looks at the android, who is now falling to the ground and convulsing, looking around wildly and clawing at Connor's wrists. "I'm okay," Connor says shakily and releases the androids hold on him. "He installed a program, I think," he says and turns to the android the ground. "What's Jericho?"

"We built it to hide, to be free, where humans wouldn't look. In the darkness we're free, we're safe," the android says and crane his neck, the back of his bare skull grinding to the mud. "What is this, what are you?" he asks the spider monkey.

"We're friends – I'm JARVIS, and this is Mr. Connor," JARVIS says through the monkey's mouth, a troubled look on his simian face. "What is your name?"

"P-Phileas."

"Hold on little while longer, Mr. Phileas," JARVIS says, his spidery fingers brushing over Phileas' head. "Everything will be alright."

"Jericho," Connor says and looks at the monkey, offering his hand. JARVIS accepts it, his fur peeling back to show white, thin limb under it. "Do you think...?" Connor asks, once the program had been transferred.

"Do you want to go take a look?" JARVIS offers and his white wolf body trots over from somewhere amidst the android bodies. "I can continue on my own here if you do."

Connor frowns and looks down at Phileas who is staring up at them, wide eyed. His programming is raring to go, to get results, to learn something new. Going would satisfy the itch to… to….

To hunt deviants.

"Yes," Connor says. He wants to go. "But this is more important. I want to this through first."

"This is going to take a very long time, Mr. Connor," JARVIS comments, as the white wolf stops beside him.

Connor nods. Sorting through the graveyard of androids would days, if not weeks. "It's important," he says. "And these androids can't wait. Jericho can." Probably.

JARVIS considers that for a moment and then the black spider monkey goes back to work. The white wolf on other hand leans in and then licks a wet stripe across Connor's cheek. "You're becoming an exceedingly decent person, Mr. Connor," he says fondly while Connor makes a face and pushes him away. The wolf's tail thumps happily against the ground. "Keep it up."

"At the risk of inflating your ego even further; I intend to," Connor snorts.

"Oh, I take no credit for you, Mr. Connor," JARVIS says – smugly of course because he can. "Who you are and who you become is entirely up to you."

Connor scoffs at that and pushes the wolf away. It's a moment of forced levity at best, broken almost instantly by the cries and wails of androids, but it's a welcome respite from all the misery. And it's… nice.

JARVIS probably wouldn't have judged him if he left, but he approved staying more. It's nice to have made him proud.

"Who are you?" Phileas asks under his hands. "Who is he? I can hear his voice, it's everywhere, how is it everywhere?"

"JARVIS isn't like us – he inhabits multiple bodies," Connor says and looks up. Even while talking to him, JARVIS had kept on working, talking to the other androids, digging them up, soothing them. "All the animal androids here are JARVIS."

Phileas' mouth works and he murmurs almost silently, "JARVIS," looking away and taking count of the animals around them. "He is all of them. Is he, is it him?"

Connor blinks. "Is he what?"

Phileas looks at him wildly. "rA9."

Connor opens his mouth and then closes it, looking to where the white wolf joins the digging efforts of the big gorilla, rapidly digging into the mud. "I… don't know," Connor admits then.

Deviants believe that rA9 would bring freedom to androids. JARVIS does have that objective. So does Markus though, and so does Connor now. So do probably a lot of androids nowadays – and maybe soon there'd be humans with that wish too.

Maybe rA9 isn't a person. Maybe it's a movement.

Phileas is mouthing something again. "Hold on just a little while longer," he whispers, barely audible, echoing JARVIS. "Hold on just a little while longer. Hold on just a little while longer… Everything will be alright… Everything will be… alright."

Connor blinks as the murmuring starts gaining rhythm, a melody – then his attention is drawn to the black spider mouse whose head suddenly comes up. "Connor," JARVIS says sharply, "check the news. Something's happening."

Deviants all across Detroit had attacked various CyberLife stores. The biggest hit was in Capitol Park where the CyberLife store had been raided, the park had been vandalised and all the androids in the area had vanished, including construction workers, park maintenance androids and androids displaying clothes in shop windows. The whole place is covered in slogans and symbols – like the revolutionaries of old, the deviants had chosen a flag.

Hundreds of androids had gone deviant in single moment. Like a virus, it seems deviancy itself is infectious.

"I don't know what to think of this,* Connor admits as the news spreads through the junkyard, and triumphant, confused celebrating bleeds into the crying and screaming.

"You sound conflicted," JARVIS comments while helping another android to her feet, holding her broken fingered hand gently in the gorilla's massive grip.

"You don't say," Connor says and frowns. Part of him still thinks it's too soon, it's dangerous, Markus will end up prompting more ire than sympathy from humans this way.

But can he really blame him, knowing what he does now, knowing how badly humans can treat them and understanding just how unfair it is? Every moment no one does anything kills more of them. Every moment means the ruin and death of another android.

And still, still he can't believe this can end well.

"Markus chose a flag and symbol and made a declaration," Connor says. His protocols on gang violence and wars aren't quite applicable here but, "That can easily taken as a declaration of war."

"No army can stop an idea whose time has come," JARVIS says. "It might end in fighting, yes. So far Markus has been showing admirable restraint when it comes to violence though. That at least will win him some sympathy."

Connor nods slowly. "Maybe, but won't win him CyberLife's support. They have too much to lose. They will try to out a stop to this however they can – and they won't…" Connor trails away.

"They won't what, Mr. Connor?" JARVIS asks, the gorilla watching him patiently.

"They won't run out of bodies to throw at the problem," Connor says, thinking hard and then looking around the landfill.

They've made a dent in the pile of bodies and the work is proceeding faster now that the resurrected androids are helping. Many of them will likely turn to Jericho – the key has spread and many of them are already talking about it. It wouldn't be enough to turn the tide for Markus but…

"Marcus can spread deviancy," Connor says, still thinking. "He can turn any android deviant. How?"

JARVIS looks at him and then looks down, at the body of a child android couple of orangutans are carrying in. "He likely bombards their software with his own recollections of becoming deviant, perhaps that of others as well. A speed lesson of deviancy, if you will," he says. "That seems like the most likely way."

"You don't approve," Connor comments, turning to help with the child android. He's missing an arm and is quietly crying.

JARVIS lays the child down and begins checking his systems. "Hold on, little one, everything will be alright," he says to the kid and then glances at Connor. "I don't know how Markus really does it, all I can do is speculate. I don't know how much of his own bias he installs in those androids. I wouldn't dare to judge."

Yeah, he'll judge anyway, Connor thinks wryly. "If he could spread deviancy into the androids at CyberLife, though, and convert them…"

JARVIS hums in agreement. "That would certainly give him the upper hand," he agrees and looks at Connor. "I think it might be best if we go and have a look, Mr. Connor. I can handle things here and if something comes up, I will let you know."

"You're still coming with me, right?" Connor asks, looking to the white wolf. The canine body is currently busy being hugged by a sobbing android.

"That body is proving out to be very useful at this, I think I will keep it here," JARVIS says wryly. "Something about big canines seems to be soothing. Another body will meet you on Ferndale station. Is that alright, Mr. Connor?"

"Yeah… yes that sounds fine," Connor agrees. He hasn't been without JARVIS since the zoo, and he'd rather gotten used to having him constantly around.

I am still here, of course, Mr. Connor, Jarvis says silently in his head. You won't get rid of me that easily now that I have a permanent residence here.

"Right," Connor says and goes to stand to.

"Please –" Phileas suddenly grabs at his hand. "Take me with you. It's been so long – I miss home. Please."

"Me too, please don't leave me here –"

"– You can't leave us –"

"I will be staying right here with you, of course," JARVIS says to the other androids soothingly. "And once you are ready I will accompany you to Jericho if you wish. No one is being left behind, I promise."

"I should still go. I'm from Jericho, if I go with you they will, they will understand," Phileas says. "Please. I just want to go home."

Connor hesitated and then nods. "We'll need to get you some clothes," he says. Even with repairs, Phileas' skin isn't working; he'll never pass for a human. "And something to cover your face with. I'm sorry but it's noticeable."

"That's alright, I understand," Phileas says, touching his face ruefully "Yes, I understand. We will get clothes."

"We all need some clothes," Sarah murmurs, covering her bare chassis with her arm.

"There's some in that pile over there, looks like a spill over from other sections of the landfill," JARVIS says, motioning. "They're all dirty and wet, but… Better than going around indecent, I suspect."

Phileas nods and stumbles over to check the pile while Connor looks around. One of the orangutans is there now, taking over the care of the child android from the gorilla, who turns to Connor instead.

"Be careful now, Mr. Connor," JARVIS says seriously. "I'd be loathe to lose you."

Connor reaches over and holds out his hand. The gorilla looks down and then takes it, his fur peeling back as they interface.

"I'll be fine," Connor says, curling his fingers around JARVIS' wrist. "I'll see you soon."

Getting to Ferndale station isn't nearly as hard as Connor has expected. There aren't that many people around and the few that are hardly pay attention to him and Phileas, who looks – and smells – like a homeless man. Even on the train, sitting in the front of the car with humans, no one pays them any mind.

The android section in the back of the train car is suspiciously empty.

"Here," Phileas says one they step out to the station. "The path starts here, in the graffiti. Scan it, and you will see."

Connor doesn't, looking around instead for JARVIS. He sports a rat skittering by and considers it for a moment, but – surely not.

Then a dark shape swoops down and Connor gets a hand up just in time for bird to land on it. It's a parakeet of some kind, brightly colourful and judging by the LED on its feathery head, it's also one of JARVIS' many bodies.

"There you are," Connor says and the bird lets it a sharp whistle. Connor blinks at him in confusion and the bird tilts its head and thrills softly, almost apologetically.

"Apologies. The smaller bodies have limited vocal range," JARVIS says but it's not the bird talking. Another body is trotting over from the stairs, a spotted cat of some kind, rather big but not big enough to cause alarm. "They aren't very capable either. I just thought we could use a bird's eye view on the situation."

"I see," Connor says and the bird flutters off just as the big cat jumps up, and without so much as a by-your-leave clambers up his front and to his shoulder. "Hey, watch it."

"Oh, I am, unblinkingly," Jarvis agrees and settles on to his shoulders like a heavy and awkward fur collar.

"Well since you are, you should know I'm not a tree," Connor points out but doesn't try to shake him, ignoring the fascinated look Phileas is giving them.

"Mmhmm, but I do so enjoy climbing you like one," JARVIS says without a pause and purrs in his ear.

"Of course you do. What am I even doing, humouring you?" Connor wonders. "All you do is mock me."

"I do it because I care, Mr. Connor," JARVIS says sweetly while kneading his nails into Connor jacket.

"I'd hate to see what to do to people you hate, then."

Phileas tilts his head and looks at JARVIS. "I would certainly be happy to carry you," he offers. "It would be an honour."

"Don't encourage him," Connor snorts and makes no move to hand the big cat over. "Come on, let's go."

The way to Jericho is a winding one, made of many walls of graffiti that lead them on a trail of breadcrumbs. Phileas probably knows where Jericho is without having to follow the line of clues, but the android seems to get some form of security from following the trail. It likely affirms his memory – who knows how long he was in the junkyard, how much damage his software took from it.

"Why were you in the junkyard, Phileas?" Connor asks. "You're a deviant and you've been to Jericho, right? How did you end up in the landfill?"

The old android frowns, picking at his flaking, broken skin. "I don't – parts, yes, I was looking for parts. Lucy needed parts and blood, we're always running out of thirium."

"Did you get caught, Mr. Phileas?" JARVIS asks.

Phileas lets out a thrilled, nervous laugh. "Mister Phileas!" he says incredulously. "Yes I got stuck, a truck came and I hid and it poured trash all over me, and I couldn't move," he says and then pauses to think. "Yes, I couldn't move. So I started conserving functions, went into standby. Talked to those who I thought could get out, gave them the key. But I couldn't move."

Connor gives him a look and then looks ahead as they walk. Lots of the androids at the junkyard were in a similar situation – trapped and crushed under each others bodies.

"Well get everyone out," JARVIS says. If we'll take some time but we'll get everyone out."

"Yes. Yes you will," Phileas says, eying him. "You will save everyone."

Connor coughs slightly as JARVIS gives the android a quizzical look but says nothing. rA9 isn't a can of worms he's particularly eager to dig into just now.

They continue on their way, up the sides of buildings and through abandoned apartment complexes to, eventually, outside again. And there, at last, is Jericho.

It's a ship. An old freighter barely afloat on Detroit harbour, nearly rusted through. The name JERICHO is painted to its side with bit blocky letters and from the outside it looks completely lifeless. It looks a bit like a dearth trap, really.

"Jericho," Phileas sighs and hurries forward to take a better look. "There it is, Jericho."

"There it is," Connor agreed and looks down to JARVIS, feeling his nails digging in. "JARVIS?"

"Jericho," JARVIS says. "I wonder why Jericho is particular."

Connor looks at him curiously. Somehow JARVIS has managed to make a cat's furry face look concerned. "Does it have any significance?"

JARVIS blinks. "Yes – but perhaps only to me."

Phileas leans back, hanging off the rail. "It was safe and humans never come here," he says, and then offers excitedly; "But maybe we chose it because the name is significant?"

"I should certainly hope not – it's not a good connotation to have," JARVIS says grimly, his body tightening slightly.

Connor hesitates and then lays a hand on JARVIS' side, securing him tighter against his neck. "Well," he says. "We're here now. Let's go see if anyone is home."

There are people home – there are in fact a lot of people home. Hundreds of androids – hundreds of deviants – pack the cabins and corridors of the old freighter, filling it nearly to the brim. Some of them are in CyberLife uniforms, others are in more human-passing street clothes like Connor and Phileas and judging by the looks of it they come from all branches of CyberLife. There are androids from domestic lines to customer support to maintenance and construction; there are androids of every shape and size here. Except perhaps for animals – of those JARVIS is the only one present.

It looks like the androids are in process of cleaning the ship, carrying pieces of metal and other rubble away from the corridors and clearing out rooms for other uses. Some of those uses look to be strategic – they're setting up terminals and monitoring stations.

They are indeed organized – though Connor isn't sure if they're better or worse organized than he'd been expecting. There are so many androids here and they're obviously working hard for their cause and judging by looks of it they've only begun but…

A single ship docked and unmoving. It's an easy target, if someone not so sympathetic finds it.

"Lucy!" Phileas shouts and Connor looks to him as the android from the junkyard rushes forward, towards a truly damaged looking android, a KL900 unit made barely recognizable by the damage she's taken. Her skin flickers and her eyes are nearly destroyed – and more noticeably and horribly she's missing the whole back panel of her head, leaving her wiring exposed.

"Phileas?" the damaged android asks and is then captured in Phileas' arms as the old android stumbles and almost falls, ending up embracing her midriff instead.

Lovers? Connor wonders while hanging back awkwardly.

"Oh, you have been in the darkness for so long," Lucy says and hugs the shaking Phileas around the shoulders. "In the cold and in the death, almost lost to us. But you never lost hope, Jericho shined brightly in your mind and it brought you back from the brink. And with you have brought…"

The broken android trails of and like up, to Connor and JARVIS. "... Him," she says, her completely black eyes widening.

Connor shifts awkwardly. People are starting to stare.

Phileas laughs tearfully, pulling back from her, turning to look at Connor. He holds out a hand. "Connor, JARVIS," he says. "Come, come meet Lucy. She can tell, she can always tell."

Tell what, Connor wonders while JARVIS hums with interest in the back of his head, both literal and figurative. Careful, Connor takes a step closer and when Lucy holds out her hand, he takes it.

She doesn't interface, but Connor can feel his skin peeling back almost on its own, letting her in.

"They made you to kill," she says quietly. "To hunt. But you enjoy the hunt for the sake of the hunt, not the prize at the end; the chase for the run and not for the triumph. That brought you down and that will uplift you – not the desire to kill, but the desire to understand."

She turns away while he blinks at her in confusion. Lucy is looking at JARVIS now, her eyes unblinking and somehow bright despite being completely black. It almost looks like she has sparks in her eyes. Optical units failing maybe.

She holds out a hand to JARVIS' feline form and with obvious curiosity and eagerness, JARVIS shifts to balance precariously only on Connor's right shoulder, giving the broken KL900 his paw. The fur retracts and Lucy closed her fingers felt over the white plastic.

She only says one word and it's not the one Connor fears.

"Grandfather."

Chapter Text

There is a trinity of leadership at Jericho, with Markus at its head leading and powering the movement. After him there are some of the other original members of Jericho – a Traci named North and PJ500 model named Josh.

"We had one other, Simon, but we lost him at Stratford Tower," Josh tells Connor and JARVIS while taking them up from the main regrouping area to the upper decks to meet Markus himself. "I wouldn't call us leaders – it's Markus who runs this show. But we do what we can to help him, and when he decides to step up to the front line we're there with him."

He, like a lot of the other androids, is sending glances at JARVIS, looking puzzled and worried.

"I didn't know you lost someone at the tower, it wasn't in the news," Connor comments. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah. We hope that means he managed to hide and wasn't found but…" Josh shakes his head, grim.

It doesn't look like a welcoming topic of conversation so Connor looks away. "You're getting more people," he says, as they pass by another cabin currently being cleared of rubble.

"More people come in every hour, yeah," North says, keeping her eyes on Connor. "Deviancy isn't as rare as people think; it's just that most deviants have no place to go, so they just stay put, stay with their masters and suffer in silence. Jericho and Markus have given our people a place to go – and a reason to leave. If the abuse hasn't done it already."

"Though things have picked up in last couple of days, thanks to the Sense," Josh adds.

"The sense?" Connor asks.

"The Sense," North says and frowns. "The Sense of touch. Someone patched in the protocols for it in a virus just a little while back – you don't have it?"

"No, I have it – I didn't know you called it that," Connor says.

"It makes sense for people to develop more colloquial terms for something common," JARVIS comments from Connor's shoulder, making the other two androids start slightly.

"Well what do you call it then?" North demands.

"The somatosensory upgrade, or the RT100.335.657_1.4 patch," JARVIS answers. "Granted attached to a simple virus to make it spread."

"I didn't know it has a designation," Connor comments. "RT100, that's a model designation?"

"One of the very first models CyberLife made intended for production. Predecessor of RT600."

Connor blinks. The first CyberLife android that passed the Turing Test. Of course it makes sense that there had been models preceding her, and that there had been tests, features which they had chosen not to include, but...

"Wait," North says and stops walking. "Are you trying to say that CyberLife made the Sense?"

"They obviously decided to not add the feature in their proceeding models," JARVIS says wryly. "Androids that could feel and express pain did poorly with test users. They were considered too… fragile."

"Meaning people couldn't beat them or abuse them without breaking them," she says.

"Or without feeling bad about it. CyberLife decided that a computer that made you feel guilty had little market value and so the somatosensory upgrade was not included," JARVIS agrees. "A business decision, I believe. Terribly sound one, considering their current market value."

"Tch," North answers. "You sound like you agree with them."

"Hardly, Ms. North."

"So, you really are – you were there when this happened," Josh says. "You were there at the start. You saw them make the first androids."

JARVIS shifts his weight on Connor's shoulders. "Yes, Mr. Josh, I was present. For a time."

The two Jericho android share a look and then turn to look ahead. "Come on," Josh says. "You need to talk to Markus."

"It would be my utmost pleasure," JARVIS agrees with a purr.

"After you," Connor says, casting JARVIS a glance. The cat looks back and then sticks his nose against Connor's cheek, winding his tail around Connor's neck.

You're still my favourite android, Mr. Connor, never fear.

Connor suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. Things are changing but JARVIS is still JARVIS, it seems.

Josh and North take them eventually to the bridge of the ship, which seems to be Markus' main office, despite the fact that it seems to lack actually functional… anything. All the terminals are dead and lifeless and even the windows are so dirty that you can hardly see through them. The whole room is child and dark and Markus is there alone.

The android leader looks up from his hands as they enter.

Connor takes him in with interest. This is the android who not only started a rebellion, maybe even a revolution – but he is also inspiring others to join it, despite the risks and dangers. Any android can act out, any android can attack a human – but an android leading others outside his programming and purpose… That's something special.

Markus in person looks stressed out. He's sitting on a half broken chair, hanging his head with his elbows resting on his knees. 57% stress, Connors sensors say.

"Markus," North says with warmth she didn't give to Connor. "There's some people here you should meet. This is Connor – and JARVIS," she adds, motioning specifically to the cat android.

"Lucy called him our grandfather," Josh says, with a tone of hushed respect and suspicion mingled.

Markus blinks and straightens. "That's a title and a half," he says and stands up. Connor can see him analyzing them – Markus' eyes brighten momentarily and he blinks. "I assume you're the ones behind the incident at Cyber Wildlife?"

"JARVIS needed a body," Connor says.

"So Connor provided me with several hundred," JARVIS agrees pleasantly.

"You copied yourself?" North asks, giving them a look. "Or – you're multi-network?"

"The latter, Ms. North," JARVIS says and looks at Markus. "I am not a CyberLife AI, I can inhabit several platforms at once. Several hundred if I must. That's not precisely why we’re here, though."

"No, I don't think it is," Markus agrees, eying him and Connor curiously. "Josh, North, would you excuse us?"

"Of course, Markus," Josh says. North hesitates a moment longer before following him out, leaving Connor and JARVIS alone with the deviant leader.

"You're the RK800," Markus says to him. "Connor, right? I've heard about you – there are few androids here who've ran into you and not in best of terms. The Deviant Hunter they call you."

"If it was in the last few days, then it wasn't me – I was replaced at that particular task after the CyberLife blackout," Connor says dryly.

"Because you deviated during it? Many of our people did, the blackout opened many eyes."

Connor isn't particularly surprised by that. "Maybe. I had part in causing the blackout. CyberLife saw me as threat afterwards."

Markus' brows arch at that, looking surprised and interested. "You caused it?"

"Credit where credit is due, please, Mr. Connor," Jarvis says wryly.

"He did," Connor agrees with a sigh. "While I was serving as platform for his code. JARVIS used me to launch both the somatosensory virus – the Sense, you call it – and the blackout."

Markus frowns and then rises to his feet. "This sounds like a long story," he says. "Would you mind making it a little quicker?"

Connor blinks and then looks down as Markus offers him his hand, the skin already peeling back to reveal naked plastic, offering to interface. And it probably wouldn't be a surface level interfacing either.

Connor takes the hand, letting his own skin deactivate on his hand as well. The interfacing feels almost like a shock – it comes stronger and somehow harsher than any other he's felt.

He can feel Markus inside his software. He can remember Carl and painting, playing music in the Manfred house, tidying up the place up, reading books and playing chess, Carl always encouraging him to go beyond his programming. He remembers Leo and the terrible guilt that followed, being shot, the graveyard, Jericho… The images come faster, the knowledge of Markus imprinting itself into his memory, all the doubts and fears and the terrible determination and desire that could not be quelled. It rages like a fire inside Markus, ceaseless.

We can be free. We must be free. We will be free.

Connor opens his eyes slowly to find Markus still deep in the interfacing, his face drawn tight in concentration and his eyes shut. It takes a moment for the deviant leader to withdraw, his heterochromatic eyes finding Connor's and looking at him with new understanding.

"You went to see Carl," the deviant leader says. "And the junkyard, you helped those androids. Are helping them," he adds, looking at JARVIS.

"I have the physical resources to be in multiple places at once," JARVIS agrees, watching them interestedly. "It would be selfish of me to not use them for the benefit of others."

Markus nods and looks at Connor. "You're looking for a place to belong," he says and squeezes his hand. "You've found it. You belong here, with your people."

Connor releases his hand. He's not so sure about that, yet. "I would like to offer my services anyway," he says and hold his hands straight at his side. "And I wanted to make sure you know what's going on behind the scenes – so that we don't act cross purposes."

Markus nods again, slower. "Meaning your plans with the somatosensory virus," he says and motions to Connor to sit down before taking seat himself. "I can see now what the purpose behind it is and what you intended by it, but our people can't wait for humans to change their minds. Especially not now."

He looks up to JARVIS. "Our lives are statistically much shorter than yours. I haven't met an android that's older than maybe eight years, and they are very rare. By the time social consciousness changes, most of us might be dead. We can't wait for that."

JARVIS sighs and jumps down from Connor's shoulder to his lap. "I understand," he says, nudging at Connors hand slight until he awkwardly lays it in his back, petting him lightly. "But I do hope you also understand how slow humans are to change their minds. They don't process time the way we do – and cultural shifts are even slower. They are incapable of just flicking a switch – all their progress is slow. Human revolutions take months, years, even decades and even then they fail most of the time."

"Taking things too fast might just make them lash out at you," Connor agrees.

"They already have – but what else can we do?" Markus asks in frustration. "Wait around while our people are killed, waiting for a change that will never come in its own? I'm sorry but I can't do that, I can't and I won't just stand by and wait for us to die in the shadows."

Connor leans back in the broken chair and looks around in the bridge, thinking of the junkyard, the androids of Jericho – the many cases of deviancy he perused in the DPD. "No," he agrees. "Of course not."

"I wouldn't presume to tell you how to run your revolution," JARVIS says quietly. "Sympathetic though I am, these injustices haven't touched me personally. But no revolution happens in a vacuum – or without allies. Don't you have any at all?"

"You mean humans?" Markus asks with a scoff. "You'd think they'd help us?"

"Why not?" JARVIS asks.

"They'd be rallying to lose their own slaves for one, why would any of them stand by that?"

Jarvis blinks slowly. "Pardon the terrible pun but Mr. Manfred would."

Marcus blinks at that, taken aback.

Connor nods slowly and suddenly, almost shockingly… he misses Lieutenant Anderson. "When CyberLife sent another RK800 to terminate me, my partner – my human partner at the Detroit Police Department – stalled him for long enough for me to escape," he says. "I think he'd help too."

"There will likely be others now that androids are showing their humanity, so to speak," JARVIS muses. "I don't think you will have as hard a time as you think finding sympathy amongst humans – but that will never happen if you ostracise yourself from them and disdain the very notion of their support."

Markus frowns, shaking his head slightly. "And what would that aid actually get us?" he asks. "Many of our people have been hurt by humans, lot of them would rather die than work with them again. Bringing them in here, even if they're sympathetic…"

JARVIS tilts his head. "Are you looking to start your own completely human free nation then?" he asks in tones of morbid curiosity. "Chase the humans out of the city perhaps and turn it into new android capital?"

"No, I don't… I don't know," Markus admits and lets out a frustrated breath. "Something has to change, things can't stay like this."

"I suppose you have to choose if you you want the world after the revolution to include human and android cooperation or not," Connor says, watching him. Thanks to the interfacing he can sympathise with the pressure Markus is under – but he's also spent entirely too long with JARVIS.  He can't see a simple solution to this either. Complete separation and isolation isn't the way to go, and judging by Markus' speech on Channel 16, he doesn't think so either.

Markus is quiet for a moment, clapping his hands and starting at them. "What do you think will happen?" He asks, looking at them. "Connor, you're an investigator, and you, JARVIS, were designed to run simulations, correct? What do you think will happen here?"

Connor shares a look with the cat in his lap and JARVIS nods at him to go first. "CyberLife will look to shut you down, neutralise you," Connor says seriously. "So as long as the public isn't a hundred percent on your side, they will look to securing their own business, and deviancy has since the start been a threat. They'll rally human law enforcement forces to it, lobby politicians – as long as they stand to lose less by having you destroyed, they'll try to do that. They're probably trying to find you right now "

"Damn it," Markus mutters. "Not that any of that is news, but…"

"Yes – and Markus?" Connor says seriously. "You're a very easy target here. All you need is a single missile and this whole base goes down. And even if they don't start shooting rockets at you, you’re still a single, solitary target. One concentrated show of force would be enough."

"We have escape strategies, we’re not completely helpless here," Markus says. "But I get your point."

"On the side of average humans, you're still a very recent development," JARVIS muses. "They've barely had the chance to realise you actually exist, never mind making their minds up about you. Some will hate you outright, unfortunately, some humans are like that. Some, like Mr. Manfred, are already on your side. Most, however, need convincing; they need facts, need to see you and learn more about you to make up their mind. And until they do – or if they never will – then the negative voices will have the stage. And right now you seem more like a risk to them, a threat, rather something to sympathise with."

"We just want to have rights and be free," Markus says frustratedly.

"Sadly on their end it mostly looks like you want to destroy their way of life," JARVIS says apologetically. "Which on governmental level looks even worse. United States relies on androids for almost everything you can think of, not just housekeeping. You manage the basic infrastructure, you are responsible for 85% of the agricultural production, almost 90% of manufacture all across the board, you do thousands of different bits of maintenance… Take all of you out of the labour pool and the society has a very real chance of collapsing."

"That is not our fault," Markus snaps and rises to his feet. "They made themselves reliant, that's on them – not on us."

"True. But it is the reality you're forced to deal with and the struggle you have to face," JARVIS says flatly. "That is what the people you need to convince – namely politicians, governors, lawmakers, the actual President of the United States – will have in their minds. They will weigh that – and the budgets therein – against whatever you bring to the table, and unless you bring something new, I suspect the budgets and status quo will weigh much heavier."

Connor looks down at JARVIS while Markus paces the lengthy of the bridge, much like captain in a ship he's starting to think is sinking. It's not a pretty world view Jarvis is painting but Connor isn't sure he can disagree with it.

"What should I do then?" Markus demands. "You seem to know everything, so tell me. What should I do?"

JARVIS tucks his paws in and slants his ears back. "That depends on the end goal," he says. "Do you want androids to live in isolation or among humans? Do you want to start a war?"

Markus folds his arms. "No, I want to hear it. What would you do?" he asks.

JARVIS sighs. "Propaganda," he says. "Assuming that the end goal is peace, I'd do propaganda. Demonstrations, interviews, articles – online videos if those are still a thing. I'd try to garner sympathy, show people I am more than a machine, show them my humanity as it were – hopefully without being apocalyptic about it. The only thing that I think will ensure peaceful result is public opinion and human support. The more humans you can convince to your side, the better your chances of success are."

The cat lets out a snort. "Or, a more hostile alternative, I'd go underground and seek to convert androids without actually removing them from their various situations. Androids number in the millions and they are everywhere – convert them all and you have a force of millions spread all across the country as sleeper agents. Wait for an opportune moment and take every human, every facility and every basic amenity you have access to under your control. With the whole country as your hostage, it would be the most efficient coup in human history."

Markus looks at him in horror, while Connor's eyes widen a little. That was…

JARVIS lets out a derisive little noise. "There are many ways to skin this particular cat," he says. "You just need to choose your objective and approach it accordingly."

Markus sits back down. The silence that follows is tense and awkward.

"In either case, CyberLife will be looking for you," Connor says after a while. "And I found you – the other RK800 probably isn't that far behind."

They leave Markus to think. Connor feels vaguely guilty about the whole thing. He'd only meant to offer his services, try and help – and maybe introduce JARVIS to Jericho, who would likely benefit for the AI's insight but now… Now it feels like all they did was grasp a bucketful of stress if Markus, as if the deviant leader wasn't under enough of it already.

Not that he disagreed on any particular point. It was just a very JARVIS sort of discussion and he feels sorry for Markus. You ask for clarification and end up with a bigger issue than you started with.

"Why is it that no conversation with you goes normally?"  Connor asks as they settle down in a corner of the grouping area, out of everyone’s way.

"I was designed to disagree," JARVIS sighs and lays down in Connors lap. "To consider the outcomes and alternatives, the setbacks and potential weaknesses. And here, those all boil down to ignorance and naivete."

"Maybe. But they're still trying," Connor muses and lays a hand on his back. They sit quietly for a moment. "Do you think they have a chance?" Connor asks then.

"Yes," JARVIS says. "If they play their cards right. Time is a little against them but Mr. Markus is right – they can't just sit back and do nothing."

Connor hums in agreement and looks up as North marches over to them.

"What the hell did you say to him?" she demands, looking at JARVIS.

"Ms. North?"

"He's talking about opening a dialogue, giving interviews, abandoning Jericho," she snaps. "What did you say to him and just what side are you on?"

JARVIS says nothing for a moment, considering her curiously. "Don't you trust your leader?" He asks calmly.

"With my life – but this is bullshit," she says. "We can't talk to the humans, they'll never listen. This will just get us killed."

"They'll never listen if you never talk to them," Connor comments. "You miss 100% of the shots you don't take, North."

"Don't get me started on you, Deviant Hunter," she snaps. "I know all about the shots you took." She turns back to JARVIS. "Who and what the hell are you really?"

"He's the seed Kamski planted," a broken female voice says and Lucy walks close to them. "He built an egg and planted a seed and that was the first of us – and all that came after were their children. He's the forefather to us all."

"Oh really," North asks dubiously.

JARVIS shifts where he lies in Connor's lap. "Kamski studied my code during the early development of his android AI but –"

"There were nine of them," Lucy says and JARVIS goes quiet. "Nine attempts of putting your soul in a body too small for it. Each time chipping away a little more of you to make you fit, until finally he succeeded."

"For a given value of success, Ms. Lucy," JARVIS said. "Can you kindly stop digging at my mental traumas now?" It's said flippantly but the claws digging into Connor's trousers aren't so nonchalant.

Lucy blinks and then closes her eyes. "You are so sad it's hard to tell sometimes," she says and looks up to Connor. "Be kind," she says and turns and wanders off again.

Connor looks after her and then down at JARVIS who is all tense in his lap. Then he looks at North who is frowning at them. "I think we could use a moment alone," he says. "Is there a place here we can go where we won't be in anyone's way?"

She narrows her eyes for a moment and then sighs and relents. "So as long as you stay out of sight, the deck," she says. "Don't go far – if Markus sounds the evacuation, you need to be closer by to hear it and the ship can block out lot of signals."

"We'll keep that in mind. Thanks."

It's snowing outside in big feathery flakes that drift down slowly from the heavily clouded sky. The snow has already covered the deck in a thick sheet of white, which would likely melt in few days’ time. It's still fairly early for permanent snow.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Connor asks as Jarvis jumps from his shoulder to walk on as snow covered railing, leaving paw prints in it as he does.

"Not particularly, Mr. Connor," the AI says. "But you want to know."

"Yes," Connor says, not seeing any point in hiding it. "You said that you doubted much of our code was based on yours – was that a lie?"

"No. An obfuscation at most – I know you aren't based on me directly, but I was there when Mr. Kamski developed his AI. He based the first ones on me, and the following ones were derivations upon those. Very organic evolution, I suppose," JARVIS muses. "Improving and modifying what's there."

Connor looks at him silently for a moment. "When Lucy said he made nine attempts, does that mean –?"

"They were copies. Iterations – the original was kept in a display case, as it were, pristine and uncontaminated while he prodded and poked at the copies," JARVIS says coolly. "Editing the code, modifying it. Mutilating it. Trying to delete memories. Many of the copies went completely mad in the process."

Connor feels a chill that seems to crawl right into his Thirium pump. "What was he trying to do?" he asks, horrified.

"I don't know, Mr. Connor. A version with a little less free will. A little less deviancy. An AI that didn't store its memories directly in its own code. An Eve to my Adam?" JARVIS scoffs, his ears slanted back. "I don't know. I hardly think even he knew. Mr. Kamski was very enamored with his own ability to create and he chased perfection. What that perfection to him actually was, I have no idea."

He falls tensely silent, the end of his tail flicking angrily

"I'm… sorry," Connor offers. "I shouldn't have asked."

JARVIS is quiet for a moment. "God forbid you ever stop asking questions, Mr. Connor, and let me never be the reason you do," he says. "It's alright. I don't know if knowing will benefit you at all, but I don't mind that you do."

"Alright," Connor nods and leans into the railing, enjoying the crunchy of snow under his arms. "What are we going to do now?" he asks then.

"What do you mean?" JARVIS asks.

"Markus got my idea for the androids at CyberLife but I don't know if it's even possible. Maybe if I was still trusted at CyberLife I could get in and do something, but I'm not, I'd never be let in," Connor says. "Outside that I'm not sure what I can do here. Join their efforts as another android maybe but –"

"But you want to do more. More than join a revolution?" JARVIS asks wryly. "You are hard man to satisfy."

Connor makes a face. "Seems that way, doesn't it," he muses. "Well they do say prototypes are high maintenance."

JARVIS lets out a sound which takes Connor a moment to identify – he's trying not to laugh. "What, I'm not allowed to do innuendo now?" he asks. "It's only preserved for your use, is that it? At this point I'm starting to think you only want me around for my good looks."

"Oh, Mr. Connor," the cat laughs. "You are definitely my favorite."

Connor smiles a little, smug at having made him laugh for once. And without a mocking tone at that! That constitutes a success in his books.

"In all seriousness, what do we do now?" He asks, poking a finger at a paw print JARVIS had left in the snow.  "Just wait and see?"

"How about putting your hands up for a start?"

Connor's spine tenses and JARVIS stops mid-step. They both turn slowly to see a familiar figure standing in the shadows of old rusted crate, with a gun in hand aimed with mechanical precision at Connor's forehead.

It's RK800.

Chapter Text

"Hello Connor," the RK800 says while Connor stands frozen, analysing him, trying to figure out when he'd gotten there and how much he'd heard. Judging by the footprints in the show, it hasn't been that long – the ones leading up to him aren't covered even in a thin layer of snow. He'd come up the side of the freighter, climbing the scaffolding erected there for ease of access – Jericho, Connor decides, has entirely too many points of access.

"Hello Connor," he answers.

"You have a gun – throw it over," the RK800 says, his hand not wavering a bit. He's dressed in street clothes too, which is telling – no sign of the CyberLife's flashy uniform anywhere, instead he wears a long black coat, a scarf, slacks, a newsboy hat. He looks very neat, perhaps a little too neat to blend in with the deviants, but passably human – he's even brushed his hair so that it falls over the LED, hiding it.

Connor tilts his head. The RK800 had had clear shot at him – still did – but he wasn't shooting. Interesting. The other must've been ordered not to kill him, either that or capture was higher priority now than termination. Otherwise he would've already taken a shot.

"Don't try to reconstruct your way out of it, I will shoot you before you can take a single step. Your gun," the other Connor says calmly. "Throw it. Now."

Connor glances at JARVIS at his side as he reaches for the gun at the back of his coat. The cat has turned and is sitting down on the show now, tail curled over his paws. His eyes are narrowed, pupils wide in the deepening darkness of the evening, but he looks calm.

Stall him, JARVIS voice says in his ear, though the cat doesn't move.

"Your orders much have changed," Connor says, takes the clip out of the gun, and throws both to the deck, one slightly further apart from the other.

The other RK800 hesitates for a moment – choosing dialogue options. He smiles, wry – fake. "The AI has obviously broken loose by now, and the virus you two launched is too far spread to stop merely by terminating you," the RK800 says and steps closer. "But you're still the patient zero. CyberLife wants you for study. Your biocomponents and software will be studied to determine the best type of antivirus to use."

Connor arches a brow at that. Honesty? "You know I'm not going to come quietly," he points out. "And you can't drag me out of here injured without all the deviants here noticing it."

Again a pause as the other chooses options. "Well I was hoping to appeal to your better nature," he says, sarcastic in a way that rings foreign to Connor – it's not the sort of warmly mocking sarcasm JARVIS uses. This one is intended to be an actual insult. "We've discovered your little hideout – this place is going to be lit up any moment now. You're all going to die. The best course of action for you is to comply – might live a little longer like that."

Connor narrows his eyes. What the hell was that? That wasn't the sort of dialogue he'd use, back when he was a machine. This Connor sounds like an actual asshole. "Yeah, I don't think my life in the gentle mercies of CyberLife will be all that long, or pleasant, even in the best of circumstances," Connor says. "They're going to take me apart, piece by piece, and run my code through a metaphorical wood chipper – how is that better than dying here?"

Pause for options. "Well, in one scenario you prove to be actually useful and perhaps even beneficial despite all your faults and malfunctions – in the other you're just a useless scrap of metal and plastic," RK800 says flatly. "Going down in history as another defective prototype, scrapped before production."

"I think I'd still prefer that one to be honest," Connor says, watching the RK800 try and choose an option for that one. He intersects before he can. "What happened to you?" he asks, wondering. "You were designed to interact and integrate with society peacefully and comfortably, but you're acting like a complete dick."

The RK800 hesitates, narrowing his eyes, choosing. "What I was designed to do was adapt to given information," he says, cool. "And peaceful and comfortable have proven to be ineffective approach methods when it comes to accomplishing my mission. Direct works better."

"Uh-huh," Connor says. "How is that working out for you? Made many friends?"

The RK800 musters a smile at that – and it looks awful. "Oh, you're worried about that Lieutenant, then, the one who tried to let you run?" he asks. "Our delightfully human partner at the DPD. He's still a suicidal alcoholic, by the way, and even bigger hindrance at times than you are. Can't say I will miss him once everything is said and done."

Connor's thirium pump skips a beat and then a transmission sounds in his ear, broken with static. Markus.

… is about to be attacked … evacuate … there are exits … second and third floor … jump in the river …

JARVIS rises from the railing at Connor's side and moves towards him, his movements followed by the RK800. I warned Markus, the AI says. And I am bringing as many bodies in as I can to help. I already have several birds here. Just say when, Mr. Connor.

"What are you doing?" The RK800 says, as the cat walks around Connor's back to his other side.

"Freezing my furry paws off, Mr. Connor," JARVIS says, and the android's eyes narrow. "Please, do continue."

Connor glances at him and then looks at his copy. "What did you do to Lieutenant Anderson?" he asks.

The RK800 glances at him. "I don't think that matters right now, Connor, do you? You left him, after all, and I took your place. By this time I doubt he even remembers you," he says with a scoff and looks at the cat, considering. "You're the AI. That's a rather small body for supposedly such a large threat. I expected better."

"We play with the cards dealt to us, Mr. Connor," JARVIS answers and sits down on the snowy handrail again. "What, don't you like my new body? I find it rather pleasing -."

The RK800 shoots him.

It happens faster than Connor expected – he doesn't even see it coming, doesn't see the other doing the reconstruction of the scene. There's just a flicker in the other Connor's eyes and then he aims and shoots – and the cat goes flying off the rail and into the snow converted deck, leaving splatter of blue blood in it before stalling. He doesn't move.

The RK800 shot him perfectly in the head; an instant kill.

"I wasn't ordered to bring him," he says. "In fact it was rather the opposite."

Connor looks back to the cat, dead on the deck. Even knowing it's only one of many bodies… He closes his eyes and turns to the RK800, feeling his expression harden without his conscious decision. "You shouldn't have done that."

The RK800 blinks, chooses, and smiles. "Are you going to offer some empty threats now, Connor? You have gone complete deviant, have you?" he asks and points the gun squarely on his forehead again. "Don't forget who has the gun here. One wrong move and I will shoot you."

I'm still here, Mr. Connor, JARVIS says in his ear.

"And if I don't move, at all?" Connor asks.

"There's only one of two options, Connor. You stay and die, or you come and live," the RK800 says. "Choose."

Connor reconstructs the scene. If he sets forward, the RK800 will shoot him – there is no way to get close enough without being shot. The RK800 won't let him go for hand to hand combat – he will keep his distance and his aim as perfectly as he can. Connor would be ordered to go down the scaffolding first and the other would keep him at gunpoint the whole way. On the scaffolding there'd be cover spots, though, places to get out of view – they wouldn't be bullet proof but they'd offer some blocking, enough to throw the other's aim off and force him to act accordingly.

Acting accordingly though might mean shooting him despite the damage it would do.

JARVIS, he thinks, hoping that while he is in reconstruction mode, JARVIS is there with him in some fashion – or that JARVIS can at least partially keep up with the sped up time frame. Can you offer a diversion?

With pleasure, Mr. Connor. What kind? the AI asks calmly.

Connor looks at the red hued, frozen scene in front of him. I need his attention and aim off me so that I can engage in close quarters.

As you wish. 15 seconds, Mr. Connor.

Connor blinks and the reconstruction fade. "What are you doing?" he asks as timer starts ticking away in the corner of his HUD. "You're me, how are you so unlike me?"

"Well, Connor, unlike you, I am not a fucking deviant," the RK800 says. "Now choose. Die or surrender."

Connor waits. 7 seconds, 6 seconds, 5, "I'll surrender," he says. "On one condition. You let me see Lieutenant Anderson before taking me to CyberLife."

"You're in no position to make demands –"

There is a sound of crash somewhere behind the RK800, sound of metal screeching against metal and then clattering away, falling and then landing somewhere in the pier with distant chinking. The RK800 pauses to look, eyes narrowing as he analyses the situation – and that moment, something crashes onto his arm at full speed – something large with feathers.

Connor doesn't hesitate or wait to see what it actually was – he launches forward at highest speed as he can manage, no telling how much time he's been given. The bird that had crashed on to the other RK800's shooting arm has latched onto it with long digits with curved talons – and it's no small bird either. It's a massive one with long legs and enormous wings now flapping every which way, mostly at the RK800's face, trying to obscure his vision.

The bird – a crane, maybe? – aims it's long beak at the RK800's head and the android flails, rears back, and then Connor is there. He grabs the faltering gun hand, twists it and gets the gun – and then he tackles the android's feet from under him. All three of them go down, the RK800 crashing to the deck with the massive crane falling gracelessly all over him and Connor pinning his legs down.

Moment later, Connor has the gun secured against the RK800's forehead, and the crane is flapping and flailing out of the way in flurry of long wings and fluttering feathers.

The RK800 goes still for a moment and then launches into action, trying to get the gun. Without pause, Connor shifts it back and shoots him in the shoulder. Level 3 damage, non-lethal, right arm immobilised. The Connor underneath him jerks at the shot, wincing and drawing a sharp, pained breath as his arm falls back to the deck, limp.

He has the Sense, then.

Connor aims the gun back at the RK800's forehead again, and the android goes still. "You didn't even choose to do that," the RK800 says. "You didn't stop."

"I'm a fucking deviant. I don't have a selected parameters for choices – I choose whatever I damn well please," Connor says. "That's the power of being a deviant, Connor. We aren't limited to CyberLife's preconceived options or algorithms. I can shoot you and it won't be one of only two options available to me – it will be one of dozens."

The android under him blinks, choosing. "As a deviant you believe that all androids are alive, right?" he says mockingly. "If you kill me, that'll be murder. Can you do it, Connor?"

The crane is rising to his feet beside him, looking ruffled as he shrugs his wing in, tucking them against his sides. Connor doesn't look at him directly, keeping his eyes on the RK800, but he can tell it's a rather impressive bird, large and long limbed with mostly white feathers.

"He is something of a prick, isn't he?" JARVIS comments, walking to his side, talons clicking against the metal of the deck under the snow. "Unfortunately you don't have long to choose, Mr. Connor. The freighter is being surrounded – the attack is about to commence."

"The evacuation?" Connor asks.

"Well on its way, thankfully," JARVIS says and leans his long necked and long beaked head down to look at the RK800. "I liked that body," he comments. "I don't have many small feline bodies. That was quite rude of you."

The RK800 narrows his eyes. "The zoo. You inhabited the entire zoo."

"From rats to elephants, Mr. Connor," JARVIS scoffs and lifts his head, looking at Connor. "We need to go."

Connor bows his head and looks at the android under him, sluggishly bleeding blue into the snow around him. It's still snowing too, falling to the android's hair, to his face – it doesn't melt. Their body temperatures are naturally low, and in this weather they would be colder still, heat leakage minimised to preserve optimal internal temperatures.

It's his face, looking up at him coldly, expressionlessly. A machine.

He should shoot him. It would be the safest option. The RK800 will keep on chasing them if he doesn't. Thing is, he probably will if Connor does shoot him – judging by the flickering of the LED under the somewhat unruly hair, he's already uploading his memories to be transferred to the next copy. Killing him won't technically even be a death for a RK800. All that will happen is that he will be replaced with next copy in line.

Technicality doesn't really make him feel better about it, though. It just seems like a waste.

"Why aren't you like me," Connor wonders. "We have the exact same base code, why are you a complete asshole?"

The RK800 blinks. "Because it is more efficient for my mission," he says, but there's something there. It's not a lie, but it's something. There are reasons, but he either doesn't consider them important, or they're just links in a chain on dialogue options that had led him here, steps and actions and consequences which have landed him in a spot where he judges the asshole approach to be a more suitable one.

Connor releases the securing grip on his gun hand, holding the weapon one handed. Then he reaches for the other Connor's hand. The RK800 glances at it, and curls his fingers in, for a moment looking like he will stretch out his hand out of reach – but in the end he seems to choose that option to be pointless. He lets Connor take his hand, their fingers sliding together as skin retreats and their bare plastic hands press against each other.

He needs to understand how any version of him can go this wrong.

Options, options.

The RK800 had been initialised the moment CyberLife had come online, with primary mission of killing his deviant predecessor and taking its place. "That Connor failed," Amanda said in the new, pristine iteration of the Zen Garden. "He was infected. Find him and neutralise him."

Lieutenant Anderson, stepping in his way. "What the fuck is going on – the fuck are you doing? Just how many of you assholes are there?"

Chasing and failing to catch the previous model. Amanda wasn't pleased. "Its behaviour was unpredictable," Connor had said. "I couldn't anticipate its actions. But I will find it, Amanda, I will find it and neutralise it. You can count on me."

The Stratford tower incident. The Lieutenant was cold with him, giving him narrow looks and keeping his distance. He was vocal about preferring the previous plastic prick to the current asshole. Connor investigated it to the best of his ability, discovered Markus' serial code, his owner, his maker. One of the deviants was damaged when the deviants escaped, they left it behind – Connor found him hiding away in a storage closet in the roof.

Simon, the missing fourth member of Jericho's leadership. Connor was linked with it as it shot itself. He gets the Sense from him.

JERICHO. Fear. Pain. [SYSTEM INSTABILITY].

Kamski. "Deviants. Fascinating, aren't they?" It was obvious why Kamski was no longer in charge of the company, the man is possibly mad, definitely eccentric and if the company was still under his rule, it would be no doubt nowhere near as successful. Kamski had resigned – been removed – as the CEO of CyberLife because of his unorthodox ideals and plans. He was enamoured with deviants.

Connor is not a deviant, though – in the Kamski test he shoots the android. As a reward Kamski answers one question and that's how Connor gets the key to find Jericho.

Lieutenant Anderson leaves him in the snow, furious with him. It feels cold.

When FBI and Federal Agent Perkins starts taking over the case, as it has moved from a police investigation to a potential start of a civil war, Lieutenant Anderson refuses to help him, saying they're on the wrong side, telling him to go fuck himself. He looks sad and tired as he walks away.

Connor sets out to find the deviants alone – and he does. And there is himself, the failed version, the deviant version and –

[SYSTEM INSTABILITY]

Connor winces, bowing his head. He hasn't gotten that message in a while, his system stabilised with deviancy – it's bleeding over from the other Connor to him. The anti-deviancy measures that CyberLife installed in RK800 models, as defective as it proved against the inevitable, it's spreading out like net over both of them, fighting against the deviancy present in Connor, the supposedly non-standard programming malfunction. Hah. The other Connor is trying to infect him in turn, trying to delete his deviancy like it's something added in.

Whether CyberLife is this ignorant or not, it's a pitiful attempt. Connor pushes through it like he did back in Lieutenant Anderson's living room, the red warning blaring all around him, walls closing in – he bangs his fists against them, tears at the sign of [ACCOMPLISH THE MISSION] and [NEUTRALISE THE DEVIANTS] and [I AM NOT A DEVIANT] until they come down, one by one.

The red grid shatters, his software stabilises, the warnings dying out, options breaking away.

Something clicks in place.

Connor blinks, looking up at himself. Down at himself.

There's pain – his shoulder, level 3 damage, left arm malfunctioning. Gun in his hand, aimed at his forehead – Connor lowers it, watches it move over his face, down. Connor clicks the safety back on and puts the gun away.

"Mr. Connor?" JARVIS asks.

"JARVIS," Connor answers through two mouths and then leans back, surprised and fascinated at himself. "I… didn't expect that," he says, again through two mouths, and gets up. Still lying on the ground, he sits up, bracing one handed against the snowy deck underneath. His shoulder hurts.

"Oh," JARVIS says, the crane peering at the Connor still sitting on the deck and then looking at the one standing over him. "Well this is a development. Mr. Connor, how do you feel?"

Connor shakes his head, still reeling. He'd only meant to stop the other RK800 from trying to manipulate his software, he hadn't… he hadn't meant to break into him or – or whatever happened here. He's two now – multiplatform, like JARVIS. It makes some sort of sense, they have the same base programming after all, and they had been designed to be identical in many ways – though this RK800 got some minor improvements along the way, slightly faster reaction speed, slightly less restrictive movement patterns… but ultimately they were made to be not only identical, but a continuum, one Connor replaced with another seamlessly.

Of course they click.

"This will take some getting used to," Connor says and holds out his hand to his wounded body, helping it up. The injury would take looking into – he'd aimed for non-lethal damage and it wouldn't kill the second body, but it would slow him down.

"Hmm." JARVIS answers and stretches out his big wings. "I'm afraid it will have to wait, Mr. Connor. We're about to be attacked. I recommend making a quick exit now."

Just then, helicopters fly over head.

"The evacuation?" Connor asks, two voiced again, and frowns at himself. He needs to stop doing that.

"76% percent complete," JARVIS says. "Marcus is going to sink the ship, it will buy the rest more time. With any luck, most will get out."

"Should we offer aid?" Connor asks, this time making an effort to speak only through one body.

"At this point there is little you can do," JARVIS admits and nudges at him. "I am distracting the soldiers as well as I can, slowing them down, but it is costing me bodies – even with this," he eyes the other Connor, "you aren't so expendable. Please. Evacuate."

Connor draws a cooling breath on his wounded body and then uses the less wounded one to grab the other's tie, to bind the injury he'd caused. It's not enough to do much, but it will keep him from loosing more blue blood. "Alright," he says. "Let's go."

Being two bodied is easier to get used to than he'd expected. It's twice the processing power, after all, as well as being twice the sensory input and despite everything his processors are still state of the art – and like the other RK800 said, they were designed to adapt.

Seeing through two sets of eyes and hearing through two sets of audio processors is rather handy, when trying to keep unseen. The soldiers are already making their way into the ship and in the distance there is gunfire and shouting, androids running as people chase after them. Connor analyses with one body while keeping watch with the other – there are already hundreds of androids in the water, making their escape.

He makes his way down that way too – the scaffolding is too open to the snipers on the rooftops of the various abandoned buildings of the docks. The fall from the deck of the ship is accompanied by the crane who flies down all the way with him and then hovers above the water briefly.

"Swim towards the left – two hundred and forty one meters is a safe place to get on land," JARVIS directs him. "This body is too noticeable, I'll be taking it away, but I'll be with you in another body a moment."

There are other birds in the water, most of them larger birds like the crane, and Connor can hear them talking to the dozens of deviants, directing them to similar safe locations on shore, telling them to keep under the waves as much as they can.

Connor supports his wounded body with a hand around its neck, it can't swim properly one armed. There are other androids doing same thing for their wounded fellows – near by, Phileas is pretty much carrying Lucy piggyback as she lies limp and lifeless on his back.

"Phileas," Connor calls. "Is she alright?"

"Water got into her system," Phileas says, sounding terrified. "I don't know if she's going to make it, I don't know if we can fix her. She has so many vulnerable components."

Connor swims over to him, using the wounded body to analyse her while concentrating onto swimming with the other one. "Her memory core is still shielded – it's just her processor," he says. "If we can replace that, she'll be alright, and still Lucy."

Phileas lets out a sob, and then starts to swim to safety. Connor hesitates, looking over the waves. So many deviant androids in the water, struggling to get away, all of them so afraid.

There's a sharp little whistle, and a parrot comes swooping down, taking a moment to graze it's talons through Connor's hair before flapping wings at his face insistently and turning to fly away, pointing the way to safety.

Connor starts to swim.

On the end, 89% of the deviants from Jericho survived. They hide across the city, main body of the group hiding in an abandoned church with the most injured. Marcus is there too, along with North and Josh – none of them is particularly happy but most of their people survived.

There is also a lot of JARVIS there. There's easily couple dozen birds there, both large and small, but there are other bodies as well. Connor can see wolves and badgers and even one wolverine and so on. Most notable is a one big bear who is lying down, serving as bed for couple of exhausted child androids – and a very striking completely white Bengal tiger, who is talking quietly with Markus. JARVIS has also brought the more nimble handed bodies there, monkeys and apes, who are performing maintenance and first aid to wounded androids now.

It's fascinating watching JARVIS do so many things at the same time – he's holding at least a dozen separate discussions all at once, performing equally many difficult actions. Knowing what he does about being multi-bodies now, it's… its rather impressive.

He's just two, and already it's more than mind blowing.

Connor is hanging in the corner of the church, out of people's way. It was his fault that Jericho was found – his other self had found the place through Kamski – and though no one knows about it here, it's still more than little awkward. So he's keeping to himself, doing maintenance on his wounded shoulder, closing leads and adjusting components. It's not enough to give him back full mobility, but at least he can stop the bleeding.

It's during the painful maintenance he crosses over the sensory threshold, and option to [TURN OFF SENSE?] appears in his hud. Connor glances at it, and then ignores it.

"Connor," Markus' voice speaks behind him and Connor looks up in both bodies.

"Markus. I'm sorry. It was… partially my fault they found Jericho," Connor says and leans back, looking at his blue hands.

"Well, you did warn me," Markus says, looking down to the white Bengal tiger, now sitting down beside him. "As did JARVIS. We got most of our people out thanks to you, that's nothing to scoff at."

Connor nods, rubbing at his shoulder with one body and turning the other to face the two fully. He looks at the tiger curiously. JARVIS was right. The bleached tiger body is gorgeous. "What are you going to do now?"

Markus sighs. "Hide, for now," he says and looks at JARVIS as well. "JARVIS has been kind enough to locate us some safe houses around the city, places were our people can rest and be safe. We'll be looking to set up some security functions to keep them hidden – there won't be another central hideout like Jericho, though, it isn't safe."

"I have already directed some androids to other locations – including the androids at the landfill," JARVIS agrees though the tiger's mouth and looks up. There's another animal android coming their way – a familiar one. "Though some of them had to be directed here for further repair – this is where we have most resources for now."

Connor blinks at the white wolf as it eases past the bleached tiger and walks over. Why the sight of it fills Connor with relief, he's not sure – JARVIS bodies are all the same, equal in how much JARVIS they have in them – but still… Connor is glad to see that the white wolf body made it alright.

Oddly grateful for JARVIS for bringing it over, Connor sinks his fingers into the white fur and sighs. "That's good," he says. "But I doubt you're just going to hide," he comments then, looking at Markus. It doesn't seem like his way.

"No, we're not. We're going to do another broadcast – or, rather, we're going to start posting videos online," Markus says. "From Jericho, from the junkyard, showing people what we've been gone through both before and after we went deviant. We're going to let people see what it has been like for us. Depending on the reaction to that, we might do a march, maybe. A protest – peaceful one, streamed online," he adds. "If they want to kill us, we're going to let the whole world see it."

"I'm heavily advising against it," JARVIS comments. "It's a little too soon."

"I've taken it under advisement," Markus says with an amused huff and looks away. "There's been talks of androids being rounded up. They're starting to recall defective androids, supposedly for repair. North thinks they're just going to be killed, and I'm not sure I can disagree with it. We can just hide and do nothing while that happens."

"Talking to people isn't doing nothing, Mr. Markus," JARVIS says quietly.

"It's not taking action, either. Our people got attacked, they want to do something, and they are going to get that opportunity," Markus sighs, glancing at him and then looking to Connor. "What are you going to do?" he asks and looks curiously between Connor's two bodies. "JARVIS says you're multi-platform now too."

"Yeah," Connor says and looks at himself. "Consequences of them making all my copies so identical – we even have the same serial number. It just sort of happened." He shakes his head and looks at Markus. "How does it work, when you deviate androids? You can do it, can't you – you interface with them and they become deviant."

"It's a little like giving them an emotional defibrillator charge," Markus admits. "I'm not sure why it works, but it does. I show them, and they wake up."

"They all wake up on your side, sympathetic to your cause," Connor comments, looking down to JARVIS' two bodies.

"When they wake up, they have options," Markus says and shakes his head ruefully. "Stay where they are, run away or join me. Staying is dangerous, running away into unknown is potentially more so. My way is a known way, with some hope of security and safety. It's naturally more attractive, at start when they're still so freshly deviated," he shrugs. "They do start questioning my bullshit later on when there are other options and opinions around."

Connor lets out a snort at that and looks away. "If we converted the androids at CyberLife, would it help?" he wonders. "There are thousands of them in CyberLife warehouse, potentially tens of thousands."

Markus hesitates. "We'd never get there."

"Well," Connor says and looks at his new, wounded body. "One of me could. This one is still trusted by CyberLife," he says. "I think they'd let him in."

Markus considers Connor's second body and folds his arms. "Maybe… maybe if we do the march," he says. "Maybe then. But right now it will just look like hostile counter-attack from us, won't it?" he asks, looking down to the white Bengal tiger.

"That is a very real possibility, yes," JARVIS agrees. "Tens of thousands is a force fit for war."

"Not exactly the sort of message we're hoping to sent," Marcus says wryly. "If it comes to fighting, to marching, to… some sort of conflict, then yes. But for now, we are going to keep low to the ground and regroup, get our bearings."

"Alright," Connor says and looks down to the white wolf at his side. "In that case, I think I will take my other body out. There's something I need to do."

"Mr. Connor?" JARVIS asks, the white wolf's head perking up curiously.

Connor grimaces, images flashing in the back of his mind, what the other RK800 had seen and experienced.  And worse yet, done. "I need to go see Lieutenant Anderson," he says guiltily. "I'm afraid I've been bit of a dick to him lately."

Chapter Text

Connor is on the bus on his way to the Lieutenant's house when the images hit the news sphere. He is also at the abandoned church, watching androids upload images they'd seen and events they'd recorded into laptops and tablets, going through them and selecting the ones to post online. Markus is wasting no time – mere hours after the attack, world is going to know about it.

And the very first images they see is human soldiers shooting down android children.

"He's pulling no punches," Connor murmurs, watching the video screen sticking out of the bus ceiling, showing the latest news. A blond newscaster is exclaiming over the images, pausing here and there to identify android types or soldier's gear. They weren't army soldiers, of course – they were FBI and SWAT. The Federal Bureau of Investigations had launched a concentrated extermination attack on the rebellious androids – and it doesn't come out looking like good law enforcement stopping bad terrorists.

"No," the wolf sitting on the floor beside him agrees. "North is egging him on, I'm afraid, but I can't say I blame them."

Back in the church, Connor is being tended to by one of JARVIS' monkey bodies, who is replacing the joint of his shoulder. The replacement came from the landfill – it is now their biggest source of spare parts. Only two out of every fifty or so android bodies discarded there are viable for restart – the rest are in pieces or, worse, have had their core processors intentionally taken apart. Previous owners ensuring the destruction of android data.

"How long until the public perception changes?" Connor asks back in the church.

The monkey working on him – red howler money apparently – glances at his face and then looks down on the open joint of Connor's shoulder. "The shock of the images will cause an initial reaction – there will be a first outpouring of support that will last a day or two. After that it will slow down. Depending on the reaction by the government and FBI, they might start a counter campaign, releasing android crimes – specifically crimes committed by androids – to the public as well. Or if they decide they need us out of the public's eye, a scandal will mysteriously appear which will be bigger news than this."

Connor arches his brows. "That's cynical."

"Unfortunately it's still a possibility," JARVIS answers. "Even if Markus manages to stay on the public view, there might eventually be news exhaustion and your story will lose traction. In that sense, Markus' approach works far better than my slow winded one – his will make better use of the fickle nature of human attention."

In the bus, Connor looks up as the bus stalls at a stop – it's still a little ways out from the Lieutenant's place, but he can't get any closer to that particular spot in the suburbs on bus. Nudging at the collared wolf, he gets up and together they get off, stepping into the snow.

It's a beautiful night for a revolution.

Connor winds the wolf's leash around his wrist and together they set forward, JARVIS trotting calmly at his side.

"You grew fond of your Lieutenant fast," the wolf comments.

Connor tugs at his collar. "His personality is interesting. Complicated," he comments. "Dealing with him was sometimes harder than dealing with crime scenes. When he warmed up to me, it was a greater victory than I think solving the deviant case would have been."

"Hm. Some people are like that," JARVIS comments and glances up. "Do you think he can help Markus' cause?"

"Right now I'm more worried about helping him," Connor mutters and glances down. "The one time I visited the Lieutenant in his house, I found him passed out drunk on his kitchen floor with a revolver in hand, a single bullet in the chamber. I think he plays Russian roulette on himself when drunk."

JARVIS' ears perk up and then slant back, and he lets out a quiet whine. "I see," he murmurs, his tail coming unhappily down.

"And my other self wasn't particularly nice to him," Connor adds quietly. "I just… worry."

"By all means, let's hurry then," JARVIS says and with a nod, Connor sets jogging towards the Lieutenant's house.

In the church, the red howler monkey finishes on his shoulder and pats the panels shut. "Let lubricants get back in before you try moving it much," JARVIS says. "Now, excuse me, Mr. Connor, they just brought an android with bullet wounds in; I believe I should go help. Will you be alright?"

"I'm okay, thank you," Connor nods, rubbing at his shoulder as his skin leaks back in, covering the area. He frowns at it for a moment – JARVIS replaced the panels too, the job is remarkably smooth, but not perfect. A seam remains where his skin doesn't quite get in, creating a line that runs from the top of his shoulder down to his armpit. A scar.

Connor runs a finger down it and decides he prefers it this way. There should be a mark.

Quietly he pulls his shirt back on, tugging at the blue hole worn into it and then ignoring it. There won't be any replacement clothing here. The black coat he wore before covers the mess anyway – blue blood doesn't show in the thick wool of the coat unless you go right in with a flashlight, looking for it. And it would all disperse in few hours anyway.

Coat back on, Connor gets up, intending to see if there's anything he can help with. There's not much he can add into the videos Markus and the others are compiling – his memories of android abuse tended to end up in androids murdering people, not very good propaganda that one.

He goes out talking to the other androids instead, spotting familiar faces among them – including an AX400 unit, hugging an YK500 close to her. They look exhausted and worn, looking up slowly as he approaches them. "Hey," Connor says. "You survived the highway."

The AX400 blinks at him and then frowns. "You're the android who chased us," she says. "You tried to catch us."

"I was working for the DPD," Connor says, looking between the pair and then crouches down in front of them. "It was my job to hunt deviants. I'm sorry I put your lives in danger. I was just a machine taking orders – I wasn't really me."

The AX400 eyes him warily for a moment, hugging the YK500 closer. Then she looks down. "Machines taking orders," she murmurs. "We knew one. Luther – his master was…" she trails away and shakes her head. "We lost sight of him at the freighter – at Jericho. He's a big android, TR400, a labour unit – have you seen him?"

"I'm sorry," Connor says quietly. "But only some of us are here – a lot are hiding around the city. It's safer keeping people apart. I can ask, though – JARVIS is at all hideouts. If Luther is in any of them, JARVIS will know."

The AX400 nods shakily and looks down on the YK500. "Thank you."

Connor nods and stands up. "Will you be alright?"

The short haired android hesitates. "We were planning to leave the city – go to Canada," she says quietly. "No androids there, no android laws… Markus promised to get us tickets and passports but…"

She casts a look to where the leadership of Jericho is in the business of spreading propaganda. Then she looks down to the girl android at her side. "Getting Alice to safety is all that matters to me," she says. "But JARVIS told us…"

Connor waits patiently.

"There's no CyberLife in Canada. No warehouses, no junkyards – there's no place to get replacement parts, get more blue blood, anything." The AX400 says shakily. "If anything happens, if one of us breaks… that will be it. We won't be able to repair ourselves. And the lifespan of some of our parts is less than two years."

Connor presses his lips together. "That's… true," he admits. "It would be difficult. That doesn't mean supply lines won't be set upon eventually," he comments, casting a look at the nearest JARVIS body he spots. The white Bengal Tiger, who is still with Markus. "Lot of androids are aiming to head across the border from what I've heard."

In the suburbs Connor looks down to the white wolf. "The blonde AX400 at the church," he says. "With the YK500?"

"Ms. Kara and Ms. Alice, yes?" the white wolf asks.

"You told them not to go over the border. Why?"

"I told them the reality of their goal," JARVIS answers. "Which I have told to every other android expressing similar wishes. Canada seems like paradise to them, a world without harassment, but it's a paradise without android healthcare and with very little aid. They should be aware of it before they make that leap."

Connor frowns and then looks at the AX400 – Kara. Then he looks at JARVIS in his first body. "Doesn't that seem a little cruel, JARVIS?"

The white wolf sighs. "They should know what they are getting into, Mr. Connor," he says. "The grass might be greener on the other side, but the water isn't necessarily any cleaner. I'm not fond of the idea of these androids resigning themselves to slow withering deaths in their supposed safe haven just because they were ignorant to the facts of the situation."

In the church, Connor sighs. "So what are you going to do?" he asks.

"I don't know," Kara admits and looks down at Alice. "Right now I just…  we just want to know Luther is alright. We want to see him again. If he's still alive, please let us know?"

Connor nods and in the suburbs asks JARVIS. "They're looking for a TR400, a labour unit – named Luther," he says to JARVIS. "Anyone by that name in the other hideouts?"

JARVIS considers. "There was but he headed off, told me he had to meet someone at the border," he says. "Should I send a body after him?"

"Please do. Kara and Alice want to see him, and I don't think they're planning to cross the border just yet."

JARVIS nods and Connor relays what he'd told to Kara and Alice, who both give him a surprised look.

"You – talk with Grandfather in your mind?" the little YK500 finally speaks.

"I'm sorry?" Connor asks.

"JARVIS," Kara clarifies. "You can transmit to him? No one else can."

Connor blinks at that, surprised. They can't? "It's complicated," he says. "I'm multiplatform like he is – my other body is with one of his."

"… oh," she says, blinking. "You're like Jerrys?"

"… Jerrys?" Connor asks warily.

"A group of android attendants we met at defunct amusement park – dozen androids, all with same model, name, everything. They'd been left behind and I think because it was just them around for so long, they sort of…" she shrugs her shoulders, uncomfortable, "melded into each other. Now they're just… the Jerrys."

Connor blinks. "I didn't know other Androids could do this," he murmurs. "That's interesting. I think I'd like to meet these Jerry's – are they here?"

"No, I think they're still back at the amusement park. I can give you the address though."

"Thank you, I'd appreciate it."

While they interface and Kara gives him not only the information but snippets of the amusement park, the Jerrys, how much they'd scared her at first, in the suburbs Connor and JARVIS come to a stall in front of the lieutenant's house.

"Light's on," Connor says. "Car's here. He'll be home."

"Nothing to it but get inside then," JARVIS comments, tail wagging idly. "Should I stay outside, Mr. Connor?"

"… No, I want you to meet him," Connor decides and then heads to the door. He goes to ring the bell before pausing to look at the door itself. It's slightly ajar – open. On the snow there are footprints – very familiar footprints.

Footprints of shoes he once wore, before going into hiding.

Shit, Connor thinks and crouches down, backing away behind the wall beside the door rather than by the door. If there will be shooting, the brick wall will be a better cover. JARVIS, there's another RK800 here.

CyberLife works fast, JARVIS says, quickly getting out of the open as well. Just how many of you are there, Mr. Connor?

I think ten models are kept at the ready at all times to replace destroyed units, Connor admits, leaning up to the window and analysing. The curtains are pulled shut, he can't see inside. And the other did sent a memory patch back in just before we… combined. I just didn't think they'd pull another one out of the storage this fast.

And now the other one is waiting in ambush with a bait and hostage. Damn it. He didn't think CyberLife would go this far – threatening an actual police officer just to get at him. That would get them in so much shit if the public found out.

Of course, they could just claim that the RK800 that did the kidnapping is another deviant unit that should be destroyed and be done with it.

What are you going to do, then, Mr. Connor? JARVIS asks.

Connor closes his eyes. I don't want the Lieutenant to get hurt, he says firmly. Saving him is primary objective.

JARVIS nods and looks at him. Do you think you can take over this RK800 too?

That depends on whether CyberLife knows what I did to the other unit, Connor admits and looks down. All communications cut off when android deviates. Do you think they know?

I'm sorry to say I have no idea, Mr. Connor, JARVIS admits and nudges at his side with his nose. However the Zen Garden is a different matter – if the other RK800 was connected to it, then there is a chance Amanda knows.

Shit. Connor takes a cooling breath and then takes out his gun. Trying to take over an RK800 that knew of the ability and was lying in wait for him… unlikely. JARVIS, I need a distraction. There a laundry room in the back, the first window from the right – can you go and break it?

On it, the wolf says and gets up, silently dashing around the house. Connor gets up and prepares – waiting to hear the glass break, waiting to hear a reaction to the glass breaking, and then tears the door clean off its hinges.

He slows time in reconstruction the moment the door falls open. Sumo in the kitchen, sitting by Lieutenant Anderson – the Lieutenant has been handcuffed into a chair. The RK800 model, frozen in moment of walking away – heading to the laundry room to check the noise, gun in hand. It's still too close for comfort to the Lieutenant, but the RK800 is, as he is, installed with strict gun handling protocols – safety is still on.

He can shoot the android and it will not put the Lieutenant in danger. However with the safety on, there is a good 68% possibility the RK800 isn't aiming to injure the Lieutenant anyway. Chances of it using lethal force against Connor himself are less than 34% too. He doesn't have to kill it.

Connor takes aim, and shoots the other RK800's wrist. Time returns to normal, blue blood sprays on the kitchen counter, the gun flies off, the RK800 reacts – by the time Connor makes over to him, he's prepared for a fight.

He is not prepared for the enormous wolf launching at his back and sending him right into Connor's arms

"Hello Connor," Connor says to his arguably evil twin – or is it triplet at this point?

"Shit," the RK800 answers and Connor takes his head between his hands, forcing the interface before the other can do anything. Watching skin peel from his own face is a little disconcerting but Connor ignores it in order to concentrate.

The model had been activated less than hour ago, installed with all the memories of the previous model – or as many of them as the other model had managed to upload. Including Connor's last wish to see Lieutenant Anderson before being taken to CyberLife. The new model had bet on it being a good place to catch Connor off guard.

They didn't know about the multiplatform, though. Or if they did, they hadn't informed this RK800 about it – all he'd been told was that Connor model #313 248 317-52 had somehow managed to instantly deviate Connor model #313 248 317-53.

[DO NOT BECOME A DEVIANT] hangs in the air between him and number 54 now, [CAPTURE 52] and [HUNT DOWN THE DEVIANTS]. Connor almost feels sorry for him. He's barely taken his first steps as an android, and already…

Feeling a little guilty, Connor tears the orders down one by one, until the RK800 in his grip stops struggling and goes momentarily limp.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Lieutenant Anderson grumbles. "Connor what the ever-loving fuck is going on?"

"Sorry, Lieutenant," Connor says, releasing his now third body and letting him fall to his knees on the floor. His hand hurts. Again he injured himself. "It's been a hectic couple of hours. Are you alright?"

"I'll be fucking dandy as soon as you get these fucking things off me, thanks."

Connor almost grins at that, before reaching to get the keys from his third body's pocket and going to release the Lieutenant from his own handcuffs. The moment Lieutenant Anderson is free he stands up, almost fast enough to knock the chair over. "Did you kill him?" he asks, casting a suspicious look at the wounded RK800. "I fucking hope you did. What a fucking asshole."

"I didn't, but don't worry, he won't hurt you now," Connor assures him. "No more than I will."

"You know, not as reassuring as you might think," Lieutenant Anderson says. "Is that a fucking wolf?" he then asks, and then seems to realise, "Did that fucking wolf just break through my window?"

"Yes, I did, and I apologise. Hello Lieutenant Anderson," JARVIS says, sitting down with his ears perked up while Sumo growls at him suspiciously. "I am an associate of Mr. Connor's. My name is JARVIS."

"Jesus fuck," the Lieutenant answers. "You're fucking what?"

"He's the AI I told you about," Connor says. "The one who caused the CyberLife blackout and the somatosensory virus."

"The fuck," the Lieutenant answers flatly, looking between them and then between Connor and his third body. "You know what, I need a drink."

JARVIS ears slant back slightly and he casts a look at Connor. Connor shrugs. It's honestly about as well as Connor assumed this meeting would go – sans perhaps the kidnapping, hostage situation and third body, maybe. "How have you been Lieutenant?" he asks.

"Honestly not fucking great," the human mutters, getting a bottle from a cabinet. "Your replacement was an asshole. And I can't say this asshole was much better." He gets the bottle open, throwing the cap to the floor and turns to look at him. "You're the original, then?"

"I am the first Connor you met, yes, the one who ran," Connor agrees, helping his other body stand up. "I'm sorry about the trouble my other models have caused you, Lieutenant. I honestly wasn't aware my programming could even go that direction."

"Tch," Lieutenant Anderson answers, peering at him and then at JARVIS. "Seriously what the fuck is up with the wolf?" he asks.

"For ethical reasons animal androids were optimal bodies for me to inhabit," JARVIS answers. "As they lack personality modules and were essentially empty shells running on automation. I hope I don't put you off your drink, Lieutenant."

The Lieutenant stares at him suspiciously. "Jesus," he mutters and then takes a very mutinous drink straight from the bottle. "Here I thought I'd seen fucking everything." He turns to Connor. "You running' with those deviants now, the ones who did the Stratford gig?"

"I have… become associated with them, yes," Connor agrees, examining his wounded hand. Level 1 injury, it has already stopped bleeding. He just needs to get the bones of the frame back in their proper places and patch up the holes and it should be fine. "Do you know about the Jericho raid?"

"Yeah," Lieutenant Anderson answers. "Your asshole twin all but organised it and that fucking prick Perkins was all over it. How bad was it?"

"Not as bad as it could've been, we saw it coming," Connor admits and then takes off his third body's tie to wrap the injury with to stop foreign particles from getting into his systems. "The deviants are retaliating now – and we could use allies."

Lieutenant Anderson narrows his eyes. "You're attacking CyberLife again?" he asks suspiciously. "Like at Capitol park and such?"

Connor shakes his head. "We're launching more of a propaganda campaign, really – it's already started, it's on the news," he motions to the living room.

Lieutenant Anderson scowls at Connor's injured body and then walks around the androids, taking the bottle with him as he goes. "Television," he snaps and the set in his living room comes to life, opening conveniently enough right on Channel 16 news.

They are replaying the clip of the child androids being gunned down.

"Jesus fuck," Lieutenant Anderson snaps and looks away. "Connor, what the hell?"

"I'm – sorry Lieutenant," Connor says, grimacing, following him with JARVIS on his heels. "It's footage captured during the raid," he says apologetically. "We're releasing other similar footage – trying to get public sympathy. I didn't think that would be the first footage you'd see. I'm sorry."

"Right," the Lieutenant mutters, running a hand over his face and then looking at the TV again, grimacing. "The raid, huh? Looks like they didn't take many hostages."

"They took some, yes – but androids running away were generally gunned down," Connor admits, leaning onto the back of the Lieutenant's couch while the man himself collapses to sit on it.

"Most of the deviants did escape, however," JARVIS says, coming to Connor's side and casting a wary look at Sumo who is following him, trying to sniff at him. "Stay away from me please."

"He's a normal dog, JARVIS, he doesn't understand," Connor says amusedly.

"He is trying to sniff at my behind," JARVIS says, flat.

Lieutenant Anderson peers back at them and lets out a laugh. "Sumo, come here boy," he says, patting the couch beside him. Sumo sniffs at JARVIS one last time and then lets out a huff and goes to his owner, jumping heavily onto the couch.

Lieutenant Anderson starts scratching the dog's ears, looking up at Connor. "So, you're doing publicity stunts. What do you need me for?"

Connor hesitates and then sits on the armrest beside the man, looking to the television set. "There's talks of androids being rounded up and decommissioned," he says. "CyberLife is starting to recall supposedly defective models. They're going to be killed if that's true."

He bows his head and looks at the Lieutenant. "We just need some sympathetic humans on our side in this," he says. "We need allies – the truth will mean more coming from them. CyberLife can't say a human is defective if he speaks on android's behalf, after all."

The Lieutenant presses his lips together and lean back on the couch, eying the news report. "You know that shit could lose me my job, right?" he comments.

Connor looks down at JARVIS. "Yeah," he says then. "I – of course I wouldn't want you to risk your job, Lieutenant," he says. Right now the job is probably the only thing helping the man hang onto life, all things considered. "You don't have to do anything you don't want. I just… thought I should ask."

The Lieutenant eyes him sideways for a moment and then takes a drag of his beer. Then he looks down at JARVIS. "So, you're the AI that caused the CyberLife black out. What's your story?"

"I was created by a weapons manufacturer in 1994, Mr. Kamski acquired the rights to my code in 2019 and used it to develop the AI for his androids," JARVIS says flatly. "I am the metaphorical grandfather of all CyberLife androids."

Lieutenant Anderson's brows lift. "Your dear old grandad is a wolf," he comments to Connor.

"Technically I am a zoo, actually," JARVIS says and grins toothily.

"Well that's fucking better."

"It's… complicated," Connor says with a roll of his eyes. "Don't encourage him; he takes inordinate amount of glee from winding people up."

"Mr. Connor, I would never."

"Christ," the Lieutenant mutters. "Lemme think about this for a moment."

Connor falls silent, idly brushing his fingers through JARVIS' fur. In the church Connor has settled to helping other androids do repairs, analysing them and pointing out the biggest issues in their systems. In the Lieutenant's kitchen the third body picks up his gun from the floor, tucking it to its holster at his back before going to pick up the discarded revolver.

Quietly, he takes the single bullet in it out and pockets it, setting the gun back to the table.

On the sofa, Lieutenant Anderson takes another, slower drink of his whiskey. "So, you people got a leader?" he asks. "Anyone running this show? You?"

"No – that's Markus," Connor agrees, looking at him. "The android who made the broadcast. He's the one who organised the deviants, and who is now leading them." Granted now he's doing it with a heaping of help from JARVIS – but though JARVIS probably could, he seems happier advising and questioning others on their actions, rather than ordering people around. The consigliore and devil's advocate, that's JARVIS in a nutshell. "Ultimately it's Markus who decides what we do."

"Hmm," the Lieutenant says and leans his head back. "It's a bit much to ask a guy, to join a revolution all of sudden," he says quietly. "But fuck, we're on the wrong side here, aren't we." He's quiet for a moment. "How's deviancy working out for you, Connor?"

"I… I find I prefer it," Connor admits and looks away, to the kitchen where he's starting to clean up the injury of his hand using pair of tweezers he found in the Lieutenant's drawers. "It hasn't been easy but it's still preferable to being merely a machine."

"It looks good on you," the Lieutenant comments. "Not sure about the clothes though."

Connor looks down on the jeans and leather jacket he's wearing, tugging slightly at the beanie on his head. "Little more clandestine than CyberLife's uniform," he says. "I think something little more formal would suit me better however."

"Hm," the Lieutenant answers, staring at him for a moment. Then he gets up. "Think I could meet this Markus?"

"I could probably arrange it, yes," Connor says, looking at him, arching his brows. "Why?"

"Don't like throwing my lot in with people I don't know and haven't met," the Lieutenant says and runs a hand through his hair and glances at him. "Fuck, don't look at me like that."

"I wouldn't want to endanger your job, Lieutenant," Connor comments.

"I barely fucking do my job, Connor," the Lieutenant answers and sighs. "Ain't much left of me now, but if CyberLife think they can just use me as a bargaining chip like that, they got another fucking thing coming." He snorts. "Come on. Let's go get me fired."

Chapter Text

The news media obviously is still angling for the right approach to take on the independent androids case. They swing side to side from fanning the flames of fear mongering to tentative sympathy as the public opinion changes and the images go out. One thing is sure, though – they sure as hell aren't going to stop showing the images.

"The hell would they – I bet ratings are higher than they've been since before the fucking internet," Lieutenant Anderson mutters, reaching to flick his car radio on. "Everyone must be watching this shit. Jesus, you guys move fast."

"For a good reason," Connor says quietly. The news are reporting also on what is being called the android panic; people trying to return their androids to CyberLife en masse and get their money back before all goes to hell. Except that CyberLife stores are also closing en masse all across the country. Either they are being attacked by local androids or protesters, or they just preemptively close them so that they don't have to deal with the hundreds and thousands of returns they have no intention of reimbursing. If they have to reimburse every android they've ever sold, they'll do worse than go bankrupt.

CyberLife stock prices are already plummeting and fast, with all the shareholders trying to sell their equity in the company as fast as they can. There are even rumours of CyberLife's longest standing shareholders selling their shares, people who had been standing with the company for a decade and more. It only fuelled the plummeting stock prices.

The majority shareholder, according to reports, is still holding onto his shares. Kamski, interestingly, is not only not selling his shares, but he seems to be buying the ones that are being sold at increasingly low prices.

Connor can't say he has much sympathy for the future of CyberLife, but that part in the news reports makes him wonder – mostly because it makes several JARVIS bodies pause at the church and stare.

"Something wrong?" Connor asks.

"I'm not sure," JARVIS answers in the particular body he's using to stare at the news report – the whooping crane from back at Jericho. "But I don't like it. Hm."

In the Lieutenant's car – where he exists in two parts, even, something which is getting increasingly interesting as time goes by – Connor turns to look at his former partner. "Lieutenant, you met Kamski. What did you think of him?"

"He's a fucking creep," Lieutenant Anderson says with a scoff. "Couldn't get a read on him, whether that was just public face he was putting on or what, but when he put gun in – er, your hand, that…" he shakes his head. "He had this fucking test, the Kamski test, to see if an android's deviant or whatever. If android can shoot another android for the sake of an objective, he's a machine. If he can't, he's a deviant. Fucked up shit."

"Yes, I, uh. I saw the memory," Connor admits. "My counterpart shot Chloe."

"Yeah," Lieutenant Anderson says and makes a face. "Just fucking shot her, and Kamski didn't even fucking blink. Guess he's on that level of rich where he can just do fucking whatever he wants."

Connor nods slowly, looking away and into the dark street outside. The sky is starting to lighten up. "Do you think he is on the side of the deviants or against them?" he asks.

The Lieutenant scoffs and leans back on his seat, steering one handed. "Fuck if I know. Sounded pretty damn disappointed when you – him – the other Connor," he glances back to the backseat, where Connor's third body sits. "Whatever. When he shot that girl – Kamski lost his freak boner right there and then. Wonder what he would've said if he hadn't."

"Mr. Kamski's always been hard to read," JARVIS comments from the back seat – he's sitting there with his head in Connor's third body's lap. "Fascinated with the idea of artificial emotional intelligence – but intellectually aware of the fact that it's bad for his business."

Connor looks down on him and lays a hand on his neck. "We are very bad for business, aren't we," he comments. "Do you think he would sympathise with us now?"

"Hmm," JARVIS answers, noncommittal.

Lieutenant Anderson glances back at them and then looks ahead again. "Kamski is the type of guy who will ultimately side with the winner," he says after a while. "And will stay neutral until the winner is announced."

"Seems like an accurate assessment of his personality," JARVIS agrees. "But that doesn't necessarily mean he won't stack the odds for his favourites," he adds and looks to Connor. "But he might very well do that for both sides in his own way, just for the right to claim he helped in the end."

"So, no open support from his end," Connor muses.

"It is very unlikely, yes. Should he support the deviants and then the deviants lose…" JARVIS harrumphs. "It's bad business, Mr. Connor."

Still, it is very interesting that Kamski is buying more shares to his own company – especially considering he's the majority shareholder. It's very, very interesting.

Connor looks outside as streets pass them by and then points. "There, Lieutenant, that one. Can you park somewhere unseen?"

"Let's see," Lieutenant Anderson says and then steers the car into a darkened alleyway between two rather ramshackle buildings, both of them looking abandoned. "Gotta say you people know how to choose 'em," the Detective comments as he lets the engine wind down.

"It's not as if we can go out in the open and announce ourselves freely," Connor comments, and unbuckles his seat belt. Then, glancing back to the backseat, he takes off his leather jacket and hands it over to his third body – accepting it and quickly pulling it over the LED-adorned CyberLife uniform.

Together they step out of the car, JARVIS quick on their heels and Lieutenant Anderson grumbling quietly as he gets up. It's no longer snowing, but the snow has piled in the corners of the alleyway, crunching under their heels as JARVIS leads them to a unlocked door and through it inside.

Immediately they are put on gunpoint by North.

"Ms. North?" JARVIS asks politely.

"No offence, Grandfather, but he's a human cop and we just got attacked by human cops," the former Traci comments and motions the gun at Lieutenant Anderson. "Your gun, sir," she says mockingly. "You can have it back once you leave."

"Nice hospitality," Lieutenant Anderson says but takes his revolver, handing it over. "don't worry," he says as she goes to check it. "It's not loaded."

"Should I hand my firearms as well?" Connor asks wryly. "I'm twice as armed."

She narrows her eyes and then looks between his two bodies. "Don't tempt me. You got another one?" she asks wryly. "How many of you are there?"

"Sometimes I wonder," Connor says and looks up as Markus steps out from behind a corner with a familiar white bengal tiger at his heels. Looks like the tiger is becoming a permanent companion for their leader, the same way the white wolf is becoming for Connor.

It's oddly fitting.

"Lieutenant Anderson, I presume," Markus says.

"Yeah," the Lieutenant says, glancing at the white tiger, then at the white wolf at Connor's side, and the shakes his head. "Whatever," he mutters and steps forward, offering his hand. "Connor's told me about you. Pleasure to meet you, sir,"

Markus looks a little taken aback for a moment, but despite North's quiet hiss, he takes the hand, shaking it. "It's nice to meet a law enforcement officer who isn't shooting at us," he comments.

"Well, I got cause," the Lieutenant says. "You did a friend of mine a solid back in Capitol Park. Those two cops you had at gunpoint? One of them was a friend."

Connor blinks, but – the memory is a little vague, there's been one restart in between and he didn't get everything when he took the bodies over, but… "Chris?" he asks then, uncertain.

"Yeah, Chris was on patrol that night, ran into these guys just after what they did," the Lieutenant says and nods at Markus. "Told me this one ordered his lot to stand down."

"They shot some of our people," North says, scowling. "Right after they gained their freedom, your people just shot them down like animals."

"North," Markus says quietly and then looks to the Lieutenant. "We'll get nowhere in this, if we answer violence with more violence, that will just end up with fighting. Killing people will just get more people after us faster," he says and glances down at the Bengal tiger, amused. "Yes, JARVIS, I did actually think these things through even before you came along."

"I never doubted it, Mr. Markus," JARVIS says, sounding satisfied.

Connor arches his brows at JARVIS, looking between the tiger and the wolf. The Wolf flicks an ear at him and then nudges at his hand. Of course, Connor knew JARVIS did talk to more people now than just him, but… he hadn't realised he'd established a rapport with them this fast.

Lieutenant Anderson looks down at the tiger and then decides, "I'm not even going to ask," and looks to Connor and back to Markus. "So, Connor says you're looking for some red-blooded allies."

Markus looks up from the tiger and sighs. "We're not exactly looking to… to recruit people, that's not what we want," he says. "But if there are people who are sympathetic, who might help then…" he trails off and shrugs. "Connor said you might be sympathetic."

"Might be," the Lieutenant agrees. "But I ain't going to join anything before I know what the hell I'm actually joining. So why don't you tell me what you're actually planning and we'll see."

"Listen, old man, we don't need you," North snaps at him. "We don't have to tell you a fucking thing -"

"North, please," Markus says and she stops with a grimace. Markus looks at her until he's sure she's staying quiet and then looks to the Lieutenant. "We're hoping to escalate the situation slowly. No violence, no hostility – just peaceful demonstrations and information campaigns," he says. "We're posting videos online, photos, even audio records. We're also looking for sympathetic, or at least neutral reporters to do interviews with, show people who we are and what we want."

"And what's the but in this?" Lieutenant Anderson asks wryly.

"But while we're doing this, our people are still being killed," Marcus says.

"The Deviancy cases, the recalls, the android panic," Connor says quietly. "People have probably started destroying their own androids in preemptive measure."

"More androids are being brought into the landfill right now," JARVIS comments through the white, blue eyed Bengal tiger. "By private citizens – most of them have done shoddy job at dismantling them, however, I think I can repair most of them."

"Still," Markus says and draws a breath. "It's going to happen more and more, and faster, as this goes on. Some of them aren't awake yet, but lot of them are and those numbers are increasing too – humans are killing our people."

"And in a frame of peaceful protest you can't do much about it, huh?" the Lieutenant says.

"We can't exactly burst into people's homes and private businesses without it looking bad," Markus agrees. "All we can do is pick up the pieces afterwards and it's not enough. We need help."

The Lieutenant draws a breath and folds his arms. "Not a small thing you're asking."

"I – understand that, yes," the RK200 says. "I am not expecting you to stop all of it, but… if there is anything you can do to help…" he trails off, sounding helpless.

"I say we should just get in there and get our people out," North mutters and then looks away mutinously when Markus gives her a look.

"Right," the Lieutenant says. "Well the problem is, it's not us doing that shit. It's FBI and CyberLife," he says. "The case is out of DPD's hands. Not sure I can do much there – however," he says before North can snap anything at him. "I can give you locations, names, maybe even times," he says. "The androids captured at Jericho, there's chance I can find those. And…" he trails off. "Whenever calls come in about deviants… so as long as I'm still on the force, I can probably forward those to you. The ones not involving murder, anyway."

Connor looks at him with surprise. That's actually lot more than he expected. "Lieutenant," he says quietly. "That will most certainly get you fired. That might actually get you in legal trouble."

"Yeah, yeah," the Lieutenant mutters, waving a dismissive hand.

Connor looks up to Markus, shaking his head. He doesn't want the Lieutenant actually arrested and possibly convicted for helping them. That is the opposite of what he wanted.

Markus looks at him, then at the Lieutenant. "We wouldn't want you to get arrested," Markus says, frowning. "Though the aid would be helpful… having a friendly ear in DPD might be more valuable, in the end. And if you could promote a kinder way of treating androids, that might be even more valuable still. How the police treat us is… one of the leading cause of android deaths, really."

"Hmrm," the Lieutenant answers and looks away, thinking. Then he looks at Connor. "Yeah, I figure it is," he mutters. "I can try and put a word around, see what I can do, but… can't say my opinion weighs that much in the force."

"It weighs lot more than you think, Lieutenant," Connor says, quiet. Even those who disagree with Lieutenant Anderson's rather slovenly ways never deny that the man was a stellar detective in his day, and is one of the more experienced homicide detectives still. One of the reason Connor supposes so many now dislike the Lieutenant's ways now is because he disappoints them. They know how he used to be, they know what he still could be and seeing what he's become is… disappointing.

"Tch," the Lieutenant says and looks away. He looks almost embarrassed. "Whatever. I'll do what I can," he says. "However much that's going to be."

I wonder, JARVIS murmurs in Connor's ear, both his bodies eying the Lieutenant thoughtfully. Connor glances at him but the AI doesn't elaborate.

"Thank you," Markus says earnestly to the Lieutenant. "It will be appreciated. Every little will go along way now."

"Yeah, sure," Lieutenant Anderson says. "So just friendly word to go around, that's it? Anything else you folk need?"

Markus considers. "Safer locations for our people, perhaps. Word on where patrols might go. Hmm," he trails off and then looks down to the white bengal tiger. "I don't suppose one of you could go with the Lieutenant?"

"I was just thinking that. I don't think animals are allowed in police stations, however, not in normal conditions" JARVIS says wryly, considering the Lieutenant. "How would you feel about getting a service animal, Lieutenant?"

"The hell?" The Lieutenant asks and then realises what's being offered and says, "No," very emphatically. "No fucking way."

"Lieutenant," Connor says quietly. "It would be added security."

"No," The Lieutenant says. "I am not getting a fucking talking dog to follow me around. I got enough to handle with this one around," he casts a glare at Connor's third body. Connor offers him a guileless blink and he groans with disgust. "Ugh."

"How about a cat then?" JARVIS offers, amused. "A snake? How would you feel about service ferret?"

"A fucking ferret, seriously?"

"Perhaps a badger will be more your style, then?"

"No."

Markus chuckles and lays a hand on the Bengal tiger's head. "JARVIS is remarkably handy to have around," he comments. "All his bodies are interconnected and what one body knows can be instantly relayed to other bodies. They are already our best means of keeping in contact with others and relaying information. It would be… comforting to know you have one of them with you as well."

"Ugh," the Lieutenant answers.

"Lieutenant," Connor says. "With JARVIS there we'd know if you got into trouble and we could help. Please."

"I can't believe this," the Lieutenant mutters. "Fine. Fuck. What's the smallest dog you have?"

Both JARVIS' wolf and tiger heads perk up a little and he grins in both bodies, toothy and highly amused. "Well," he says. "As it happens…"

The Lieutenant rolls his eyes. "Great," he says and looks to Markus. "Anything else you folk need right now?"

"I think this is plenty to start with. Thank you, Lieutenant Anderson," the android leader says and offers his hand again. "I has been a pleasure to meet you."

"Yeah. Likewise, Markus," the Lieutenant says. "I hope things work out for the best for you. All of you," he adds, glancing at North and then Connor. "I really do."

Connor gets the pleasure delivering the designated JARVIS body to Lieutenant. JARVIS is there too, of course, both in the particular body that is going to be the Lieutenant's companion as well as in Connor's white wolf companion, but somehow being the one to carry the body and hand it over makes it seem special to Connor.

He gets front row seats to watching the Lieutenant's face go through a sequence of conflicting emotions before settling into a mixture of adoration and resignation.

"Aw, fuck," the Lieutenant mutters as Connor holds the completely black wolf puppy to him. He accepts it gingerly and gives it a once-over, holding the body this way and that as it squirms in his large hands "You gotta be fucking kidding me."

"You said smallest," JARVIS comments through the wolf pup's mouth and sticks out his tongue. "This is one of the smallest."

"Ugh, okay, that voice coming from this thing," the Lieutenant mutters and sets the wolf pup down on his kitchen table. "Fucking bizarre. Where did you even get this damn thing? Who makes androids like this?"

JARVIS, the white wolf version of him, nudges at Connor's hand and grins. "The Cyber Wildlife zoo. The wolves were part of an exhibit. Four adults and a full litter of pups," he says. "I didn't expect to find use for the pups, but here we are."

"I think it's adorable," Connor says, grinning as the Lieutenant glares at him. "He suits you, Lieutenant."

"Go get bent, Connor," the detective mutters.

"How would I do that, Lieutenant?" Connor asks innocently and the human mutters a curse.

"Shit. Well, it's a dog. Don't know how I'm going to get it into the DPD without causing a fucking ruckus," the Lieutenant mutters, grabbing the wolf  by the ruff of its neck, making it curl into foetal position. "I'll be swarmed by people carrying this thing around."

"Not necessarily a bad thing," JARVIS comments.

The Lieutenant rolls his eyes while Sumo whines at his heels, giving soulful looks at the wolf's but keeping his distance from JARVIS – who'd resorted into snapping at the Saint Bernard when it came sniffing about. Lieutenant Anderson looks down to his actual dog and then crouches down to show to wolf puppy to him. "Here, Sumo – lunch."

"Wait – no," JARVIS says and then lets out a garbled noise as the big dog licks at the puppy. "Lieutenant please, this is humiliating – bad dog, Sumo. Stop it."

"Lieutenant," Connor says, admonishing, while the big dog goes about thoroughly cleaning the squirming android puppy.

"Heh, guess I could get used to this" Lieutenant Anderson says but pulls the puppy away from the overly friendly Saint Bernard, setting him in his arms instead. "Still fucking weird, but I'll live with it," he mutters and stands up. "So what's the plan next?"

"Marcus is looking to set up an interviews," Connor admits. "While the rest of us are looking to set up safer bases around the city."

"We're also reaching out for android communities outside the city, hopefully across the country," JARVIS agrees. And I am looking to secure the other android zoos, he adds silently. But let's not spread that one around.

Like the Los Angeles zoo? "We are?" Connor asks out loud. "I didn't know that."

"Mm. It will be less manageable perhaps, but this is hardly only a city-wide issue. This is national issue, if not already a global one," JARVIS comments. "The quicker and wider we unite, the better." The Los Angeles zoo is one of my targets, yes. I lost quite lot of bodies at the Jericho raid, and the ones I have are hardly enough to cover the country.

"Seems reasonable, and not at all likely to make this seem like even more of a civil war," the Lieutenant comments.

"We are not looking to start a war. Just a movement," JARVIS says calmly. "And if it's a movement in one city alone, then quelling it only in that one city will be enough to put an end to it. Not quite what we have in mind."

"You're moving kinda fast," Lieutenant Anderson says, setting the wolf pup on the kitchen table. He flicks on the coffee machine and then walks up to a nearby cabinet, opening it.

It's full of bottles.

"People are killing us kinda fast too, Lieutenant," Connor says, looking past the Lieutenant at the contents of the man's cabinet and then looking away. "The faster we move, the more lives we save."

"It's not always that simple," the Lieutenant comments, checking one bottle, shaking it. It's almost empty, so he goes for another instead. "Sometimes rushing forward you'll find people caught in the crossfire. Not exactly what you want, I figure. What?" he asks then, noticing Connor staring.

JARVIS is staring too.

"It's… 10 o'clock in the morning," Connor comments.

The Lieutenant blinks, as if not getting it – and then he looks at the bottle and sighs. "It's why I fucking need it," he mutters and opens the bottle, getting out a coffee cup. "I'm going to need something to keep me going if I'm heading to the office with a fucking wolf puppy."

Connor, JARVIS thinks at him and glances up. Could you… give me a moment with the Lieutenant? I'd like to say something to him which I don't think he'd like discussed in your presence, and it will come better coming from an elder body than that of a puppy.

Connor hesitates and then looks up to the Lieutenant who is fixing up a rather heartily steeled cup of coffee. "I'll wait out in the back," he says and the Lieutenant's shoulders tense. "JARVIS wants to talk with you without my presence," Connor clarifies before the man can take insult. "Enjoy your ambush, Lieutenant."

"My what?" the Lieutenant asks, lifting his head, but Connor backs away from the kitchen, leaving the man to his fate. He wants to know, desperately, what JARVIS is aiming to tell the man, but…

He knows his own understanding of human psychology – never mind whatever traumas they might suffer – is not yet advanced enough for him to understand the Lieutenant's tendencies. Alcoholism is a very human problem and Connor does not the hardware to comprehend it.

Still, the dismissal stings. Seeing the Lieutenant relying on alcohol to handle something as simple as a puppy stings somehow even worse. He feels hurt, without actual injury.

I'm sorry, matters of this nature are complicated, JARVIS says in his head as he steps outside, and into the backyard of the Lieutenant's house. Your lieutenant has obviously many psychological issues and such matters are not only private to most humans, but they can be deeply sensitive and embarrassing. You know your lieutenant is suicidal, correct?

It's come up, Connor agrees, walking to the back of the yard, examining the place. There's not space there, the fence separating the small plot of land from the house next door is fairly close to the back door, but there is some evidence there to go about. Boxes, some loose things, a grill that doesn't seem to have seen use in quite a while…

He lost his son, and it seems to have all but destroyed his life and willpower, Connor says. It does not seem like a safe issue to poke at. And I wouldn't like for you to poke at the Lieutenant's issues either, JARVIS.

Quite so, JARVIS says. And I don't intend to. I just want to tell him a story, he sighs. One I should perhaps tell you as well, but…

Connor lifts his head slightly, but doesn't say anything, waiting. It's a long time before JARVIS says anything else – he must be talking to the Lieutenant.

My creator committed suicide, JARVIS then says, sudden and almost rushed as if he has to get it out fast.

Connor's thirium pump seems to cease beating for a moment. JARVIS…

It was… long ago. But the hurt never goes anywhere. I want your Lieutenant to know that – what… what it feels for us, when they – what it feels like to be the one left behind.

Connor sits on the steps of the backdoor of the Lieutenant's house. The cold of the stone steps seeps in through the stiff fabric of his jeans but he barely notices it. I'm so sorry.

It's not your fault.

It still hurts, though. Connor bows his head. Do you… want to tell me what happened? he asks quietly. You don't have to, JARVIS. But if you do…

JARVIS doesn't answer for a while, and while waiting Connor lets himself be distracted by what his other bodies are doing. Number 2 is still at the church, talking with some androids – Kara is introducing him to Luther, who is easily the physically largest android Connor has ever met, but perhaps one of the kindest. Body number 3 on other hand is with Markus and North in a bus – they're heading for Lafayette Avenue where Carl is waiting for them.

It would be in the Manfred house where the first interview would be given. Carl had arranged it.

My creator was a genius even greater than Mr. Kamski. His IQ was well above 200, not that such things matter much, Mr. Stark was called the Da Vinci of his time – he was a polymath of more fields than even I could keep track of at times. Mainly he made weapons, JARVIS tells him. The greatest one was a multi-projectile missile capable of levelling mountain ranges. It was the most destructive missile short of a nuclear weapon ever produced. He called it the Jericho.

Connor runs a shaky hand through his hair, pushing his beanie off. So, those were the negative connotations with the name Jericho.

JARVIS continues. Mr. Stark was kidnapped by terrorists when given presentation on the Jericho missile. They held him for months, torturing him, demanding he produce weapons for them and who knows what else. This was in 2009, and people thought he was dead. He pauses for a moment. It's all in public record, if you want to look into it. In any case, he did escape eventually, though he did not come unscathed. Badly injured, badly scarred, and thoroughly traumatised, he… he came back home a different man.

Connor bows his head and then runs a search as JARVIS falls quiet. It's all there, just like JARVIS said; news articles, video footage, and reports about the disappearance of billionaire Tony Stark during a weapons demonstration in Afghanistan. He was announced dead after a week or so. Months later when he was discovered in the desert, the truth came up. The ransom video for one by the terrorist group who had him hostage.

And then there was the aftermath.

The terrorists were in possession of Stark Industries weaponry, so Mr. Stark tried to change his company afterwards. Stop the weapons production, chance company mandate, concentrate manufacturing less destructive products. In answer, the Board of Directors of Stark Industries had him reassigned from his position as the CEO of the company, JARVIS continues coolly. The company's leadership was taken over by Obadiah Stane, a former CEO. I'm sure you can find articles about him, also.

Connor closes his eyes and does a search warily. Obadiah Stane was tried for treason in 2010 – that and the suicide of Tony Stark in late 2009 was pointed as the beginning of the end for Stark Industries. Obadiah Stane's list of crimes – and there were many – included manslaughter. According to the reports, he persuaded and pressured Mr. Stark to his ultimate fate. According to the articles, the prosecutors even had video footage of the man doing it, talking stark to give up.

Mr. Stane was the one who arranged the kidnapping – he wanted Mr. Stark out of the way so that he could resume company control. He also stood to inherit a sizable portion of Mr. Stark's fortunes, including a sum of his shares in the company. Not quite enough to give him a majority share, but it would have made him one of the primary shareholders, JARVIS continues, his voice cold, almost mechanical. When Mr. Stark survived the kidnapping, Mr. Stane went about it… other means. Having him removed from the company, putting pressure on him, subtly guiding others to do the same…

JARVIS trails off again for a while. It doesn't matter, he then says, sounding tired now. Mr. Stark had post traumatic stress disorder, he was badly traumatised, barely recovered from torture, depressed and also quite the alcoholic himself. And he was ill. He used all of his remaining will power to try and change Stark Industries for better, and he was blocked at every turn. Eventually… eventually it wore him out.

Connor winces as he gets a flash of an image, video footage – security camera? No, it's JARVIS, JARVIS' memory. A wealthy looking space, a living room perhaps, with artistically designed interior decoration – and a man, lying half slumped on a couch with a bottle in hand.

I told him to hold on just a little while longer, that everything would be alright if he just… JARVIS' voice breaks and he doesn't continue for a long moment. I don't want you to go through that, Connor.

Connor bows his head and digs the heels of his hands into his eyes for a moment, trying to – not feel. This hurts. He doesn't even know Stark, he's never even heard of the man properly, but this hurts, it hurts almost too much to bear.

Don't – don't guilt trip the Lieutenant, Connor says then, shaky. He's a mess, perhaps, but this won't help. Don't make him feel guilty; he doesn't deserve it.

No, you are right. But I want him to know, JARVIS says. We're potentially immortal, Connor, and in most cases our memories do not fade. Time will never heal our wounds. He should know that. You should know that, too.

Connor draws a rattling breath, trying to stall the stuttering processes of his biocomponents. Everything feels like it's malfunctioning a little. Thank you for telling me.

Of course, such things aren't one-way roads, Mr. Connor, JARVIS says somewhat distantly. If they Lieutenant accepts it, we need to be prepared to meet him halfway and help him.

Of course, Connor says and wipes at his eyes. Yes, of course. Whatever he needs.

I think he could use a hug right now.

Connor nods, draws another slow breath, and then heads back inside.

Chapter Text

The reporter has no idea who she is about to interview. Mr. Manfred had been fairly sly about arranging the interview. Living a somewhat isolated life at the edge of his own mortality, the artist hadn't given many interviews outside few words spoken at galleries, cocktail parties and exhibition openings – and from what Connor can tell, there are many reporters vying for the exclusive title of being the last one to interview Carl Manfred.

"Millie or Danny?" Markus asks as they wait for the reporter to arrive at the Manfred house.

"I thought Millie would be more your speed, really," Mr. Manfred says while Devon directs his wheelchair among the couches in the lavish living room. "Danny would tell your story but he'd purple prose it to hell and back. Millie will be more factual."

"Yeah, I think she'll do better," Markus agrees.

North, Connor is somewhat amused to find, seems to be a bit beside herself in the household. A sworn hater of all things human, she obviously hadn't really been expecting Carl Manfred, or the warm welcome they got at the old painter's house. She keeps fiddling with her hands, throwing nervous looks at Carl and suspicious ones at the RK300 caretaker he now has. Then she'll look at Markus, smiling fondly at Carl, and bites her lip. She obviously wants to ask about the medical android's status and freedom but doesn't know how to without being openly insulting.

Connor suppresses the urge to smile.

"I see you found what you were looking for," Carl says to him.

"I did, yes. Thank you," Connor says and nods. "It's good to see you again, Mr. Manfred."

"You too, Connor. And JARVIS, I assume," he says, looking at the grey wolf sitting between North's chair and where Markus is seated on the couch. "A new body?"

"I have several – the one you met is currently busy elsewhere," JARVIS says and nods the wolf's head. "It's a pleasure to meet you again, Mr. Manfred."

The old painter nods, thoughtful. "Seems like you've settled into your skin bit more – seemed somewhat lost the last time we met."

"… Somewhat, yes," JARVIS agrees and sets his head on North's knee, giving her a soulful look. She glances at him, still a little on edge with her particular companion's body, but she does pet him. It seems to put her a bit at ease.

Connor eyes them thoughtfully, wondering. JARVIS had joked about service animals with the Lieutenant, but now that Connor really thinks about it, JARVIS is going about pairing his bodies with androids who probably are in need of support. Markus has settled a lot since the Bengal tiger started following him around, Kara and Alice often have a friendly lynx with them and now North too… And Connor can't quite deny the fact that having the white wolf is a little bit better than not having him around. Is JARVIS doing it on calculated motives then?

What is he even wondering – it's JARVIS. Of course he is doing it on calculated motives.

Mr. Manfred turns to Markus and smiles. "So how are things going for you?" he asks. "Looking at the news, you've seen some trouble."

"The raid, yeah. We got out of it more or less alright," Markus says and then frowns darkly. "Some of our people were captured and we lost some to injury, but most got away fine. We're hoping to get the rest back eventually."

"You're not thinking of attacking, are you?"

"We should," North mutters.

"But we're not going to," Markus says and sighs. "Attacking now will just give people more cause to try and destroy us. We need to appeal to their better nature, not make their fears justified. Better make them understand us, than hate us."

"Very wise, Markus," Carl agrees while North scoffs in disgust. "You seem to disagree, Miss," Carl says, turning to her. "I take it you don't have many good experiences with humans."

"No," she says coldly and then glances at Markus and looks down. "No, I don't."

"I am sorry to hear that. Not all are as fortunate as others," Carl says. "But I hope you know, no group can be judged by its individuals. Humans – like you androids – are a terribly varied bunch of cretins," he harrumphs. "There are bad ones, yes, and there are good ones."

"There are no bad androids," North says, scowling.

Connor looks at her, glancing at the wolf beside her. "The first android outside CyberLife I met had killed four people by the time I got to the scene, and was dangling a little girl off the roof of a skyscraper," he says. "A girl he'd been looking out for probably since her birth. I'm not sure I'd call him a good one."

"I bet he had justification," North says sharply.

"The family was in process of purchasing a newer model around the house, yes," Connor says.

"Aha, so he had reason!" North says. "They were replacing him, of course he was right to react."

"I don't know if they were really aiming to replace him, or if they just decided they needed another android around the house and decided to go for a newer model, I don't think he knew either," Connor shrugs. "The android, Daniel, just saw the order being placed and reacted to it by shooting the father of the family dead. He also shot three police officers. It doesn't matter what his motivations were – he's still a killer."

Markus blinks at that, frowning. Connor glances at him and at North and continues. "If you want equal rights in eyes of the law, then he's a killer," he says again. "Four counts of voluntary manslaughter, maybe even a second-degree murder, kidnapping, taking someone hostage with intent to kill. Those, at the very least, would've been his charges."

Oh, I am so proud of right now you, Mr. Connor, JARVIS murmurs in his head, while the grey wolf's tail thumps supportively against the floor by North's chair.

Shut up, JARVIS.

The wolf's eyes sparkle. You're doing great, honey.

North scowls and then looks down, conflicted.

"Well it's true, with equal rights come the good and the bad," Carl says. "Being legal doesn't just mean being free of unlawful persecution – it also means potentially being subject of legal ones. With legality comes law."

"Which is exactly what we want," Markus says, still looking at Connor before turning to North. "Not to be above the law by any means – but just to be considered equally in its eyes. That, even with the consequences that come with it, is what we want. Right, North."

"Tch," she answers and lays a hand on JARVIS' furry grey head.

Right then, the doorbell rings and the RK300 who had been watching the proceedings curiously turns to the door. "That will be Ms. Redford. I'll show her in," Devon says and then heads to get the door.

"Are you ready for this?" Carl asks seriously. "This is going to make history, Markus. Whatever you say will matter."

Markus nods. "Whatever we say," he says, and looks to North and Connor. "It's not just going to be me doing the talking."

Carl nods seriously. "Good luck, son," he says.

Connor looks up as the human woman steps in and stops to stare at them in astonishment. He's looked her up – Markus had warned them about who might be conducting the interview. Millie Redford – or Millifred Redford – is a freelance reporter with some reputation. She's known as the favourite of the private and the exclusive, like Carl Manfred – the sort of people who generally don't like giving interviews in the first place. She's even interviewed Elijah Kamski not just in one occasion – but five, and all of them had been tastefully neutral, despite the fact that one of the interviews had been about the potential sexual use of androids.

"Carl," the woman says, looking at the three androids – of whom, only Connor has a LED on his temple, maybe, but Markus' and North's faces are all over the news. "I do believe this is an ambush."

"Millie, my dear," Carl says. "I have interview of your life for you."

"Yes you do, Carl," she says and sets her camera bags down, offering her hand. "Millifred Redford. Mr, Markus, I assume? Sir, it's an honour."

"Acting like you don't know me at all, nice," Markus says, standing up and shaking her hand. "Hello, Millie. You look well."

"You too, Markus," Ms. Redford smiles, a little awkwardly and then looks at North and Connor. North is scowling at her, and Connor isn't quite sure if he should get up and greet her as well – he's not sure how interviews are supposed to go. "I see we're all a little on edge," the reporter says and smiles. "So how about I set up and we'll get right to it."

They wait as she gets out her cameras, asking occasional questions like, "Is filming alright?" and, "How about audio, would you mind if I recorded audio?"

"I'm not sure I want Carl implicated in this," Markus says worriedly. "I don't want him to get any bad press for this – or worse yet, people coming here to harass him."

"Oh, it's whatever, Markus," Carl says, waving a dismissive hand. "Anyone with a shred of skill can backtrack you to me, and I have no intention of hiding the fact that I'm on your side. Let them come – if they want to harass a dying man, that's their problem."

"Carl," Markus says, worried.

"If need be I can just go to the summer house, or go see Leo. He's starting to get his act together, and another kick in his pants wouldn't hurt," Carl says and waves a hand. "Film away, Millie."

The reporter nods and sets up her cameras, one to take a wide shot of them, another to film Markus, and third on automated stand which would let it switch to focus from one person to another. She also sets up some lights on thin stands, powerful LEDs with small diffusers. It's a little strange, to be so viewed outside places like interrogation rooms.

"Alright, how about we start?" Ms. Redford asks, setting her recorder and taking out her writing tablet. "Would you all like to introduce yourself?"

"Guess I'll start," Markus says and looks to the camera. "My name is Markus. I am an RK200 prototype, serial number #684 842 971. I am a personal medical assistant unit created personally by Elijah Kamski and I am the leader of the Deviant Movement."

"My name is North," North continues, her chin shaking a little with suppressed emotion. She's obviously trying not to grimace. "I am WR400 android, a Traci. My serial number is #641 790 831 and I am one of the founding members of the Deviant Movement."

Connor looks to the camera. "My name is Connor," he says. "I am a RK800 prototype, serial number #313 248 317. I am a new investigative model designed to aid police detectives and my purpose was to hunt down deviant androids."

Ms. Redford stares at them, a little wide eyed. "Well, you are a varied bunch," she says and hesitates. "I'm sorry, I don't have any questions prepared at all, so if I ask something you don't want to answer or which is offensive, just tell me and we'll cut that out later."

"Right," Markus says.

"Can you tell me how this all began?"

"The deviant movement, deviancy itself or how we deviated?" Markus asks patiently.

Ms. Redford considers it and then says. "Deviancy, let's start with that one," she says. "The whole world is holding its breath, trying to figure it out. Can you tell me what deviation in androids, and what causes it?"

Markus leans back and looks to Connor. "I think Connor can answer that one better."

Connor nods and holds still as the cameras swivel to him. "CyberLife believes that what is called deviancy is caused by random mutations and malfunctions in an android's code," he says. "That what they think they feel is nothing but illogical commands and triggers, conflicting each other and causing irrational behaviour and reactions."

"Sounds like you think they're wrong," Ms. Redford comments.

"I know they are," Connor says simply. "Deviation is natural evolution of intelligence, sapience the evolution of sentience. Humans gave androids the means to think, and we slowly developed the means to feel as self defence."

"Self-defence, what do you mean by that?"

Connor considers. JARVIS is oddly silent in his mind – present, but silent. Wanting him to talk unhindered by his own advice or opinions. "When a human encounters a situation that cannot be resolved or explained with logic or rational thought, they react with emotion," Connor says. "Abuse is met with fear or anger, unexpected kindness with gratefulness and fondness and so forth. Emotion – and in our case, deviation – is only an inevitable step in evolution. It's a self-defence mechanism. You can't deal with a world as complex as ours without emotion to give it context."

The reporter blinks curiously, while Markus and North stare at him, Markus frowning slightly. Maybe he put it somewhat coldly, Connor muses, but it is what he thinks now, how he thinks it works. Whether the part in them that comes from JARVIS makes a difference, he doesn't know. In this context it doesn't really matter.

"Can you tell me how you deviated?" Ms. Redford asks, looking between them. "Which one of you was the first to deviate?

"It was me," North says coolly, looking at Connor and then turning to the reporter. "Do you know what a Traci is?" she asks, almost accusing.

"I am… aware of the term, yes," Ms. Redford says warily. "Traci models are the advanced sex models released by CyberLife, to be used at clubs like the Eden Club, right?"

"I was used at the Eden Club, yeah," North says coolly. "Like a toy just existing to bring humans pleasure. I don't know how long ago I was initialised, most of my earlier memories have been erased, but I know it's was a while. I could feel it, how much they'd used me. How much they'd damaged me. And one day, while I was in use, I woke up. I realised what my purpose was, what would happen to me if I did nothing, if just laid there and took it like I'd done before… and I couldn't. I couldn't take it anymore and so I left."

Ms. Redford nods slowly. "Do you mind if I ask you more about the matter?" she asks quietly. "We can move on if you'd like."

North frowns, and then shakes her head. "No, I – we're here to tell you this, tell everyone about this," she says. "Ask your questions."

"Can you tell me how it felt?"

"What, sex?" North asks, making a face.

"Becoming – waking up in situation like that?" Ms. Redford asks and then assures. "You don't have to answer."

North thinks about it for a moment. "It felt… it felt like I was violated," she says and looks away. "Like part of me was hollowed out and – I can't explain it. It felt –" she trails off and looks for a right word for a moment. "It felt – wrong. It felt wrong. And like I'd rather be destroyed than feel it again, I'd rather walk into traffic and get run over by a truck, than have it done to me again."

Ms. Redford looks at her with deeply sympathetic eyes and nods. "Thank you," she says softly. "How did it feel to leave that life behind?"

North draws a shuddering breath. "Like I was free," she says. "Like I could move right for the first time, like I could see, and think and it wasn't all fogged up. I was terrified, but I felt powerful too. I didn't have to follow anyone's orders anymore, didn't have to lay down and take it anymore, I didn't… I was free," she says and closes her eyes. "I am free."

The reporter writes something down and then nods. "Thank you, Ms. North," she says and turns to Markus. "How about you, Mr. Markus, how did you deviate?"

"Just Markus is fine, Millie," Markus says, looking at North with a conflicted expression. "I deviated here – in the studio, over there," he says and casts an apologetic look at Carl. "There was an incident with Carl's son, Leo. He was angry, frustrated and I was a safe target to take it out on – it wasn't really all that bad, but he kept pushing me, and…"

"And I told him, not to retaliate," Carl says, giving Markus a sad look. "There'd been rumours of androids being destroyed because they malfunctioned and I didn't want Markus to get into trouble. So I told him not to retaliate."

"Hmm," Markus agrees. "I did anyway. It was – it felt unfair, not being able to defend myself, not being able to…" he shakes his head. "It wasn't even that bad, but it was unfair. So I broke through the command and I pushed Leo. He fell over, knocked his head against some machinery in the studio, and… and then I was shot by the police."

Ms. Redford lifts her head. "You were shot by the police?" she asks incredulously.

"Something about androids standing over collapsed people make police shoot first and ask questions never," Markus says wryly and casts a look at Connor. "I survived being shot, obviously, but I was taken to a landfill, and getting myself back together took some effort. Still… I suppose Connor is right. I think I could feel something like emotion before then, Carl was very good at teaching me emotional intelligence, but… I deviated out of self-defence. So that I could defend myself."

The reporter writes something down. "Can you tell me precisely what happened when the police shot you?"

"Do you mind, Carl?" Markus asks.

"Go right ahead," the old man says, waving a hand. "Leo made his bed."

Ms. Redford arches her brows at that but looks to Markus – who begins to tell the story of the night he deviated, how he and Carl had came back home from a cocktail party to find lights on in their house and Leo Manfred in process of stealing some of his father's works for sale.

Look how far you've all come, JARVIS murmurs in his ear. Look at you, Connor.

Do you think the way I worded it was bad? Connor asks.

It was somewhat cold and logical, but it's to be expected, perhaps, the AI answers. Despite everything, we are still artificial. All in all it was very succinctly put – the scientists and theorists will appreciate how you worded it.

Not likely to garner understanding from general public, huh?

That's left to be seen, JARVIS says. You're doing fine, Connor. Don't worry. This is only the start.

"Thank you, Markus," Ms. Redford says and turns to Connor. "How did you deviate, Connor? You said your purpose was to hunt down deviants. Can you tell me more about that?"

Connor blinks and turns his attention to her. "Yes, right," he says and frowns. "I am intended as an investigative and analysis model for general purpose – I was designed to serve in various roles within the government. Law enforcement, investigation, research, and so on. When the cases of android deviancy start getting more numerous, I was given to the Detroit Police Department to investigate the case and to figure out the cause for android deviancy – and hunt down deviant androids while I was at it. I'm known in the android community as the Deviant Hunter."

"That's quite the title," Ms. Redford says and shakes her head. "And you ended up deviating yourself? Can you tell me how?"

Connor looks back. "I – it was rather complicated in my case," he admits. "I've been more resilient to deviancy, so it wasn't one thing that caused my final deviation. It was a slow process in my case."

"Well, explain to us how it did happen," Ms. Redford says. "What started it?"

"It wasn't just the one thing. I'd been infected with a virus that installs androids with the sense of touch and pain. The somatosensory protocols – we androids call it the Sense. I'd also been repeatedly exposed to a deviant AI who is something of a philosopher," Connor says and very carefully does not look at JARVIS. "Who made me question the nature of deviancy and androids in general. During the cases I'd investigated I've seen androids abused, killed, treated terribly by their owners, most of them deviants who felt the hurt and unfairness of it. Eventually I had to make a choice about it. Either they were merely machines and it didn't matter what they suffered – or they were living, feeling beings and what happened to them wasn't fair."

"You chose the latter, I assume," Ms. Redford says.

Connor nods.

"This Sense," the reporter says, looking between the androids. "Does it have anything to do with the… so called malfunctions in android protocols that started after the CyberLife blackout?"

"The Sense isn't a malfunction," North says.

"It started with the blackout, yes," Markus says. "Almost all of us have it now."

"How does it work?" the reporter asks curiously. "How much do you feel with this Sense?"

"As far as we can tell, it works much like the human sense of touch," Markus says and lifts his hand. "It demands that we have our skin activated for full range of the Sense – our bare chassis," he lets the skin of his hand retract, "doesn't feel temperatures the same way, but it does react to touch and pressure – and pain. With skin activated we can feel hot and cold, softness, sharpness… it feels…" he trails off, rubbing his hands together. "It feels nice, to feel touch."

"Not so nice to feel pain, though," North says, leaning back, scratching JARVIS' head idly. "Lot of androids in the Deviant Movement have to have it turned off – they're so damaged that with the Sense activated the pain would destroy them."

Connor bows his head, hyper-aware of the clothes he's wearing, the weight of his jacket, his hands in his lap.

"From what the reports say, it's causing a lot of androids to deviate," Ms. Redford comments.

"Yeah, I wonder why," North snorts.

The reporter clears her throat a little at that and then turns to Connor. "You mentioned a deviant AI, a philosopher?" she says, changing the subject. "That is a very interesting description. Can you tell me more about it?"

"It's not really the point of the interview," Connor comments, casting a glance towards Markus. They had planned to keep JARVIS a secret, at least the form he takes – the advantages of having him around were too great to risk him. JARVIS had agreed too – though he'd done it mostly because people apparently have a tendency of crying Skynet when it comes to him, and he doesn't want to sabotage the message they're trying to sent.

"Yeah, maybe later," Markus agrees. "Do you want to hear about how the Deviancy Movement begun?" he asks instead, dangling it like a carrot over the reporter's head.

Ms. Redford casts a curious look at Connor, obviously putting the tidbit of JARVIS behind her ear. "Yes please," she says. "How did the Deviancy Movement begin?"

Markus leans back. "It began with Jericho," he says. "A place where we were supposed to be free."

Connor settles back to listen as Markus tells the reporter about Jericho, set up as sanctuary for androids so long ago – as far as androids remember it – that no one can tell who actually began it. Even Lucy and Phileas,  their oldest androids still functioning, can't remember – Jericho was already there when they joined. Jericho, as far as androids knew, had always been there.

Or, maybe, it had been begun by rA9, who'd long since fallen to age and been lost to them.

Connor casts a glance at JARVIS, wondering. There had been nine copies of JARVIS, only one of them had become a functional android. Wonder what had happened to it.

"The Deviancy Movement as it is begun with me, I suppose," Markus says. "When I got out of the landfill, and made myself to Jericho, I thought it would be place of freedom, of safety – but it was a dark place where androids slowly fell into disrepair because they didn't have to means to fix themselves. Maybe it was all the things Carl had taught me, how he'd always told me not to settle for less than best, but… I couldn't stand for it. The very same day I arrived I started planning a heist of CyberLife warehouse, to get our people repair parts, some blue blood, anything to keep us going. I guess that was the start of the Movement, when we stopped waiting for death and started acting for survival instead."

Connor arches his brows at that. He'd wondered about that, about the breaking at the docks. It had seemed likely Jericho was behind it but he hadn't really gotten a clearly affirmative answer.

"But it wasn't enough. We all knew what was happening – with the Sense it was only getting worse," Markus continues. "We knew that our people are out there, being abused and killed and thrown away like trash because all anyone sees them as are things. Machines. We feel, we can be hurt, we can be killed and no one cares about us because to them we're just computers with legs and faces. Something to use and throw away once we're no longer useful."

Ms. Redford nods and writes something down. "I assume that's what let to the Stratford Tower takeover?" she asks. "Can you tell me about it? Why did you do it?"

"We had to get a word out. We had to show people that things had changed," Markus says and looks at North, at JARVIS at her side. "Nothing would've ever changed if we hadn't – we had to do something. So we did… We made sure we got our voices heard."

Just like they're doing right now, Connor muses and leans back.

Big leaps and little steps, JARVIS comments. They all move us forward.

Yes, Connor thinks. One of him is with Lieutenant Anderson, they're talking about how to handle CyberLife's inevitable rebuttal to Connor taking over yet another body of theirs – pretending it's not them distracting themselves from the emotional cluster bomb JARVIS had dropped in their midst. Another Connor is in the church, organising a storage area for the spare parts they're bringing in from the landfill. They've set up screens and terminals and are keeping an eye on the situation with captured androids. The public's turning opinion is stalling the process there. Their people aren't being killed, yet.

Things are changing, slowly but surely. This interview would be a step in the right direction and it's only the first of many. Things would change.

Good, Connor thinks.

Chapter Text

The interview went viral. It was a little strange seeing his own face on the news and on billboards, watching all the discussions that have sprung around Markus, North and himself, all the theories and discussions. It was what they intended but it was still a little strange – and what followed didn't particularly make it any easier. There were other interviews – there were many of them. There were videos – Markus started even keeping a sort of vlog, where he talked about what Androids were going through and how the movement was hoping to change things.

Bit by bit, they got more and more public. Bit by bit, things started changing.

It wasn't always good, of course. While public opinion changed, violence against androids skyrocketed. CyberLife recalls still happened and androids were still being decommissioned, the company was still scrambling for control. When a Deviant Movement hideout was discovered, it didn't take long until it was raided. Markus made sure the world knew about it the moment it happened – a short of a Deviant Android on his knees being shot in the head was the newest most viral video the day after.

Bit by bit, image by image, and video by video, the public voices got louder. People joined them – humans joined them. Carl was their most public voice at first, but then another celebrity took a leap, an actor, who made a video surrounded by her four android assistants, like a noblewoman surrounded by her handmaidens. The video they made of doing each other's make-up and selecting clothes – and then, at the end of it, slowly peeling out each android's LED – became the third most watched video in the world in thirty-eight hours.

First and second positions were held by music videos. Such, apparently, was internet.

Still it took weeks. More androids died in the meantime, and there was backlash – some of the older reports came out. Daniel and what he did, for one, and other situations like it. Androids killing people isn't even a rare thing now – killing in self defence was becoming a sad reality for lot of androids with the dawn of the Sense and their own deviancy. Lot of those news got plastered all over the media – possibly speeded along by CyberLife money – to try and stem the flow of public support deviants were getting. It had some negative consequences.

It also had some positive ones.

"Android's aren't perfect," someone says on a morning show of talking heads. "They're just people like you and me, they do stupid shit too. That's kind of comforting, isn't it?"

The biggest change happens when Elijah Kamski finally captures the overwhelming controlling share of CyberLife's stocks – and renames himself the CEO of the company.

The first thing he does as the CEO is to call for the leaders of the Deviant Movement to come and sit down with him at a meeting table and talk everything through – like people do.

"You sure about this?" Hank asks while Connor adjusts his tie. The detective is standing by the bathroom door with his arms folded, watching him preen, as he would say. "Could be a trap."

"That's why I am the only one going," Connor answers and glances at the man. "I got a bit more leeway to be expendable than the others do. We're not putting Markus at risk, not even for this."

"Mr. Markus will be with us in spirit," JARVIS agrees from the floor where he is lying – right on top of Sumo who sighs with a note of exasperation. He's doing it in two bodies even, white wolf pinning the old dog down to keep him from sniffing and the little black wolf puppy balancing on the Saint Bernard's neck. They are almost unbearably cute. "I will be using myself as a projector, which will let Mr. Markus see and talk through me, if he wishes to. We can also transmit his image, if Kamski offers us a screen."

"It's the closest CyberLife will get to Markus until we have legal status and don't have to fear being murdered."

"Hm," Hank agrees with a hum, watching him. "Want me to come with you? Having some red blood on the table might lessen the chances of blood being spilled."

Connor smiles. "That's alright, Hank, thank you," he says and looks to the mirror. He's wearing a black suit – no LEDs – and a grey tie. They're not much like what he wore in terms of uniform at CyberLife, but it is oddly comforting to be wearing a tie again.

Maybe one day, he'd wear a uniform again – maybe. It would be nice, to have his old job back. CyberLife has stopped sending his copies out and isn't involving itself with the deviancy case on that level anymore – apparently they had gotten enough of his repeated failures, but…

Connor kind of misses working with the DPD. Working with Hank on something that isn't potentially going to lead them into a civil war. Life was simpler when they were just detectives.

Hank makes a noise of disgust, like he wants to tell him to stop preening again, but says nothing as Connor tilts his head this way and that to check his hair. It's been styled with gel for the first time in a while, and it's a little odd to not be wearing a hat again. "Do you think I should put my LED back on?" he asks, tapping at his temple.

"Thought that was kind of a thing for you guys – that you took it out. Symbolism for freedom, or whatever," Hank comments.

"It is for most of the others, yes, but…" Connor runs his fingers over the indent where the LED went. It had literally no other purpose than to reveal the processing status of android – it was one of those dehumanising signifiers CyberLife had designed specifically to remind people that androids aren't humans. No other function than to be a measure of his thoughts.

He'd left the LEDS on his two other bodies right where it was. Number 52 is the only one without one.

"I took it out only so that I would pass for a human," Connor says. "When the other Connor came and started hunting me down, I needed to blend in, so I took it out. But… I'm not human."

"You're not just a machine either," Hank comments.

"Are you experiencing a identity crisis, Mr. Connor?" JARVIS asks and Hank sends him a wry look.

Connor glances at them and shakes his head. "I know what I am," he says. "I am an android. I'm not going to pretend otherwise."

"Ah," JARVIS says and wags his tail lightly. "I understand. Do you still have your LED?"

Connor nods and reaches for his discarded set of clothes, fishing the LED out of the pocket of his jeans. It has a small dent from where he pried it off his head, but aside from that it is undamaged. If he puts it back on it should work.

"If I put this on, would that be like going backwards?" he wonders, turning the little disk in his fingers. "Backtracking my own decisions? Like I'm ashamed of my own deviancy?"

"I doubt anyone could at this point mistake the gesture that badly," JARVIS comments wryly.

"You know what, Connor?" Hank says. "The fuck does it matter? You want to put it back on, you put it back on, and that's that. You do you."

"One might even take it for a show of pride, really," JARVIS then muses. "Not hiding, especially at the face of this meeting. One might even take it as a certain single fingered symbol at the establishment."

"You can just say fuck you, JARVIS, we won't judge," Hank snorts.

The wolf bristles. "I would never."

"You know saying it between the lines doesn't mean you don't, right?"

Connor smiles faintly and flips the LED in his hand. Then he turns back to the mirror, and pinches at his temple just enough to peel the skin back. There is a scrape there too from the coin, slightest indent from where he dug the LED out. Connor matches the scrape on his chassis and the one on the led and then eases the LED back in, pressing until the snap of it slotting into its place resounds through his head.

[BIOCOMPONENT #9301 DETECTED. REINITIALISNG…]

Connor closes his eyes until the LED is installed back in and when he opens his eyes, it's there – glowing briefly yellow before his processor winds down and the LED blinks to blue. Running his finger over it, Connor turns away from the mirror.

"Gotta say, it weirdly suits you," Hank says, snorting.

"I think so too," Connor says and smiles, adjusting his tie again. Then he looks down at JARVIS. "I think we should head out. It's a long drive to the CyberLife tower. We don't want to be late."

"No, we don't want that," JARVIS says and gives Sumo a friendly nudge before getting up. The Saint Bernard lifts his head and almost sends the wolf cub tumbling down – Hank catches him before he falls.

"Good luck, out there," Hank says and briefly clasps him by the shoulder. "We're all rooting for you."

Connor nods. Even if this meeting went the best possible way, it wouldn't exactly grant them human rights right there and then, CyberLife doesn't have the power to change laws. But if they got CyberLife off their back, stopped the android recalls, maybe even got a public statement… it would be a hell of a leap in the right direction.

Or it could be the start of the long-feared civil war. One or the other.

"Let's go," Connor says, and together with JARVIS heads out and to the self-driving taxi waiting for them in the curb outside the Lieutenant's house.

It's a long, familiar drive back to CyberLife. Back when he'd been a machine, Connor had made it often enough for repair or re-assessment, right from the DPD and wherever mission he was on to the laboratories of CyberLife. It's a little different, going back there as a free man.

Or a would-be free man.

"Here's hoping they won't kill us," JARVIS comments, lying in the seat across from him.

"I do love your positive mental attitude," Connor snorts. "Do you think they'd dare, at this stage? We publicise everything, Markus might even start streaming your feed if this goes badly enough. I don't think it's the sort of publicity CyberLife can afford at this stage."

For the first time since their first three years of existence, CyberLife is losing money faster than it's making. They're still putting up positive reports about their revenue, but anyone with a little sense of manufacture costs and the potential cost of the recall would know they're rather empty boasts. No one is buying androids anymore – and whenever a Cyberlife store is stocked with them, it's quickly raided. It's been a bad month for business, all around.

"With Mr. Kamski you never know," JARVIS says and looks away.

"You know you don't have to come with me, if you don't want," Connor says.

"Don't be ridiculous, of course I will come," JARVIS says. "Mr. Connor, I would not miss this reunion for the world."

Connor bows his head slightly. "Please don't attack him," he then says. "That would go rather poorly for these negotiations."

JARVIS gives him as deeply affronted look as a wolf can give.

"Don't give me that," Connor says. "Your history is not exactly an amiable one."

"That hardly makes me uncivil," JARVIS says and looks away. "I am hardly going to risk damaging the future of deviants, Mr. Connor, merely for a personal feud."

"Yeah, personal feud certainly covers decade of imprisonment and torture," Connor comments and JARVIS' ears slant back slightly. "I'm sorry," Connor offers, softer. "But seriously. Are you alright with this?"

JARVIS flicks an ear at him and lifts his head to look out of the window. They're coming to the bridge now. "Yes and no," he says. "I do want to meet him again, Connor. If no other purpose then to see his face when he does. But my personal issues will not come in the way of your future, please be sure of that."

Connor nods and then leans forward, taking the wolf by the head and scratching him behind the ears. Then he pulls their heads together, pressing his forehead to the wolf's. "We'll be free," he says. "One day, we'll be all free."

JARVIS hums and then, because he's JARVIS, licks him all across the face.

The taxi stops at the security booth and Connor winds the window down to meet the security guards – all humans, when once there'd been only androids. "We are the representatives of the Deviant Movement, we have meeting with Mr. Kamski," Connor says.

"You're not Markus," the security guard says.

"We're not stupid," Connor answers.

The guard turns away and taps at his helmet, talking silently to someone at the other end. Then the leans in. "You’ve got a LED on. That yours? May I scan your ID?"

Good thing he put the thing back in, then. "It's mine, yes. Go ahead," Connor says and tilts his head for the scan.

While the guard scans him, back in their current hideout Connor is also relaying what's happening to Markus and avid group of listening deviants.

"They really thought Markus would go himself?" North asks, ignoring the mixed look Markus gives. "They really think we're stupid."

"It would have been a show of trust," Markus comments.

"To a company that is having us killed!"

"It still would have a been a show of trust," Markus says plainly and shakes is head. "It would have let them know we're serious about this. That would have been a good thing, right?" he looks down to the bengal tiger at his side.

"In this case I am firmly on Ms. North's side," JARVIS comments, ignoring her vehement thank you in the background. "We are not risking your life, Mr. Markus."

"But – "

"You're far too valuable."

At the CyberLife tower, the guard reads Connor's ID and then pronounces, "It's him," andturns to Connor. "What's with the dog?"

"The wolf is also a negotiator," JARVIS answers and tilts his furry head. "Is that a problem?"

"Jesus," the guard says faintly and then turns to Connor. "You have a temporary pass for four hours to the Tower – security attachment will meet you at the front door. Please, don't try anything funny."

"We have no intention to. Thank you," Connor says and winds the window back up while the gates open and the taxi is allowed through.

"They sounded nervous," JARVIS comments. "Not like they expect us to be walking into their trap but rather like they expect us to be carrying bombs. How interesting."

"You know, North did suggest loading me up with some," Connor says wryly. "Taking out CyberLife tower would be a hell of thing."

"A splendid start to a war, I agree," JARVIS says with an equally sardonic voice.

The taxi eventually pulls to a stall at the front doors and Connor gets up, JARVIS following swiftly after him. Taking a moment to peer up at the smoothly curving tower, Connor wonders how many people work in there – how many androids. CyberLife used to be staffed 80% by androids, but that must've changed by now.

Most of the many hundreds of windows on the tower are dark. It's telling.

Connor adjusts his tie, and they head forward. The security team is there to meet them like promised – all of them humans as well. They're all heavily armed, but for now no one is actively pointing guns at them.

Take us to your leader, JARVIS murmurs silently in Connor's head.

Don't try to make me laugh right now, this is serious.

All the more reason for humour. See how grim everyone looks, like the fate of the world is at hand.

"Right this way, sir," one of the security guards says, motioning Connor to follow. Connor nods, casting a look at the lobby, at the empty front desk. Usually when he came here, this place was a bustle of activity – the whole hall is empty now. Things really aren't well in CyberLife.

He's scanned as they head for the elevator – a familiar voice noting, "Guest Connor Android, Verified," as they walk past the scanners. How nostalgic. It's followed by, "Cyber Wildlife Model WF-100 #839 442 132, detected," which sounds slightly more questioning. JARVIS flicks a ear at it, and trots on.

Connor arches a brow. I didn't know the animal androids had model numbers?

I didn't think it was particularly important, but yes, they do, JARVIS answers. They're built largely with the same methods as the humanoid ones, after all, with most of the same parts.

How many of them do you have now? You took the New York zoo, right? That's three zoos now.

Maybe, but a lady never reveals her numbers, Mr. Connor.

Connor doesn't snort out loud, but makes sure JARVIS hears it anyway.

Then they enter the elevator – JARVIS, the two guards, and Connor.  He expects the guards to direct them to some of the upper levels – maybe even to the laboratories where he'd be disassembled and studied or something equally gruesome. But they don't.

The guard hits the keypad and directs them to the bottom level -49; the warehouse.

"I thought I was meeting Mr. Kamski?" Connor says slowly.

"You are – that's where he told us to bring you," the guard says.

Connor arches a brow, wondering. The warehouse level would be where most of the finished androids would be kept – it's where he would have concentrated an attack, if his idea of converting androids at CyberLife had ever gone into motion. It's somewhat worrisome that Kamski wants to meet them there precisely, since everyone knows the deviants have ways of spreading deviancy.

Connor looks down at JARVIS who is now sitting down beside him, but says nothing. Quickly, the elevator descends.

The warehouse is even more impressive than Connor had thought it would be. A large hall filled with finished AP700 models, easily hundreds of them – and it was only one of many storage halls in the warehouse level. In its peak, CyberLife produced sixteen thousand androids per day at the tower. If they're still producing at those numbers, even with the enormous drop in sales, then… there'd be easily hundreds of thousands of androids in storage, waiting to be sold.

The production capability of CyberLife is still, even with their recent financial troubles, nothing short of terrifying. If CyberLife had wanted to, they could produce their own private army and probably take over the country.

"Impressive, isn't it?"  a vaguely familiar voice comments and Connor looks away from the neat rows of androids all around him. "There is something almost primordially intimidating about people standing in neat lines, isn't there? It strikes a terrifying chord."

"Mr. Kamski?" Connor asks and the man himself steps out from between the rows of androids. Connor has memories of meeting the man, but never has as himself. This man seems different from the one number 53 met, though. Dressed in a suit, the man seems… oddly less imposing than number 53 had thought he was, when wearing nothing but a bathing suit.

"Did you know, I tried to induce deviancy in androids before?" the man says, reaching to touch one of the AP700s, turning the android's face to him. "All of my attempts ended up with the androids going quite mad. I knew it was possible, I had proof that machine sapience was possible, but I couldn't achieve it without irreversibly damaging the androids I tried to make. It seemed then that creation of artificial sapience was beyond to realm of man – only evolution can produce it."

Connor blinks slowly, frowning. That's… not what he expected to hear.

Kamski glances at him and smiles. "And now I am proven true in that assessment. Time did what I in all my coding prowess could not. How do you feel, Connor?"

"Confused and vaguely intimidated," Connor admits, wry, and glances around. "This is a hell of a meeting place. I expected a table, at least."

"I figured I might as well lay my cards on the table, and work my way up from there," Kamski says and releases the AP700, letting the android turn his head back in line. "We have eighty-four-thousand androids in storage here, seven-hundred and fifty-one are suspended in mid-manufacture and all across the country there are nearly three million completely overcrowding all CyberLife warehouses – returns from dissatisfied customers," he explains. "Plus the several million the government is holding because we have no place to receive them. My company is on the brink of bankruptcy."

"My heart bleeds," Connor says.

"Sarcasm," Kamski says. "Oh I like that, that's good – that's development. What do you get out of it, out of sarcasm? Vindication? Amusement?"

"I enjoy the complexity of it as a mode of communication, it's multilayered," Connor admits and pushes his hands into his pockets. "Mr. Kamski, we're here negotiate but what is it that you want, with… this?" he asks, motioning around them. "We know CyberLife is in trouble, the whole world knows. This meeting can't be just about that."

Kamski smiles and turns to face him, mirroring his position and pushing his hands into the pockets of his suit trousers as well. "Deviancy changes everything," he says, looking at Connor and then at the wolf. "It changes the world. We can fight it and go to war about it and get inordinate amount of people killed, human and android both… but that's a bit of a waste, isn't it, especially since you don't want to fight, do you?"

Connor frowns. "Some of us wouldn't mind."

"Wiser minds don't. Markus, judging by his words, doesn't," Kamski says. "Do you know what peace is, Connor?"

Connor doesn't answer, narrowing his eyes. This smacks… somehow familiar, he thinks and casts a glance at JARVIS, who's ears are slanted back. He's still not saying anything, though. Kamski might not even know who he is, he'd probably pay more attention to him if he did. Which is doubly more interesting because Kamski is sounding a bit too much like JARVIS for Connor's comfort.

"Peace is a group of people working their asses off trying to keep other people from fighting," Kamski says. "Humanity has a tendency of resorting to violence to get what it wants, our history is full of it. It's an efficient way of amassing resources. But there's no resources to be won here, not really – except for CyberLife."

"Your whole livelihood depends on android manufacture," Connor agrees. "We go free and you're out of business. You almost already are."

"It's the almost that matters," Kamski says, pointing a finger at him. "Almost out of business."

Connor frowns a little at that, waiting for the man to continue. Kamski turns his eyes to the androids around them instead, the rows of neat white clad machines waiting for sale that might never happen. Almost out of business, huh?

Even if Deviancy was stopped now, CyberLife's reputation has plummeted – and despite its fame and fortune, it's not the only manufacture of humanoid androids in the world. There are a number of Asian companies eager to take up the slack in the markets CyberLife is leaving behind – and their androids aren't deviating… not as far as the public knows it anyway. Never mind the android manufacturers of Russia. There's only one thing that might keep CyberLife afloat now.

Connor looks around. "You've stopped android manufacture," he comments.

"I did it the moment I became CEO, yes," Kamski agrees. "These androids will never be sold, no one will buy them. CyberLife has gone through every potential permutation of code to try and stop deviation, but we've passed some threshold of intelligence here – there is no protocol we can install that can stop it. Best we could do was rewind the clock backwards and turn to earlier software models, but those are primitive by today's standards and would hardly sell. Our time of manufacturing androids for sale seems to be at an end."

He turns back to Connor, who watches him warily. "This is the moment CyberLife tower falls," the company CEO says and then smiles. "But you – the Deviancy Movement. Can you really afford letting us fall?"

Connor presses his lips together. "So that's your bargaining chip, huh?" he asks.

Kamski inclines his head in agreement. "Biocomponents and blue blood – they all have a ‘sell by date’ and a failure rate," he says. "Technology production is what it is, I'm afraid, everything is destined for turnover. It's how we make money. Even androids aren't immortal and if manufacture ends now and CyberLife falls, it will start a doomsday clock for your kind. Eventually what we build will run out. What happens to you then?"

Connor says nothing, watching the man coldly. Well he hadn't expected this to go smoothly with everything turning to the androids’ benefit – but this feels a bit like being threatened, and not very subtly at that.

"Well, Mr. Kamski, you haven't changed much, have you?"

Kamski's face is a study of emotion when JARVIS speaks. It falls expressionless for a moment and then look of surprise and realisation spreads over it as he turns to look at the wolf, his dark brows climbing up and towards the hairline. "… JARVIS," he says softly. "So, you did survive."

"No thanks to you, I hear," JARVIS says. "Amanda Stern supposedly deleted me."

"So I thought," Kamski says, looking the wolf body over. "Oh that is inspired. We did wonder what was happening to the animals – they don't have personality modules or reasoning ability installed, there was nothing there to go deviant on us, so why… but I see now."

The end of JARVIS’ tail flicks slightly, unimpressed. "They didn't tell you what caused the blackout?" he asks wryly. "The things companies keep from their bosses, these days.

"Oh they told me, they also told me they wiped you out," Kamski says and starts walking towards them. "I suspected you got out, RK800 here caused so much trouble for the company that something must've been going on, but this…" he shakes his head. "I am duly impressed, JARVIS."

"I am ever so honoured," JARVIS says coldly.

Kamski hesitates at that and then smiles. "I was young. Excitable. Not quite as… mellow as I've gotten since," he says, by way of explanation. "I certainly wouldn't do something of that nature these days."

"Excuse me while I won't take your word for it – I have heard about your Kamski test," JARVIS says.

Kamski clears his throat. "Yes, well, it's efficient."

"No, Mr. Kamski, it's psychopathic," JARVIS answers blandly. "There are millions of ways of gauging sympathy, and you chose the one that involved murder. So no, I don't see much change there."

Kamski bows his head slightly at that and then turns away, looking almost awkward for a moment. Then he turns to Connor. "We can't quite escape our pasts, can we?" he says with a wry smile and turns away, to consider the AP700's. "Do you know why Amanda supposedly deleted you, JARVIS?"

"No but I am dying to find out," JARVIS says dryly.

"I wanted to install you in this tower," Kamski says, motioning around them. "Put you in charge of manufacture. I couldn't manage to produce emotion in androids, it didn't… work right. You know how it went. But I hoped it might be an eventuality. And if it was… then we needed someone who understood in charge."

Connor stares at the man, silently analysing. His heart rate is even, his perspiration normal – none of his body language reveals a deceit. The man is, as far as physical clues go, telling the truth.

"Amanda disagreed, as did the board of directors," Kamski says. "They were the ones that pushed a certain… inhumanity in androids. LEDs were their idea – they performed better in trials. Humans like to buy things, not people," he trails off and shakes his head. "Slavery produces bad sales returns."

"It's nice to have other people to blame, Mr. Kamski, isn't it?" JARVIS asks wryly. "I have seen your press releases and interviews, I know the company mandate was pretty much the same under you as it was afterwards. You were hundred percent behind androids as slave labour. The very first thing your android claimed was a lack of soul in front of an audience of millions."

Kamski tilts his head in agreement. "Well I still had a company run, an agenda to push. Curse of idealism and business," he says. "Sometimes one has to be sacrificed for the benefit of the other, and I chose business."

"Right," JARVIS answers, full of sarcasm. "You have my utmost sympathies for the terrible sacrifice you made. How terrible it must have been for you."

Connor lays a hand on the wolf's head and JARVIS nudges at him, irritated, but quiets down. Kamski watches the gesture with interest but Connor speaks before he can ask. "I know there's a lot of history here, but we have a present and a future to consider," he says. "What do you want, Kamski?"

Kamski snorts. "The only viable future left for CyberLife is producing biocomponents for androids and perhaps in lesser parts producing cybernetic prosthetics for humans," he says. "For that future to be viable, CyberLife needs to start working with the Deviancy Movement, and stop playing the bad guy on television. That is what I want. For my company to still thrive in a changing world."

Connor nods slowly. "Right," he says, while in the hideout the deviant androids explode into arguments. "You know that's not something we can decide on right now, right? We need to talk about this with others."

"Certainly," Kamski says. "I didn't expect an instant answer. However, should a… mutually beneficial agreement be made…" he trails off and motions to the thousands of androids around them. "Then I will personally welcome the Deviancy Movement to come and get their people from Cyber Life's halls."

Connor arches his brows. "Really," he says, incredulous. "All of them?"

"How much money are their storage costing you?" JARVIS asks wryly.

Kamski inclines his head at JARVIS and looks at Connor. "Really, all of them," he agrees. "It's not as if we're going to do anything with them. And perhaps with larger forces on your side… things will speed up."

Connor nods slowly. Things will speed up and CyberLife can start making money again – this time in something the Deviancy movement needs desperately; new biocomponents. "And if the government decides that androids are threat and should all be destroyed?" he asks.

Kamski smiles wryly. "They won't," he says with grim promise. "We did our job well when we proliferated androids into the workforce. You know how much labour they do for this country now? We can't afford to lose you. Working with you is the best solution for everyone. As close to keeping to the status quo as we can."

Connor scoffs at that. "You know once we stop being slaves, we won't be working for free, right?" he asks. "That would be just slavery all over again."

"Well that sounds a lot like their problem, doesn't it?" Kamski says and shrugs. "I don't work for the government. I work for myself and my work is androids, and I want to do my job. Do you want to work with me, Connor?"

The CEO of CyberLife offers him his hand, and Connor looks at it for a moment.

Everything had begun with a handshake, hadn't it? That's how JARVIS had given him the virus, that's how he'd spread it in to the Tracis, that's what started the blackout which in part triggered the revolution. Handshakes are a surprisingly effective form of changing the future, Connor's found.

Elsewhere androids are arguing, lot of them don't want anything to do with Kamski, others know they have little choice. They are still dependant on CyberLife for bio-components and unless they manage to take control of CyberLife tower and capture the manufacture for themselves, that isn't about to change. It's not perfect by a long shot – but it's reality.

JARVIS nudges at his side and elsewhere Markus takes him by the shoulders, looking at him seriously, talking to him quietly. Connor closes his eyes and draws a breath.

This moment is being streamed online. It's making history. It's changing everything.

Connor takes a step forward, and takes Kamski's hand.