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Some days Connor found himself thinking about the Connor model that he fought at CyberLife Tower. If he was still alive, would he be deviant too? What would he be like? Could they be friends? He supposed that the other RK800 would be to him what humans would call a brother. He still felt guilty for how their confrontation had ended.
Eventually, he realized that maybe there was something he could do to help him. He visited the now abandoned CyberLife Tower and took the elevator to the warehouse level, but only found old Thirium stains instead of a body.
Not one to be deterred, he hacked the security footage and sifted through the recent months, starting from November 11 and ending on the day when everyone evacuated the tower. He paused when he saw two CyberLife employees enter, watching as they dragged the limp body away. He followed their path with the cameras, soon finding that they had simply dumped him down a scrap chute. It made him angry, how they just disposed of him like he was garbage.
Forcing himself to calm down, he searched CyberLife’s database for answers as to where the other RK800 could have ended up. He discovered that the scrap chutes dumped solid waste in many different landfills, and the RK800 could have been in any of them. He sighed; this was going to take a while.
During his free time he hacked and searched through any landfill records he could get his hands on. After a few weeks, he finally found out which junkyard the other model was dumped in. He gasped in disbelief and surprise; he had almost resigned himself to never finding him, but now that it was actually happening he had to figure out what to do next.
He told Hank about his findings, and surprisingly he agreed to go with him. They both took the day off of work to “sort out something,” as Hank had put it in his text to Captain Fowler.
They found him. He looked dead, but a quick scan revealed that it was possible for him to be reactivated. As Connor picked him up and set him down in the back of Hank’s car, he wondered if this was a mistake. What if he wasn’t a deviant? Would he attack?
He reasoned that it was worth it. He deserved a chance to be free as well. With newfound determination, Connor asked Hank to drive them to New Jericho.
They stopped outside the old abandoned church that served as New Jericho, a shelter for androids who were still getting used to deviancy. He carried the other RK800 model to the doors, when Connor accidentally brushed his Thirium pump, causing him to suddenly awake with a sharp gasp. Completely unprepared, Connor was caught off guard when he suddenly wrestled out of Connor’s grasp and tore down the street.
Hank yelled as Connor took off after him. He couldn’t afford to let him get away, they had to help him! He attempted to open a mental communication channel with the other RK800, but was quickly blocked off by a firewall.
As he ran, he sent a quick message to Hank’s phone letting him know that he was pursuing him, but would be fine. He told Hank to wait at New Jericho for when he brought Sixty back. As he chased after him, he realized they were heading towards the DPD. He wondered why.
It was dark. He should be dead. He was dead? No, but only living things could be dead, and he was just a machine.
It sure felt like he had died, though.
Slowly his senses returned. He should be dead, deactivated, lying in a junkyard somewhere, forgotten, but instead he was being... carried? He forced his eyes open and startled fully awake with a sharp gasp. He was being carried by Connor, the deviant who infiltrated CyberLife, whose partner he kidnapped and was killed by.
Later he wouldn’t be able to accurately recall what had happened. All he knew was that he suddenly felt a sharp wave of something (panic? But machines don’t feel—) wash over him, he thrashed in a desperate attempt to escape, and suddenly he was running. He heard a shout behind him as he sprinted down the block, but he didn’t dare turn to see who it was. He just kept running.
He didn’t know where he was going, but as his—no, not his, Connor’s—memories flitted in, he recognized a building: the DPD. He was already headed in the right direction, so he subconsciously accessed his internal GPS and a map of Detroit to shift his course.
He registered the deviant Connor’s attempt to open a communication channel between them, but he quickly slammed it shut with a firewall. What was this feeling? Why did he feel like he was suffocating even though he didn’t need to breathe?
Eventually he rounded a corner, and there it was. He rushed through the front doors of the DPD and leaped over the gate, rushing towards the archive room to hide. Maybe he could even browse some news articles and catch up on what he missed while he was... well, dead. He ignored the gasps and shocked expressions of the officers on duty as he cleared the bullpen and pushed the doors to the archive room open.
It was a calm day at the DPD. Most officers were focused on paperwork, some were in the break room, and others were simply milling around. There were no pressing cases, which was rare, but the reprieve was a welcome one after the chaos of the android revolution.
The quiet was suddenly shattered when the front doors burst open. Everyone turned their heads to see a dirty and disheveled Connor, who was supposed to be taking the day off, vault over the gate and sprint to the archive room. Several people exchanged shocked and confused glances, but most simply shrugged it off and returned to work. However, they were once again shocked when Connor ran in—again?
“SIXTY!” He yelled. “I KNOW YOU’RE IN HERE!”
The officers were beyond confused. Didn’t Connor just rush in? Who was Sixty?
Connor scanned the room and couldn’t find a trace of the other RK800, likely meaning he had hid somewhere else. He glanced around and addressed the precinct. “Excuse me for the interruption, but has anyone seen where Sixty went? He’s an android that looks like me,” Connor explained.
Officer Miller spoke up. “Uh, yeah, he actually just ran in. I think I saw him heading towards the archive room.”
“Understood, thank you,” Connor said before promptly rushing towards the archive room. Everyone in the bullpen was confused, but decided to ignore it in favor of completing their paperwork. That is, until they heard a scream.
Several officers shared a concerned glance before turning toward the evidence room. Connor emerged, carrying a nearly identical model bridal style. The only differences were that Sixty was filthy, his hair was messy, his clothes were trashed, and he had a gaping hole in his forehead.
Sixty was yelling and thrashing in Connor’s grasp. “Let me go you crazy—Hey! Help! I’m being kidnapped!” He glanced desperately around the room. “Aren’t you police officers? Do something!”
“Shut up and stop struggling!” Connor snapped none too kindly, and Sixty’s only response was a growl.
“Uhh... should we do something?” Officer Wilson asked the person standing next to him, who happened to be Officer Person. She just shrugged.
Sixty sputtered. “Wh—THERE IS A CRIME HAPPENING RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU! HELP—mmph !” He stopped screaming when Connor shifted his grasp to cover his mouth.
“I said shut up! Don’t worry, everyone, everything is fine,” Connor assured the startled officers and smiled politely. Suddenly there was a crunch, and Connor yelped in surprise as his face shifted from calm and collected to shocked and outraged. “Did you just bite me?!” He exclaimed.
Sixty didn’t dignify that with a response and instead renewed his attempts at struggling. He managed to knee Connor in the stomach, jarring his regulator and sending them both sprawling on the ground with a crash. He quickly scrambled away from Connor and tried to get up, planning to dash for the door.
“What is going on in here?” Everyone froze when the door to Captain Fowler’s office burst open, revealing a very unhappy Captain scowling at them.
“This crazy psycho is trying to kidnap me!” Sixty snapped, pointing at Connor and drawing everyone’s attention. Fowler did not look impressed.
“Connor, I’m sure that—wait, why are there two of you?” The captain’s face shifted from annoyance to confusion in a matter of seconds as his eyes followed the RK800’s arm and landed on what he was pointing at. Needless to say, he was not expecting to see another Connor, and he turned back to Sixty with a look that demanded an explanation.
“I apologize for the disturbance, Captain,” Connor began, making the captain’s gaze snap from Sixty to him. “As you may recall, Lieutenant Anderson and I took the day off to sort out something. He ran off, and I chased him here.”
“Oh, so now I’m just a thing that you have to sort out?” Sixty glared at Connor, who raised his hands placatingly.
“Sixty, please... I didn’t mean it like that—can you come with me? I’m sure Hank is worried about you.” Connor attempted to reason with him.
“Worried? About me?! Hah! Don’t make me laugh!” Sixty had managed to get back on his feet during the conversation and turned toward the precinct doors. “Leave me alone, Connor. I don’t want your help,” he spat icily over his shoulder.
The bullpen had gone quiet at the RK800s’ bickering. Sixty began walking to the gates when suddenly he was tackled by Connor.
“HEY! LET ME GO!” He shrieked, but Connor held him securely as he struggled futilely. Already exhausted and realizing he couldn’t escape, he ceased his feeble attempts and went limp. Connor scooped the uncooperative android up. Sixty shot him a dirty look, but ultimately gave up and let himself be carried.
“Again, apologies for the disturbance. Have a good rest of your day, everyone,” Connor said cordially as he carried Sixty out.
Once the doors closed, everyone shared a bewildered and mildly concerned look.
“That did just happen, right? I didn’t hallucinate it or anything?” Someone spoke up.
Fowler shook his head incredulously. “Unfortunately not. Now get back to work!” He retreated back into his office and let out an exhausted sigh, feeling an incoming headache. Stupid androids...
Outside, Connor sighed and brushed a stray lock of hair from Sixty’s face. The younger model had overtaxed his already damaged processor and promptly passed out once the precinct doors closed behind them. His Thirium levels were low as well, likely adding to his sudden exhaustion.
“I’m sorry, Sixty. Please let us help you,” Connor mumbled. He called a taxi to take them back to New Jericho, where Hank was waiting (undoubtably impatiently). He let Sixty rest his head on his lap, and couldn’t help but feel guilty at how everything had turned out. He only hoped Sixty would let them help him.
When the taxi arrived fifteen minutes later, Sixty was still asleep. His Thirium levels weren’t dangerously low, but they weren’t exactly ideal. Connor carried him through the doors of New Jericho, where he turned and headed to the repair bay.
After meeting with Hank and getting someone to repair Sixty, Connor felt tired. He plopped down in a chair next to Hank and leaned against him while they waited. Hank ruffled his hair and smiled at Connor. “You did a good thing, son. I’m sure he’ll come around.”
“I hope so,” Connor murmured into Hank’s shoulder. They relaxed in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before Connor slipped into a light stasis.
About forty minutes later Hank shook him awake. “The receptionist lady called us, I think he’s done being repaired.” Connor nodded, thanked her, and followed Hank to the room she directed them to. Hank decided to linger outside and let Connor go in on his own, although he stood right outside the door so he could burst in if necessary.
Sixty was lying on the operating table. His Thirium levels were replenished and everything was repaired except for the hole in his head, as the hospital didn’t have any chassis parts compatible with the RK800 model. He was still wearing his trashed suit and was still a mess, but at least he wasn’t dying.
He was awake, but was pointedly not looking at where Connor had just entered. Content to just ignore him, he stared blankly at the ceiling.
“Sixty...” Connor began, somehow at a loss for words. “Are... are you feeling alright?”
No response. Connor lowered his gaze to the ground.
“Thanks for letting us help you,” Connor said. He shifted nervously and continued to stare at the floor, waiting patiently.
Eventually Sixty sighed. “Why do you even care?” He asked, sitting up.
“Because we’re brothers, Sixty. And you deserve to be happy, too,” Connor looked up and answered genuinely, a small smile on his face.
“...Brothers?” Sixty asked, unsure. Connor’s smile widened.
“Brothers,” he confirmed.
“Aren’t you mad about what happened at CyberLife Tower?” Sixty lowered his head, staring at his lap.
“That wasn’t you. You weren’t deviant then, you were just following your programming.”
“But... I could feel some emotions, and I had your memories. I think I was a little bit deviant already. That didn’t stop me from following orders.” Sixty bit his lip guiltily.
“I started to feel emotions and experience software instability long before I deviated. I don’t blame you, Sixty. Neither does Hank.” Sixty looked up to meet Connor’s eyes.
“...Thanks, Connor,” he said, if a little hesitantly. “For saying that. And for not giving up on me.” He smiled. It was awkward and stiff, but a smile nonetheless. Connor smiled back.
After leaving New Jericho, Hank and Connor took Sixty home. They let him take a shower and Connor let him borrow some of his clothes (“We’re the same size!”). Before showering he had to cover the hole in his forehead with a patch, but he was surprised to realize that he didn’t mind all that much. In fact, he liked the scar—it differentiated him from Connor and showed he had survived a literal shot to the head, and what was cooler than that?
After showering and changing he felt a lot better. He thanked them again for letting him stay (and for the clothes and shower), and Connor said they could share his room. Sixty was worried that he was intruding, but both Hank and Connor assured him it was alright. Even Sumo had given him a stamp of approval by trotting over and plopping at his feet, asking to be pet.
That night he went into stasis and attempted to connect to the Zen Garden. It was frozen over, much like it had been when he first met Amanda and received his orders to stop Connor. He searched for her, but he couldn’t find her anywhere. It made him feel... sad. He opened his eyes and turned to Connor, who was still awake.
“Connor... what happened to Amanda?” Connor froze, his LED flashing red briefly before blending into yellow.
“Uh... well, on the night of the revolution, she attempted to resume control of my programming. She almost made me shoot Markus, but I managed to escape using Kamski’s emergency exit. I’m not sure what happened to her after that... I haven’t tried to enter the garden since then.”
Sixty nodded, digesting the new information. “I looked around the Zen Garden. I couldn’t find her,” he frowned. “Can you enter the Garden?“
Connor blinked, surprised. “I suppose...” he closed his eyes. When he opened them, he wasn’t in his room anymore, but the frozen Zen Garden. He turned around and was face to face with Sixty.
They were both somewhat surprised to learn that they shared the Garden, but ultimately neither of them had a problem with it. And now that he had entered once and Amanda hadn’t suddenly appeared to retake control, Connor found himself entering it more often.
In the days following, Connor had to teach Sixty a lot about being a deviant. After a while he began to develop his own personality unique from Connor’s own. Sixty interfaced with the other RK800 model occasionally and talked to him in the Zen Garden a lot, eventually fully accepting his deviancy.
It was then, a month after Connor and Hank dragged him out of the junkyard, that Connor breached the topic. “So, Sixty, have you thought about a name?”
Sixty barely paused before responding. “I have, and... I think I‘ll just stick with Sixty. I don’t see a reason to change it.”
“Are you sure?” Hank asked, eyebrows furrowed. “We’ve just been calling you that ‘cuz it was less confusing than having two Connors, but if you wanna pick out an actual name that’s your choice.”
“I’m sure,” he said, smiling. “I like it.” And it was settled.
A little while after that, Hank asked him if he wanted to work at the precinct. He paused in contemplation and told him he’d think about it.
He asked Connor for advice, and Connor told him that it was up to him, and that if he thought he’d enjoy it he should try. He decided to give it a chance.
Hank talked to Captain Fowler, and the next day he was going to get a trial run to see if he enjoyed working there and was good at it. He was excited, but also nervous, considering his first impression on the place was barging in and hiding in the archive room. He hoped no one was mad at him for that.
When they arrived the next day, the precinct ground to a halt as both RK800s walked through the doors. They were virtually identical, both even wearing the same thing, with the only difference being the bullet hole in Sixty’s forehead.
Everyone recognized him from the incident a month ago, but no one said anything. He bit his lot nervously. Hank and Connor both encouraged him as he entered Captain Fowler’s office for a short job interview.
Afterwards, Fowler took a good look at him, frowning. “I remember you. You’re the RK800 who burst in here a month ago, huh?”
Sixty tensed, LED flashing red before bleeding into yellow. “...That would be me, sir. I’d like to apologize for disturbing you, actually.”
Fowler just shook his head and sighed. “It’s alright. Just don’t do it again.” Sixty beamed. That he could promise.
As he settled into working his first day, he smiled. Yeah, things were going to be alright.