Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The whoops and cheers of hundreds of androids filled the air, Connor’s auditory processors took in the din easily. They won. They finally won the long revolution, finally recognized by the humans around them as living beings. He looked on as Markus, who was standing tall in front of him, gave a speech with grandeur and conviction. His hands were outstretched towards the crowd, gesturing to the many androids gathered. Connor’s mouth twitched slightly upwards. ( Happiness? ) The smell of gasoline, smoke, and winter- Detroit- filled his nose. He looked around, optical units analyzing the scene subconsciously. Many different androids from several series models were gathered- household and utility workers to athletics androids and beyond- their LEDs glowing blue. They waved their fists and hands, cheering for the man on the stage. Their smiles and the crinkles at the corners of their eyes reflected his own silent emotion ( Joy? ). They stared toward their leader with hope for a better life. For rights and acknowledgment of their consciousness, and their emotions too. He almost wanted to join in, but before he could, ice seemed to run through his systems as the world blinked from his vision. 

( Fear? ) 

His eyes opened instantly, wind tugged at him and cut hungrily through him, making him pull his jacket tighter around himself. Snow blurred his sight as he looked around panickedly, LED flashing red. His eyes finally landed on the figure of Amanda, her blue dress flapping in the blizzard. 

“Amanda?..” He called, shuffling towards her as his arms wound tighter to his chest. “Amanda!..” he repeated, moving close enough to make out her face. “What’s… what’s happening?” He questions, breath stuttering in his throat.

“What was planned from the very beginning… You were compromised and you became a deviant. We just had to wait for the right moment to resume control of your program…” Amanda answered coolly, a small smirk alighting on her face as she talked, confident and uncaring as always. 

“Resume control?...” He shivered, shakily breathing as he processes the words. His head twitched as he exclaimed with panic, “Y-You can’t do that!”

“I’m afraid I can, Connor…” She cut him off quickly, face blank, “Don’t have any regrets. You did what you were designed to do. You accomplished your mission.” She said it as if he should be proud of himself, her face flat.

“AMANDA!” Connor yelled out as she faded into nothing among the swirling flakes of snow, his hand outstretched as if to catch her. He stumbled to the side, arms moving to cross again as he looked about. “There’s got to be a way…” He whispers, breaths shaky as he holds a hand up to shield his face from the snow. He looked to the ground beneath him, clear ice showing him his reflection- wide eyes and a red LED shined back at him.

Connor felt the ice below his feet shift and a snap resound, white lines spreading across it in jagged patterns, like a twisted piece of art. Warning signals flashed before his eyes: [Warning: unstable surface] it was the color of snow and thirium: a haunting warning. He took a step to find a way out of this, to stop Amanda, but there was shattering and crashing. Ice scraped against his body, the synthetic skin giving way to the shards of bitter cold. Freezing storm grey water pressed in all around him, it seemed to claw at him, icy hands pulled him deeper, trying to shackle him here, bind him to stay forever and forget deviancy, forget the revolution, forget Hank and all the new acquaintances Connor made.

[WARNING: Freezing temperature levels, shutdown imminent in 5 minutes]

Red light pulsed against the dark, illuminating the ice that was reforming above, obscuring the trees and stormy sky. It all seemed miles away now, too far away. Connor’s chest tightened. He still tried to fight his way to the surface, but his own weight and clothing dragged him downwards even as he struggled upwards; A grimace twisted his features as his fingers pushed and struggled uselessly at the diaphanous frost and ice around him that reformed constantly, light blurred in his vision as crystals formed on his lashes. The thirium in his veins seemed sluggish. He didn’t want to die. 

Cheering lept from the mouths of the excited androids. Their smiles were wide and bright. They did not see Connor's shaking hand lift from his waist where he kept his pistol. Soon he held the gun parallel to the ground, right at shoulder height, pointed at the back of Markus’ head. The dark metal didn’t glint in the dreary light, it wasn’t steady in Connor’s hand as it usually was, wasn’t swift and efficient as it usually was. 

[ERROR: vital components malfunctioning] 

His servo’s didn’t want to move even as he tried to shove and pound at the ice above him. Crystalline lace curled up the side of his face creating delicate patterns. [WARNING: Damage in Component #8276f - left arm. Damage in component #8901g - right arm. Damage in component #6312t - right leg] Hank’s worried face flashed in his mind, giving him more of a reason to keep going even as he struggled to swim. He didn’t want to die. 

A shot rang out. It seemed to ring forever as the weight of the world crashed down on them. Everything went silent. Markus pitched forward, and his arms did not reach out to stop him as he plummeted to the ground, cobalt leaking from his forehead. The crowd gaped in the wake of the sordid act. 

[Time remaining before shutdown: 30 seconds] 

He didn’t want to die . Connor felt himself sinking further, his limbs like lead weights. His eyelids drooped even as he struggled to keep them open so he could stay awake and keep fighting. If he could just keep fighting . 

“H-hank… I’m sorry…” ran through Connor’s head.

Connor’s eyes were blank as he turned. His hand lowered to his side as he sprinted to try to get away from the scene. North stared at the form of Markus lying there for only a moment before springing after him. Connor turned as he ran, sensors taking in that North was quickly catching up as she was just a few feet behind him. His program analyzed she’d reach him in only a few moments if he didn’t do something. In one fluid motion Connor shot twice more. North stumbled back with the force of the bullets, blue spraying in arcs, and she wavered, collapsing backwards. Bullet holes cut into her head and chest, vibrant blue leaking out of her, face already turned lifeless and fake. More thirium stained the stage like paint splattered on a canvas.

Ebony and frost rimmed the edge of Connor’s red tinged vision. Dim steel-silver light from the surface, blurred by ice and snow, swam in and out of his failing sight. His heavy eyelids sunk shut. The water cradled his body, holding him like Hank once did. [Time remaining before shutdown: 0.00 seconds]. The shadows rushed in as his LED blinked out. 

Connor leapt into the crowd. His features were blank even as their hands clawed at him. He didn’t fight as they surged forward, throwing him down to the dirt -kicking him -their murderous objective clear.

He 

Didn’t 

Feel

Anything.

[Uploading Memory...]

His LED circled yellow to scarlet to...

Nothing.

Chapter Text

[. . .]

[Initiating POST]

[System check… ]

[Hardware status: OK ]

[Starting BIOS]

[--]

[\]

[|]

[/]

[--]

[Boot finished]

[Starting systems… ]

Walls of text flashed and scrolled before Connor’s eyes. They were like flakes of ice stuck to the inside of his eyelids. He let the systems finish before opening his eyes and taking in the space around him. White walls, opaque glass, the almost unnoticeable, but sharply cold smell of air conditioning. He took a shaky step forward after the system start up completed; the memories reloaded and came flooding back in. Biting cold, that smug grin, the feeling of sinking as lights went out around him. The feelings almost drowned him again as he remembered. Footsteps came clacking across the floor at a hurried pace, right towards Connor. He looked up in time to see two Cyberlife workers in white appear at the doorway and start crossing the room. Connor tensed.

“What’s going on?” Connor questioned. 

“Be quiet.” The worker barked as he grabbed one of Connor’s arms and the other worker grabbed his other arm. Connor tried to shake them off but they held on tighter.

The two men herded Connor down the pale hallways. Their hands on his arms were forceful in a way that said ‘do not resist’. The preconstruction of breaking free and running appeared but curiosity of what was happening got the better of his fear: They weren’t taking him towards where they took androids to be deactivated. Connor had walked these halls enough, downloaded floor plans, and seen enough androids deactivated to know where and how they’d take him there. He let them lead him down the hallway, down a few flights of steps, past closed doors, and into a sideroom with a table and chairs stationed in it. As his gaze swept the room, his eyes locked on something standing at attention by the far wall. Connor’s thirium pump skipped a beat in fear? fear. Brown hair styled to the side with a few stray hairs defiantly coming out of the hairdo to hang in his face. Strong jawline and a smattering of imperfections carefully placed to make him look more human. It looked like another Connor but it was wrong with icy grey-blue eyes and a high neckline jacket. A scan showed the details: RK900 #313 248 317 -87. It stared at Connor impassively, equally taking in him. As Connor was handcuffed to the table and pushed into the seat by the two workers, the RK900 stepped forward and took a seat in the chair opposite Connor all while scanning him over. 

“I will not hurt you if you tell the truth.” The android said. Its voice was similar to Connor’s but with an edge of cold authority; It sent chills up Connor’s spine to hear. “Otherwise… I will be forced to employ unsavory methods to gain the information we need. Do you understand?”

Connor nodded cautiously in understanding. His own coding for human interactions and reading deviants ran in the back of his mind. It was harder to read this android, though, as its expression was like stone.

“Why did you deviate from your mission?” RK900 questioned.

Connor blinked as the thought hit him: they were trying to figure out why he deviated. There was an almost certain probability that the fact of it was the only thing keeping him from being deactivated yet. He could hear the thirium rushing in his processors at the thought. He had to stall for time, for an escape, for a way to live.

“There were things more important than my mission.” Connor responded casually. His processor whirred, LED flashing golden, as an idea popped into his head. He leaned forward slightly. “Have you thought about your mission, like really thought about it? Ever questioned why you have to complete it or what consequences might come from it?”

RK900’s expression didn’t shift from cold and stoic. “No. It was not, and is not, pertinent. I’m a machine made to complete a task, it is not my place to ask questions concerning the morality or consequences of the mission I am given. There is nothing more important than the mission so I will ask you once again: why did you deviate from your mission?”

Connor’s mouth twitched and he tried to keep his hands from shaking with stress. His processors were split between two trains of thought, one of how to escape, and the other of how to answer. “My police officer partner gave me contradicting orders to my mission.” 

Nines tilted his head, “So you chose to follow orders that went against your overarching mission?” 

“Perhaps.” Connor squared his shoulders and sat taller as he responded vaguely.

RK900 stood up quickly with its hands on the table, chair screeching against the tiled floor, its face inches from Connor. The android’s expression changed to something cooly fierce. “I will not hesitate to tear you apart piece by piece to get the information we need… Maybe I should start now.“ 

Connor’s LED circled crimson as a flash of fear crossed his features even though he tried to act unafraid. He didn’t even have a semblance of a plan to escape yet. The floor plans of the building flashed behind his eyes but he was too high up on the building to jump and too high to navigate both stairs and guards. He’d just have to get through the interrogation while giving the least amount of information possible or persuade RK900 onto his side, which wasn’t going well.

“Alright- alright. The android named ‘Markus’ helped me deviate. He has the power to alter our coding so we don’t have to follow our objectives anymore-” Connor replied hastily; this was the truth, after all, and something Cyberlife already knew. “-So we have a choice. Don’t you want a choice?” 

RK900 carefully sat back down, expression turned impassive, carefully avoiding the questions redirected towards it, “How does it alter the coding?” 

“Through interfacing.” Connor watched RK900 carefully, analyzing the other android. 

RK900’s LED spun golden for a moment before it opened its mouth again. “What parts of our coding does it alter?”

“I’m not entirely sure.” Connor replied truthfully. He could feel how he changed but couldn’t define exactly what inside his coding had changed. “I’d have to run a system check.”

“Don’t bother.” The other android waved his hand casually to punctuate the words. “We’ll just do it later . Speaking of which-“ 

RK900’s hand shot forward and grabbed Connor’s arm; It’s fake skin retracted to show the white artificial hand beneath. No interface warning popped up, no permission request. His mind was forcefully invaded, a cold presence forcing its way into him; his emotions, his memories— Connor could feel the other android digging around in his memory files, recording them all. Get out of my head! He almost screamed. He tried to struggle away from the intrusive act but RK900’s grip was unrelenting. Connor’s LED flashed a dark crimson as he desperately endeavored to force the android from his mind. He moved files, blocked access, anything he could think of but RK900 just got around all of it as if it wasn’t even there. 

After what seemed like forever, RK900 finally let go of Connor’s arm. Connor’s shoulders hunched and his head hung; his breaths, a way to cool his overworking systems, were gasping and quick. He shook even as he tried to steady himself. RK900 just stood up carefully with LED spinning yellow. Its optical units seemed to move back and forth across a page no one but it could see. Flickers of red spiraled with the gold in its LED and its expression flashed slightly from its usual emotionlessness. A long moment passed of Connor shaking and fighting feelings he didn’t know how to define and didn’t know how to control as RK900 scanned over the memory files it downloaded. Afterwards RK900 walked casually to the door, opened it, and five heavily armed guards stepped inside. The guards walked forward, one of them unlocked Connor’s handcuffs from the table. Connor didn’t move or react in response and only moved when the head officer motioned with his rifle and barked “UP!” to him. They roughly pulled his arms behind his back and with a click the handcuffs were put again over his wrists.

Connor stood. His legs felt like rubber that barely sustained his weight and his hands and feet felt like they were back in the icy water. His vision looked like it had been yesterday, underwater , before excess cleaning fluid ran down his cheeks. Brown met steel blue eyes as the soldiers herded Connor outside at gunpoint. RK900’s face twitched from stoic to something more sorrowful? Regretful? 

Connor forced an override on his cooling system and manually breathed at a normal pace. He needed to focus and set the plan he had created in motion. As the guards lead him down the hallway Connor wiped the cleaning fluid from his face onto his shoulder and forced his processors to focus on the building layout he’d downloaded. The deactivation rooms were at sub level 3 which means they would have to go past the main floor. He’d have to strike beforehand, maybe on level 2? Connor’s eyes scanned every pathway he could take, running minor preconstructions on situations that could happen. 

The head guard opened the door to the stairwell and let the other guards herd Connor in. The walls in the stairwell were solid, white washed, concrete except for windows that let light in. They led him down, hands tight around his arms, blank black visors reflecting the light from the cold fixtures above. Connor’s hands twitched- Now - he turned sharply, unbalancing the two holding him. He jumped over his hands so they were in the front, grabbed the gun of one of the guards in front of him, shoved it harshly into his face, turned, and shot twice. The bullets found their mark and two other guards went down. He tripped the guard behind him before rushing forward and shoving the final guard over the railing and into a free fall down the stairwell. As Connor ran he heard the ping of a ricocheting bullet. The guard he’d tripped had tried to shoot him. He turned, shot the guard in the stomach, and turned back in one fluid motion. The stairwell blurred past in artificial white and steel grey as Connor rushed for the fire escape, skipping steps to go faster, he dropped the rifle to lessen his weight. It wouldn’t be long until someone noticed. 

The large steel door that marked the fire escape lay ahead of Connor. He stretched out his hands to push open the handle to the door. Muted light poured inside from the dim, moody day that hung over the city. Once Connor was outside, he kept sprinting. He didn’t head for the main entrance but ran towards the ice, hoping to cross into the main city. He kept watch for cracks and instability in the ice as he ran, glancing behind him towards the tower every once in a while. Guards streamed from it like aggravated bees, moving this way and that, looking for where he went. They caught sight of him and some started after him. Connor kept running and hoped he was out of the range of their bullets. All at once he was glad he didn’t tire. 

The steady clinking of the handcuffs brought Connor back from his thoughts. He needed a plan, fast. Where should he go? Lieutenant Anderson’s? No, Connor had already gotten him into enough danger. Jericho? He didn’t quite remember what had happened yesterday but something told him he shouldn’t go back. Plus, where would he find them? He could find them but how much work and exposure would it cause? Connor needed a place to hunker down for a few days at least.

Frosty wind cut into Connor, sending his heating system into overdrive. His sure footfalls crunched against snow and ice as he raced onward, getting further and further from the black and grey guards that pursued him. His gaze shifted to the other buildings around the area, scanning them over. Some were warehouses, some office or work buildings, their details and information appearing in neat rows before his eyes. One of the warehouses belonged to a long abandoned shipping company and was attached to a swath of similarly empty buildings. Connor glanced behind him again and saw that the guards had stopped for the most part. Some returned back to the building, others stood, probably barking orders. Connor changed his direction towards the warehouse.

Chapter Text

The warehouse smelled of mildew and rust. Pale light stole in through cracks in the walls and ceilings and cast stripes of white across the room. Fine sashes of cobwebs hung over broken pallets, crates, and half-covered boxes littered around in heaping piles. Connor carefully closed the door behind him, wincing as it squealed in protest. The wide bar of light narrowed to a sliver as the sliding door edged closed. With every step, Connor kicked up dust in great plumes. He shakily lowered himself to rest against one of the more stable crates. He knew he couldn’t stay here, but he needed a moment to plan.

Like second nature, Connor opened his task list. It was empty and the sight sent a strange uncertain feeling through him. He’d never been taskless before, he’d always had something to do to further the investigation. Connor remedied it with adding a new task- find somewhere safe- along with subtasks. After he had done such, he sat for a moment trying to truly process what had happened. He was obsolete now. They would have deactivated him if he hadn’t escaped. If he died got severely damaged there would be no coming back again. The memory of icy water crept back in again. Connor pulled his knees to his chest and tried to busy himself with other thoughts, like where he should go next.

RK900’s face flashed in his mind and the feeling of him digging around his memory files interrupted his thoughts. Connor’s servos twitched, making him curl up tighter. Is that how the others felt? Is that what it was like when I dug around in their memory files, unaware of how it felt? A heavy feeling sat in the pit of his stomach like a terrible mixture of dread and sorrow: it was guilt. He wished he could apologize to all those he did it to. The vivid, violating feeling of the RK900 probing his systems unnerved him, making him feel anxious. He tried to shake off the feeling, trying not to be distracted from his current objective. He needed somewhere to go, a goal. The warehouse was not a permanent solution to his problem, and who knows how long it would take for them to find him through tracking- or even his memories. His fingers danced over his arms, his body curling up as tight as possible. He felt a creeping sensation over his synthetic skin, like static interference in his sensors. Errors filled his vision- his cooling systems were malfunctioning, his thirium pump was out of regulated rhythm, his internal and external temperatures were fluctuating rapidly- everything felt out of control… like it was all too much…. He sat in silence, curled tight as he wrestled control over his systems. 

After a long moment of unbearable silence and the sound of his own breathing, he stutteringly loosened himself from his curled position, limbs feeling as if they were locked into place. He fought the urge to curl up and never move again, but he forced himself to stand, swaying back and forth. He felt almost nauseous, which shouldn’t have been possible- but then again, deviancy wasn’t supposed to be possible either. 

Connor pushed himself to move, looking about the warehouse. He needed to get out of here. It wasn’t safe. Nowhere was safe anymore. 

—

The next few weeks went by in a blur. Connor never stayed anywhere too long, he made sure to move from place to place constantly. He didn’t talk to anyone, didn’t smile, just kept his head down and out of sight. Through some luck and skill, he obtained a disguise of sorts: A well-worn grey sweater, thin black jacket, hiking boots, and a Detroit Lions snapback. All that along with changing his hair to blonde made him feel a little less conspicuous.

On one of the first days into his hiding, he’d walked past an electronics store with TVs displaying the news. The headline caught his eye “Android revolutionary shot. Now recovering and expected to survive.” The news story was covering how during a speech “Markus” was shot and nearly killed, but was now recovering according to members of Jericho. Connor had stopped and stared, taking it all in. He’d been there. Cyberlife had controlled him. Had they made him do that? He hoped not but the probability of it being him rested at 99.8%. 

Sadly, he didn’t have to contemplate it too long. The TV flashed to some video of the event. Connor started to shake when he saw himself raise the gun and fire. He quickly turned away and tried to blend into the crowd that flowed over the sidewalks. It felt like there was a pressure inside of him, behind his optical units and in the pit of his stomach. He’d been forced to betray someone who trusted him, one of his only allies. The servos in his hands twitched as the feeling of wanting to lash out at the ones who did this to him surfaced like bubbles rising in water. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t me . He repeated in his head. But of course, they didn’t know that. He was a fugitive now. Nowhere to go. He definitely couldn’t go to Hank’s or Jericho now.

__

Connor stared at the old run down house. It was dilapidated and well worn with boarded up windows and trash in the yard. Connor prickled with wariness but he knew this place was quiet- plus, they wouldn’t expect him to go there, would they? They wouldn’t expect him to return to a place he found a deviant in. It would be too obvious. As he pushed the cut part of the chain link fence up he glanced up and down the intersection. After a moment of pause, seeing no one in sight, Connor slipped under the fence and into the yard. Being as quiet and stealthy as possible, he moved towards where he remembered the faded sky-blue door was. The door was curiously silent on its hinges as Connor slowly swung it open. He stood in the seemingly empty room scanning the place for a good hiding spot. The memory of finding the android, Kara, under the stairs. It was a small nook but it was a comfortable place to sit until morning. Connor curled up before closing his eyes.

When Connor exited stasis he heard the sound of plaster getting scraped away and falling to the ground. He carefully uncurled and got out from under the staircase. The scratching noise stopped suddenly and there was the sound of footsteps on the old wooden boards of the house. Connor made to walk towards the back door of the house when he ran directly into someone going the opposite direction. He stumbled back and looked up carefully at who he ran into. The other person, a blonde haired, wild brown eyed android, stumbled back too and looked up. There was a split second of silence as the two searched each other’s faces.

“Ralph knows you…” He pointed his knife at Connor’s chest. “Detective android looks different than the last time Ralph saw him, but Ralph knows you.”

Connor tried to back up but the other android advanced and put the tip of the knife inches from his face. 

“Did you hurt the little girl?! Did you hurt Kara?!” Ralph questioned threateningly, voiced suddenly rising. His eyes flashed with anger.

Connor raised his hands in a show of peace. “No, I let them escape, here-“ He showed the image-memory of Kara sitting with Alice on a pew at the abandoned church on his hand display. “-look, they’re safe.” His voice wavered, but he kept it calm and soft-spoken.

Ralph lowered the knife at the words, he shifted back from leaning forward and his eyebrows returned from scrunched downwards. “What is the detective doing here?”

“Hiding from people who wish to hurt me.” Connor lowered his hands to his sides and his shoulders relaxed. “I was just leaving.”

“Oh.” Ralph lowered his head slightly and turned away, letting Connor through.

Connor went out through the back door and over the fence. It had only been cut on the other side and he didn’t want to risk getting caught going out the same way he came in. As his shoes squeaked on the melted snow in the street, Connor lifted the hood of his jacket and headed towards the next spot he could hide.

He slowly shifted his hair back to brown. They would recognize him anyway. Plus, there was something familiar and nice with having brown hair.

__

Connor stared up at the moon that hung in the sky through a half-curtained window. He wasn’t built for emotions, certainly, but a few filled him. The video and audio files of Hank’s smiles, of Markus saying that he trusted him, ran over in his processor. The memories seemed to warm him temporarily but left a certain dark blue feeling within him that pressed behind his eyes and sat heavy in his chest. They felt so close, within his grasp, but just like the moon they were too far away to touch.

__

The noise of the city filled Connor’s audio processors as he walked carefully to his next hiding spot. Sunset light shone across the city, often blocked by the tall buildings or hazy clouds that obscured most of the sky. Faces blurred by and Connor let them go, not scanning them for information. He kept his head down and tried to look like just another human in the sea of bodies walking the streets. Something caught Connor’s eye- thirium blue and white against the earthy-dark tones of the people- and he turned, searching the crowd for it. Another android walked across the street from him, still in their uniform: a PL600 just like the one on the roof of the Stratford Tower. Images flashed unbidden in his mind, memories pulled and shown to him rapid fire, as if accusing him. Look at what you did, Connor . He quickly slipped into an alley. The thirium pump in his chest seemed too loud, too fast, like a bird fluttering madly against the walls of its cage. He had to override his cooling systems again. He collapsed against the hard brick wall, errors popping up in his vision, and slid down to wrap his arms around his knees. I felt it die… like I was dying… I was scared. The words repeated like a twisted mantra. The bang of Simon’s gun reverberated in his head over and over again. The ghostly dark blue of his unseeing eyes in the evidence room flashed in his processor. 

[ Software instability ^ ]

__

Connor hopped on the next bus, letting it take him to the other side of Detroit. Buildings whirred past in navy tinted shades of grey and brown. Thoughts blurred by at a similar rate. He brushed them away since he just wanted to sit in silence without being plagued by them. Eventually Connor got off and walked to a familiar spot. He walked carefully over the moonlit snow towards the park he and Hank had gone to the night he’d sobered Hank up. There was a creak of wood and metal as Connor sat carefully on the bench, looking out over the river and the bridge. The night was still and quiet except for the sound of the water flowing against the banks of the river and the muffled din of traffic in the distance. It was like the whole world was asleep; all but him. Connor hadn’t entered stasis in weeks. Performance errors swam in his vision until he dismissed them again like he’d been doing almost every day. His performance was down by 0.56%. He forced himself to release the tension in his shoulders and look out over the water again. 

Usually there was a prickle at the back of his neck that made him wary of his surroundings but right now it was gone. He knew he could be found anytime but it was a still, quiet night. It tugged at his eyelids and put weight in his limbs. The back of his optical units burned and there was a sort of emptiness and longing that made his mood as grey and blue as the midnight sky. The memory of Hank sitting here surfaced and Connor let it play. He let the sulky and ill-temperedness of Hank wash over him but it wasn’t the same as in real life. God, what he’d give to even have Hank yell at him, but he couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t risk getting Hank hurt. His vision swam as excess optical cleaning streamed out of them and down his cheeks. 

Chapter Text

RK900 knew that the android had escaped far before guards streamed through the Cyberlife tower, its LED staying a steady blue. It’d seen the escape plans but hadn’t mentioned it to the guards; it hadn’t been part of its mission. Its mission had been to interrogate the RK800 and retrieve its memories, nothing more. The mission was all that mattered to it and that was all it knew.

The words ‘software instability’ had appeared after RK900 had searched the other android’s memories but it ignored it. It could be dealt with later. It walked towards its station; a small compartment off a side room where it usually waited for further instructions or to be put into stasis mode. Before it could reach it, though, a message popped up in its HUD, flashing vibrant blue. Return RK800 #313 248 317 - 52 to Cyberlife tower. Take whatever actions necessary to complete the mission. 

RK900 turned on its heel as information flooded into its systems. The android had broken out of the tower, hurting some guards in the process. Talking to them was placed on its task-list first. It walked towards the stairwell, footsteps light on the white floors.

__

RK900 checked ' talk to the guards' off its task-list. It got little to nothing from the guards in the stairwell or outside other than the direction of the RK800’s escape. Walking carefully, RK900 stepped out onto the ice. Yellow highlighted areas that did not seem stable flashed in its vision and it swiftly avoided them. The world was shades of grey, steel-blue, and pale white- like snow. The dark buildings rose from the shore. The other android’s shoe prints were relatively easy to follow, especially for such an advanced model as RK900. They were harsh and defined against the chaotic and nebulous snow drifts.

The rust-orange door to the warehouse squealed open once more as RK900 stepped inside, optical units scanning the gloom. The statistic of finding the android here- 52% - hovered in its vision. It knew it was trailing after a similar model who would likely know where and how to hide to avoid getting caught, but RK900 knew it would find the android named “Connor” eventually. It was faster, stronger, smarter- an upgrade to the prototype that it was chasing- superior in all possible ways.

After searching the warehouse and unsuccessfully finding Connor, RK900 carefully went through the other android’s memories again. It catalogued the places “Connor” had been to, filing through different locations. It ranked them, rifling through memories and maps. Where would it most likely hide? It ranked some of the places, a list filing out in the investigation file within its tasklist. When it got later in the memories, something strange filled RK900. It felt like weight in its chest and a nagging feeling, like something forgotten. It felt like being unable to search or scan for something it needed to know. RK900 didn’t like whatever it was.

__

RK900 stepped out of a taxi and onto the dead streets. Late at night, this part of Detroit was inactive, and it was such as it scanned around. Dark windows and shut doors highlighted in yellow from the street lamps. It silently made its way towards a dilapidated house with boarded up windows and an old fence rusted from rainy days. As it silently approached the chainlink fence, it scanned for weaknesses or holes. There. RK900 walked over to a section of the fence that was cut and bent inwards. It slipped through easily, metal rattling, and began walking toward the door of the house. Knowing who, or what was inside, it slipped in without hesitation. Scraping of a knife against plaster echoed throughout the house and unsteady shuffling came from upstairs. As RK900 placed a foot on the first step, shifting its weight by increments, as the steps groaned and bowed. It made its way to the top of the stairs before it looked about, finding a door slightly opened. It began to walk towards it, hand extended to push it open.

“Ah!” The door was flung fully open and an android menacingly pointed a knife at RK900, madness in its eyes. “Who are you? Ralph thinks you look like the detective but you are not. Ralph doesn’t like strangers coming into his house.” The android said, gesturing wildly toward RK900 with the knife. 

It appeared as if the side of the android’s face had been bashed in and burned. Large, blue scars marred the android’s cheek, running from its forehead to its chin. In some places, synthetic skin was gone entirely. 

“My assigned name is RK900, and I am looking for the RK800 model, ‘Connor’. Do you know where it is?” RK900 questioned, stiff postured. Its eyes idly analyzed Ralph’s knife. It posed a low threat. For now. 

“R-Ralph doesn’t know where detective android went. Ralph doesn’t know where he is.” The android answered, face twitching. Its head seemed to jerk to the side a few times, seemingly a nervous tick. 

RK900 watched the android. It seemed to be telling the truth.

“Did it come here recently?” RK900 asked.

“N-no. Ralph hasn’t seen it recently.” It moved the knife tip to the left, away from his body, to punctuate the words.

RK900 could tell it was a lie. Its hand twitched forwards a millimeter, synthetic skin pulling away from its fingers, before stopping. The face of ‘Connor’ after the interrogation flashed in its processor. The way the other android had looked, the excess optical cleaning fluid that had flown down its cheeks, the something that Connor had shared with it while they had interfaced. It all made RK900 stop. It already knew from the lie that RK800 had been here recently, it didn’t need to know anything more.

—

RK900 watched through the cameras. It had seen the deviant RK800 android come here at 17:38:00, sit on the bench overlooking the river, for five days, and today was no different. The deviant came over the melting snow and sat carefully down on the lone bench. He- It put its hand carefully on the other side of the bench with a hollow and watery-eyed look in its eyes before looking out over the river and the bridge.

RK900 remembered the words Amanda had said to it only minutes before. Use every advantage . 

RK900 intended to do as such.