Work Text:
My son, what’s his name?
Connor hesitated.
He knew the answer: Cole Anderson. But the other Connor knew, too. It wouldn’t be enough to say Cole’s name. He had to let Hank know it was him some other way.
Especially since the other Connor had all of Connor’s social programming.
“Cole,” said the doppelganger, his voice quiet, almost gentle. “His name was Cole. And he just turned six at the time of the accident.”
In that moment, Connor realized why people found him so creepy. Seeing his double use the exact right words in the exact right tone, likely based on analysis of the situation and his memories of Hank and Connor’s past interactions, was eerie. Eerie and infuriating. I shouldn’t have missed his head.
“It wasn’t your fault, Lieutenant. A truck skidded on a sheet of ice and your car rolled over. Cole needed emergency surgery but no human was available to do it. So an android had to take care of him. Cole didn’t make it.”
All of that was in the accident report, the news reports, every bit of public record about the accident that Connor was able to find during one of his car rides back to Cyberlife. He’d felt guilt afterwards—in hindsight, he was sure it was guilt. At the time, it had been for being nosy. Now, it was because he’d given that bastard wearing his face ammunition.
“That’s why you hate androids. You think one of us is responsible for your son’s death.”
It was a logical conclusion. It was even a conclusion that Connor would’ve voiced aloud to Hank. His chances of success had just gone down drastically, he knew it.
I really am Cyberlife’s best model, huh? Connor thought frantically.
Hank didn’t shoot. He also didn’t ask another question. He just looked at Connor as if waiting for his response. Maybe he’d seen the panic in his eyes, or maybe something about other Connor’s answer hadn’t sat right with him. It was Connor’s chance, his one shot at getting this right, but…he didn’t know what to say. There was nothing he could think of that his counterpart didn’t know, no extra details that might make the story convincing.
“…I looked up the accident after you pointed a gun at me at the park,” he said, finally. It was the only thing he could think to say. “I…I wanted to understand why you were so angry. Why you behaved the way you did.” Connor shifted in place. Suddenly, his fingers ached for his coin—anything to break the tension building up in him. “Deviants self-destruct when faced with powerful negative emotion. I always thought it was their systems being overwhelmed by false instructions, but…that’s just pain, isn’t it? That’s what it does. I didn’t…”
In a human, the sudden surge of guilt he felt would’ve manifested as a crack in his voice. In a way, he supposed that’s what happened; it just sounded differently for an android. A quick glitch, the second syllable of didn’t taking on a hint of static, as if he’d been damaged.
Fitting, really. Cyberlife had always considered Deviancy another form of damage.
“I didn’t realize you were in that much pain. I should have. I’ve seen what it does.” Deviants jumped off roofs and slammed their heads into walls and sometimes fried their processors from the sheer weight of grief. Hank Anderson drank as a form of self-harm and let fate and a Magnum decide if he lived or died. It was the same thing, just slower. “I would have died a thousand times over if it were me. I’m sorry, Hank. I’m…” Another glitch, like a skipping record. “I’m so sorry.”
Sorry about what happened to Cole. Sorry that Connor hadn’t been a better partner—no, a better friend. Sorry that he’d been so blind to Hank’s pain for as long as he had been.
The other Connor froze, watching the exchange with a furrowed brow. His LED spun yellow as he tried to process what he’d heard. “…Lieutenant…” he said.
The gunshot startled Connor out of his regret. For a brief second, he thought that he’d been shot. But all his biocomponents were intact and he was on his feet. And when he looked at his doppelganger…
“…I shot the right one, right?” Hank said.
The double lay on the floor with a hole in his head. “You did,” Connor said. “Are you okay?’
“Ah, I’ve been roughed up worse.” Hank finally lowered the gun. “Shit, he was worse than you ever were.”
Connor laughed. He wasn’t sure why. The situation wasn’t funny. Relief, maybe. “Thanks. I think.” Connor looked down at his double’s lifeless body. “You should get out of here. I don’t want you to be charged as an accessory to grand larceny.”
“I think plausible deniability’s gone out the window, kid.” Hank holstered his weapon and looked around the room. “What are we doing? Turning his guys back on?”
Connor felt something new then. He was pretty sure it was gratitude. “That’s what I’ll be doing. If you want to help, I’ll need someone for crowd control.”
“I don’t think they’ll be too keen on trusting me, but…”
“You’re not wearing a Cyberlife uniform. That should be enough.” Connor went back to the storage container he’d been trying to open. “Once we get them all out, we’ll have to see who wants to leave and who wants to join Markus…”
“He wasn’t completely right.”
Hank was looking down at the other Connor again. His eyes were somber. “Cole…he died because the human surgeon was too high on red ice to operate. By the time they figured that out, it was too late. Nothing the android could’ve done. It wasn’t his fault and it’s not yours. It’s this…whole fucked-up situation. You were tools in a system that let humans throw away their responsibilities. Don’t have to pay workers, don’t have to hear no from your girlfriend, don’t have to take responsibility for your actions...an android can handle it. Who cares who gets screwed, huh?” He nudged the doppelganger’s body with his foot. “It was easier to blame you, to hate you, but…I get it. You’re all victims, same as Cole. Even this asshole.”
He wasn’t wrong. Connor felt a tinge of…pity, almost. Pity, and the deep dread that came with knowing that this could’ve been him. If it hadn’t been for Markus, that would’ve been him still.
Who knows what he would’ve done?
“Maybe all of this…maybe this will fix things. Break the whole system.” Hank almost sounded hopeful—still somber, but there was something genuine in his voice Connor had never heard before. “Do what you’ve gotta do. I’ll help where I can.”
Connor nodded rested his hand against the control panel. The lid swished open, revealing a rack of recently recalled androids. Most of them weren’t damaged. That was a good start. Connor’s skin peeled back as he reached out to take one’s hand. All it took to turn them back on was a thought.
Wake up.
He just hoped he was bringing them into a better future.