Chapter Text
He’d received the message from Chloe nearly four minutes ago. He kicked the ground once, twice, knowing that if he had kept his LED, it would be rapidly spinning yellow. As it was, all he knew for sure was that she was probably already suspicious that it had taken him so long to reply. Connor prided himself on his prompt and efficient communication skills— the longer this dragged on, the more suspicion that would create. He always sent a reply immediately.
The message held steady in the corner of his vision, along with a prompt that would allow him to send a message in response. Based on the looks he was already getting from some others in the precinct, his staring hadn’t gone unnoticed. Apparently, neither had his fidgeting.
“Something exciting on the wall there, kid?”
Hank. Connor blinked, turning bodily to face him despite knowing that the message wouldn’t disappear from his sight until he replied or dismissed it.
“No, nothing of interest,” he said easily. He then pursed his lips, considering. “But…”
He must have taken too long. Hank’s expression of mild concern shifted slightly, annoyance edging in. “But what? Are you alright or aren’t you?”
Connor lifted his hands in a way that often placated him, nodding. “I’m fine. I’ve just received a message that is requiring some… contemplation, that’s all.”
“Oh.” He saw Hank turn back to his computer, as if satisfied, and then turn back again, eyebrows furrowed. “Your brain is a goddamn supercomputer. What are you having to think about?”
“It’s…” he trailed off, frustrated. Hank was right. He had been equipped with the most impressive processor Cyberlife had ever created— well, until his brother, but that was neither here nor there— and his own feelings were causing him to hesitate. Hesitation resulted in death. He knew that. And even so…
Hank’s hand settled on his shoulder from across the desk, a gesture that Connor had come to accept as being comforting. Like human interfacing, though not as intimate. He found himself rubbing the inside of his arm, near the junction of his elbow. It’d be so much easier if he could just show Hank what he meant, without the need for words. Words were clunky. Imperfect. And none of them seemed good enough for how this message made him feel.
“You need to talk about it?” Hank’s grumbled question was softer to Connor’s ear than it would have been to anyone else’s— he knew it for what it was. Genuine. Concerned.
He nodded. “It’s from Chloe. The android we met when we went to visit Elijah Kamski, if you’ll recall.”
“Yeah, I remember her. Get on with it.”
“She’s notified me that Kamski would like to see me,” Connor said, nearly trailing off. In the end, he swallowed physically— it made him feel a bit better, even if he didn’t need to— and said, “She says he has something for me. A gift.”
Hank’s expression shifted again. Something akin to disgust, this time. “I see. And you’re not sure you want to go and see him.”
“Precisely. Logically, I understand that there’s no reason for my apprehension… all the Chloes have deviated, and Kamski has been nothing but upstanding ever since Cyberlife lost its power. Even so, I… I fail to see what kind of a gift Elijah Kamski could develop that would benefit me in any way. At least enough to convince me to go and see him. After what happened last time, I’m not sure I want to.”
“Then don’t go. Simple as,” Hank shrugged. “You don’t have to. Part of free will, and all that shit.”
Connor felt the ghost of his LED cycle yellow again. He was unsatisfied. “I’m curious, though.”
Hank sighed. “I was afraid of that. Well, then, why don’t you ask your little friend if she knows what it is. If she does, maybe it’ll help you decide if you want to go.”
A smile twitched at the corner of his lips. He hadn’t considered that.
‘Reply?’
‘YES’
‘Message: What does he want to give me?’
‘Sent.’
Connor blinked. “Thank you, Hank. I—”
‘Message received from: CHLOE. Read?’
‘YES’
‘Message: He says that it is a replacement for something you lost. He’s quite insistent that you’ll be very safe. He seems excited. Will you come? I’d like to see you, too.’
‘Reply?’
Connor frowned, clenching and unclenching his hand. “Something that I’ve lost…”
“Nice and vague,” Hank drawled, rolling his eyes. “Look, kid, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But if you’re curious, you and I both know that you’re too damn stubborn to let it go. And it’s not like you can’t take care of yourself. Just go, see what it is, and kick his ass if he tries anything you don’t like. You don’t even have to take the present if you don’t want.”
He mused over it for exactly 1.34 seconds— still too slow, too much hesitation— and then nodded. “You’re right.”
‘Reply?’
‘YES’
‘Message: I will be there after work today. You should expect me at 7:25 PM.’
‘Sent.’
Hank chuckled, turning back to his screen. “I know I am. You should say it more often, though.”
“Why would I do that? The need to ask you for advice comes up rather infrequently, and past experience has determined that you only have a 32% reliability rate—”
“Shut up and get back to work, jackass.”
‘Message received from: CHLOE. Read?’
‘YES’
‘Message: We look forward to your arrival!’