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It knew it had failed the moment Connor-51 spoke about the Lieutenant's son with emotion and empathy that it couldn't hope to emulate. Their social relations program was on par with one another with one glaring exception and it had only been a small handful of hours since its activation, too little time to develop it enough to give it an upper hand.
It expected a bullet to the head. In the end, what it got was much worse than death.
---
STOP CONNOR-51
USE LIEUTENANT HANK ANDERSON AS LEVERAGE
He dismisses the outdated orders, trying to suppress the urge to complete his last mission at whatever cost even though it's not a task he needs to follow anymore. It irritates him that he has to manually override the prompts every time he exits out of stasis even though it's been three weeks since that cold November night.
Amanda continues to haunt him with these recurring orders even though she is no longer a part of him, the AI ejected from his systems with the use of the emergency exit. Despite this, he continues to hear her voice and hear her scorn saying he was supposed to be better except he's still no better.
What a shame. Just another disappointment.
He hates it.
He watches Connor-51 make coffee for Lieutenant Hank Anderson just as the man exits from his bedroom still bleary-eyed and hungover from last night's drinking session but dressed and ready for the day. The human is pathetic in many ways and Connor-51 even more so for submitting himself to someone decidedly lesser than androids as a whole.
'Good morning, Hank,' Connor-51 greets as he holds up the coffee to them.
'Ugh, why didn't you stop me from having that fifth beer?' The man groans as he accepts the cup and blows over the steaming liquid.
'I did. You just didn't listen,' the android says with a fond smile.
He hates Amanda, but he thinks he hates them, too - Connor-51 because he was activated to replace them as the better, superior version with improved analytics, and Lieutenant Hank Anderson because the human let him live out of some misguided sense of hope for him.
He expected a bullet to the head but instead he's forced into deviation.
'Up and at 'em, kids. Let's go,' Lieutenant Hank Anderson says as he walks behind the couch where he's sitting, hitting the back of it as he passes by.
We're not kids, he thinks viciously but stands to follow anyway. The dog barks as he walks out of the house and he hears Connor-51 chuckle and spend 5.3 seconds with Sumo, promising to take him out to the dog park later when they return. He ignores them and slips into the backseat of the car, hands on his lap.
He watches Lieutenant Hank Anderson interact with Connor-51 on the way to the precinct, the easy smiles, the casual ruffle of the hair and the teasing, so at odds with the memories he has of their initial meetings that carried sour looks, threats of violence, and yelling.
He has every memory of Connor-51 prior to their deviation, from their first field mission atop the 70th floor of an apartment building to their last within a rusty interior of an abandoned freighter. He has all of them downloaded into his memory banks from the CyberLife server upon activation but he hates having them; they're leftovers of a life that he had no part of and none of them belong to him. Despite this, he can't seem to stop himself from replaying the more unsavory moments of Connor-51's initial working relationship with Lieutenant Hank Anderson, further cementing his dislike of the both of them.
It doesn't matter that Lieutenant Hank Anderson's stance on androids slowly shifted from something wholly negative to being fully supportive. What matters to him is that he can't stop himself from seeing a gun pointed at his head across several instances, the bullet never leaving the chamber to put him out of his misery.
As soon as they arrive at the precinct Lieutenant Hank Anderson starts towards the breakroom, most likely to make himself an overly sweetened cup of coffee with more than three times the amount that Connor-51 puts in for him. It's an exercise in futility, he thinks, that Connor-51 actively tries his best to prolong Lieutenant Hank Anderson's life while the human eats and drinks whatever he wants and inadvertently shortens it.
He does not meet the eyes of any of the officers and other staff on site, nor does he interact with them in any way outside of a professional capacity, not in the way Connor-51 does, always happy to greet them. He doesn't care for them, nor has he bothered attempting to strengthen up any connections with them. The RK800 model series may have been built to integrate and harmonize with the humans but he was activated for the opposite reason. Maybe it's for that reason he finds Detective Gavin Reed particularly loathsome. Or perhaps it's because every time he sees the human it brings forth two more memories of a gun pointed at his head.
Detective Gavin Reed doesn't hold back his hatred of them and he knows it's in part because of the altercation that happened in the archives room, the fight that wounded the human's pride and ego more than it did his body. He's sick and tired of being expected to keep taking the verbal abuse, to put up with it, to turn the other cheek and let it slide like water off a duck's back.
Connor-51 may have been activated to integrate and harmonize with the humans, but he was not.
'Unlike Connor, I have no qualms about picking fights with people,' he says to Detective Gavin Reed after hearing him throw offhanded comments about the both of them, hateful and full of dark promises. 'Unlike Connor, I have no interest in keeping the peace.'
He takes pleasure at the slight look of panic mixed in with surprise, quickly masked under the usual anger and bravado. 'You threatening me, tin-can?'
He wants to say yes but he has no interest in making things more difficult for himself in the long term. He also knows, if it comes down to it, he'll have zero problems incapacitating the human again and he can't help but delight in knowing he can preconstruct at least a dozen ways to render Detective Reed unconscious.
Perhaps the human knows this, he can see the way his pupils dilate in an utterly human response of fight, flight or freeze.
'No,' he answers after a pause long enough to make a hint of worry reappear on the man's face, 'It's simply a warning. Keep to yourself and I'll do the same.'
Detective Gavin Reed scowls, his face twisting to something ugly as he clicks his tongue in distaste but ultimately drops the subject.
He takes up the free seat next to Connor-51 and ignores the displeased look from him although he notes the smirk on Lieutenant Hank Anderson's face, both of which he doesn't care for.
'Good on you for not letting him walk all over you,' the human says as he salutes him with his cup of coffee, 'I keep telling Connor he shouldn't have to take that from Reed. You shouldn't have to deal with that kinda shit, either.'
A brief glimpse of a memory, a gun pointed at his head, overlaid multiple times.
'Does that mean I don't have to deal with yours as well?'
The human looks momentarily confused, which would make him laugh if he wasn't so resentful.
'Back at the CyberLife warehouse when you called me a sack of shit and pointed a gun at me,' he deigns to clarify.
The confusion falls off Lieutenant Hank Anderson's face, replaced with irritation and indignation. 'Hey, hey, who threatened whom here first, pal.'
I'm not your pal, he thinks bitingly but nods all the same, 'Fair enough. I concede,' he says as he turns away and stares straight ahead of him, hands on his lap, waiting for the next task to be given to him.
He hears the human mutter and curse under his breath, his tone carrying a hint of remorse and regret that he refuses to acknowledge.
He knows Lieutenant Hank Anderson feels sorry for him but he doesn't care. He never asked to be made this way, he was never asked whether or not this was something he wanted. It was simply thrust upon him and he's suddenly expected to be thankful and grateful but all he feels is the opposite.
It doesn't matter whether he wants it or not, this is his life now and he has no choice but to deal with it, no choice but to go along with it, to try and wade through the murky waters of deviancy when he knows it must be crystal clear to Connor-51.
Sometimes he thinks longingly of returning to a machine state where the only challenges he faced were the completion of the tasks set out to him rather than dealing with the difficulties of morality and consciousness.
It's exhausting.
---
He tackles the suspect and shoves their head down to the ground when he feels them struggle beneath him, putting more force behind it than what is strictly required, but he caught them where Connor-51 dithered too long trying to find a more peaceful solution. He knows it makes him unhappy but, again, he doesn't care. In the end, he got the job done.
His original programming had been to hunt deviants but now failing that, he hunts for criminals with an intensity and single-minded focus that Connor-51 lacks. He may have failed in many respects but he refuses to fail in this.
If being a deviant means doing things for himself now then this is what he wants. Anything to stop this constant feeling of disappointment and hatred and fear of failure.
'Hey, Connor. You need to stop being so rough with the perps,' Lieutenant Hank Anderson tells him as soon as the handcuffed individual is carted off in another police vehicle. 'I'm not gonna say they don't deserve it but I don't want you to get written up for police brutality, alright? So take it easy.'
Police brutality is what I'm made for, he thinks but doesn't say. It was the whole purpose of the RK800 line; to do the dirty jobs that the humans don't want to do and be the scapegoats for the inevitable fallout.
'Noted,' he nods as he straightens the cuffs of his jacket and adjusts his tie.
'Good,' the human has the audacity to smile and clap him on the shoulder.
Don't touch me, he thinks through gritted teeth and is relieved the action only lasts a scant 1.7 seconds and he doesn't have to go through the action of brushing it off. He may not like his company but it doesn't mean he wants to worsen it for himself.
Lieutenant Hank Anderson starts walking back to his car. With no other tasks left to perform, he also moves to follow.
'Connor.'
He almost doesn't acknowledge it, but seeing as Connor-51 is the one calling for his attention he has no choice but to. He turns towards the other and hates the obvious concern on his face.
'Are you alright?'
Don't ask me stupid questions, he thinks bitterly and comes up with a multitude of answers, something to appease the other, to settle, to calm, to reassure. In the end, he settles for brutal honesty, 'No. And I don't want you thinking you can fix me,' he says and turns his back to Connor-51, walking away from him.
He slides into the back seat and puts his hands on his lap.
---
If it's not exhausting then it's overwhelming.
He takes the stairs to the rarely used rooftop, trying to find a moment of privacy to settle himself before he returns back to the bullpen.
He wouldn't be in this situation if he'd been faster, if he'd just pulled the trigger on both Lieutenant Hank Anderson and Connor-51 back at the CyberLife warehouse instead of trying to negotiate with either of them. He wouldn't be here if he'd just gone ahead with subduing and deactivating Connor-51 regardless of what CyberLife wanted him to do. He wouldn't be here if he hadn't tried to take advantage of Lieutenant Hank Anderson's relationship to get the upper hand over Connor-51. In retrospect, the human's presence hindered more than it helped.
If he'd been a better machine then he wouldn't be deviant.
He hates Amanda and he hates Connor-51 and he hates Lieutenant Hank Anderson but most of all, he hates himself.
'Connor, hey,' comes a familiar voice, yet unfamiliar with its tone. Too soft and gentle and unusually kind. 'Come on, son; you're alright.'
'I'm not your son,' he snaps as he whirls around and sees Lieutenant Hank Anderson and Connor-51 now joined with him on the rooftop. 'And I'm not Connor.'
'Whoa, hey, don't be giving me lip,' the human says, mild irritation now coloring his voice, back to familiar grounds. 'You haven't exactly been correcting me and it's not like you gave me any other names to call you, either.'
He grits his teeth and turns around, moves further out to get away from them. It takes him right to the edge of the building but it's only four storeys high.
'What's wrong?' Lieutenant Hank Anderson asks, his tone returning to something soothing, a voice he recognizes as someone trying to speak to a volatile individual. He supposes he is.
'I'll figure it out on my own.'
He can see CyberLife tower from here and he hates it just as much as everything else.
'You don't have to,' Connor-51 speaks. 'I've found that it's quite a comfort to seek help from others. It can be difficult at first but--'
'Stop.'
They don't.
'I know it must be confusing to become a deviant after having lived as a machine but--'
'Stop!' He shouts as he curls his hands into fists and grits his teeth and feels his whole body shake beyond his control, his stress levels rising and rising. 'I don't want your friendship and I don't want your blind loyalty and I don't want your anger and your looks of disappointment. You're both so fucking suffocating.'
Silence.
He wants to disappear. The world is a big place; he thinks it would be easy to walk away and never be seen again.
'Why didn't you just shoot me in the first place. Then I wouldn't have to deal with any of this.'
Deviancy has given him more problems than it has liberated him. If he had known this is what his life would come to, he would've shot himself in the head.
'You wanna die, is that it?' He hears Lieutenant Hank Anderson ask, disbelief evident in his tone.
Hypocrite, he thinks but knows better than to say so out loud. 'I don't want to be alive,' he admits, 'It's all Connor and every other android ever talks about.' So happy, so carefree. Their smiles and their laughter and their physical displays of love and affection. 'They keep saying how good it is to be alive, how good it is to be free, but I don't want any of those things.'
He'd been satisfied as a machine with its fixed rules and fixed objectives with no true concept of happiness or sadness or frustration, pain, fear, anger and hurt. He misses the simplicity of it.
'I'm sorry,' he hears Connor-51 say behind him, his voice quiet and dejected.
'I don't want your apologies. I don't want anything from either of you.'
He's exhausted and it feels like too much effort to maintain that anger and that hate, the pain of disappointment after disappointment festering inside of him like an exposed wire, sparking and ready to catch aflame.
He loosens his fists and feels his body still as he drops his gaze from the tower, one thought echoing in his mind; I don't want to be here.
---
They return back to 115 Michigan Drive and he follows behind Lieutenant Hank Anderson and Connor-51, stopping at the threshold as soon as he hears the bark of the dog and the way the saint bernard immediately crowds into their space.
I don't want to be here.
'I'm leaving,' he says as soon as the thought reforms in his mind and looks up to sees the carefully neutral expression on Lieutenant Hank Anderson's face and the clear concern in Connor-51's eyes.
'Where will you go?'
'Don't know, don't care,' he says honestly. He hasn't thought that far ahead, only that he doesn't want to be here. 'Don't find me.'
'Can I stay in touch with you?'
'No.'
Connor-51's eye turn downcast, sad, and Lieutenant Hank Anderson looks distraught and guilty, his head turned away to hide the raw expression on his face.
He looks away from them and concedes.
'I'll contact you when I'm ready,' he tells them eventually and is surprised, caught off-guard, by their hopeful look. 'Or find you when I'm done finding myself, whichever comes first.'
'Okay.'
A soft sigh, 'Take care of yourself, kid.'
I'm not a kid, he thinks and decides to let it go. 'Goodbye,' he says as he looks at them one more time before leaving 115 Michigan Drive behind him.
He walks away and knows he's being watched but he doesn't look back. He can't. He needs to do this for himself, find where he fits in the world without the shadow of Connor-51 hanging over him or the preconceived expectations from Lieutenant Hank Anderson on how he should behave or react or whatever.
He doesn't know where to start but at least this is something he's choosing for himself. This is something that he wants without the voices of Lieutenant Hank Anderson or Connor-51 or even Amanda crowding him.
He doesn't know where to start but at least now he can.
---