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Four days after the demonstration at Hart Plaza was when Connor finally got a chance to meet up with Hank. He had messaged the Lieutenant, who had offered to meet him at Chicken Feed. The choice in venue was oddly amusing, and reminiscent of their time together at the food truck.
As he approached, he spotted the frame of the older man waiting in the cold. Hank was scowling as he huddled into his jacket, causing Connor to hesitate ever so slightly on his approach. The crunch of the snow beneath his feet alerted the man of his presence, his face softening with recognition as Connor made his way over. He stopped a couple feet away from the Lieutenant, unease filling his mind as he tried to read the man’s face; unsure of what to expect.
He was pulled forward. Arms wrapped firmly around him, and for a brief moment the shock filled his systems, causing his mind to stutter slightly as the information processed. It was a hug. He was being hugged. He had never been hugged before. It felt good. Connor moved his arms to reciprocate, and they stayed in the embrace for a few moments before Hank pulled away, keeping his hand on the android’s shoulder. Connor opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again when he couldn’t find the words to say. Hank gave him a smile.
“You did good, son.”
He felt warm under the acknowledgement, a soft smile spreading across his own face. Hanks’s hand left his shoulder and motioned towards the car that was parked on the other side of the road.
“Come on Connor, lets go home.”
Home. It was an interesting concept to Connor; something foreign to him. In the three months he had been alive, he hadn’t had much experience being in a place of comfort. A week ago he wouldn’t have even considered himself capable of having a home; he was a machine after all, machines couldn’t have homes.
He followed the lieutenant to his car, and sat quietly in the passenger seat. The engine started and a loud blaring came from the radio, causing Connor to recoil until Hank reached to turn it down. Knights of the Black Death, his scanners told him. Hank’s favourite band.
“Sumo will be glad to see you. He’s taken quite a liking to your smartass brother. Says he’s more of a cat person.” Hank said with a roll of his eyes.
“My… my brother?” Connor questioned.
Hank only laughed, “sure! you know, RK900? He’s like your baby brother.”
“Hank, I don’t think that androids can have siblings… and RK900 is hardly a baby.”
“Look Con, family doesn’t mean blood-relations, it’s who you choose to keep in your life. All this kid talks about is you. He looks up to you.” Hank sighed softly before laughing to himself, “and at less than a week old, I’d say he’s a baby.”
Connor gave a small chuckle in response before turning to look out the window. The frozen landscape was empty, the shops yet to reopen after the evacuation order. There were no people on the street either, and an eerie calmness fell over the city. Everything was still at a standstill, with Markus yet to meet with the president to negotiate their rights. Connor found himself enjoying the peacefulness it brought.
It wasn’t long before they were pulling into Hank’s driveway and Connor could hear the excited barking of the St. Bernard as he saw hem through the window. Connor smiled, he missed Sumo. He followed Hank towards the house, and the door was open for less than a second before Sumo was bounding out, jumping up on Connor in an attempt to lick his face.
“It’s good to see you too, Sumo” was all Connor could say before Hank was pulling the overexcited ball of fur back inside. He was quick to follow, shutting the door behind him.
The inside of Hanks house was relatively the same, if a bit cleaner. There was a plastic sheet over the window where Connor had broken in—he only felt slightly guilty over his actions—and a considerable improvement in the layers of dust that had settled over the residence. Most of the clutter was cleaned up as well, and Connor noted a significant lack of empty alcohol bottles littered throughout the living room.
The android sitting on the couch in the living room was new, but not unexpected. RK900 turned gleefully to acknowledge Connor, “it is good to know that you are not dead.”
He was dressed in his Cyberlife uniform, minus his jacket and shoes which were placed by the front door (undoubtedly at Hank’s request). The look on his face read as unsure, the flickering red-yellow of his LED confirming so. Connor smiled at the android, and his face immediately lit up, LED cycling back to blue.
“Here, these should fit,” Hank said, reappearing in the room and tossing a pile of clothes into Connor’s arms, “Mr. Nine-hundo over there said he doesn’t want new clothes, but I thought you’d appreciate some.”
“Hank, I-” Connor started to protest but was cut off before he could go further.
“Don’t worry about it kid, they’re old, I won’t miss em.” Hank said, patting him on the shoulder before making his way to the kitchen, “You don’t have to wear em now, but they’re yours.”
Connor looked down at the pile in his hand, and then back up to hank. This was a gift. He had never been given a gift before. Nodding, he turned to the bathroom, stroking Sumo slightly as he passed. The dog gave a huff as he trotted back over towards the couch.
As soon as the bathroom door was closed and locked firmly behind him, Connor allowed the tears that were welling up in his eyes to fall. Androids weren’t supposed to cry—the water in their tear ducts serving only to keep their eyes clean and free of smudging—but there was something cathartic about letting the tears drip slowly down his cheeks. He sat down on the ground, examining the clothes in front of him. There was a navy-blue hoodie along with a pair of jeans, both of which looked the wrong size and style to have truly been Hank’s. He must have gone out and gotten them specifically for Connor. The tears continued to flow as Connor ran his hands over the fabric.
His Cyberlife clothes were fancy, to say the least. They were tailored to fit him perfectly, giving him enough room to move while still looking professional. They were made of an uncomfortable synthetic fabric, nothing like the soft cotton blend of the sweater in front of him. He brought it to his face, pressing the cloth against him. It felt good, reassuring.
Standing, Connor took little time to change into the new outfit, sighing with relief as the fabric soothed his skin. How had he not realized how irritating his old clothes were? He looked in the mirror, tilting his head in awe as he looked at his new appearance. The jeans fit him well, they were a little long for his legs, but he rolled the cuffs of them to fit better. The sweater was just his size, if not a little big. He swayed his arms in contentment, reveling in the feeling of the new clothes.
Reaching in the pocket of his Cyberlife jacket, he pulled out his trusty quarter, flicking it across his knuckles a couple times before placing it firmly into the front right pocket of his jeans. He quickly folded his old uniform, taking one last moment to wipe away the remaining tears from his face before exiting the bathroom.
He stepped into the kitchen to find Hank and RK900 sitting at the table. Hank was eating some chicken flavoured cup noodles—Connor grimaced as he analyzed the sodium levels of the meal—and with a bottle of beer unopened beside him. Connor took the time to fill up a glass of water, swiftly replacing the bottle, much to Hank’s chagrin.
“H-hey asshole! Its just one beer! Let me have this, its not like this bastard hasn’t been making me cut back already.”
Connor looked over to the RK900, who shrugged. “His average blood alcohol levels have seemed to significantly drop in the four days I have been here.”
Sighing, Connor relented, sliding the beer back over to Hank before sitting down across from him. He was in front of the broken window, and he could feel the cold seeping in through the hastily put-up tarp. He averted his eyes guiltily, turning his attention back to Hank. He was about to express his gratitude over the clothes when RK900 interrupted him.
“So, are you going to meet the president?” He asked in a bored tone. He sat with his left elbow on the table, fist propping his up head and his eyes glued to Hank’s meal. The question caught Hank’s attention, and an intrigued look spread over his face as the two awaited the answer.
“I-wha-no! Why would I?” Connor stumbled over the words.
“Because you are one of the leaders of the android Rebellion? I assumed you would be meeting with her, seeing as you have yet to negotiate the specifics that android rights entails.”
“I’m not- I didn’t lead the android Rebellion.” Connor stuttered.
“You freed thousands of androids?” RK900 stated the obvious.
“Yeah, and then I almost shot Markus in the head! Cyberlife won’t stop trying to take control again. I’m too much of a liability.”
“You think you aren’t worth the risk?” RK900 questioned, angry on his predecessor’s behalf.
“Worth the risk—” Connor scoffed, “I almost ended everything.”
“You are the reason we won and you know it!” The two were getting louder now. RK900 sitting up straight to meet Connor’s glare.
Hank was quick to interject in an annoyed tone “Hey- hey! Settle down you two! No reason this discussion can’t be civil.”
The androids looked at each other, blinking slowly before Connor let out a deep sigh and relaxed his tense frame. The RK900 stayed tense but shifted back into his original position at the table, resuming his staring contest with Hank’s meal. After a couple moments Connor turned to address him, pausing when he realized that the other android didn’t have a name. Hank seemed to pick up on his hesitation, and he filled in the silence.
“So kid, have you decided on a name yet? We can’t keep calling you RK900.”
RK900 lifted his head to look at Hank, his LED spinning a brief yellow as he pondered the question before his lips quirked into a small smile, “I think I would like to go by Nines.”
“That’s not a—” Hank moved to protest before Connor cut him off.
“That’s a great name!” He almost jumped out of his seat with excitement for the other, “I think it suits you well!”
Nines’ smile grew wider as he looked away.
---
Staying true to his word, Hank switched to water after his fist beer. When he was done eating, he threw out the cup and placed his fork in the sink. Grabbing a deck of cards from a drawer, he sat down and began shuffling before he dealt them each eight cards. The androids looked on in confusion before Hank explained.
“We’re playing crazy eights” he said as he flipped a card upright and picked up his hand. He grumbled, “it’s the only game I can trust you not to cheat at with your computer brains.”
Connor looked up the rules to the card game—it seemed simple enough: the goal was to get rid of all the cards in your hand, with set parameters of acceptable ways to discard them—he looked to Nines, who had undoubtedly done the same. They shared a brief look, silent competition igniting behind their eyes.
The rounds went by relatively quickly. Connor had no frame of reference, but he was certain that games usually lasted more than just a few turns. He realized early on that he was actually quite a poor player, more often than not coming in last place while Nines and Hank battled for first. (How the human had managed to get near perfect hands 3 rounds in a row, Connor would never know.) They talked pleasantly over the competition, Hank telling them old stories from when he was a detective. The two androids hung onto his every word, both intrigued as the man recanted old cases that had been exciting enough to cement themselves into his memory. They were also desperate to learn what they could from the lieutenant—well, at least Connor was—as the man opened up more about his previously well-guarded life.
They learned about O’Riley, Hanks partner before he joined the red ice task force, who had left the force to spend more time with his family before he died of Cancer in 2033. Hank regarded him fondly, with a gentle smile on his face as he reminisced of their time together. It was good to see Hank in a happier disposition and Connor made a mental note to figure out how to make the man happier more often. Hank deserved some positivity after the years of heartbreak and misery he had suffered.
After a while Hank called it a night, saying that Connor was welcomed to stay the night. Connor gave his gratitude, explaining that whilst he would have to return to New Jericho, he would make time to visit again soon. Hank wrapped him in one final hug before leaving to his bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him.
Connor looked to Nines, who was standing awkwardly in the living room. He shifted his weight back and forth as he fidgeted with the sleeves of his turtleneck, LED a circling yellow. Nines had been relatively quiet throughout the night, opting to sit back while Hank and Connor did most of the talking. Aside from his name, Nines hadn’t even shared anything about himself. Connor supposed that was reasonable, considering that neither of the androids had much experience outside of their programming. The world—and by extension themselves—was still new to them.
“You know,” Connor started keeping his voice even and his LED blue, “you’re welcome to come to New Jericho. Everything is still chaos right now, but I’m sure we could use you on the team… If you want to, that is.”
Nines looked to Hank’s closed door, and then back to Connor, “but you would prefer if I stay here.”
“It doesn’t matter what I prefer, Nines. You have the right to make your own decisions now. I’ll support whatever you decide.”
There was a moment of silence as Nines pondered his options. He stared intently at the ground in front of him until he figured out what he wanted to say, at which point he forced his eyeline back up to Connor’s face. “I think I would like to stay here. At least for a little while. I still want to help Jericho as much as I can, but I think we would both feel better knowing that someone is looking out for Hank.”
Connor smiled, reaching out a hand to pat his brother’s shoulder. Truthfully, he was right that Connor preferred that he stay with Hank, if not for Hank’s safety, then for Nines’. Things still weren’t great for Androids, and New Jericho had more issues than it had solutions at the moment. And while Connor had no doubt that Nines could look out for himself, he still felt a sense of overprotectiveness towards the younger model. Hank had seemed better off with Nines around as well, if tonight was anything to go by. It did ease his mind knowing that Nines was helping him.
“I will keep you updated on things, and let you know when we could use your help” Connor said, turning to put his shoes back on. “I’d appreciate if you’d do the same. I’ll make sure to visit again as soon as I can. Please let me know if you need anything until then.”
It was Nines’ turn to nod, and he hesitated a moment before speaking again, this time much quieter than he had all night, “I should let you know… I am still connected to Cyberlife.”
“what?” Connor stopped what he was doing, tuning his full attention to the RK900 in front of him.
“I am deviated, my programming is broken, but I still have access to the Cyberlife servers through my zen garden programme.” Nines explained in an even tone.
“You still have Amanda?” that wasn't good. Amanda had almost ruined everything. Who knows what she could do if she managed to resume control of Nines’ programming. Connor felt cold wash over him, despite knowing that logically he was beginning to overheat, his breathing quickening to increase the airflow to his biocomponents.
“What? Who-oh, Amanda... I’ve heard of her” Nines stuttered, “No I- I never had Amanda as part of my zen garden. I am an unfinished prototype, I am lucky they even sent me out when they did to try and stop you. My connection to Cyberlife appears to be one way, I do not think they even know I have the access I do.”
Instant relief washed over Connor as he started to calm down. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his quarter, rubbing his fingers over the sides of it as he focused his breathing back to normal. This was good news. It meant that they had an advantage over Cyberlife. He needed to relax; Amanda was gone. No need to panic.
“That’s good to hear,” Connor started, ignoring Nines’ concerned look, “Could you please get as much as you can from their servers? We will need any advantage we can get, and we can’t risk them wiping everything before we get a chance to look at the information.”
“Already on it.”
“Thank you, Nines. You have been a great help.” Connor said before making his leave. Nines smiled from his place by the door, waving silently until Connor was in the autotaxi and driving away.
---
Markus was waiting for him as he returned to New Jericho. Connor had the autotaxi drop him off a few blocks away from the main factory building, and had elected to walk the rest of the way as a precaution. During that time, he ran countless system checks, searching his entire program for any remnants of Amanda within his code. The results always came back negative, but he ran them again just to be sure.
When he finally arrived, Markus was leaning against the wall near the main entrance, arms folded across his chest and eyes filled with wonder as he looked to the light dusting of snowflakes falling from the sky. Markus seemed to always have that look in his eye when he was observing the world around him. Connor didn’t understand it—at least not yet—but it was nice to see Markus so relaxed. Connor hoped one day that he could be as at peace as the older android seemed to be.
Markus’ attention turned from the sky to the approaching android, and a fond smile appeared on his face as he waved Connor over. It was quiet, most background sound absorbed by the snow. Not that there was much background noise in Detroit these days. Connor returned the smile as he came to rest against the wall beside Markus.
“I’m sorry for my absence. I can get back to work now, I’m sure they could use my help with the injured at the warehouse.” Connor quickly explained.
Markus only smiled, looking over Connor before he spoke, “New clothes.”
“Y-yes, new clothes,” Connor said. How had he forgotten so quickly that he wasn’t meant to be wearing anything other than his Cyberlife uniform, which he had forgotten at Hanks. If Amanda could see him now—Connor pulled his mind away from that train of thought as he continued, “Hank gifted them to me, I know they don’t look as professional, but I enjoy them nonetheless.”
“Well I think they look good. You definitely seem happier to be wearing them.”
Connor smiled. “I guess I am.”