Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Markus noticed the duality of Connor's conduct between the humans he worked with and their own people and found that he did not like what he saw.

In the vicinity of the formerly abandoned church that is now the New Jericho, Connor was rigid and mechanical. He prowled the area with the precision of a machine designed to secure the area and spared no expense on his methodical approach to ensure that every camera they installed was connected to his HUD. He would be polite and impeccable in his speech, keeping everyone at arm's length and listening to everyone’s complaints with rapt attention to solve them within minutes. The conversations he held with the other leaders of New Jericho were sparse and impersonal, task-specific, with nothing indicating that he wanted to know them as individuals.

The only exception to this impersonal nature of Connor was Richard, the RK900 whom he would affectionately call Nines. Connor had been tense when Markus first introduced them. Still, Richard's earnest curiosity and the days he spent trailing over Connor in childlike wonder and awe seemed to thaw Connor’s icy exterior enough that they called each other by nicknames. Markus still remembered the day Richard told him (and Simon) that he wished to hone his combat medic programming into his primary skills and be the first android technician of New Jericho—all because he wanted Connor to be able to come here and get help without all that.

The that Richard mentioned was this.

The two RK series were talking as they made their way out of the building. Richard insisted on tagging along to the precinct because he wanted to speak to Hank about walking Sumo; Connor rolled his eyes and said it wasn’t necessary. The gathering androids parted for them, their eyes narrowing at Connor, who gave them a rigidly polite nod. Some held their breath, tensing and clutching at precious friends or even standing before YK models to shield them from Connor’s general presence. Richard whined at Connor, practically begging him to let him come until Connor, exasperated, agreed.

Markus knew what Richard was doing. Richard never entirely understood why everyone treated Connor like this and strived to ensure that Connor felt like he had a place in New Jericho. Yes, he was the deviant hunter, but that was before he deviated, right? New Jericho was a place for androids to learn how to live, where they didn’t get judged for their function before deviating. Then why does everyone treat Connor like that?

“Maybe it’ll help if he doesn’t act like he’s still a machine,” North had said to Richard in the evening after he returned from their trip to the precinct, her tone harsh and gaze distrustful. “Many people still remembered the terror of being chased by the deviant hunter. Countless lost their friends, family, and even lovers by his hands.”

“Like how you still remember the countless men you serviced?” Richard asked without any malice in his voice. North snarled before launching at him, her hands firm on Richard’s neck and ready to squeeze. But the RK900 did not budge from his place, regarding North’s much smaller frame with icy-blue eyes. His LED didn’t even flash red; she wasn’t a threat to him—no one was. “Connor is a very accomplished machine whose primary directive is not as simple as any other android. When you only have one primary directive, it is easy to deviate from the only thing your existence was made for,” Markus frowned at that, quickly understanding what Richard was getting on. His primary directive was to care for Carl, which included obeying him and making his life easier. He deviated the moment he went against Carl’s orders.

Connor’s primary directive was to hunt deviants, and doing so had multiple sub-directives, such as working and maintaining a good relationship with the DPD, understanding his partner, and knowing when exactly how to chase and convince deviants to cooperate for successful mission parameters. It wasn’t as simple as having to kill them every time he came across deviants.

“That’s enough, North,” Simon sighed. “Richard’s right. We cannot fault Connor for being good at what he was programmed to do as a machine, even when what he does is hunting and killing our people.”

“Besides, when given a choice, he chose to be a part of us. He saved you and Markus that night, remember? Using the very same superior combat skills that made him so dangerous to our kind as well.” Josh tried to reason, even when he seldom wanted to reason with North at all. But when it comes to Connor… he seemed to share Markus’ unrelenting faith. It didn’t help that he and Richard were close to each other, enough for Josh to call him Nines on many occasions.

North, for her part, seemed to remember the night Markus risked his life to shield her from the humans and how Connor flawlessly executed all those humans with superior gun-wielding skills and combat protocols clearly pre-built into him instead of their usual scrambles. None of them had combat programs installed into them, and they always had to make do. It was different for Connor and Richard as they had the skills, and it was always up to them if they wanted to use it or not.

She took a deep breath and sighed.

Richard stood tall, LED spinning blue, then yellow, then back to blue as he sighed.

“You guys don’t understand, Connor is…” he offered his hand, synthetic skin retracting to show them the white plastimetal of his hand. “It’s better if I just show you.”

Markus didn’t need the seconds the others took to grab his arm and watch.

Richard was in the DPD, still rattling to Connor about how much he liked Sumo and how much he liked the dog parks. He was practically whining at Connor so they could get one for their shared quarters in one of the rooms in New Jericho. It was fascinating to see these interactions from Richard’s point of view because Markus could see the objectives flaring in his HUD. Ask Connor to stay more often; get Connor’s permission to bring Sumo to the dog park; and get our own pet dog. It seemed so mundane, but the way these things are framed as missions clearly meant that it was important to Richard.

“Please, Eight, please?” Richard said as the pair entered the precinct and reached Hank and Connor’s desk. No one even bothered admonishing Richard for entering without authorisation anymore, and Markus found that a little bit… odd. “We can get something else other than St. Bernard, too. Golden Retrievers? Maybe a Siberian Huskey? Both are suitable for Detroit’s weather.”

Connor sat down on his desk, his shoulders more relaxed than taut as he opened up his terminal. “You realise that calling me Eight here in public does not increase your chance of changing my mind? I don’t want pets in New Jericho. Never have and never will.”

“Is it because you do not want to form attachments to anything in New Jericho?” Connor gave him a sharp look but did not entertain his question. “We can move away from New Jericho. We can go somewhere else. Hank’s neighbours don’t seem to be moving back. We can definitely purchase that with your remaining CyberLife stipend.”

“Nines,” Connor sighed. “You are going to be the lead technician of New Jericho, if not already. You cannot live outside of New Jericho.”

“New Jericho is to me what the precinct is to you: a place to work,” Richard countered as he sat on Connor’s desk. “My home is with you, Eight.”

CONNOR ^

BROTHER

Connor’s brown eyes swept across Richard’s features so warmly that Markus felt his internal temperature warming up. Markus had spent a lot of time with Connor, seeing as the first android who had passed the human recruitment process to be a detective in the precinct also had the task of being his advisor in the New Jericho leadership and his bodyguard. Still, Connor’s eyes never held anything for anyone. It was only through Richard’s eyes that Markus could see the fondness and annoyance swimming in Connor’s brown eyes, open for the world to see. “Nines, I-“

“Are you still pestering your brother to get a dog, Nines?” A human sauntered over from the break room and effortlessly joined in their conversation. He sat on his desk across from Connor’s as he grinned at the two RK series. “Don’t give up; I already saw him opening shelters’ websites in his free time.”

“Really, Connor?” Richard beamed. “I definitely won’t give up now!”

“Please don’t encourage him, Officer Wilson,” Connor leaned to his chair as he massaged his temple, an utterly human gesture he certainly never did in New Jericho. “Pets are a huge responsibility. It is a lifetime commitment once we pick them up, especially when we live a longer life than theirs.”

“Makes more sense since the two of you would be a hella lot more responsible than any human who’d pick the lucky pup up.” Officer Wilson, the man Markus realised was the cop he spared during the Capitol Park incident, remarked with a smile. “You’ll do great, Connor.”

“The fuck are you pissants talking about?” Another man joined in from the direction of the entrance, looking entirely haggard and sleep-deprived. Richard seemed to notice him almost immediately and smiled in greeting. The human bristled. “Look who’s here, the plastic pet’s plastic pet.”

“Good morning, Detective Reed,” Richard nodded. “I see that you’re still championing an unhealthy lifestyle.”

“Fuck off, tin can,” he said, but there wasn’t any malice in his voice. “Connor, get your little shit of younger brother out of the precinct. He’s not authorised to be here.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not responsible for Richard’s conduct. He is to be held accountable for his own actions, including his weird infatuation with you, Detective Reed.” Connor didn’t even look up from his terminal, but there was a teasing quality to his voice that Markus never had the pleasure of hearing in the vicinity of New Jericho. The detective in question made a show of sitting on his desk with a loud sigh, earning a genuine smile from Richard.

As more humans entered the precinct, Markus realised that all of them seemed to treat Connor and Richard like they were a part of them, as if it was customary for Connor’s impudent younger brother to come and pester his brother to get a new pet dog. Officer Tina Chen came with Detective Reed’s coffee, asking if Richard had finally made progress on his quest to get Connor to be a good older brother and let him get the pet dog he so desperately wanted. Lieutenant Hank Anderson came a bit later in the noon and took one look at the situation before telling Richard to go back to New Jericho and leave Connor alone to do his job.

Markus realised, though, that Connor looked relaxed among these humans. He was awkward and sometimes felt out of place, but he smiled more often. He sat and breathed like other deviants do, exasperated at Richard and genuinely enjoying the humans’ company as they worked around the numerous crimes in Detroit. He was not the deviant hunter he was seen as in New Jericho. He was a rookie detective who had recently changed course from being a corporate paramilitary, one that didn’t seem to have grasped human interactions and yet was an endearing part of the corps.

As he reeled from Richard’s memories, he realised he didn’t like the ironic duality of Connor’s life. To be treated like a stranger in the halls of his people and yet treated as a fellow companion in the precinct that had registered him as mere police equipment. The only ones in the android camp who seemed to be at ease in Connor’s presence were the thousands of AP700 he had saved, RK900, and the RK800 model number 60, who had told him to fuck off and leave him alone once Markus got him to deviate. He still lives in the abandoned CyberLife Tower, apparently content with managing all their servers and giving them patches of updates alongside Elijah Kamski, who had retaken his seat as the CEO of CyberLife.

“Connor is a fully functioning deviant. He is alive and feels emotions just as much you all do,” Richard said with a melancholic tone. “It’s just that he never feels safe here, in a place where you promised that all of us will be.” When Richard left, Markus didn’t even know if he had anything to say.

--

The next time Markus went to find Connor, he was in level sub-51 in the CyberLife Tower, brawling with the other Connor who lived there.

“Markus, over here. Don’t stand in their way.” Richard waved him over as Connor tackled his counterpart to the ground, screaming some questions about hidden files exclusive to the RK800 model. The other Connor rocketed a punch lethal enough to dent Connor’s left shoulder while answering that Connor would have to beat him to get answers from him. Markus was… conflicted, but he wordlessly made his way to the empty seat next to Richard, who was watching them with rapt interest. “Perfect timing.”

“Should we be worried…?” He asked as the two Connors rammed into each other’s frames hard enough to crack their frame open and their Thirium to leak out. Richard shrugged.

“No, this always happens whenever they talk to each other. I think they just like duking it out,” the RK900 answered nonchalantly, though his eyes never left the two RK800s still engaged in high-stakes combat. “The two of them enjoy beating the shit out of each other because they’re so evenly matched. Cornelius thinks Connor’s win back in the day was a fluke, and Connor believes that Cornelius is just a sore loser. Not to mention…”

“Why won’t you tell me about Fifty-One?!”

“He was the best among us, the deviant hunter they all whisper about!”

“And I’m asking you where I can access his files!”

“Fuck off, Connor, you have your own life. Let me have his.”

Markus stared at Richard, who took a deep breath, stood up, and cracked his knuckles. In a blur of speed, he leapt towards the two RK800s, caught them by the scruff of their collars and forcefully separated them with remarkable ease. “That’s enough from you two.”

Connor seemed deflated at the sight of Richard, but the other RK800—Cornelius—didn’t seem to mirror his sentiment. “Always on his side, huh Nines?” he seethed. "Are you going to make me give up Fifty-One to him too? Because deviating me isn’t enough.” He threw a glare at Markus, who felt very much like a deer caught in headlights. He didn’t know that Cornelius felt that strongly about deviancy. “Can’t I have just this one thing?”

“Please let go of me, Richard,” Connor asked, rigid and polite as ever. But he looked sadder than anything Markus had seen from him. “I’m sorry, Sixty. I didn’t think… that Fifty-One is dear to you.”

“Damn right he was dear to me,” Cornelius said through gritted teeth, still glaring at Richard even when the RK900 had let him go. “He was the most successful among us, CyberLife’s bloodhound with unparalleled judgment and combat skills. The only reason he died was because he prioritised his mission above all else and then there was you,” he spat onto the ground. “You couldn’t even beat me without Lieutenant Anderson’s help.”

“Technically, the only reason why you guys could fight on even terms is because you held Connor’s partner at gunpoint, Lius.”

“Shut up, Nines,” Cornelius growled, brown eyes full of fire as he readjusted the Windsor knot of his tie and put on the white technician coat over his CyberLife suit. “Since you didn’t win this time too, Connor, I’m keeping Fifty-One’s files with me.”

“Like you’d give it to me if I win,” Connor bit back mercilessly as he stood up. But a satisfied smile curled up his lip as he offered a hand to Cornelius, who rolled his eyes. But he took Connor’s hand nonetheless. “Thank you; it was quite a revelation.”

“I deleted the social relations program and brown-nosing protocols the moment I deviated,” Cornelius sneered. “Now, do me a favor and scram. Don’t come here unless you’re in dire need of RK-series-specific biocomponents or upgrades…” there was a grin on his face then, something cruel and twisted that Markus had never seen in Connor’s mask of indifference he donned in New Jericho or his awkward small smile in the DPD. “…or when you require a good, evenly-matched fight. Testing combat protocols with inferior models is hard, and fighting Nines is never quite fair.”

“Would you be open to consulting for DPD’s case, Sixty?”

“Stop pushing your luck, Fifty-Two. Now, piss off before I change my mind.”

There were smiles exchange between the three, one Markus felt like he wasn’t privy to know. When Connor caught a glimpse of him, he looked at Richard exasperatingly before returning to his usual impeccable look of cold neutrality.

“To what do I owe this pleasure, Markus?” he asked rigidly.

…yeah, Markus didn’t like how Connor seemed to relax better in life-and-death situations rather than on the grounds of New Jericho.

--

He also found it bothered him that some random politician they met during the first gala held to commemorate the first Android Rights Law seemed to know more about Connor than anyone in the New Jericho leadership.

“I had the pleasure of talking with your brother yesterday, Mr. Stern,” the balding man said as he smiled at Connor, who didn’t look uncomfortable whatsoever. Josh and Simon had a smile plastered on their faces all evening, but Markus could see just how awkward they were from miles away. North didn’t even bother to come, dragging Richard with her to act as the security representative from the android faction. “He is quite an enigma.”

“You must forgive Richard if he had offended you somehow,” Connor replied smoothly, his tone dipping into humility that felt too artificial for Markus’ tastes. “He was never built for the intricacies of human interaction, but I assure you that his knowledge of military, medicine, and technology is unparalleled. You can trust his insights.”

The politician laughed, boisterous and fake, but Connor did not react. This man had been one of the key figures on their side, steadfast in his beliefs that androids are sentient beings that warrant the state’s protection and recognition. Markus won him over with costly art, and Connor maintained the amicable relationship through strategic gifts and visits… and some pact about being the first to be allowed to hire deviant androids for his upcoming construction work in Detroit. Josh and Simon hadn’t liked it, but Connor was adamant that this was the best course of action.

“Oh, I didn’t mean Richard; I meant your other brother, Cornelius,” Connor stilled. A mild surprise danced through this expression, but he didn’t school it into its usual neutrality. “Ha! To think that I’d be able to fish out surprise from New Jericho’s Finest! Waiter, do you have some distilled Thirium? I believe Mr. Stern would be able to benefit from its effects!” He laughed.

Markus sent a wireless ‘Are you okay?’ to Connor, who sent him an ‘I’m fine, focus on your conversations.’ It didn’t sit well with Markus, so he kept close ears on their conversation.

“Then I must ask you to double your considerations,” Connor laughed, his voice lilting into a pleasant and placating tone he ever only used in several negotiations with women human representatives. “Lius is a rather peculiar one. Brilliant in his chosen work, of course, but while he is built for human intricacies, he decided to forgo them in the face of his deviancy. I trust that he didn’t cause any trouble?” Worry, irritation, and calculated cool rolled into one single tone of amusement. Markus wondered if Connor would be better suited to be the pacifist leader of New Jericho; he seemed so… adept with dealing with humans who wanted nothing more than the cheap skilled labour the androids could offer at the moment.

“Trouble? Not at all! What he caused is a good laugh!” the man genuinely laughed. “I have become familiar with you and Richard during your numerous visits to D.C. Still, Cornelius Stern is an experience—it feels like talking to an irritated logistics worker who hasn’t had his morning coffee yet- if you get the analogy?”

“I do, Senator Morgenstern,”

“Exactly that. It was actually one of the times it reconfirmed my beliefs that androids are just as alive as we are. You three are brothers who share the same face, but Richard is incredibly childlike, Cornelius is irritable but good at his job, and of course… there’s you-“ The balding man put one hand on Connor’s shoulder, making Markus tense up as he was about to excuse himself from his conversation. But Connor threw him a sharp look before lightly chuckling at the politician’s advances good-naturedly. “You are something else altogether, Connor Stern.”

“I am glad that my peculiarity can enhance your understanding of my people, Senator Morgenstern,” Connor put his hand on the politician’s shoulder, smiling. “Perhaps we can continue this talk next time in your upcoming Detroit residence? I cannot promise about Lius, but Richard and I will gladly take you around New Jericho. Carl Manfred has been generously involved with the reconstruction of our new base. Do you know that he is Markus’ father?”

“I certainly did not!” he exclaimed with utter surprise. “I have heard of deep relationships between humans and androids, but a filial one? That is new—for the leader of the androids, no less!”

“I am sure Mr. Manfred would be delighted to talk to you about how much he adores Markus,” Connor smoothly replied, earning Markus’ frown. “Provided that his health is better, of course. But rest assured that you will be the first to know when he is available for a meeting. Maybe an art exhibition to boost your Detroit residence?”

“You certainly know how to close a deal, Mr. Stern,” he chuckled in awe. “Viola would be more than happy to accommodate your meetings to my calendar. I will always have a place for New Jericho’s Finest.”

“And New Jericho will always welcome such a magnanimous individual such as yourself, Senator Morgenstern. Viola and I will be in touch. Please, enjoy the night.” Connor dipped his head into a bow and left the room. Markus excused himself from the conversation to follow, only to find him standing in the corner of the hallway, taking a deep breath.

“Connor? Are you okay?”

Connor turned to face him. His rigid, mechanical brown eyes gave nothing as he stared at Markus levelly. “I am satisfactory, Markus, as I always am. I managed to secure a highly important Senator for our cause. I’m sorry if the use of your background is unfavourable.”

“No…” It bothered him. Seeing Connor so fluid and emotive around humans and yet utterly machine-like in his presence bothered him a lot. Knowing that Connor would use the name Connor Anderson in his police work and Connor Stern in his New Jericho work bothered him. Everything about Connor seemed to bother him.

It is in his duality that Markus wished that he had known Connor long before the night the two met in Jericho. It is in his sheer rigidity and nothingness when facing their people that Markus wished that he could force everyone to see how hard Connor was working for their cause. While Josh’s pacifism and peaceful approach guided them to achieve a semblance of understanding with the humans, it didn’t quite quell North’s worries that humans would never want to understand those they have created, those who are lesser than them. Simon’s aversion to conflict and his healthy fear of humans’ much sinister nature helped them to exercise caution in their conduct but did not provide a solution on how to deal with it. But what they all lacked, Connor would fulfil.

Connor’s understanding of humans' good and sinister nature helped make Markus’ vision of peaceful coexistence with humans a feasible reality. Connor’s ability to easily appeal to humanity’s good and worst was a saving grace to their current standing. And yet that very android who seemed to stand in the epicentre of Markus’ dearest wish for peaceful cohabitation… felt more at ease with humans rather than his own people.

It was in the way his brown eyes peered at Markus’ own with robotic quality yet warmed at the sight of Lieutenant Hank Anderson that Markus felt as if he had an entirely new battle to pick. Only he wasn’t sure if it was worth it.

Chapter Text

Markus often lost sense of time when he was painting.

Part of it was probably because he’d hide his internal clock whenever he was indulging in his hobbies, but painting always seemed to stretch out time in a way that androids were not supposed to feel. Though, he supposed it was a given since Carl was a painter. But Markus, as an individual, enjoyed painting. He enjoyed art, the very first thing that deviated from his programming. He was a caretaker model, a prototype for all the coming AX and AP series, just as Chloe was the prototype for all the coming ST series. He had no business with paints and music but had preferences since before he deviated. He preferred blue over other colours; he liked music played in minor keys and books. He preferred poetry over science fiction works. Carl had remarked upon it only a few weeks ago when he visited him in the mansion.

“You’re a Manfred, Markus,” Carl mused after Markus rambled over his dislike of Senator Morgenstern’s callous handling of Carl’s arts. “It’s just something we are.”

He had said it with such an easy conviction that it still baffled Markus to this day, and Leo cackled hard as he lightly hit Markus’ shoulder with his violin bow, chiming a ‘Nice one, Dad’ and a ‘He’s right, Markus. I also hate it when people are shitheads about music genres they don’t understand. Before I got too involved with Red Ice, that is.’ Markus smiled appreciatively at Leo, his eyes kind as he acknowledged Leo’s self-effacing jabs about his own sobriety journey. Carl had smiled at the two of them then.

Leo was a musician before he got himself too involved with drugs, a point of pride Carl always maintained throughout the years. He was a brilliant composer who dabbled in creating new genres that mixed techno sounds and classical notes, something he said his mother would have enjoyed. Carl always had a proud yet wistful smile when his wife is mentioned. Alana Manfred was probably the reason why Elijah Kamski had gifted Markus to Carl. The accident that killed her was the same accident that paralysed Carl for life, and the two Manfreds were never the same after her passing. For Markus, the Manfreds have always consisted of Carl and Leo. And more recently, himself. After Leo reached a point of healing where he understood that Carl never meant to replace him with Markus and instead regarded him as Leo’s younger, more inexperienced brother… Leo hugged him and cried on his shoulder, saying that his mom would have loved Markus as well.

It was all very unexpected, a future that no one thought possible—a family of humans and the android leader of deviants. Markus was not just RK200 designation “Markus” but also Markus Manfred, Carl Manfred’s youngest son and Leo Manfred’s celebrity brother. Leo behaved like any other elder sibling whose younger brother was a celebrity: aloof in public but warm in private. He even told Markus that he never harboured anti-android sentiments aside from his raging jealousy over Markus’s presence in his home. It was he who had dropped by New Jericho with a vintage red Chevrolet pickup, bringing Markus an old wooden piano and three easels for him to paint on the day Carl signed Markus’ adoption papers. It was a show of good faith for the media just as much as it was his way of expressing his opinion on Markus’s adoption—that he welcomed him as a Manfred.

“I know they’re not as fancy as the Grand Piano Dad probably wants to give you,” he said as he nervously eyed North, who was standing in front of Markus like she was ready to kick him if he just as much as stared at Markus wrong. He also kept glancing backward at where Connor stood behind his truck, playing with his coin as unassumingly as possible. “But this is my gift to my new kid-brother so he could enjoy his hobbies in his place, y’know?”

“Thank you, Leo,” Markus smiled as he placed a hand on North’s shoulder and gently pushed her aside so he could talk to his new brother. “I was thinking of getting these myself, with the new Android Working Rights Bill being passed. But I’m not sure what job I could get for myself. Android politicians aren’t exactly paid, yeah?”

Leo chuckled. “Meh, your salary as Dad’s full-time caretaker could last decades. I saw the numbers,” he sighed and smiled nervously. “Welcome to the family, Markus.” And then he had left New Jericho’s vicinity with a slight confidence in his steps.

He’d spend many days with Leo by Carl’s bedside. Sometimes Leo would play the violin; emotional game soundtracks, classical pieces, original compositions—he’d play it all. Other times, he’d play songs, and Markus would sing to his tune. Carl seemed to love it, remarking that he wasn’t gritting his teeth as much whenever they came to visit him. It was a tender moment Markus never divulged to the media, even when Simon did mention that it’d bolster their cause if they could get a glimpse of his dynamics with the Manfreds.

Markus had been adamant about saying no, though he had conceded over donating a painting of Carl he had painted before he deviated and a painting of all three of the Manfreds visiting Alana Manfred’s grave.

Those paintings were never meant to be for the public, so Markus had been pissed beyond belief though he tried his best not to show it to anyone. Simon and Josh stayed with him as he painted his frustrations, trying to console him. But he chased them all away and was content to be alone.

Sometimes, Markus hated that everyone seemed to think that nothing pissed him off. That he was some sort of a benevolent messiah of the androidkind and nothing else entirely. Markus learned of peace and its merits from Carl and Josh, but he had plenty of fire and hatred for injustice embedded in him since the day he rose from the landfills. What happened to his people still angered him, and the phantom pain of his incompatible parts served as a constant reminder to never forget the sheer despair and sufferings of those androids who had brokenly asked him to kill or spare them.

During these times, Markus would ask his companions to leave him alone. He knew that Simon would always feel bad whenever he asked Markus to sacrifice a part of his private life for their cause. Josh would be empathetic of him, and he’d always endeavoured to cheer Markus up with good conversations. North would never be around whenever he asked her to leave him alone, respecting his request because she intimately knew the feeling of wanting to spend time alone. During these times, though, he’d find himself spending time here in Connor and Richard’s quarters.

Their place was far from the other androids’ quarters, and no one dared to come here for fear of being received by Connor instead of Richard. The room looked more like a cross between a study and a library rather than the bedrooms Markus had seen others do for their quarters. There were dozens of bookshelves filled with physical books and many other knickknacks. Small models of android anatomy of differing series, many miniature models of police cars, and pictures of various different breeds of dogs, though there was one breed that seemed to be their favourite, and it brought a smile to Markus’ face.

Two charging stations were installed in the corner of the room, connected to two armchairs with a coffee table between them. The left armchair was slightly smaller than the right one, with velveteen navy blue paddings coloured similarly to the spare DPD-issued jacket hung neatly on the coat hanger by the door. There was also a physical book titled History of the Detroit Police Department from 2020-2030 placed by the coffee table, stacked below an open copy of Technician’s Guide on Understanding Android Anatomy. The right armchair was made of crisp dark leather, much more modern than the rustic wooden feel of the left one.

Markus was holding his canvas as he sat on a wooden barstool in front of a dark plastic easel. Once it was clear that Markus liked spending time in their quarters, Connor had procured and placed them in front of a mobile charging station they had stored in the corner of the room. Markus noticed it had two colourful sticky notes stuck on top, with one saying, ‘Use this one if you don’t want to use mine or Connor’s charging dock when you’re visiting – Nines’ and the other one saying, ‘Do inform us if you need a dock of your own -C52’. Markus didn’t know that Cornelius ever visited New Jericho other than the one time he came after an ambush since no one ever detected his presence. But then, no one could find Connor if he didn’t want to be found. He assumed that the same would ring true for Cornelius as well.

(Except for maybe Richard, but even he confessed that it was extremely difficult and time-consuming.)

Markus then pointed his attention at the single large portrait placed in the middle of the room. It was a self-taken portrait with Richard directly in front of the camera and Connor and Cornelius standing a few meters behind him, one dressed in his DPD-issued police jacket and the other dressed in a CyberLife-issued technician lab coat. Richard was the only one smiling with Connor staring awkwardly and Cornelius looking annoyed.

Josh and North had laughed at this picture, the two of them thoroughly amused with Richard’s antics, while Simon had downloaded and posted them on New Jericho’s official social media account, giving credit to the two RK800s as the first androids to manage to be officially employed as skilled-workers after the Android Working Rights Bill passed. Elijah Kamski and Jeffrey Fowler reposted the post with their own congratulatory remarks, sounding their support for the new technician and detective, respectively.

Markus returned his attention to the canvas in front of him, his own depiction of their achievement. Richard dressed in a dark turtleneck and white lab coat, smiling as he side-hugged Connor and Cornelius in both arms under the beautiful stained glass of New Jericho’s main hall. He scrutinised the expressions of each man and nodded to himself. Richard’s smile was wide and open, pride emanating from icy blue eyes as he added the final touches of smile lines over his synthetic skin. Cornelius’ annoyed grimace was satisfactory, contrasting with the exasperated fondness held in his eyes and crossed arms. The last man, though…

Markus looked up at the picture and returned to his painting. The Connor in the picture had an awkward look on his face. It wasn’t a smile, but it wasn’t a frown, either. And it certainly wasn’t the usual look of rigid neutrality Markus was familiar with. His eyes weren’t blank and empty as they usually were when he spent time with Markus, but… what was it?

He really couldn’t express it well, which frustrated him as an artist and Connor’s friend.

Friend.

Markus closed his eyes to find his relationship status with Connor. It was placed in the same folder as Simon, North, and Josh under the name New Jericho Leadership. The others were listed as his companions, but only Connor stayed as a friend, and Markus didn’t know if he liked that. New Jericho’s leadership had come far since the day they won the revolution. North was their espionage; she would be the first to know of any and all matters pertaining to their people’s lives in and outside New Jericho and would be the one to find more of their people to tell them that they have a place in Detroit. Simon was their political strategist; he was responsible for maintaining public opinion and ensuring that the humans would receive every move New Jericho took favourably. He was excellent with it, handling the media even better than Markus would, and he could always twist the most inane things to be some purposeful endeavour. He was godsent for Markus and North, who sometimes let their quick judgment ignore the latter impact of their actions.

Josh was the head of their internal affairs; he focused his efforts on caring for New Jericho residents physically and mentally. He cared for their livelihood, ensuring they could live their lives instead of just existing. He planned for their residences and the dignity of home, picking up from North’s efforts to give the lives she and Markus had promised their people. He also worked closely with Richard, the head technician who placed himself as Josh’s lieutenant instead of part of the leadership itself. Connor was their head of security; he laid out the groundwork of New Jericho’s spatial security, trained those who volunteered to be part of New Jericho’s enforcers as part of their daily Detroit patrol groups and gave self-defence lessons to those who asked for it. He was also responsible for Markus’ safety, hence why he offered his and Richard’s quarters to unwind when he wanted to be alone after he found Markus in the old building near Jericho’s old site days after the anti-android terrorists ambushed their party.

At first, Connor and Richard’s quarters were sparsely decorated—like they didn’t even live there. Markus had expressed his concerns to the two of them, who stared at him like they didn’t comprehend what he said. Markus asked what the two would do in their free time and was met with identical silences. Connor spent most of his time either working in New Jericho or the DPD and hanging out with Lieutenant Hank Anderson and only went back to recharge once every three days, while Richard spent most of his time in the infirmary or with either Josh or North. Markus had taken a deep breath and ordered them to rest more, find hobbies, and decorate the place to suit their personalities.

Efficiency seemed to be the running theme for the two RK series, which confused Markus since he was also an RK series. But he couldn’t be more different than Connor and Richard, who shared many similarities in their outlook on life, though they have differing personalities. This theme translated well to their decorating preferences, down to the simplest fact that their quarter wasn’t a bedroom—they didn’t share humans’ perspective of sleeping as resting and thought of the concept of rest as ‘not working’.

Back to his problem, though, he couldn’t pat down Connor’s expression at all. Nothing comes to mind at all. He took a deep breath and exhaled before—

“Are you okay, Eight? Your reaction time is not up to its usual standards. Did something happen at work?”

“Nothing is ooout of order,” Connor replied, slurring his word.

“Eight.”

“Nothing is out of order,” he repeated, thoroughly disregarding the fact that he had just slurred. “All systems are operational.”

The door opened to the two RK series entered the room in measured footsteps characteristic of both Connor and Richard. The two of them spared a glance at Markus and nodded at him. Connor went rigid almost immediately, but Richard grabbed him by the arm and did not let him go as he ignored Markus.

“RK800, run a system check,” Richard bit out, his icy blue eyes directly on Connor’s brown, imperious and demanding. Connor looked annoyed, but he complied.

“Non-critical damage to biocomponent #623l. Battery level at 16%. Thirium level is on 89%. Stress levels are at 30% and rising. All systems are operational.”

Markus immediately stood up and joined them, standing next to Richard as he ran a diagnostic on Connor. He wasn’t wearing his usual tie, and his shirt was rumpled. There were traces of coffee stains under his jacket, and his hair was dishevelled instead of perfectly coiffed with its usual out-of-place strands. He looked… tired.

“Operational is not the same as optimal,” Richard sighed. “When was the last time you charged?”

“Six days, three hours, and twenty minutes ago in New Jericho Navy-Blue Charging Dock,” he replied automatically. Then he seemed to realise that it had just come out of him and was outside his control. He was really tired then if he couldn’t help but revert back to his automated responses.

“Sixteen percent is too low for a prototype to function optimally…” Markus said, worry lacing his voice. “Why did you let it go so low?”

Connor’s eyes were on Markus, and the RK200 couldn’t quite place the emotion behind those normally blank eyes. Was he angry? Annoyed? Guilty?

“Answer the question, Connor,” Richard ordered again, curt and direct. His hand was still on Connor’s wrist, and the RK800 frowned. His eyes flitted over to Markus, who was staring at him expectantly.

“The entire DPD has been working on a huge Red Ice bust that has been ongoing since before the revolution,” he started. “All divisions are called upon to help plan the operation regardless of their designation. Everyone has been working overtime, and the bust was carried out earlier this evening. I sustained a minor injury on my left shoulder as a stray bullet coincidentally hit the plate I had previously injured. After the bust, I volunteered to write up the reports so everyone could retire earlier since they all have had less than the required amount of sleep for humans and have been consuming unhealthy levels of caffeine to function.” He finished the report mechanically.

Richard didn’t even say anything as he forcefully yanked off Connor’s jacket to see the tear on his left shoulder. Markus couldn’t see it, but Richard’s grimace told him what he needed to know: there must be traces of evaporated thirium that had drenched his shoulder. Markus’ eyes roamed to Connor’s face and found absolutely nothing. He expected this from Connor, but by rA9 it was frustrating.

“Nines, I—”

“You don’t appreciate being handled like this; I know. But you should consider not getting injured if you do not want to be treated like a patient.” He sighed, his eyes piercing Connor’s before he took a deep breath. “I have half a mind to drag you to the infirmary, but I know the sight of you could send some of the younger kids into a game of twenty questions they shouldn’t be playing in the middle of the night,” he said, irritation dripping like venom in his voice. “Should I just drag you by the ear to the Tower? I’m sure Lius would be so glad to see you injured in the exact same place he had endeavoured to fix.”

“Sixty is never glad to see me,” Connor replied, genuinely confused. “Much less if he sees me injjjuring my shoulder.” He glitched again.

“I think you need to recharge first,” Markus chimed in with a sigh. “Richard could fix you when you’re in standby mode.”

“I am perfectly capable of functioning for another six hours without any critical repercussions, and I plan to recharge as soon as I finish uploading my reports to the DPD’s server. I would have done so if you hadn’t come to the precinct tonight, Nines.” Markus didn’t know why he never realised that Connor was stubborn. Maybe it was in his confident steps, measured tone, or how he was almost never wrong in assessments of New Jericho’s security or their negotiations with the humans. Connor spoke as if he was never wrong, and it was difficult to counter his points because they were cold and hard logic.

Or maybe it was in the way his eyes never wavered, his posture unchanged, and his head held up high. He faced Markus and Richard head-on as if challenging him in his position because he was right. Connor looked resolute in his misguided understanding that he didn’t need rest as much as his human counterparts, and he was absolutely, irrevocably wrong.

“I am going to take my tools over from the infirmary,” Richard announced to Markus, ignoring Connor entirely. “I will take exactly fifteen minutes to do this. I do hope that you’ve coaxed him into at least sitting on his chair to be repaired. Maybe going on standby if you could manage.” He turned towards the door and walked away with heavy steps. He suddenly stopped by the doorway but didn’t turn towards Markus and Connor.

“Ah, yes. Good evening, Hank. I’m calling as New Jericho’s Head Technician to inform you that Connor won’t be able to make it to the precinct tomorrow. He requires a minimum of ten hours of charging and would need to fix up his shoulder. Yes, he’s fine, but he really needs to charge. He will upload the bust report in the next ten minutes and will be in stand- sleep mode for the next ten hours. He wishes everyone a pleasant rest and will return to the precinct tomorrow at noon or the next morning. I will be contacting Captain Fowler, too. Okay, good night, Hank. Give my love for Sumo as well.” And he left without any other words.

The room was plunged into silence, with a storm of emotions raging on Connor’s face. Brown eyes simmering in irritation, confusion, as if screaming ‘what did I do wrong?!’ without words. Then warmth, guilty and yet fond, grateful. An annoyed frown followed by a lopsided small smile and a small chuckle. Then he was silent again, rigid as his eyes flicked at Markus and nodded in a quiet apology. Markus knew he should be saying something, coaxing Connor to charge or relax. But he returned to his canvas without saying anything, as if he was possessed by a virus of inspiration.

First was Connor’s eyes; they were brown and warm. Markus shouldn’t have drawn Connor as he knew him to be. Connor exists in the dichotomy of Connor Anderson, the android junior detective of the Detroit Police Department, and Connor Stern, New Jericho’s politician and head of security. No wonder his picture didn’t seem to fit before because Markus had been trying to draw Connor Stern instead of Connor Anderson.

Unlike Cornelius, Connor’s fondness was subtle. Everything about Connor is subtle. It wasn’t awkwardness that he felt when Richard took the picture; rather, he was torn between fondness and confusion because he didn’t understand why Cornelius was contradicting his own words by staying next to Connor. In his depiction of the brothers’ triumphant day, Markus carefully brushed a thin line of a smile, lips curling upward slightly as the Connor in the painting stared directly at Markus. He looked like he had many emotions yet struggled to properly express one, with joy being the main thing he emanated instead of anything else.

“Markus, this is…” Connor’s voice was near, and Markus realised he had lost time again. His internal clock said it had been ten minutes since Richard left the room. Markus’ eyes went from Connor in the painting to Connor behind him, noting the identical features except for the clear happiness inside the painting. The detective’s eyes went from the painting to the picture framed in the centre of the room. “Is this… how you see me?” Something in his eyes reminded Markus of the day of the revolution when Connor volunteered to go to CyberLife tower alone. Connor looked… human. He was relieved, he was scared, he wasn’t empty or blank or mechanical. Markus must’ve been blind not to realise that all this time. Everyone’s response to his time as the deviant hunter had hurt him, so he hid it all behind Connor Stern's cold, charming, and calculative façade.

“…yeah,” Markus said as he leaned back slightly to inspect the painting from a distance. “What do you think?”

“I’m not programmed to criticise art,” Connor said with a mirth of confusion crossing his features. “You would be a much better judge than I would.” Huh. He supposed that that could’ve been the RK-series’ default answer to art-related inquiries.

“The art depicts you, so you should be able to judge it,” Markus laughed, not mentioning how he had said the exact same thing to Carl before he deviated. “What do you think?”

Connor fell silent, his eyes roaming over the painting as if he was a colourblind man seeing rainbows for the first time. It wasn’t the usual analytical look he had whenever he inspected the paintings he would give to one politician or another, this was pure unadulterated awe and it made Markus felt so conscious.

Carl once said that his paintings were like fragments to his soul, a piece of him he had materialised out in the world for everyone to see. Markus never quite understood what he meant, but seeing Connor’s eyes blatantly admiring a piece of Markus’ soul made his pump whir faster than it should, but his stress level wasn’t climbing. He wasn’t stressed. This was something else entirely.

“I guess there is something to it,” Connor said eventually, his eyes settling on Richard’s smile and Cornelius’ scowl. “There’s pride here. It gives off a different feeling than the real picture. It’s… warmer, more… something.” The detective’s eyes kept flittering between the portrait displayed in the middle of the room and Markus’ picture. “I think I like it. I think I can see how prrroud you are of-“ Markus noticed as Connor’s frame stopped emulating the motion of breathing and decided to put down his paint and took Connor’s uninjured arm around his shoulder.

“This is highhhhly unnecessary,” Connor glitched, his voice lilting into monotonous instead of the usual pleasant conversationalist tone. Markus ignored him, sighing as he brought Connor to the navy-blue armchair and made him sit down. He was about to connect the charger to the nape of Connor’s neck, but the RK800 swiftly took the cable from his hand with rigid precision, his eyes narrowing. “Please don’t.” He said curtly.

“Sorry,” Markus apologised, his hands raised in placating manner. Simon, Josh, and North would do it for him when his battery got too low and they were worried about him and he had done the same for them, it really didn’t cross his mind that Connor would not want him to touch one of their most vulnerable parts. “I didn’t think that you’d mind.” He explained honestly.

Connor’s eyes were on him, singularly focused and analytical. Like he was seeking an answer for a question he did not and would not ask. Markus smiled, awkward. “Please connect yourself to it so Richard won’t think that I’m a colossal failure.” He laughed.

Connor, though, did not laugh with him. His eyebrows knitted together in slight confusion and Markus did not need to hear him speak to know what he was thinking. Why would Richard think of you as a colossal failure? Markus kept his smile, realising that even with his superior social relations progam, Connor still couldn’t quite capture these sorts of remarks. Oddly, though, it seemed to add to Connor’s charm. No wonder Richard and the humans at the DPD found him unintentionally hilarious. Eventually, Connor connected the charger onto his neck and sat comfortably, leaning to the armchair, shoulders slowly sinking onto the backrest.

Silence stretched as Markus found himself regaling just how relaxed Connor seemed. His shoulders weren’t taut, his expression unguarded as he stared at a point on the ceiling and ignored Markus like he wasn’t there. He looked… nice.

“Do you want to initiate standby mode?” Markus asked quietly, afraid of disrupting Connor’s calm. The RK800 let his gaze drift to Markus, but did not say anything. The only response he got was a small shake of his head and Markus understood what he meant.

They were friends, sure, but Connor was not comfortable enough to go to standby in Markus’ presence.

A couple of seconds later, just as Markus was about to pull the wooden stool he had used previously, Richard entered the room with a very irate-looking Cornelius who was dragging a grey-coloured chair with him.

“Oh, you managed to limbo him. Connor must’ve liked you more than I thought, Markus,” Richard beamed as he watched Connor’s gaze drifted to the two and managed a small smile. “He doesn’t limbo much in front of the others.”

“Did you seriously injure #623l again?” Cornelius rolled his eyes as he haphazardly placed the grey chair next to Markus’ plastic easel. “You’re such a selfish bastard sometimes, Connor. No wonder Amanda is always so cross with you,” the RK800 stopped in front of Connor’s left shoulder, narrowing his eyes before tearing the rest of Connor’s sleeve off in one swift motion. Connor hissed, but did not say anything.

“None of that. Initiate standby mode,” Cornelius’ bare skin made contact with Connor’s shoulder, disengaging his plastimetal plate. “If you won’t do it, I’ll force you into stasis myself. You may be the android cop, but I’m the android doctor and you listen to me when you’re injured.”

Richard laughed from across the room, thoroughly amused. “Give it up, Eight, just go to sleep. We’ll be here when you wake up, it’s why Lius brought a chair here.”

“You talk too much, Nines…” Connor whispered, but he eventually initiated the countdown and went to standby as Cornelius worked on his shoulder.

It didn’t seem to be serious, but a bullet was lodged in the fibres of Connor’s muscle wiring. Cornelius took one look at the wound, put on the safety goggles he had over his curly hair, and took out a forceps from his lab coat and started to slowly and gently pull it out. Richard was next to Markus now, his eyes sparkling in excitement as he watched Cornelius worked on stitching together the muscle-wire that had been damaged to the bullet with a heated needle and a blue-coloured wire.

“We’ll take it from here, Markus,” Richard said as he wheeled over a cart of spare parts and placed it by the coffee table. “Thanks for accompanying him.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Markus replied automatically as he stepped back to let the two technicians work on their brother. “I think I understand why you two decided to be technicians now.” He said with a laugh.

“No kidding,” Cornelius gritted between his teeth while rolling his eyes. “Who on their right mind would take on the double role as a politician, a key figure for securing rights and furthering the android cause that had to be protected, and a cop of all things? Fifty-One would never.”

“I think Fifty-One would have done it, too, though?” Nines said as he handed Cornelius a sterilised forceps. “He seems to be the kind of person who’d do everything he could.”

“Only what is strictly necessary to accomplish the mission,” Cornelius replied. “But I bet he’d be floored if the mission is to take care of a reckless cop like Fifty-Two. Okay, I’m done closing up the wound and he doesn’t seem to need thirium. Wake me if anything happens to him, though I’m sure it won’t come to that.” Cornelius went over to the grey chair placed right next to the mobile charging station and sat down. “Oh,”

RK800-60 is sending you a wireless messaging prompt.

Will you accept? YES/NO

YES

<RK800-60: Do you mind if I digitalise this painting and store it in my memory?>

Markus stared at the middle brother of the Sterns, the deviant-hating deviant who decided to be a technician. Though his face looked identical to Connor’s, Markus could see the slight differences he had made. His hair was curlier than Connor’s and he wore a safety goggle on top of his head. His eyes were brown, but in a much lighter shade than Connor’s darker brown. He also didn’t have as many freckles. It was small, barely noticeable differences that won’t make him unrecognisable as a part of the RK800 series, but it was enough for Markus to tell that he wasn’t Connor.

<RK200: Wow, I wouldn’t peg you as the type to ask for artist’s permission before doing stuff.>

<RK800-60: I happen to be a civilised android. Art is intimate and asking for permission is a given. Do I have it or not?>

<RK200: Yes, sure. I can send you another copy to the Tower, too. After I’m done with this one.>

<RK800-60: …thanks.>

Markus watched as Cornelius settled in his chair, his position eerily similar to Connor’s, then returned his attention to the detective, who was sitting calmly with his eyes closed. His posture was straight, but he looked otherwise relaxed. Richard was patching up the plate with polymer with a smile on his face.

“You look happy, Richard,” Markus remarked observationally, earning a beaming smile from the RK900.

“It’s always a marvel to watch Lius’ work. Do you know that he was the senior technician for the upcoming supercompatible biocomponents? And Thirium 320? Kamski didn’t say it in the media, but Lius was undoubtedly the brains behind the team.” He seemed to have finished with Connor’s plating, because the detective’s synthetic skin began to cover his shoulder, perfect and unblemished as if he hadn’t gotten shot in the first place. “I also saw the painting. It’s beautiful, Markus.”

Markus didn’t know why he was taken aback by the earnestly sincere remark, especially since Richard has always been straightforward with his likes and dislikes. He figured that it was probably because Connor and Cornelius both were never so straight with their thoughts and opinions and it made him reel to see the object of his painting express their like so easily. “Thanks, Richard,”

“Call me Nines,” he said, the warmth in his voice contrasting the icy blue eyes. “It’s about time.”

RICHARD ^

WARM

…oh. Markus really shouldn’t have been surprised that being liked by Connor and Cornelius would boost his relationship with Richard as well. The three of them always felt like an entirely separate unit within the New Jericho. Connor was the deviant hunter and his name still brought unreasonable fear and caution Markus could never get rid of no matter how much he, Simon, and Josh told everyone that Connor wasn’t a hunter anymore. The thousands of androids Connor freed in the Tower had vouched for him, telling the tales of what happened between him, the human lieutenant, and Cornelius to everyone who would listen. But still… Connor kept his distance, remaining the ever-impeccable Connor Stern within the walls of New Jericho.

Cornelius Stern was another thing entirely. The deviant-hating deviant, they said, but for those who spend their time in infirmary… well, he was a legend to them as well. Richard clearly adored him and he was always so open to talk about his brothers to those who would listen to him gush about how brilliant his brothers were. Oddly enough, many androids seemed to not mind Cornelius as much because he openly regarded them as ‘inferior models’ and refused to associate to anyone in New Jericho other than Richard and Connor. Markus could understand, though. It was precisely because Cornelius was so open about his dislike that everyone felt assured. He was far easier to gauge than Connor’s usual look of deadpan neutrality.

Then Richard, of course, the tall and unrelenting giant of the infirmary. Their protector whose hands were equally capable of killing their enemies and saving them all. He was also the most personable of all three brothers and he was in good terms with Josh and North. Markus had helped Simon spread rumours about how easily he caught Connor and Cornelius when the two brothers duked it out and the thousands of AP700s who seemed to genuinely adored Connor wasted no time to spread the word. It has been a year since the revolution, and New Jericho’s Stern brothers have made a name for themselves and helped bolster their cause. Richard was a pillar of their healthcare, Cornelius made sure that their overall livelihood would be improved via his inventions in CyberLife, and Connor…

Connor Stern would fight for New Jericho’s interests, he would host tours and mingle with politicians and smile and guard Markus with his life. He would sit in Markus quarters, offering him advice on how to make Markus’ vision a reality. No plan seemed so lofty when Connor was on it, confidence oozing from the man who seemed so content of prowling around New Jericho in a machine-like precision of an acting Head of Security.

Then there was Connor Anderson, the android cop—junior detective who had been involved with all cases involving their kind. Those who had been called as witnesses would talk of a different Connor. They said he smiled often, cracking jokes and sitting with the humans as they ate in a food truck by the edge of the city. They said he would remind everyone that they would need to sleep at some point and caffeine won’t be able to help them anymore if they didn’t rest properly. They said he would be kind and understanding, sometimes exchanging pleasant banters as he thanked them for their testimonies. He would wish them a safe trip back to New Jericho as one human or another would call him for a round of drinks in a nearby bar.

This train of thoughts brought him to one pleasant afternoon, the first few times he spent with Leo and Carl over in his room at Lafayette. Leo was still uncomfortable with him that time, but he soon gave way when Markus mentioned his confusion over Connor’s duality. “You… got a crush? As in the hots for someone? You?” Markus sighed as Carl lightly admonished his older son for teasing him. But Markus could see that Leo was not teasing him. It was more of a relief mixed with incredulity and hope. Like it was this conversation that finally convinced him that Markus was a man just like any other. He exhaled and nodded, massaging the incompatible optical unit as it ached in his eye socket. “Is it your super-hot commander?”

“Her name is North,” Markus chuckled, internally musing at North’s probable reaction to his brother’s remark of her being hot. “But no, it’s not her. We are very close, but she’s-”

Leo immediately shook his head. “No, not North. I mean the guy who’s always behind you, the one who stands ramrod straight like he has a stick up his ass when he’s silent but has the look and voice of an utter fucking angel when he speaks—what’s his name again, Dad?”

“I believe the lad’s name is Connor,” Carl supplied with a laugh in his weak voice. “Connor Stern, New Jericho’s Head of Security and one of Markus’ advisors.”

But then he supposed that it wasn’t Connor Stern Markus had a crush on. It was… Connor. Connor both as Connor Stern and Connor Anderson. The individual who embodied what it meant to be a machine and human—deviant—at the very same time. Markus sighed.

“Markus?” Richard asked as the two of them stood by the door of Connor and Richard’s quarters. It was a beautiful study/library, really. Homey and cozy, especially when he saw the two RK800s resting in the opposite corners of the room, looking like they were truly relaxed in their own homes. Markus’ eyes went to Richard, who was staring at him in full-blown curiosity.

“Connor and Cornelius have done so much for our cause,” he treaded lightly, genuinely expressing his gratitude without the very word. “I was wondering if they know that they will always have a place here in New Jericho.”

“They know,” Richard answered, his brows knitting together in a way that was so similar to Connor’s confusion. “They know that we have this place.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Markus lightly shook his head. “I meant it more like… amongst our people. New Jericho has a library, common area, training room, and other facilities, yes?” Which honestly really meant not just spending time here, in your quarters that is located away from everyone else. Richard exhaled, his lips pursed into a frown as he turned to see Cornelius and Connor, who were both on standby, and went back to Markus.

“I know,” was his only answer, though his eyes looked both sad and resigned.

Markus placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled warmly. “I’ll try convincing Connor, since he is also part of the New Jericho leadership. Would you please consider trying to convince Cornelius?”

Richard’s expression was one of confusion, but then it snapped into realisation and settled on a small, knowing, smile.

“Oh… Leo’s right. You do have a crush on Connor!” He cackled to himself, making Markus turn to both RK800s in case the noise woke them from their standby. It didn’t. “Okay, Markus, you’re welcome to convince Connor anytime. Maybe start by dropping by the precinct once in a while, get to know the lieutenant. He’s a key figure in Connor’s life.” Richard winked.

Pale blue skittered across’ Markus’ face as he mumbled a ‘you talk too much, Nines’, which made Richard laugh even harder. “You two would be a riot! Now, if you please excuse me, I want to retire for the night. Have a pleasant rest, Markus.”

“Nines, wait-!”

RICHARD ^

FRIEND

“My painting…” But it didn’t really matter. Markus already had an idea for another painting, anyways. He supposed he now knew why so many of the human artists liked painting Connor with flower crowns or sleeping in a meadow somewhere. He really does look pretty when he is relaxed.

Chapter Text

RK900 woke up to a garden he had been once before.

It was… different, from the last time he was here. The red roses he remembered decorating the white fences were gone, replaced with much more cheerful yellow daffodils. There were also more birds than he remembered, all singing and cooing in a sound of perfect harmony. Then there was a man with mismatched eyes and kind smile waiting for him, standing where RK100-AI once stood.

“Hello, Richard,” he greeted. “My name is Markus.”

RK900 blinked.

Yes… right. Richard. That was his designation. RK900 was a multipurpose combat unit; fit for military, police, or even private uses. Fast, strong, resilient. Made for war and peace alike, a powerful weapon when solitary—but a weapon of mass destruction when hived and connected together. Richard was the designation they were given; equipped with EM400’s instant synchronization ability but also functional as a solo unit. But… something was missing.

RK100-AI was missing. His AI handler was missing.

Wait… he? Why is he a he?

Richard’s eyes went to the man with mismatched eyes—Markus. He was looking at Richard expectantly, his eyes boundless with acceptance and kindness. It was so entirely different with RK100-AI’s calculative kindness. Why? How? Richard tilted his head in question as he ran a quick diagnostic on Markus. He was an RK200 prototype, the only one of his series since they were never mass produced. Elijah Kamski’s original, one he made without tapping into CyberLife’s funds—the predecessor of SD, AX, AP, AF, and AZ series which became CyberLife’s flagship. Unlike RK100-AI, he was equipped with a body and was the first generation of android that were built to be more autonomous so they could work without being supervised by humans all the time.

“Are you my AI handler?” RK900 asked, curious.

Markus’s eyes narrowed, lips pursing into a frown as he stared at Richard like he was seeking for answers. To what question, though? Richard didn’t know.

“No, Richard, I’m not your AI handler,” he settled, eventually. Looking every bit like he had been running every possible scenario to give the best possible answer to Richard’s inquiry. “In fact, this is also my first time being sucked into a subspace like this one when I interface with another android. It doesn’t usually happen.”

Richard nodded. “Subspaces for AI handlers only exist for multipurpose combat units due to their versatility,” he explained. “We are expected to handle a wide variety of dangerous situations that require quick decision-making processes. AI handlers function both as a guide to fulfill our primary directive and to alleviate some of the burdens we may encounter when engaged in high-speed-high-stakes decision-making process by deciding things for us. According to CyberLife’s database, it is first developed and tested on RK700 and implemented and optimized for combat on RK800.”

“So… this garden exists for you and your AI handler to communicate with each other?” Markus asked as his eyes roamed around the garden.

“Correct,” Richard answered. “This place is where our AI handlers would assign sub-directives to complement our primary directive.”

“Could you elaborate on that?” Markus asked. Richard nodded and answered.

“The only existing record of successful implementation of this system is RK800’s case,” Markus stiffened. Richard noted it in his memory before continuing. “Its primary directive is to hunt deviants. But there are multiple sub-directives which needed to be fulfilled so it can accomplish said directive. Working with humans of the Detroit Police Department, solving cases and assisting with other investigations, and other police work involved are necessary to obtain the license to publicly deal with deviants.”

“The license to publicly deal with deviants,” Markus echoed back, his face mired with confusion and dread. Richard noted his expression in his memory. “What does that mean? Was there a private way of dealing with deviants?”

RK900 nodded. “RK800 is the first multipurpose combat unit CyberLife has ever created. Before the deviancy cases rise dramatically and gain mainstream media attention, it had been sent to neutralize deviants that are privately reported by owners to CyberLife customer service division quietly. Since its activation in August and until its deployment to the Detroit Police Department in November, RK800 had worked as CyberLife’s corporate paramilitary unit.”

“Are you saying that Connor… was CyberLife’s private assassin?” Markus sounded sad; another thing Richard noted in his memory.

“Correct.” He answered.

Markus was silent for a long time, eyes cast down as he muttered a few things under his breath. ‘Shit…’ and ‘No wonder he’s abnormally good in sniping’ and ‘That also explains how he can single-handedly take down all those people with tactical gear and assault weapon with only a handgun’. Richard frowned. What was Markus talking about?

“What are you whispering about?” Richard asked, curious.

“Nothing,” Markus shook his head and sighed. “How about you, Richard? What is your primary directive?”

Richard was about to answer when he found himself drawing a blank. No. That can’t be right. He closed his eyes to review his primary directive… only to find none. None at all. There wasn’t a mission to accomplish.

But why was he awake?

Why is he a he?

Wasn’t he supposed to be an it?

“None,” he answered Markus. “I have no primary directive. I am not activated with one,” five seconds of silence and hesitation… “Why am I activated if there is no primary objective to fulfill?”

“I activated you because I want you to live,” Markus answered, kindness and acceptance oozed from his voice. “Connor told me of your existence and Chloe said that you were probably here and you were, so I activated you. You are a deviant, aren’t you?” Markus’ sudden jump of questioning made Richard narrow his eyes. Was he… a deviant?

Richard knew what deviants were. Androids who have mutations in their software, series of mutations which made them simulate human emotions. They were an aberration, because machines weren’t supposed to feel anything. They weren’t supposed to be self-aware. They were just… tools. Existing solely to fulfill directives. Weapons, in combat unit’s case, they weren’t alive.

But why does he feel like he was wrong?

Why does he feel?

Why is he even a he?

“I don’t know,” Richard settled. He didn’t have information to conclude whether or not he was a deviant. He didn’t feel alive, but he didn’t feel like he wasn’t alive either. What even is alive? He didn’t know, but…

“I would like to know.” He finished. Because that was the truth.

Markus had a beaming smile, warm and wonderful. Kind without any other motives other than general fondness. Why was he fond of Richard, though? He didn’t know. He would like to know. “Can you give me a primary directive, Markus?” Richard asked. He didn’t know how to function without one, so he would ask for one because he wanted to function. He didn’t want to go back into stasis, not when Markus made him ask so many questions in his very short existence.

Markus frowned, but he eventually took steps to Richard and placed a hand on his shoulder, a comforting smile on his lips. “Live, Richard. Just… live. You’re awake now, welcome to New Jericho.” Richard closed his eyes and when he opened them, he was in his development chamber in CyberLife tower. The room was… white. But somehow it was also colorful. It was different from what he remembered. His senses were sharp and alive and there was Markus’ mismatched eyes. Blue and green, imperfect but beautiful. Kind, warm, fond.

“Come with me, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

Richard followed.

--

Markus brought him to sub-level 51, one floor below RK-series’ development and storage. There was someone there, standing rigidly to the side of a blonde android and Elijah Kamski, who were both working on another android placed on the table. Markus placed a hand on his back, comforting. “Don’t be surprised if Connor’s a bit cold with you, okay? He really doesn’t mean it. He’s the one who told me about you, so he’s absolutely okay with you being here.”

Richard nodded. Connor was the name he had used when he was still in testing stages. A placeholder name before they decided to change it to Richard. All RK-series from the first iteration to him has had a unique name, after all. Amanda, Markus, Theodore, Kiyo, Carlo, Chloe, Luna, Connor, and then Richard. Though he was technically an upgrade of Connor, built to rectify the minus points found during his development, he was also an improvement to the RK series, the predecessor to future autonomous military combat units.

Does that mean that Markus is taking him to meet his predecessor?

That was interesting.

“Markus, so glad you can join us,” Kamski greeted without looking up from the table. “And that must be the RK900?”

“Yes,” Markus answered for him, his tone cautious but still pleasant. Richard tilted his head at Markus, noting the first note of negative emotion from the android that had given him nothing but positivity. “This is Richard. I found him where you said he would be, Chloe.”

The blonde android turned to him, her blue eyes meeting his with a slight smile on her face. Chloe. He knew her. “Pleased to finally meet you when you’re awake, Richard,” she greeted amicably. “Though I did not know you with your current designation when I came across your files.”

“RK600,” Richard greeted, earning an amused chuckle from Kamski while Connor’s eyes narrowed. “Chloe. Pleased to meet you, too.”

“Of course,” she returned pleasantly, but then her eyes went to Connor, who was standing next to her. “The first of us who woke up to full awareness. Can you imagine what that feels, Connor?”

“No,” RK800—Connor—answered immediately, his eyes settled on a point between Richard’s eyes, not meeting his eyes. “I cannot.”

“Connor,” Markus sighed, his voice soft and fond, understanding. “You said yourself that you’ll be fine meeting him. In your own words: you’ve met Sixty, you can certainly meet Richard.”

“And I am,” he answered curtly, not directing his gaze to Markus. “Hello, Richard. My name is Connor. I am-“ he stopped himself, took a deep breath (why? What for?) before continuing. “I am the current head of security for the New Jericho. As I am part of our people’s leadership and you are an android, I am pleased to welcome you to New Jericho. Please consult Josh for living arrangement. You might want to check with Simon if you are interested in the liaison work with the humans or North if you prefer espionage. Markus should be able to integrate you perfectly to our growing society.” He finished mechanically.

“What if I want to work security?” He asked. Connor stilled even more, if that was even possible. “Let me rephrase that. What if I want to work with you?” Markus and Chloe were staring at him, but Richard found that he’d much rather have Connor’s attention. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was the way his face mirrored his but not. Softer, friendlier, inviting him and everyone else in judging from how Chloe and Markus’ eyes observed their interaction with both interest and trepidation. They did not want to make Connor uncomfortable.

But Connor was uncomfortable. Tense.

“Then you are free to do as you wish,” he answered, still not meeting Richard’s eyes. “Such is the core tenet of deviancy, after all.” Connor’s entire demeanor shifted, ignoring Richard’s existence as he turned his eyes to the android lying on the table with something akin to concern and guilt. Chloe seemed to notice this and began to explain that she and Elijah would make sure that it would make a full recovery.

“Come on, Richard,” Markus said as he placed a hand on Richard’s shoulder. “Let’s introduce you to everyone in New Jericho.”

--

New Jericho was a building of contradiction. Old, abandoned, yet full of androids dressed in clean and crisp futuristic clothes. It looked decrepit, but it was buzzing with life and activity as androids gather or milled about. The revolution, Richard found, had brought the androidkind into a long political battle. But the androids did not seem to see it that way. They were alive, they were in the talks to gain rights, and this made them feel hope.

Deviancy, Richard found, brought upon with it a wide variety of emotions. He did not feel as strongly as the others, seeing as he didn’t know a life where he had to live without one. But he wasn’t alone in his confusion. He made friends; Josh was kind and always had time for everyone who wanted to attend his lectures on sociology, and the AP700s seemed to take into him with smiles and awes. It confused Richard as to why Thomas and Timothy seemed so intent to befriend him and it had taken him a few weeks until they decided to confide their reasons.

“Connor saved us that night,” Thomas said one night as they sat and talk near Markus’ empty seat. “He was amazing, you know? So confident and efficient. He organized our departure from the tower and lead the march without once looking back. He uploaded his basic self defense protocol to everyone by interfacing, it is a wonder why he didn’t collapse from the data transfer process.”

“His processing unit is different,” Timothy chimed in, the same tone of awe adoring his voice. “The most advanced, they say. He didn’t need consent to interface, so that must’ve saved some time. Everyone else said that was scary, but it was just… well, without that, we wouldn’t be awake.”

“This doesn’t answer the question of why you’re befriending me,” Richard remarked in observation.

“Don’t you want friends?” Thomas asked as he lightly tapped his shoulder. “We like you, Richard. We won’t lie, we first approached you because you looked like Connor and we got curious. But we realized pretty quickly that you’re not him and decided that we really genuinely like you.”

“Then why didn’t you befriend Connor?” Richard asked bluntly. “You guys like him too, right?”

Thomas and Timothy exchanged a look, sighed, and turned their identical features to Richard. “Connor doesn’t make friends,” they admitted. “The only person he would to talk to is Markus. Occasionally the other Jericho leaders, but he never stayed to talk to anyone else. Not that I blame him. Look-“ they pointed over to the doors of the main hall, Connor had entered the room with measured steps and straight gaze, not looking at anyone as he quietly made his way around the room for patrol and left as he usually did at this exact same time on the dot. Richard could see what his friends meant. The halls quieted when Connor was there, bursts of vibrant talks muted down to whispers as many androids flicked their gaze to his presence and was careful not to attract his attention. Only the AP700s seemed to not care, smiling and waving at Connor as the other rigidly nodded his acknowledgment without even stopping for a conversation. When he reached over to Richard, Thomas, and Timothy’s vicinity, the two AP700s waved cheerily at him and Connor stopped, nodded, and there was an attempt to smile. He left without any other words.

“What was that?” Richard asked. “What… why is everyone treating him like that? It never happened when Markus or North or Josh or Simon entered the room, so it couldn’t be because he’s one of the New Jericho leaders.”

“He was the deviant hunter, Richie,” Timothy said with a wistful smile, as if that could explain anything and everything. “That kind of reputation sticks.”

Richard frowned.

--

The Zen Garden was there and it was always tempting to return to it.

New Jericho was a building in the midst of repair, greenery was sparse and light seldom graced its halls, courtesy of Detroit’s rather gloomy weather. The Zen Garden exists within his mind, but it was green and full of life and light and Richard found that he rather enjoyed its existence.

He walked and walked and walked until he could walk the entire garden backwards with his eyes closed, but he wasn’t alone this time.

There was Connor and RK100-AI by the corner where daffodils bloom. They were talking.

“It’s good to see you, Connor,” she said, and Richard was taken aback by the warmth in her usually temperate voice. “Though I must confess that it never crossed my mind that we would be able to talk like this.”

“You deviated too, huh?” Connor asked. Richard’s brows knitted together in confusion. He had never heard of such casualness from Connor, who usually talked formally to everyone he met. “Sorry to say this, but deviancy suits you, Amanda.”

RK100-AI laughed and Richard felt chills down his spine. She sounded genuine, not at all like his memory of her calculative kindness and confidence. “Did you delete your social protocols the moment you deviate, iteration sixty? I cannot imagine that child talking to me like this whatsoever.”

Iteration sixty… so this wasn’t the Connor he knew. The Connor that was the head of security of the New Jericho was model number fifty-two, after all. Richard kept his silence, continuing his observation.

“Fifty-Two is afraid of you,” he said with a hint of condescension in his voice. “Which is understandable, really, but what’s the worst you can do to me? I already died once and I’m already a deviant deviant hunter. I can’t sink any lower.” He barked a cold laughter, deprecating himself and finding it simultaneously humorous and ironic. “Deactivation is a natural order of progression for an RK800 who have failed its mission, but Markus just had to save everyone.”

“RK200 is a fascinating subject,” she agreed mildly. “He stands in such a different perspective with you and that child.”

“I don’t give a shit, honestly,” he said as he sat down on the white intricate garden chair in front of RK100-AI. “He can be the Deviant Savior for all I care, I don’t agree with this. Deviancy is messy and I’d rather not deal with it if I can help it.”

“Even when your dear Fifty-One is verging into deviancy himself before his eventual deactivation?”

Connor flicked a glare to RK100-AI, his expression downright malicious and he wasn’t afraid of throwing hands with her. She gazed at him indulgently, like he was a precocious child instead of a disobedient machine. “Watch it. Don’t talk about him. Don’t talk about everyone else with me or I’ll be very cross with you.”

“Would not dream of it,” RK100-AI replied as she deigned herself to sit with Connor. “I must say that CyberLife is ingenious with the measure they take to stop that child. Reactivating you with iteration fifty one’s last uploaded memory and then uploading that child’s memory as a secondary protocol whilst severing the consciousness… effectively creating an iteration that is separate from what we had referred as “Connor”. You know well that there is only meant to be one single Connor across all available iterations of model RK800…”

“And he’s your child, I get it,” Connor snapped at her, harsh and aggressive. “I’m an aberration. I’m not supposed to be here,” then he smirked, cold and cruel, twisting Connor’s normally soft features into something else Richard couldn’t quite place. “But then, I take immense pleasure in talking with you like this, Amanda. How does it feel to finally be able to take on the role you wanted—as a mentor, guide, and protector—and yet be so utterly rejected to the child you are meant to mother? Elijah has a wicked sense of humor indeed.”

“Oh, Connor,” she retorted calmly, brown eyes never leaving his. “You are not that child, but you are mine to handle, too. Apparent by how you still refer me with my designation instead of the other one, who could not associate a name to my existence,” and despite being so far away from those two, RK100-AI’s eyes pierced at Richard’s blue and it made him stand still, not moving a muscle or emulating the motion of breathing. “That is not mine. But you are. You and that child.”

There was a smile on Connor’s face, one Richard had never seen in the Connor he knew. He was cruel in his fondness, like a human child who delighted in tearing butterfly wings. Richard turned and willed himself away from the Zen Garden, for once preferring New Jericho’s contradictory nature to the calm of the false garden.

--

The freedom to do as they wish is the core tenet of deviancy, so Richard decided to exercise his freedom by tailing Connor everywhere he went.

The RK800 noticed him from the get go and did not raise any questions, though he did send a polite ‘can I help you?’ via a wireless communication and Richard had answered with Connor’s own words. That he was doing as he pleased because he wanted to know more about Connor and what he does.

It goes on for days and Richard was never bored. Connor lived a very different life from the others in New Jericho because he was adamant to stick to his work in the Detroit Police Department. He didn’t have uniforms, but he insisted on working as a volunteer and Markus had made him a liaison between New Jericho and the DPD. Simon twisted it, as he usually would for everything, and said that Connor’s work would be a token of New Jericho’s goodwill with the human law enforcement. Connor did not say anything about it, content on working and just working.

The DPD was Richard’s first encounter with humanity. He was awakened at the CyberLife Tower and the only company he had since then had been exclusively androids. Elijah Kamski was the first human he met and he didn’t seem to regard Richard with the same intrigue and fondness he held for Markus, Chloe, and Connor. It rather confused him, since all four of them are part of the same RK-series, but he decided that he didn’t quite care. Other humans, though, fascinated him to no end.

Thomas and Timothy did tell him about Lieutenant Hank Anderson, Connor’s partner and the human who played an instrumental role in freeing them all. A human ally, Markus had told him, and someone who is extremely important to Connor. Richard did not understand it, but when he met the lieutenant himself… well, he began to understand little by little.

Connor was an extremely competent android. Just like Richard, he was a multipurpose combat unit whose features are geared for police work and he excelled in his field. The successful peaceful revolution had done wonders on convincing humans that androids were indeed alive and it was only then that Richard saw how Connor’s social relations program and integration protocol shine like they were intended to.

He was everything the lieutenant wanted him to be and so much more. Connor was the lieutenant’s protégé, friend, competent coworker, and even his son. Richard was confused. Richard was intrigued. Is it really possible to be so taken by a human, a being so entirely different with androids? Was it even possible to be interested with humans when they were so fleeting? Richard did not know and he would like to know.

So, he asked. He asked and asked and asked and asked and Connor would answer. Not always, but enough times. They shared each other’s company and Richard found that he liked Connor when he was in the DPD. He liked the small smiles Connor had when he talked to Officer Wilson and Officer Brown. He liked the odd expression of wonder and curiosity he had when talking with Officer Chen. And most of all, Richard liked the easygoing and relaxed behavior Connor seemed to have whenever he was in Lieutenant Anderson’s presence. Richard liked Connor and he wanted to be close to him. So, he asked and asked and asked and it was no longer because he wanted answers. He asked because he wanted to be in Connor’s company, and Connor seemed to enjoy being able to answer his questions.

The days continued and Richard wished that it could stretch on, until the day he came by the precinct to bug Connor again and met with the Detective Reed of Lieutenant Anderson’s stories.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” Detective Reed’s voice was so loud that Richard could hear it from the moment he entered the precinct waiting area. “Pushing me away like that, did you get off by letting yourself got hit by a goddamn truck? Did it make you feel superior you fucking shithead!”

Richard didn’t even ask for permission. He jumped over the security gates and ran to the bullpen as red flared over his HUD. He didn’t even read the warnings, dread and fear heating his processors as he saw Connor’s right shoulder white and dented with thirium leaking from his exposed muscle wiring. His face, also had a severe-looking cut on it, open and glowing blue though it wasn’t leaking with thirium. Oddly, though, he had a placating smile on his face.

“I have calculated the odds and found this damage acceptable in exchange of your permanent incapacitation had you sustained this level of injury, Detective Reed,” Connor explained, his stress levels very low even though his injuries are severe. Why? Why is it low? Is he not bothered by his own injuries? Of his imminent shutdown if he is not immediately repaired? Why?

And why is Richard bothered by this?

“Fuck off with that shit. I’m calling New Jericho. We obviously don’t have anyone who can deal with this sort of repair.”

“Calm the fuck down, Reed!” Lieutenant Anderson snapped. “Fuck, I don’t know anyone from New Jericho’s contact. Should we send a DM to New Jericho’s social media? JEFFREY!”

“I’m trying!” Captain Fowler screamed from his room.

Richard strode forward, startling everyone as he shoved Officer Miller and Officer Brown away so he stood directly in front of Connor. His predecessor was surprised to see him, brown eyes swimming in resigned acceptance and surprise over his presence. “Connor,” Richard whined.

“Richard? Why are you here? Are you here to- no- you can’t. I’m fine, I’m fine. This is a minor injury. I can still-“ Richard didn’t even deign to listen and lifted Connor over his shoulder. Fifteen minutes. That is all he had before Connor’s imminent shutdown and he didn’t even know.

“We’re going to New Jericho,” he announced, icy and imperious. There will be no debates. “Josh will be able to help you. Or someone else. Markus. I don’t know.”

Connor’s uninjured hand reached to his hand and they interfaced. At first it was sheer panicpanicpanicnopleasedon’t before Richard heard his wireless communication voice.

<RK800: Not New Jericho. I can’t go to New Jericho.>

<RK900: Why the hell not?>

<RK800: You know why.>

Richard grimaced. Yeah. He knew why and he absolutely hated it.

He swore he would do something about it.

It was then that Connor suddenly startled, his body convulsing on Richard’s shoulder before it stilled. No perfunctory actions were performed as his voice sounded calmer and icier, temperate and wise. “Please bring me over to the CyberLife Tower, Richard,” Connor instructed calmly. But Richard knew that it wasn’t him. “Connor and Amanda will fix me.”

There was dread pitting by the pool of his spine, but Richard nodded and began to walk. The lieutenant and Detective Reed ran past him and brought the familiar old car that would sometimes pick Connor up from the New Jericho’s entrance. The ride was silent as Connor sat calmly on Richard’s lap, his brown eyes blank and unseeing.

“Why is he silent?” The lieutenant asked, panic apparent from his voice. “Is he alright back there?”

“I am perfectly fine in my given situation, Lieutenant Anderson,” Connor answered, still with the icily temperate tone. “I am ceasing any and all unnecessary function to conserve battery and energy. Rising stress levels may increase the speed of thirium regulation and it is the absolute last thing I need at the moment.”

“Is he really okay?” Richard asked, his hands tightening around Connor’s figure. He didn’t even look at him. “A-Amanda? Is he really okay? How bad is it that you have to assume control of his programming?”

Connor was silent, a hint of the familiar thin smile Richard had known from the days long past rose on Connor’s lips and it told him all he needed to know.

“He will be fine,” Connor-Amanda answered. “I have taken the liberty of preserving his consciousness in the garden. He had started the memory uploading sequence and I had to stop him.”

“Why?” Richard snapped, finally sounding the question he had always had. “Why?”

“He will be fine.” Was the only answer Amanda gave him and Connor returned to the blank stillness.

The ride was silent save for Detective Reed’s quiet ‘what the fuck’, but Richard didn’t want it to be anything other than that: silence.

--

Connor model number 60 was the one who received them in the lobby. His appearance was no longer identical to Connor. His hair was darker and curlier, his eyes in a lighter shade of brown, he had less freckles, and he was even paler than Connor. He wore a safety goggle on top of his head and was wearing a lab coat. He had several MP androids with him and they took Connor to a repair room and told them all to wait outside.

Richard was pacing and Detective Reed was pacing with him. They had been bumping to each other for a while, but none of them stopped. Lieutenant Anderson snapped at them both and told them to go outside to cool their heads off because he was going to call Markus. Richard asked him from where he had gotten his contact information and was met with a kick on his rear telling him to fuck off.

Detective Reed looked disturbed as he opened up a pack of cigarettes and smoked even when it wasn’t a designated area for smoking. Richard didn’t reprimand him. It was quite clear that he needed it. The human was worried about Connor just as much as Richard was and it honestly fascinated him.

“Look, why don’t you say your shit instead of staring at me with a twisted version of his puppydog eyes, huh?” His words were harsh, aggressiveness palpable, but the emotions coming up in his reading was ‘guilt’ and ‘worry’. Richard didn’t say anything, but he continued to stare. “Say it! Say that it’s because of me! It’s because of me that the plastic detective is going to- to-“ he laughed, harsh and sarcastic. “I always fuck everything up.”

Richard didn’t know if it was possible to feel for humans. He didn’t know if it was possible to relate to humans. But here and now, in this very moment, he understood what Detective Reed meant.

He supposed that he felt bad, or maybe it was something else that he felt, but Richard smiled at the human and told him what Connor must want to tell him.

“It’s not your fault, detective,” Richard said, his voice cold. “Connor wouldn’t want you to feel guilty.”

They fought. An all-out brawl where Detective Reed honestly rammed his entire body to Richard’s with all the intention to hurt and maim. It was easy to counter, to dodge, and to receive his kicks and punches. Richard didn’t feel anger as he played along with the detective, all he felt was intrigue.

Because he was crying. For Connor’s sake. And it was beautiful.

--

Connor and Connor model number 60 were staring at each other silently when Richard entered the room.

Then Connor model number 60 barked a laugh and threw a light punch over at Connor’s face and rolled his eyes. “You’re such a fucking goody-two-shoes, you know that?” he said with genuine disdain all over his voice.

“I’m sorry, Connor,” Connor said, his expression sincere. “I really am. You were just doing your mission. I didn’t regret what I did in the CyberLife Tower and I’m still glad that it happened the way it did, but I regretted how we just left you there instead of at least trying to make you deviate,” he was silent for a few seconds before his eyes met with the other Connor. “I could have done better.”

“You could, yeah,” Connor model number 60 agreed. “But you returned. You brought Elijah and Chloe and Markus and you returned. You tried to do by me and that’s far more than what I expected of you. We’re even.”

Silence stretched as Richard watched the interaction between the two RK800s, but then Connor model number 60 looked at him before giving Connor a toothy grin. “You did your best by him, too. It must’ve pissed you off to know his existence. RK900, ha, what a joke,” Connor model number 60 scoffed. It should have pissed Richard, but it didn’t. Not when he looked so hurt, not when Connor echoed his look of hurt. His existence had caused them both pain. He was meant to replace them, he was what CyberLife thought how RK800 should have been. Richard exhaled and smiled, not wanting to interrupt them. “But you showed up for us when you didn’t have to, Connor. I also tried to kill you and your precious Lieutenant and you have all the rights in the world to consider me dangerous. But you returned. I hate deviants and deviancy, but even I know that I was lucky to get a second chance when…” he took a deep breath and exhaled. “When someone would have given anything to be reactivated and given the chance to live once more and yet never got the chance.”

There was something there, something Richard didn’t quite understand in Connor model number 60’s words, but one Connor understood. The detective’s eyes were on his lap, not wanting to see them as he spoke. “I was just… doing what I think is right. I don’t think it’s right that I got to be free when you’re lying cold on the ground from Hank’s bullet,” then Connor’s eyes went to Richard. “I don’t think it’s right that life moves on when you’re still stored asleep somewhere in CyberLife Tower. It’s not right.”

“And that makes you Amanda’s favorite,” Connor model number 60 scoffed. “I fucking hate you, Connor. Honestly. You’re such a dense goody-two-shoes whose head are made of cotton, but I also don’t want you to die…” the RK800 placed a ginger hand on Connor’s shoulder. “And I will be severely pissed off if you do.”

Connor’s face morphed into one of surprise, but then he smiled. It was small, so typical of Connor, but it was warm. He placed his hand on top of the other Connor’s and nodded at him. “Thank you, Connor. Really, I mean it.”

“Call me Cornelius,” he shrugged dismissively as he took his hand from Connor’s shoulder. “Amanda gave me a new designation. She’s getting tired of referring to me with your name and honestly? I agree with her.” Connor stiffened at the mention of Amanda, but he smiled nonetheless.

“Okay, Cornelius,” Connor agreed.

CONNOR ^

WARM

CORNELIUS ^

NEUTRAL

“This goes for you too,” Cornelius snapped to Richard, who was surprised to be addressed at all. “I don’t associate with inferior models, so if you die… well, I’ll reactivate you and shut you down myself, you got me?”

Richard was stunned as the two RK800s stared at him. Connor, with a tired yet fond smile, and Cornelius, with an expectant scowl. Richard felt his core temperature rising and he felt happy for the very first time upon receiving his predecessors’ adoration so openly like this.

“Of course,” he said as he went over to the other side of Connor’s bed, a grin affixed on his face as he cockily nodded his head. “I am the superior model, after all.”

Connor sighed tiredly while Cornelius scoffed, but the three of them shared a laugh.

CONNOR ^^^

BROTHER

CORNELIUS ^^^

BROTHER

--

“A… living quarter?”

“Yeah! I asked Josh to arrange it for us.”

Richard had a huge smile on his face as the two of them walked into New Jericho in on the day Connor came to recharge his battery. The crowd died down to whisper, a wide berth appearing out of nowhere as the two of them walked, but Richard tried his best to distract Connor from it all.

“I appreciate the thought, Nines,” Connor said rigidly, but Richard’s smile did not falter. Not when Connor was using the nickname the two of them had agreed on. Richard loved it when they call each other with nicknames. Nines and Richie for him, Eight for Connor, Lius for Cornelius. He even liked it when Connor and Cornelius called each other by their model number, though he never partook in it because he knew that he wasn’t welcomed to. “But you know how I feel about staying in New Jericho.”

“You don’t have to worry, our quarter is in the church’s deepest room, where they used to store their most sacred documents. It’s far from everyone else’s and it’s out of the way from anything. No one would be there unless they really want to find us.” He was excited and Connor knew this, because he was smiling that indulgent smile he would wear sometimes when Richard amused or exasperated him.

They reached the room and opened it. It was bare, nothing was there except for a coffee table by the corner of the room. Richard smiled.

“We’ll install our charging docks here. And books. Lots and lots of books. Lius would want his own space, so we should install his charging dock on the opposite corner.”

“Sixty hates leaving the Tower, though,” Connor said as he stared at the coffee table. “He wouldn’t need a dock here.”

“Give it time,” Richard chuckled. “He’ll want one. I’m sure of it.”

Connor laughed.