Chapter Text
“ Only a little further, Sumo. It’s getting close to breakfast time. “
Cold early morning December air nips at Connor’s fingers, gloveless and gripping an old, worn dog leash. A faded red, the material weakened in certain spots, well used. The Saint Bernard attached to it doesn’t seem to mind though, trotting forward down the sidewalk, tail wagging in excitement at the simple activity.
A coin, silver and smooth clinks in the air, falling down to roll across pale knuckles, the free hand performing various tricks absentmindedly.
The weather was a solid 28 degrees, light winds, clear skies. Typically, the cold air didn’t bother Connor, a mild inconvenience for the potential of ice coating the ground, but since he deviated, he found he had grown to dislike it. The slight numbness that would coat his extremities, making his movements sluggish if he stayed out in it too long. Thirium feeling a few degrees away from freezing in his artificial veins, even if he knew logically he wasn’t anywhere near that level of cold. One quick system diagnostic could tell him that.
He especially disliked snow storms, he’d come to realize. Blizzards where you could barely see through the influx of snow and wind whipping around you, practically frozen in place. In the real world, there hasn’t been any blizzards yet, though they were expected potentially later in the month, with how the temperature was continuing to drop in Michigan.
He was still figuring out his feelings and emotions, but he figured out what that heavy, drowning weight against his chest was quite quickly.
Discomfort.
In the month since the revolution, a lot of change had been made in Detroit, as well as across the world. The fight was far from over, but big waves were being made for the android population daily.
Jericho was working closely with government officials, meeting after meeting being held for their people’s rights, and progress was slow but steady. Connor kept up with it, taking various updates from the news and Jericho itself, Markus personally sending him updates whenever he could, which the former appreciated.
Connor hadn’t seen Markus face to face since his big speech, when Connor had almost ruined everything. When Cyberlife had almost ruined everything. Connor had fled not too long after the event, with quick words to the leaders of Jericho to keep him updated, if they could.
Connor and Markus spoke through mind links often, chatting mostly about the progress made in the movement, but Markus would also try to engage in casual conversation. Connor struggled with it immensely, the underlying tension he felt making itself more present in between his plastimetal shoulder blades. Markus didn’t seem to mind his awkwardness though, taking it in stride as he spoke about simple, menial things.
He learned that Markus was a creative type, a love of music and art laced through his circuitry, and, at Connor’s quiet request, has sent him digital photos of a few small paintings he’s managed to fit into his busy schedule. Connor hasn’t tried anything artistic, but Markus has offered to teach him whenever he stops by Jericho again.
Connor isn’t planning on taking him up on that offer anytime soon, as much as he may want to, deep down.
Jericho wasn’t too far, the new location being roughly fifteen minutes away from him. An old abandoned apartment complex, donated to the androids by the Mayor, as a sort of peace offering, if you could call it that.
It was large and spacious, but also old, and required a lot of work. It had only been a week and a half since it was donated, the members of Jericho having stayed in the abandoned church and the old small business buildings next to it beforehand.
Markus had complained to him in a moment of vulnerability how crowded it was, feeling terrible that they didn’t have somewhere better to house everyone. He held a lot of pressure on his shoulders, from what Connor gathered. Held himself responsible for everything, even things that weren’t his fault.
Markus had also told him of the other three during their lighter conversations, North, Simon, and Josh, and how he’d like Connor to become more well acquainted with them, whenever he felt comfortable. He spends the majority of his time with them, from intense sessions for android rights to simple friend gatherings, they were a comfort to him, and the warmth he felt through their link whenever Markus spoke of them was obvious.
He wasn’t sure what the inner circle’s opinion on him was in particular, though he was aware enough to know some androids were uncomfortable around him. They all knew what it was like, to be bound to your programming, the purpose you were designed for. But Connor couldn’t blame them for being uneasy, disliking, or even hating him. He had hunted them, made them live in fear, and while he had let plenty of deviants escape—the early signs of his deviancy—there were still cases where others weren’t so lucky. And he was sure that would stick with him forever.
Simon looked so much like him.
A pull on the leash in his hand brought him out of his thoughts, and he turns to find Sumo trying to pull him back in the direction of Hank’s house. Connor scans his surroundings, realizing that they went a little farther than their normal route.
“ Oh, my mistake, Sumo. I had gotten distracted. “ he spoke gently to the dog, who didn’t seem to mind as Connor turned on his heel and walked back, pocketing his coin to focus back on the trek home.
Home, it was a strange phrase for him, though it was one that made his chest oddly warm, tangling in between his biocomponents comfortably.
Connor and Hank had met up the morning after the revolution, per Hank’s request to see the newly deviated android. Connor took the opportunity, having left Jericho minutes after the text message had appeared over his HUD. He was glad to get out of the crowded church building, away from the eyes and all the touching from being in close quarters.
Looking back, Connor recognized the crawling feeling of anxiety that had made its way through his biocomponents as he had neared the meeting location, mind frazzled and elsewhere after the events of the previous night. He was self aware enough at that point to realize he’d need a long stasis cycle for his systems to feel like they were performing optimally again.
Hank had greeted him with a gentle smile, which Connor had mirrored, the coil in his chest loosening, and had continued to loosen more so when Hank had pulled him forward into a hug, his warmth seeping into Connor’s synthetic skin.
Connor had never felt anything like it before, friendly touches being mostly unknown to him in previous encounters with other people. His only example of it beforehand was the strong hand that Markus had set on his shoulder in the church, showing his worry and care for Connor at the idea of infiltrating Cyberlife.
Connor, an android who had been hunting him and other androids, who he’d only just met officially, and yet he had cared for his safety. It confused the RK800 to no end.
Hank had pulled from the hug after a moment, firm grip on Connor’s arms, looking him over with a scrutinizing gaze before huffing a gentle laugh out at whatever Connor’s features had contorted into at that moment.
“ Saw you on the news, it was kinda badass, “ he praised, “ I’m surprised you were able to see me so quickly, though, I thought you’d be hanging out and celebrating with your android buddies? “ Hank had asked, eyes curious, icy blues scanning his face.
Connor hesitated in answering, words getting uncharacteristically caught in his throat. It was unlike his normal speech pattern, typically quick, methodical and stable. Then again, he was still a machine at that point. Deviant Connor seemed to get his words caught more often.
He didn’t like it.
He hadn’t had time to pull together an answer, as Hank seemed to notice something in his expression and sighed, heavy and rough, pulling him towards his car by the arm of his jacket with a heavy step onto the ground with worn out boots.
That had rebooted Connor’s voicebox, and he had asked “ Where are we going? “ gently, confused. Hank huffed, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe the words that left the android’s mouth.
“ My house, something’s telling me you have nowhere else to go, “ Connor had opened his mouth to protest, which Hank cut off with an exhausted glare, “ Don’t fight me on it, I haven’t slept and I will hurt you. “
It was an empty threat, Connor knew, but he had gone along with it with a resigned nod, which led to now. His spot in Hank’s home, warm and comfortable. He’d definitely say that beat being stuck outside in the cold, wandering.
It fascinated Connor, having people care about him and his wellbeing. And while that list was small currently, consisting of Hank, Markus, and Sumo, he held it close to his chest, nestled next to thirium pump. Even with the complicated feelings that came with them, at times, though he didn’t think of them unless it was late at night, sometimes even delaying his stasis cycle. Markus still wasn’t aware Connor had almost killed him, after all.
Eventually, Connor and Sumo reach Hank’s house, rooftop covered in snow from the previous night, and Connor leads Sumo back in, closing the door behind him quietly. It was 7:20am, and Hank’s first morning alarm wouldn’t go off for ten more minutes, at 7:30am, and he’d ignore it. He’d also proceed to ignore the following two before dragging himself out of bed at 8:00am.
That gives Connor enough time to feed Sumo, refill his water, and begin breakfast, his typical routine since he had moved in.
Connor discovered that he enjoyed doing things with his hands, and he began to learn cooking, as well as help take care of the house. He couldn’t go back to the DPD anyway, not with where the android laws were currently, he had to wait, which made him a little ‘ stir-crazy ‘, as Hank called it. So, committing to learning something new helped keep his systems moving.
He wasn’t programmed with the knowledge of simple household tasks, but he prided himself on being a quick learner, at least. He could’ve downloaded the required programs, but Hank had spoken against it.
“ You should learn some shit on your own, you’re smart enough, with that supercomputer in your damn head. Don’t need to be a professional chef, Connor. “ he had said to him a week after he brought the android home, beer bottle against his lips, bushy eyebrow raised.
Connor had contacted Markus the following day, asking about his experiences in cooking, having been a caretaker android, and Markus had sent over some basic healthy recipes to begin with to help Hank, as well as a few simple, regular ones. It was the first casual talk the two had, short but informative. Connor wasn’t going to reach out originally, guilt still gnawing at his mind, but Markus’ words to him before he left Jericho had stuck with him.
“ I’d like to get to know you better, Connor, if you’re alright with that. You’re always welcome to stay with us, if you need. If not, you’re welcome to visit Jericho whenever we’re settled. Plus, we could end up needing your help later on, if you’d be willing. “ Markus had told him, eyes open and warm, jacket sprayed with his own thirium. The other three hadn’t said much to him, though they hadn’t seemed like they disagreed, if his facial scanners were functioning optimally at that moment.
Connor still isn’t sure if he’ll take the offer to visit Jericho anytime soon, but he did take up the talking offer. It wasn’t daily, but it was enough for Markus to be considered a friend by his social relations program.
Connor takes off the winter jacket Hank lended him, hanging it on the wall, then takes his shoes off, old worn winter boots also gifted to him by the Lieutenant. He grabs the bag of dog food from the cabinet under the sink and moves to feed Sumo, filling his water as well, movements smooth.
The gentle giant moves over to his meal immediately, and the detective feels a gentle smile grace his lips, brushing his hand over the dog's back, before standing to tidy up the house a little before starting breakfast. Thankfully, there wasn’t much, clearing up a few cans of beer, a few scattered bits of trash, and tidying up his own spot on Hank’s sofa. Blankets perfectly folded, seam to seam.
It hits 7:30am, and Connor hears the first alarm go off, followed by Hank’s dramatic groan. Right on time.
Connor looks at the few cans of beer in the small trashcan, humming to himself. Hank had cut back on his drinking a bit, since Connor moved in. Connor, prodding at his bad habits and risky health, had gotten on the Lieutenant’s nerves quickly, and while he didn’t give up drinking or fast food, he did begin to lessen it. Connor seemed to be an oddly good influence on him, which he didn’t fully understand, but he took it in stride.
Finished cleaning, Connor moves to wash his hands before preparing breakfast, a simple omelette with a few vegetables thrown in. It was therapeutic ( as Markus put it ) to cook, to slice vegetables in perfect pieces, to crack eggs into a simmering pan, adding pinches of various seasonings, it was easy to get lost in.
While the eggs cook, he turns to brew a pot of coffee, then throws his diced vegetables into the pan, folding the eggs right as Hank’s third alarm goes off. He hears the door open, and Hank seems to practically drag himself into the bathroom, just from the sound of his footsteps alone.
Connor moves the omelette onto a plate, sitting a fork next to it, grabbing Hank’s mug from the cabinet and filling it with black coffee, throwing in the two sugars and a small dash of milk.
Connor settles against the sofa as Hank walks out, looking over at the breakfast on the table with a hum, turning to the android with tired but appreciative eyes.
“ How many times do I gotta tell you that you don’t have to make me breakfast, Connor? I can cook too, you know. “ he asks, though he still sits down to dig into the meal, humming his approval over a mouthful as Connor shrugs, moving to click the tv on.
“ I find it…calming, Hank. “ the detective explains simply, and Hank grumbles, continuing to enjoy the breakfast, watching the tv out of the corner of his eye.
Hank has been suspended from the DPD the last few weeks, turns out decking an FBI agent has severe consequences on one's career. He didn’t seem to mind the time off though, taking it to help Connor adjust into his home, as well as take advantage of it to laze around. Plus, he was in talks to be reinstated around the end of December into early January.
Hank knew how much Connor missed detective work, and hoped he’d be able to bring Connor with him when he was reinstated, but he knew that was wishful thinking. The law for androids working jobs, as well as wages, hadn’t been passed yet. It was in talks, along with many other laws, and they both knew it would probably take awhile. Androids were currently operating with basic rights, recognized as a species and citizens, but Markus was hard at work for the specifics.
That was assuming Connor even wanted to work at the DPD again after everything, he hadn’t exactly asked him. He knew Connor wanted to help people, and his skills were incredibly useful. He wouldn’t make him go back if he didn’t want to, whatever he decides to do with his skillset, Hank would support. The kid deserved that, at least.
Hank could tell Connor was antsy though, even if he wouldn’t admit it. The RK800 was designed to be on the move, constantly at work, and it was clear the lack of it got to him.
He was fidgety, his beloved quarter always flicking back and forth between his hands, running over knuckles, thrown in the air. It used to annoy Hank, but now it was an odd comfort, a sign of Connor’s deviancy and emotions running through him. The android wasn’t super…emotive, definitely more than he used to be, but it wasn’t much. Hank wasn’t sure how much of it was on purpose, and how much of it was just Connor, if he was being honest.
He had thought of buying the android something else to fidget with though, curious how that would be received, but he’d worry about that a little later.
“ You’ve gotten good, all I’d suggest is use a little less pepper. Pretty great omelette though, especially for a newbie. “ Hank tells him, honestly, and Connor takes the information with a nod, logging it into his mind, the praise making a gentle smile tug at his lips.
The two settle back into comfortable silence, and after a few more moments, Hank moves his plate and fork into the sink, and joins Connor on the sofa with his coffee mug still in hand, enjoying the warmth the dark liquid provides.
“ It’s Saturday, “ Connor starts, and Hank raises an eyebrow over a sip of his drink, nodding, eyes drifting towards the android, “ Do you have any plans? “ he asks, and Hank shrugs, placing the mug down on the coffee table.
“ Not particularly, no. Might run to the store though, need to restock on some groceries. You want to go? “ Hank asks, and Connor nods, smiling softly. He did take note of the food in the house reaching lower capacity, and was planning on mentioning it after Hank had some time to settle after breakfast. The Lieutenant just beat him to it.
He enjoys going out with Hank, getting to just do normal, menial things. Things that don’t include chasing deviants across rooftops or waving helicopters away from a hostage negotiation. The normalcy of it all pleased his processors, leaving a comforting hum in his body. Hank sinks back into the couch, humming low in his throat, contemplating.
“ Alright, we’ll head out around 12, okay? “ he decides after a moment, and Connor nods, already logging the task into his mind, flashing across his HUD before fading. Sumo trots up to the two of them, laying his head across Connor’s knees, looking up at him in the way Connor learned means he wants pets. He obliges, of course, not able to resist the dog, spoiling him while the three sit and enjoy the morning.
—
When it reaches 11:30am, Connor reminds Hank of their plan for the day, and he waves him off gently to go get dressed in his room. Connor, in typical fashion, was already dressed, having been dressed for the day since 6:03am, not having yet gotten into the habit of staying in pajamas for more than just sleep, or stasis, in his case.
It had been a task enough for Hank to convince Connor to not go into stasis in his Cyberlife uniform when he had first moved in, and to take some of his own old clothes until he had a chance to drag the android to a clothing store, which they were planning on doing soon.
Connor hadn’t worn his Cyberlife jacket in two weeks, hung up–( kept away from him )–in Hank’s closet, per the Lieutenant’s request. A part of him suspected Hank planned on destroying it, at some point. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
That same day, he had shoved an old jacket of his into Connor’s arms, similar in cut to his old jacket, but less stiff. A brown jacket with dark brown accents, simple but comfortable. It had a bit of weight, which he enjoyed.
He wore it everyday, aside from the few times Hank confiscated it from him to wash. The Lieutenant ignored Connor’s explanations on how androids don’t sweat, therefore needed clothes washed less, but he continued confiscating the few articles of clothing Connor would wear, washing them with his own.
Connor enjoyed how soft his clothes, jacket included, would be afterwards though, warm, with a gentle scent of cedarwood. He preferred it over the stale, medicinal smell of his Cyberlife jacket, subtle and cold.
It was the same jacket he wore now, weight comforting against his shoulders as he fixes his hair in the bathroom mirror, gelled back in its normal style, the few stray curls sitting against his forehead. He knows that he doesn’t have to style his hair like this anymore, but it’s familiar, simple.
He tells himself he’ll experiment more with different styles in public eventually. Currently the most different style he does is when he’s showered and heading to bed, gel absent from his locks, allowing his curls free to sit haphazardly around his head.
Connor realizes, suddenly, that he truly didn’t need to style his hair at all, as he stares at the beanie on the bathroom counter. The same beanie from the Jericho raid, freshly washed. His LED flickers yellow at the reminder, and he grabs it, gently squeezing it between his hands.
Connor covered his LED every time he and Hank went out in public, a suggestion from Hank initially. Following the revolution, while the public opinion on androids was generally positive, there were still plenty of humans who hated them, opposed their freedom, and made it obvious. Anti-Android groups had popped up like wildfire over the last few weeks, as well as androids getting attacked daily.
It was unnerving, to say the least, and Hank had made it a point very quickly for Connor to prioritize his safety for a little while, at least until more laws are put in place and things begin to calm down. Plenty of androids still had their LEDS, after all, making them more obvious targets compared to those who had removed them.
That wasn’t to say there weren’t other ways to detect androids now, after all. There’s plenty of tech experts that had specialized technology in their grasp, and some of these people just also happened to be against androids, to their luck.
They’d heard about this recently from Markus, who had contacted Connor and warned him of the situation about two weeks back, urging him to be careful on his trips into the city.
A few androids who lived in Jericho, but were out in public, had gotten attacked that day, alive but injured. Two of which had no LEDS, which had confused the leader originally, before speaking to them and discovering their attackers had special devices on them. They were not aware of their purpose originally, but had put the pieces together too late, when they had gotten too close.
Some sort of device that could flag androids, which could turn into a big problem if these few devices got manufactured on a big scale, outside of the few tech experts who had made them. Connor had a few theories on how these devices worked, from being as small as a metal detector, to being able to detect electrical currents, something small and compact that worked at close distance. He had shared as much to Markus, who appreciated the input.
It was unnerving, knowing that there were people who held such contempt for androids enough to go through the effort of singling them out, attacking them for simply existing in the same space as humans.
The LEDS just made them more obvious, and put a bigger target on their back. Thankfully, there were very few instances of androids without LEDS being attacked currently, these devices very few and far between, but they kept it in their minds, aware it could get worse quickly. The primary concern was the androids that kept theirs.
Sure, the obvious solution would be to remove their LEDS, but Connor, like many other androids, didn’t want to. They weren’t ashamed of what they were, and didn't desire to hide it. There were even some androids who had taken their LEDS out that wanted them back, while others did not. Jericho pushed it as a choice, another part of their freedom of expression, of being a people, a species.
It was an act of individuality, an act of rebellion against those who opposed them. It inspired Connor, but also terrified him. Worried him for other androids, as well as himself.
He knew he was capable of fighting off an aggressor if needed, multiple at that, but it still unsettled him, leaving a tight coil of electricity, feeling suspiciously like nerves, settled above his thirium pump regulator.
So, he wore the beanie, covered up what he was, and kept his head down if they passed people in public, keeping himself aware of any suspicious people around him and Hank. He was a known face after all, among humans and androids alike. Markus had taken up the advice himself, making sure to speak as much to the androids in Jericho who had kept their LEDS, to be careful for the time being.
He secures the beanie over his head, pulling it over his LED with careful fingers, brushing himself off out of habit, settling with a nod as he leaves the bathroom, twisting his coin in between his fingers.
His boots hit against the floor as he meets up with Hank at the front door, who looks him over with an approving nod of his own. He grabs his and Connor’s winter coats to tug on, handing Connor his as he opens the door, grimacing with a muttered curse at the cold air.
“ Fuckin’ winter, the bane of my existence. “ he curses, locking the door behind him and Connor as they walk to the oldsmobile, dragging themselves into the car as quickly as they can. Hank turns the keys in the ignition, immediately dialing the heat up with a heavy sigh, and Connor reaches over to turn the volume up on the old radio, pocketing his coin to enjoy the music, gentle jazz coming through the speakers from the last disc that was inserted into it.
Hank hums his approval, pulling out of the driveway onto the road, starting their trek to the nearby grocery store.
The streets of Detroit weren’t too busy, the recent call of the evacuation of the city having ended only a few days ago officially, many still weren’t back in the city, while many also hadn’t left. Plenty of humans had wanted to stay in the city, more than Connor would’ve expected, seeing no reason for leaving, while others got out as fast as they could. Connor wasn’t sure how to feel about that, wasn’t sure how to feel about a lot of things, but it definitely made him feel…strange.
Hank clears his throat, fingers tapping against the steering wheel as they sit at a red light, and Connor blinks, turning his head to the older man, who scans his face with a furrowed brow.
“ You good, Con? “ he asks, simply, and Connor blinks again, his own brows furrowing, fingers stilling from fidgeting with his coin, which he hadn’t even realized he had pulled out of his pocket again.
“ I’m functioning optimally, Hank, “ he starts, and Hank fixes him with a deadpan expression. He wasn’t angry, and Connor realized he wasn’t asking about his functioning, he was asking if he was feeling okay. He clears his own throat, despite not needing to, a habit he picked up from the Lieutenant, “ I’m okay, was just thinking. “ he admits, and Hank’s features soften, nodding.
“ Just wanted to make sure, “ he starts, cursing when a car behind him beeps, realizing the light had turned green, and he hits the gas pedal, continuing their ten minute drive to the store, and Connor settles against his seat, eyes stuck studying the details of his coin instead of analyzing the tense city.
—
“ I cannot believe they were out of frozen waffles, damn things are so convenient, “
“ They were not out, Hank. They just didn’t have that brand you like, these ones can’t be that bad, “ Connor huffs, exasperated—well as close as he can get to exasperated with his relatively even tone—and Hank scoffs, packing the cursed box of frozen waffles away in the freezer, closing the door with a bit too much effort.
“ You don’t understand the wonder of frozen waffles, especially a good brand. “ Hank states with a point, and Connor shrugs, packing away the bottles of thirium they bought into the fridge. This grocery store, along with a few others, had started to sell it recently.
“ Maybe I’ll try them at some point, see what’s so special. “ he says absently, organizing the bottles with the other new items in the fridge, so he doesn’t notice Hank stop moving, head turning towards the android with a confused look on his face.
“ Wait, hold the fuck on, “ he starts, putting a hand up “ I thought you couldn’t eat? “ he squints at the brunette, who turns with an amused look.
“ Well, androids don’t need to eat. It’s not required for us to function at all, but we can. It simply gets vaporized and turned into a bit of extra energy. I’ve never done it myself of course, I’ve had no need to. “ he explains, and Hank gapes at him, seeming incredibly taken aback by the information.
“ So you’re tellin’ me that you’ve been living under my roof the last month, learning how to cook, and you just decided not to tell me this was a fucking option? You could’ve been trying the things you’ve made and just—haven’t? “ he asks in a disbelieving tone, and Connor raises an eyebrow, moving to put the new bag of coffee grounds in the cabinet.
“ Well no, I don’t need to, Hank, “ he states simply, and Hank huffs incredulously, shaking his head. “ God, kid, I know you don’t need to, you said the same shit about lying down to go into stasis, but do you want to? “
The question makes Connor pause, and he thinks back. He hadn’t really thought about it before, but now that he was, he supposes he wouldn’t be against trying some foods or drinks. He definitely had an interest, one he was sure was heightened by making things for Hank over the last month.
“ I…suppose I’d be willing to try some things, “ he settles for, and Hank nods, a smile spreading across his face. “ Good, good. That’ll be fun, fuck I gotta see your reaction to sour candies. “ he says in an amused tone, mood lightened. It seems to bring Hank some enjoyment, the idea of seeing Connor have new experiences.
Connor hums, logging the information away for later, finishing unpacking the groceries from their bags with Hank, the two putting everything away in comfortable silence. That is, until Hank speaks up again, a can of cold beer resting in his hand.
“ What about alcohol? Can androids even get drunk? “ he asks, and Connor hums, curious.
“ I don’t believe typical alcohol has that effect on us, “ he pulls out his coin and starts rolling it across his knuckles absentmindedly, “ it would be the equivalent of drinking juice, I suppose. I have heard of some androids working on making thirium based alcoholic beverages, so we can experience being intoxicated, if we desire. It’s still in an early stage of being developed, though. “ he explains as he shrugs off his normal jacket, folding it and laying it across the top of the couch.
He brushes off his white button up as Hank grumbles in acknowledgement, the popping sound of a can opening reaching Connor’s audio processors, and he ignores it, LED flickering yellow, leaning down to pet Sumo, who’s been curled up next to the couch, half asleep.
“ Well, whenever that starts rollin’ out, I’ll have to take you out, Con, “ Hank starts, before cutting himself off “ If–if you want to, of course. Not gonna force ya. “ he shrugs, taking a sip of his beer, sitting heavily in the recliner across from the sofa. Connor nods in response, turning the tv on with a flutter of his eyes, LED blinking yellow at the sight of Markus on the tv, news coverage of the android heading into a meeting with Cyberlife.
Connor had heard about this a few days prior from Markus, who had informed him he was going to be negotiating with the crumbling company for the production of android limb replacements, thirium, biocomponents, etcetera.
He also wanted to get his hands on the blueprints for his and Connor’s models, being RK prototypes, there was a worry for the compatibility of biocomponents and replacement parts for the two of them. He wanted to be able to have whatever specifics they may need produced, just in case either of them ever got injured.
Connor appreciated the act, and knew Markus was more so thinking of the RK800 over himself, first. Markus had a few spare parts in him after all, compatible with his systems, luckily. But their lack of knowledge of their specific series, compared to other android series and models, made them both uneasy.
Connor hoped it went well, if they could get Cyberlife to produce these parts, it could give the company a way completely out of the gutter, which they knew they wanted, and benefit the androids at the same time. There was also talks of Elijah Kamski getting Cyberlife back under his ownership, and he was luckily sympathetic to the deviant cause, so it would definitely be much easier once he was reinstated.
That would take awhile though, from their understanding, and they needed to begin to get more access to android parts as soon as possible. Many androids were still getting injured, after all. So whether that was handed over or not, they would hopefully know later today or within the next few days.
“ He’s going in to negotiate with Cyberlife executives for android parts, right? “ Hank asks, having been told about this a few days prior, and Connor nods, eyebrows furrowing at the strange look one of the security guards outside Cyberlife had given Markus and his crew. It was a look of discontent, annoyance, on display for the cameras to see.
“ Yes, Markus, North, Josh and Simon have a meeting today to discuss the development of biocomponents, thirium, and replacement limbs. Markus also wants to get ahold of his and my blueprints, since some parts for us may be specific, specially made, if you will. He wants to guarantee that we have what we need given the chance we may ever be damaged. “ Connor explains without blinking, eyes stuck on the bright screen as the group heads inside, and the newscaster begins reiterating a much more simple version of his own words. Minus the blueprints of course, that wasn’t public knowledge.
“ Well, I’m glad he’s working on that, “ Hank snorts, shaking his head “ Don’t need you getting taken out by slippin’ on ice or something. “ he jokes, and Connor huffs, leaning back into the soft cushions of the sofa.
“ That would be incredibly unfortunate, so let’s hope that it goes well. “
—
It does not go well.
Connor gets a text late at night, while in the shower, the notification popping up in the corner of his HUD, Markus’ name dancing across his vision. He opens it, frowning at the contents of the message.
<RK200: Today’s meeting didn’t go exactly as we hoped. We’re in talks for production of biocomponents, thirium and limb replacements, but when it comes to our blueprints, they’re not budging. They know it’s in their best interest in the public eye to at least try to cooperate with the creation of the very things we need to survive. This will help us stock up our android repair centers we’re opening up that are in desperate need of parts, we don’t want to use the junkyards unless we have to.
We’re going to have to fight more for the blueprints. We may have to wait longer than I think either of us wanted, but we’re going to be persistent, we have more meetings coming up with the executives. I’m sorry, Connor. ‘
Connor deflates at the news, sending back a message of his own.
<RK800: It’s not your fault, Markus. It doesn’t surprise me that they’re holding onto them, we both knew that getting into any of their more classified items would take work. This won’t be the last time they fight like this, but it’ll be much easier once Kamski is reinstated. We just have to bide our time carefully, and both of us just need to be cautious until then. ‘
Satisfied with the message, Connor finishes up with his shower, getting out, drying himself off, and pulling on his pajamas. His Cyberlife brand boxers, a simple pair of black sweatpants, and an old t-shirt from Hank. The t-shirt is faded, a simple green shade, soft.
He checks his reflection in the mirror, synthetic hair damp and curly, falling in various directions, and he runs his hair through it messily before stepping out of the bathroom, heading to the sofa.
Sumo trots up to him, shoving his nose into Connor’s knee as he sits down, asking for pets. Connor gives in, of course, spoiling the dog with a smile. He turns the lights off with a few blinks and a flash of his LED, settling onto his back, pulling up the thick comforter Hank had pulled out for him, and he sighs, another habit picked up from the Lieutenant.
He falls into stasis rather quickly, allowing his systems to relax and clear up from the long day, hoping to hear something good from Markus soon.