Some False Truth || Connor x Reader D:BH

1 | Save Me, San Francisco

So, it's just another day
Working hard to wait till everything falls into place
Like a face without a name
But, history is gonna change
2039
Detroit: Police Department
21 years later..
Connor

"New cases started openin' up in San Francisco around 3 months ago, all revolving around murders and pick pockets. They leave behind nothing. Fingerprints, DNA, weapons, zip, zilch, nada. Nothing. Or at least nothing their current technology can pick up. That's why I'm sending you over."

"Captain, are we positive this is-"

"Don't start that 'stay in hometown' shit now, Connor. They don't exactly have any other options for their preferences. A cop android who deviated, therefore making them better understand people. This'll be good for both you and Anderson."

"The fuck? Jeffrey when I said I wanted a vacation this is not what I meant." Hank scoffed, leaning back in his chair. After the revolution, it was natural that he wanted the department to cut him some slack.

"Look, I understand he can take care of himself and what not but frankly I can't trust you not to kick Gavin's ass for entertainment, and I can't trust him," Fowler motioned to the android, "not to lick everything – and I mean every fucking thing – if left unsupervised."

That was a miscalculation, Connor had stopped so frequently sampling evidence as it unsettled his work partner.

The pair looked at each other.

"Babysitting this kid again? Depends on if he's willing to deal with this old fart." Hank nudged Connor, him smiling back in response.

"Whenever the arrangements are ready, let this old fart and I know." He gestured to Hank.

"Good. Preparations for travel will start now, you'll both remain on homicide until further notice." Fowler turned his computer monitor on.

"Same shit, got it." Hank shrugged, heading for the door. Connor was following close behind.

'In breaking news, another anonymous murder took place on Filbert Street, San Francisco, tonight. At 6:40 PM, police were called to the scene where 32-year-old accountant-' Connor tore his eyes away from the television in the break room, closing the door behind them both.

"It doesn't matter how many times I hear about it or see it.. But, looking over homicide now sometimes just...Unsettles me." He spoke to his partner as they walked to their desks. By now he'd properly moved into the extra desk next to Hank's. He rolled up the sleeves of his white button up, sighing.

"Shit, we've been on this for what, 3 months? And ever since deviating you'll every now and then look at a dead body as if it's... Well, a dead body. I thought the shock would've settled in you way back."

"Well it didn't. Thank you so very much for worrying about my wellbeing, Lieutenant Anderson." He replied sarcastically.

"Wow. Sarcasm still as harsh as before 'the awakening'. Look, I'm quaking in my fuckin' boots." Anderson chuckled, ruffling the android's hair as he took a seat. Connor looked around the department, of which he'd called his workplace for quite some time.

Cyberlife had fallen in popularity yet it was still running. Elijah Kamski aided Markus in his efforts to stop the discrimination and slavery of androids, and Cyberlife moved from creating emotionless machines to aiding those who need help and taking suggestions from the public. Deviants – for some idiotic reason – were now given the ability to experience things such as intoxication, drinking – though never parched - anxiety, and other human-like feelings that have consequences.